The wait for the arena that had been promised to be built hadn't been long but it had seemed both like a life time and yet like it had only taken a day. Whatever the case Angelina knew her time was fast approaching. Whatever happened she wouldn't be the one carried out of the arena, whoever it was unfortunate enough to be pitted against her would be torn apart literally taken apart limb from limb, if that's what would allow her to continue living. Still despite her horrid circumstances something basic deep inside her kept Angelina from giving up and dying entirely. It was that same basic instinct hidden away deep down inside her that mader her clench her machet tightly as she prepared to take her opponent's head off.

Her heart beating fiercely as the crowd cheered and chanted thunderously around the arena Angelina hardly paid attention to them as she stepped into the arena finally wearing nothing more than her slave rags. Her opponent entered across from her and just from the way he carried himself - along with all the insults being thrown his way - Angelina could tell he had been a soldier of the NCR. Who or whatever he had been the man would soon be dead.

Without hesitation Angelina raced across the arena raising the machete high above her head with her uninjured hand, charing her opponent and letting out a fierce war cry at the same time, the man advanced much more slowly and carefully. Angelina met him on the far side of the arena and brought her machete down angled inward at the base of his neck, the man reacted quickly and ducked slightly as he reached up and took hold of Angelina's wrist. Despit her other hand being injured Angelina formed as tight a fist as she could managed and brought it up under his chin before the soldier could counter attack. The connection was satisfying despite the pain and discomfort it caused Angelina and as he reeled back she tore her arm free of his grasp, planted her feet and swung while her enemy was still recovering.

In a split second Angelina's razor sharp machete had cut right through her opponent's arm embedding itself in bone, she had barely realized what had happened at first, the heavy blade easily cutting through flesh as if it hadn't even been in the way nearly cleaving his arm in two.

The soldier let out a howl of pain which only further pleased the crowd and served to fuel their cheering as Angelina ripped her weapon from his mangled arm now gripping it with both hands and bringing it back around to swing at him again. The next blow barely missed as the soldier back pedaled trying to ignore the intense burning in his arm as it hung at his side, useless and bleeding all over, counter attacking with a weak swing that Angelina deflected before stepping in and throwing herself into him. Angelina watched her opponent hit the ground throwing up a cloud of dust and raised her machete once more high above her head and brought it down in another deadly arc.

Angelina brought her weapon down straight into the wounded man's face striking just above his left eye, diagonally across his nose the machete left a severe cut prompting another anguished scream, blood flowing freely as Angelina pulled her weapon free and gave a solid kick to his side. The soldier simply took the blow as blood flowed in rivers all over his face, eyes closed he rolled over onto his side and curled up in pain no longer able to fight or even willing to. Angelina stood above her soon to be dead opponent and watched for a moment before finally delivering another blow to his neck nearly taking his head off.

Raising her bloodied machete and her empty fist in the air Angelina roared victoriously oddly energized by the display of depraved brutality as much as the crowd including the spectating Centurion Tecumseh who applauded the display as readily and eagerly as those around him. Despite Angelina's being a woman a fight was a fight and a dead profligate was still entertaining to them and, whether they admitted it or not, everyone present wished to see the woman who had killed a Frumentarius in action - they had not been disappointed.

As Angelina looked up at Tecumseh who watched with a pleased look on his face she dropped her bload soaked machete and headed back out of the arena. Her first match had ended well, if a bit too quickly for any of the spectators to truly enjoy she wasn't there to please them - at least that wasn't her motivation, it was entirely the reason behind her being there however. Not quite clear headed enough to even begin contemplating such things Angelina simply allowed herself to be lead back to the slave pens where she sat in a corner again trying to regain her composure. It wasn't the fighting or killing that bothered her. As Angelina started to regain her senses it was the fact that she was forced into it and could do nothing to change her situation that bothered her, violence had always been a way of life but it had been on her terms, willfully subjecting herself to such things. Yet again Angelina knew the bitter taste of helplessness and submission and it was a hard pill to swallow.

