The arena was surprisingly small, but what worried Galen more than the restricted space for the humans was that there wasn't much distance between them and the apes surrounding them. He wasn't sure if he wanted to be so close to the bloodbath that was about to take place there. He looked around: the room just wasn't big enough to accomodate so many spectators - people were pressing their backs against the brick walls, or against other apes, forming a dark, furry ring around the two humans who were facing off against each other.

Peet. And a huge brute that seemed to consist of nothing but scars and muscle.

Galen hoped that Peet would be able to hold out at least for a little while, until he was able to slip outside and meet Alan. He couldn't do it immediately without raising suspicion - just as Alan had predicted, he had been transported here in a covered cart, so that he wouldn't be able to identify the location of the fight. The good citizens of Etissa didn't trust him, even if they wanted his money. Galen was pretty sure that some of them were watching him this very moment, just in case he was working for the local police. He had to wait until everyone was sufficiently distracted by the fight.

He fleetingly wondered about his surroundings - most ape houses were made of wood, not stone, and these reddish stones looked unnatural, somehow - but if Alan had been able to follow him here, it was irrelevant where exactly they were now. Galen hoped that the human had indeed been following the cart; he hadn't seen him anywhere, which better meant that Alan's soldier past had enabled him to make himself invisible, and not that some ape had gotten to him first.

He put those thoughts out of his mind with some effort and forced himself to concentrate on the humans. Peet had recognized him in the split moment before the referee had given the signal to begin; Galen had seen it in the way he had frozen, pale face slack with shock. He hoped that nobody else had noticed that reaction. He hoped that Peet wouldn't let his expectation of a speedy rescue distract him from the battle he was forced to fight right now.

Their daring rescue plan was built on nothing but hoping for the best, it seemed.

It wasn't an even match by far. It was a totally unfair match, designed to provide the maximum amount of blood and gore for its screeching, howling audience. I always held us apes to be above humans, Galen thought as he was jostled sideways by the sudden jump of the ape to his right, but I guess I had only taken my own class into account for comparison. The cacophony around him, and the bloodlust it spoke to, sickened him. They're like hyenas, clamoring for those poor beasts' blood.

He forced himself to hold out for another few moments and watch the fight like everyone else. In the cramped space before him, Peet was evading the brute's attacks as far as possible, but that was not what the paying customers wanted to see.

"Stop hopping around, you stupid frog, and fight!" someone yelled. Booing and hissing followed that exhortation.

Peet evaded yet another swing and managed to land a kick to the giant's face. His foot connected with a loud smack, but the huge human didn't even flinch.

The apes were mollified by Peet's demonstration of fighting prowess for a moment, but their satisfaction didn't last long. Peet had gone back to evasion tactics, and the mood of the audience dropped dangerously. Galen wondered if he was the reason - was Peet playing for time, waiting for him and Alan to spring into action?

And then someone shoved Peet from behind, shoved him directly into The Butcher's punch, and Peet went down as if he had been hit by lightning.

Galen jumped forward without even realizing what he was doing. "Illegal! He was pushed! That's a foul! A foul!"

Around him, other apes were yelling and howling in protest, too, surging forward, converging towards the humans. The sharp shrill of the referee's whistle pierced through the uproar, and several apes with batons started to beat back the enraged mass of apes.

Galen caught a glimpse of Peet lying on the floor. Blood was oozing from his mouth, and his eyes were closed.

Then a Chimp crouched down at his side and began to shake him by the shoulder - that had to be Asar. Galen stared hard at him, committing his face to memory.

He couldn't stay around to see if Peet was alright. He had to make use of the chaos before it died down again, and hope for the best.

Hope. Galen was beginning to hate that concept.

His hope was vindicated in part, at least - there was no sentry outside the door to the "fight club." As Alan had said, the connoisseurs of this blood sport were a close-knit community that was as secretive as it was depraved. It was a miracle that they had even admitted him to this fight - maybe because he had been almost the only one willing to bet on Peet, and with a considerable sum, to boot. After he had seen Peet's opponent, Galen began to understand why they had thought him a fool who was easy to fleece. Should Peet win against all odds, though...

... then this meeting with Alan at the back of the building would have another, unforseen advantage.

He was there. Galen allowed himself a cautious sigh as Alan's silhouette peeled itself from the shadows.