Tecumseh on the other hand left the arena entirely pleased with Angelina's performance and even surprised; that a profligate could perform so well was surprising, that it was a female profligate doing so was even more astounding to him and everyone else present. It didn't matter however. They had their taste of blood for the time being and their high spirits were kept up by the violent blood soaked display which had been its purpose. Tecumseh had long since learned the power of violence and how to twist it to suit his own needs including the need to keep his men occupied and in high spirits until they were once again called upon to fight. Satisfied with having achieved his goal Tecumseh retired to his office where he would stay for the time being once again returnng to the work of an honored Centurion in Caesar's Legion.

While the Centurion had returned to his duties after being thoroughly entertained at the arena Angelina still remained where she sat in the filthy living space of the slave pens, still barely able to wrap her head around the idea of being stuck there until meeting whatever horrible fate the Legion had in store for her, though she'd heard of how they operated. If the stories were anything to go by they wouldn't bother with anything else, now that she'd fought in the arena that would become her place. Despite being a woman she would meet her end in as violent a manner as anyone else who set foot into the dreaded ring of death. Unless, of course, the Legion decided they tired of her or weren't willing to put up with a woman in the arena - something Angelina had heard never happened. Being the single exception was either a great thing or a horrible one, she wasn't sure and didn't much care to think about it at the time. It was this that Angelina thought about until finally she fell asleep and was allowed to escape everything around her, if only for a short time.

The next morning Angelina was woken abruptly from her sleep by the sounds of yet another person being dragged off literally kicking and screaming to be crucified. She didn't know what they had done having ignored any and all attempts to communicate with her fellow slaves, and didn't care. All Angelina knew was that their horrid screams and shrieks for mercy and help fell on deaf ears and were, perhaps most importantly, depriving her of much needed sleep and rest. That was all that mattered in Angelina's world anymore, whatever it took to survive, the bare essentials. Just like the life she had left behind so many years ago of barely scraping by and scavenging the bombed out irradiated ruins of downtown Washington DC. It was something Angelina was could at and almost the only thing. All her skills in the end went back to simple survival, she had just learned how to put them to use properly and make a real life for herself in the wasteland instead of barely scraping by, but they were still in the end nothing more than a means of survival. Constantly fighting from day to day just to live for another day, to see another day, and to eventually have nothing when it all came to an end. Her life would mean nothing. All Angelina was was a hunk of meat both to the Legion and those around her and ultimately to herself as well. This simple realization she was forced to confront was taking its toll but there was no alcohol to drown herself in this time only more misery.

It was in this state of miserable self loathing that Tecumseh found Angelina as he approached the slave pens something he rarely did. Centurion were above even pestering, torturing and murdering slaves. It was only ever done for their amusement or if ordered to, never simply to keep the slaves in line and teach them their place - that was the work of their subordinates. Still Tecumseh couldn't help but be intrigued by Angelina as he decided during his approach that letting a woman enter the arena, while surely a controversial decision, had been a good one none the less. The crowds would cheer more loudly and joyfully than they ever had before when such a fierce killer of the Frumentarii had been slaughtered and torn apart like the savage animal she was.

Tecumseh stopped suddenly beside the slave pens and stared into them blankly upon realizing what he had been thinking and quickly banished the thought. The dissolute and their ilk were not only not worth the time it took to consider them but he would not allow himself to even begin praising them however vaguely he may have done so.

"Woman." He spoke as evenly as ever, his voice easily audible over whatever else might have been going on in the area, carrying a distinct note of absolute confidence and control, "Rise."

Somehow Angelina knew the statement was meant for her and could already recognize Tecumseh's voice though she had only ever dealt with him once before her match in the arena. Still she didn't do as he said immediately, which normally would have been a very grave mistake, but apparently as she started to get to her feet it had been quickly enough that the Centurion didn't care. Angelina turned to face the man in his spectacular armor and observed him carefully as he returned the observant gaze.

"You are oddly skilled - for a profligate. For a woman." Tecumseh paused for just a moment before going on, "Tell me, do we have another filthy female soldier of the NCR in our ranks? The rumors said nothing of this."

"No." Angelina stated simply as their eyes met and she resisted the urge to back away and adopt a fighting stance, his gaze both sharp and, to most, frightening.

"Then what?" Tecumseh snapped in the usual impatient manner of one from the Legion dealt with outsiders, "Where have you acquired such ill suited skills? You should not be on the field of battle, and you claim to not be, and yet you fight as if you hae seen many campaigns."

"Gained all that from just that?"

"I pride myself on my keen observational skills and abilities." Tecumseh shot back, unsure if she was being sarcastic but making sure she knew never to adopt such a tone again with him, "I have seen many men - and even women - fight. Both untrained savages and even some who believe themselves to be well trained. All have fallen before the might Legion."

"I come from far to the east." Angelina spoke slightly more clearly than before, her voice just ever so slightly more audible, "There people must... learn to fight."

Tecumseh snorted, "The east? We are the east. Surely I would know of someone who escaped our might wrath to enemy territory."

"Further east." Angelina corrected before he could go on, "Much futher. DC."

Tecumseh couldn't help but allow an ever so small amount of surprise, ever so slight, to show on his face. He had never heard of anyone crossing the great irradiated expanse of the former United States Of America and yet here was a slave in his very own camp telling him that she had done so as if it was no great feat, no major effort, as if she had simply decided to up and leave one day and had done so. Before Tecumseh could even begin to form a reply or figure out how to feel about the situation Angelina had started speaking again.

"I came in from the north. Directly into NCR territory." She failed to mention that she had done so after first starting to hear stories of the Legion and deciding avoiding their territory was in her best interest.

"Ah, then if you are truly from the far east as you say that would certainly explain things, though I doubt very much that you are."

"Can't handle a woman being tougher than all of you?" Angelina smirked suddenly and Tecumseh's face contorted in pure unbridled rage.

"Never speak to me in such a manner!" Tecumseh swung his fist into the mesh link fence, "Ever! Or I will have you crucified, filthy profligate! Disgusting degenerate wench, I will laugh as you slowly wither and die upon the cross!"

As Angelina recoiled from the fence nearly struck by it and Tecumseh's fist she couldn't help but ball her hands into fists instinctively before dropping them to herself, still keeping them clenched tightly, realiing so long as they were seperated by the fencing she didn't need to worry about fighting him off. She had learned a valuable lesson however just like she had learned her life was completely and entirely worthless. This time Angelina had learned that Tecumseh was an easily angered man and that meant he was even quicker to violence than the rest of the Legion who were already all too willing to brutally slaughter anyone they deemed necessary. Stowing the valuable lesson away in her mental databank Angelina eyed the Centurion carefully and watched as he quickly regained his composure.

"So. You are not an NCR dog, fighting under the banner of the bear, how... disappointing. Still, I look forward to your death. And with that, I bid you vale."

Tecumseh turned and left once more still enraged and eager to see Angelina's blood spilled for her insult. For now however he had more important things to do and instead as he returned to his office informed the Legionary in charge of the slave pens to make sure Angelina saw no peaceful moment to rest for the entirety of the day and so he did. For hours on end the Legionary never faltered, never hesitated, and never stopped. He constantly banged on the pen fences and shouted at Angelina, and even when he didn't he continued to speak as his voice grew worn and raspy, continously chiding, scolding, taunting and insulting. The seemingly endless assault finally ceased as the Legionary took it upon himself to take the punishment further; his Centurion had ordered that Angelina not be allowed to rest for the entirety of the day and that he should not allow her to see a single peaceful moment. His Centurion had never told him how however.

Opening the gate to the slave pen Angelina was held in and stepping inside another Legionary quickly stepped inside with him knowing what was coming and wanting in on the violence, yet another standing guard at the still open gate behind them, machete in hand, reminding the slaves that even if they didn't have slave collars on they would not escape. None of them would ever even come close.

Angelina faced the two advancing men in crimson and readied herself for a fight, knowing whether or not she fought back it may end with her dead or far worse. Keeping that motivation in mind, her heart racing already as adrenaline shot through her Angelina stepped forward and threw the first punch catching the first Legionary in the side but he hardly reacted, Angelina had struck his armor and instead injured her hand. The Legionary closed what little room there was left between them and his hand shot to her throat while the other gripped her right wrist, keeping her from fighting effectively. The two struggled for a moment as the man's companion advanced on the other side but before he could do anything Angelina tripped and fell, the first Legionary falling roughly on top of her knocking the wind out of her instantly.

It was in this weakened state that the standing Legionary delivered a hard kick to her head, and then another followed quickly by bringing his boot down on her face, his companion still wrestling with the resiliant but failing wastelander. The beating continued as Angelina struggled to defend herself and everyone simply watched, the man atop her tightening his grip on her throat and striking her several times, in the face, chest, where he could manage as she returned the favor but failed to get out from under him.

The attack continued as the Legionary atop Angelina pinned her to the ground while his companion attempted to gain control of her, and suddenly she knew, the thought barely registering in her adrenaline soaked mind, what was about to happen. There was almost nothing Angelina could do, she was barely in any shape to be fighting at all let alone with multiple opponents and her relatively minor wounds were already slowing her down. Already the pain from the bruises and cuts and the constant beating was wearing her out and swinging back was replaced by covering up and avoiding being beaten unconcious or even to death which was proving increasingly difficult as both Legionaries continued striking her.

Suddenly as this was going on Angelina removed her arms from where they were protecting her face and head and was ready to start swinging during the pause in the attack but found herself unable; the standing Legionary stepped on her left wrist pinning it and reached over taking hold of her right hand as well and together he and his companion took hold of her and despite her best efforts managed to restrain the thrashing slave well enough to carry her off. It was all Angelina could to do continue thrashing around as violently as possible and whilst doing so she realized she had started screaming, raw, hoarse screams of anger and terror but no words came out - simply noise. Guttural, barbaric, animalistic sounds of anger and worry causing her throat to feel as if it might start bleeding and her lungs like they were on fire, but for all the screaming, all of her effort, Angelina couldn't stop what came next as they hauled her off out of sight of the slave pens where her screams could still be heard.

After the Legionaries had finished with their horrific task they literally dragged a barely resisting Angelina back to the pens and thrown her in where she lay hardly moving, murmuring to herself on occasion, though no one caught what she said nor did they care to know. And as they all went about their business once more like nothing at all had happened Angelina sat there staring at the dirt, motionless, entirely aware of the fact that she was completely at their mercy. Nothing was under her control anymore and the Legion owned her just as they had insisted. All of her fighting all of her life, all of the things she had overcome had only served to lead her where she was, and no amount of fighting after that would change what she now was. Property. Nothing more than a slave to be used for their amusement and thrown away when they tired of her. It was with this realization that whatever humanity and decency remained in Angelina died. Wallowing in sorrow and contemplating this turn of events staying up all night with the day's events keeping her from falling asleep even more a moment.

It was in this pathetic state of shock that Centurion Tecumseh found Angelina when he came and smiled to himself as he stopped beside slave pen and observed the slaves who all cowered in fear and moved away from the fence he was standing beside. Fear filled their eyes and satisfaction filled him, easily seeing just how cowardly and afraid they were of him. The more scared his presence made them the better and from what he could tell Angelina had learned her lesson as well and he didn't doubt that her lesson had served to teach the rest of the slaves their place as well.

"Rise."

Angelina barely turned her head without lifting it to look up at Tecumseh from where she lay in the dirt, not speaking as she stared up at him with bloodshot eyes.

"You will fight again." He smirked, "Rise."

Angelina didn't move for a moment almost unable to but finally found herself struggling to push herself up to her feet and standing before him in her filthy slave rags like the obedient little slave she was simply waiting for further orders.

"Good, good, you've some fight left in you." Tecumseh gave a curt nod of approval, "Hopefully the same can be said for your next opponent, the last was rather disappointing."

Angelina simply stared at Tecumseh, or ratherh is suit of armor, head tilted slighlty gazing at his still unstained armor - quite possibly a Centurions most cherished possession. It was a symbol of status, of bravery and loyalty to Caesar above all else. Turning to leave the slave pen as Tecumseh motioned for a Legionary to open the gate she slowly stepped outside and headed toward the arena still gazing down at the ground blankly, almost completely devoid of thought or feeling. Angelina simply went through the motions now and headed toward the arena ready for another round of senseless slaughter now neither welcoming death nor shunning it. Whatever occured within the arena's walls was of no importance. Life and death were both equally miserably, equally painful, and equally disgusting.

As she was given her machete for the next match Angelina stepped into the arena unceremmoniously and found herself facing another slave who, though she didn't know it, had been there for quite some time and had grown nearly as weary and broken down as she - and was equally as violent and deadly especially after her time in the company of the Legion. Angelina didn't know or care about any of that. She didn't care about living let alone what her opponent was like. In battle it wouldn't matter, Angeilna would yet again prove stronger, tougher, harder, more violent, more disgusting, more anything than anyone else. She would tear their throats out with her teeth and feast on their life fluids. That was all that was left of her. The drive to fight and kill and survive even now that she'd been so easily broken. It was all that was left, the Legion had easily wiped away what they had deemed to be degenerate qualities leaving only the most basic instincts within her and Angelina didn't mind, didn't care. She simply saught to act upon them. To fulfill her urge to draw blood - and so she did.

The two slave women went straight for each other without hesitation locking eyes and blades as they started swinging widly their blades meeting in loud clashes that rang out over the shotuing and cheering of the crowd. Despite their best efforts the women couldn't seem to put a scratch on the other at first until Angelina charged her opponent who quickly brought her knee up and jammed it forcefully into Angelina's unprotected stomach, machete held with both hands high over her head.

Angelina doubled over painfully her old gunshot wound to her ribs being struck by the blow stalling her long enough for her opponent to bring her own elbow back against the back of Angelina's head snapping it forward before she hit the ground. Rolling over and out of the way Angelina barely avoided having a machete implanted in the back of her neck which would have definitely been enough to kill her, when she stopped she was laying supine and brought her foot up hard into her opponent's stomach stopping her dead in her tracks.

The move bought Angelina enough time to scramble to her feet still in pain from the entirety of her short stay in the Legion camp and her old wounds were starting to act up from all the strain she had been put under recently. Despite that Angelina managed to react quickly enough to dodge the next swing that was aimed at her side, the miss threw her opponent off balance and Angelina took advantage as she grabbed the woman's wrist and pulled her forward throwing her to the ground kicking up a cloud of dust.

Angelina quickly followed up with a kick to the woman's side keeping her on the ground long enough to bring her machete down though it missed its mark and sunk into her shoulder blade instead of taking her head off at the neck; the blow dropped the woman back to the ground yet again as she struggled to get up and Angelina pressed her bare foot against the woman's back while trying to dig her machete out from her back.

Pulling the weapon free with a sickening sound Angelina couldn't have described with all the words in her vocabulary the sensation of tearing the machete free and hearing it rip through skin and bone was none the less satisfying and digusting at the same time. As soon as she'd torn her weapon free from her opponent's body Angelina set about her attack again only to find a searing hot pain in her rifle shin as she drove the machete into the injured woman's back. Without looking down Angelina stepped away and felt the machete leave her leg, glancing down as she kept putting space betwen her and her enemy she realized the half hearted swing had been with the woman's injured arm and had barely done any damage though her wound was still bleeding steadily.

Ignoring the wound Angelina turned her attention back to her opponent who had barely managed to get back to her feet, switching her own machete over to her weak hand and attempting to fend off Angelina's series of rapid vicious attacks which saw her being wounded several more times before Angelina stuck her machete in the woman's thigh. In an instant Angelina had decided to let go of the machete and instead tackle her opponent, firmly wrapping her hands around the woman's throat and beginning to slam her head against the ground while choking the life out of her, watching as her dazed and confused face slowly died out and became expressionless, and then it was over yet again. Angelina had survived for just anther day even if it wasn't worth it, even if it was a day she would absolutely hate with every last fiber of her being. She had won the dubious prize of living just another day.

Whether or not Angelina would enjoy the day she had earned in blood and sweat she yet again left the arena unarmed, tired and sore and in desperate need of sleep and rest, though as she mindlessly wandered back to her cage like the helpless animal she was Angelina could barely think about anything other than collapsing, falling asleep and hopefully being able to rest for one since her arrival in the city though she knew there likely would be no rest of any kind. She was the Legion's play thing and play with her they did in whichever way their twisted minds pleased at the moment and when they commanded her to dance she did, when they said jump she did - there was no asking how high. If it wasn't high enough she'd know in the short amount of time it took to remove her head from her body she'd know.

Angelina didn't bother thinking about any of that as she collapsed back into what had become her corner and sat as catatonic as the last day until Tecumseh had come to retrieve her, taking what sick pleasure in doing so personally and seeing her squirm, unable to change her fate. That didn't matter to Angelina as she had found her purpose in life. To entertain the Legion until her last day, her last breath, to be thrown into the arena time and again and to die there. It was all she was good for. That was all that mattered. Yet again as those things dominated her thoughts Angelina fell into a fitful but much needed sleep and did not wake until the next day.

When Angelina did wake it was on her own, a surprising change from the last couple of mornings, but she would have been more pleased with not waking up so early - or even not waking up at all. Things would have been much easier that way but yet again the most primal of urges to simply survive had its way and she was up before noon. Normally Angelina would have gone about her usual routine of having a couple of drinks and then heading out into the wasteland to make her living, however that may be - she had taken up working as a bounty hunter upon arriving in the Mojave which had turned out to be a horrible mistake. Angelina couldn't help but contemplate that as she sat in her corner again simply watching everything going on around her uninterested in any of it. She had fled the Capital Wasteland in order to change her life but in the end she hadn't changed much if at all. Being a bounty hunter hadn't been much different than being a mercenary, the only difference being working as a bounty hunter offered slightly less variety in the violence. It was, however, still violence on a grand scale. It had all only served to get her across the country where Angelina now found herself penned up like the animal she was, treated only as she had ever deserved to be - like she had practically begged to be.

Angelina continued wallowing in her now usual way until finally Tecumseh appeared before her starting to make his appearances at the slave pens oddly common. She didn't question it and hardly cared. Neither said much or acknowledged the other for a few moments as the feared Centurion looked over the slaves. Finally he spoke and yet again told Angelina to rise but spoke no further as she slowly, weakly got to her feet and shuffled out of her cage, bandaging sloppily wound around her filthy leg wound. Expecting to be thrown into the arena again against whatever unfortunate slave had been chosen to be her next victim in the endless slaughter Angelina was rather surprised when Tecumseh stopped her.

"Profligate, you haven't another opponent just yet. You will revel in the glory of combat soon enough, but for now, I must speak to you."

Angelina stared at the Centurion in his magnificent armor blankly, her eyes scanning his face and the rest of him out of habit, not finding a single thing out of place nor any sign of weakness or doubt within him. If there were such things inside Tecumseh the great and feared Centurion hid it well deep down inside where no one would ever see, where they would never know, presenting himself as yet another perfect soldier of the Legion.

"It is about your time here. You know women do not fight in the arena let alone in the Legion." Tecumseh paused, "Yet I have seen fit to make an exception for you and your last opponent. You are both filthy dogs like your debased and corrupt men. You deserve such an agonizing and bloody existence and death as much as they."

Angelina didn't even have to bite back a sarcastic question as to what the Centurion's point was. She didn't have the energy nor the will and if she'd had eitehr of those things all the sarcasm and venom in hr had seemingly disappeared, evaporating in the desert heat. Angelina just waited.

"And I know just how much everyone enjoys watching the great Frumentarius killer fighting, both men and her fellow pot scrubbing scum." Tecumseh smirked as the words slipped out of his mouth, watching Angelina's blank face but knowing inside her mind they were having the desired effect, "Do well and you may just receive more than the cleansing glory of killing fellow degenerate waste scum."

Angelina couldn't help but let her eyes grow wider or at least wider, ever so slightly, giving away her surprise. The sign of weakness was quickly suppressed as she realized what had happened - and that the Centurion was likely playing with her agian. She had come to the realization that not only was she the Legion's latest, greatest play thing but she was also Tecumseh's own little pet to beat senseless whenever he felt bored or particularly brutal. That was all Angelina amounted to and yet again she was reminded of just how worthless her life was and always had been, that it had all only served one purporse, to get her where she was - where she now got what she deserved. All that she had ever deserved. For every life Angelina had taken, innocent or otherwise, she would be thrown into battle to suffer wounds until she was finally struck down for her crimes, for every sick, debased, debauched and corrupt thing that had ever occured in her life she would be whipped, tortured, poked and prodded and made to be miserable and restless. There was nothing she could or would attempt to do other than simply take it and move on with her pathetic life until it all came to a likely violent and painful end.

"Dismissed." Tecumseh practically spat the word out into her face before turning and leaving.

Angelina did the same and returned to her cage, sitting in the corner as she had taken to doing, knowing it was her place and she belonged there. It didn't even bother her anymore, the pain and misery were as uncomfortable and hated as ever but Angelina had ceased to care during her short stay with the Legion. She certainly didn't care about what Tecumseh had said. It was nothing more than bait and she wasn't going to fall for it, she wouldn't bite, no matter how tempting it would have been to anyone else. There was no prize, no future, nothing to look forward to save for a better death than those who were crucified or otherwise died horribly and she knew she couldn't trust the Legion to give her even that much.

Instead of some great prize Angelina instead waited for her next battle. That was all that was certain, battle and death, all else ceased to matter in light of that. Battle was all that awaited her and that only lead to death, whether hers or someone elses it would always only lead to death, and eventually it would be her turn to die. It would be welcome as if waking from a bad dream. Death was the final and most welcome of all burdens and was pleasantly unescapable, the only thing forced upon someone from the beginning of life that, while painful in many situations, only served to end further suffering.

It didn't matter what Angelina thought of anything however as it wouldn't stop it or make it any better, wouldn't stop the man being dragged off to be crucified from meeting his fate, wouldn't make it any better. Yet it was all Angelina could think about. Everywhere she looked, everything she did, it was there. The hopeless inevitability. The yawning abyss waiting for her to fall in. It was repulsive yet attractive. It dominated and consumed her. It became everything as it always had been, swallowing all that was created as surely as all that had come before it, all that had come before Angelina just a surely as it would all that came after her.

Angelina kept herself busy contemplating these dark thoughts and little if anyting else as the other slaves and captures went about their moaning and groaning, complaining and speaking of nothing important at all. Occasionally a Legionary would step over to the pens adn bang on them commanding the slaves to keep quiet if they got too loud or otherwise looked too pleased with themselves and forgot the miserable conditions they existed in. It was their job after all to constantly and endlessly remind them that they were filth and they belonged to the Legion and to hopefully cure them of their horrid ways before they died. Even a slave was a step above their free brethren, dissolute and without morals or any guiding code to control them, no restraint. Angelina was in her mind already a step above even the slaves however as they rarely if ever acepted their place in the world and how they all in the end played their role however small. They were slaves to the far superior Legion who required their continued servile existence so that they could go out and busy themselves with cleansing the wasteland and uniting it under the gold and crimson banner of Caesar's Legion the great and almighty, powerful bull rampaging through the wastes shaping history and creating a new nation in the horrid irradiated wastes.

Instead of complaining and fighting back against what was only natural and made sense Angelina had already come to accept her place. She was a slave, entertainment, nothing more. They all on the other hand were average slaves and provided other services only occasionally being thrown into the arena to keep the Legion entertained. The only relief from such an existence would be death and Angelina wouldn't trick herself into believing otherwise.