"How's it going?" Alan murmured, and handed him the gun.

"Peet was just knocked down," Galen murmured back. "Someone shoved him into the Butcher's path, and then a bit of chaos broke out... But we should go back in, before that ox he's forced to fight against stomps him into the ground."

"Agreed." In the darkness, blurry movement indicated that Alan was drawing his own gun. "How many of them are down there?"

"Too many," Galen said dryly. "But none of them has a gun. The rules are strict in that regard."

"That's no guarantee," Alan warned. "Make sure nobody can make a grab for your weapon, and don't hesitate to shoot anyone who tries."

"C... can't I just shoot at the ceiling?" Galen stuttered. Cesar, I've never shot anyone...

"And risk that your ricocheting bullet hits an innoc... a non-involved bystander? Would that make you feel better?"

I've never shot anyone. I never even thought of shooting anyone. I didn't even go hunting with my father and Melv's father and Melv...

Alan grabbed him by the shoulders and leaned in so close that Galen could make out his features in the faint, fog-choked light. "We're going into a room full of apes who watch people killing each other for entertainment. They won't hesitate to kill us, too, to protect their sick hobby. If you're not absolutely sure that you'll be able to pull the trigger if it becomes necessary, don't go in there."

He paused. "There's no shame in admitting it, Galen - you'll still be useful up here, securing our exit. It's better to be honest beforehand than to fold when it counts."

No shame. There'd be no shame in admitting he felt nauseated at the sheer thought of pulling that trigger. Galen clenched his teeth. He had killed those creatures back in that ruined human city, but those hadn't been apes. Just... abominations.

And what would you call those creatures in the basement who are so eager to see Peet's throat ripped out that they shoved him into that punch? You don't even know if he's back to fighting, or if that fist broke his skull...

He straightened with a determined sniff. "I can do what's necessary. I will do what's necessary to rescue Peet."

Alan held his gaze for a long moment, and Galen hoped his face was expressing the determination he felt. He would pull the trigger; he would kill anyone who tried to take the gun from him.

He could always throw up later.

Alan released his grip on him. "Alright then. Lead the way."

With a deep breath, Galen turned around and climbed down the narrow brick stairs again. He couldn't hear Alan behind him - neither his steps, nor the rustle of clothing, nor his breathing, nothing - and fought the urge to look over his shoulder to see if the human was still behind him. There was no reason he wouldn't be behind him...

He breathed a little lighter when the stairs ended in the corridor that led to the fighting pit. At least the corridor was illuminated somewhat by the torches that had been stuck into the holders here and there. Still, he had to draw another deep breath before he found the will to grab the handle and swing open the last door.

From the top of the short stairs that led into the arena, he had a superior view of the goings-on in the pit. Galen found his gaze drawn inexorably to the drama unfolding down there, just as every other gaze in the room was riveted to the battle. Nobody paid him and Alan any attention.

In the pit, the Butcher lunged into a last, devastating punch at a staggering Peet. It was a miracle that their friend was even on his feet again, Galen thought, horrified. A large purple spot was blooming on the left side of Peet's ribcage - internal bleeding, Galen's inner veterinarian supplied dispassionately. He could only hope that it was caused by superficially positioned blood vessels, and not some ruptured organ, like the spleen...

Hope was certainly an overrated concept.

Alan was pushing past him now, a soft click announcing that he had readied his hand-gun.

And then Peet sidestepped the giant flying at him, and grabbed his wrist, and twisted-

... and the Butcher took flight, yanked off balance, propelled by his own momentum; he hurtled towards the apes who scrambled out of the way, panicking, and crashed head-first into the brick wall.

And lay there, at the foot of the wall, unmoving.

After a long moment, when it became clear that he wouldn't get up again, someone shouted, "Go on, Killer - finish him!"

Peet was swaying on his feet, either unable or unwilling to heed that command, and soon enough, other apes took up the sentiment. "Kill, Killer, kill! Kill, Killer, kill! Kill, Killer, kill!"

Galen felt Alan stiffen beside him. They had to break this up before the crowd's volatile mood turned against Peet. It would be difficult to get the apes' attention, though, unless he or Alan did fire at the ceiling; but he understood now that this was probably not a good idea. With their luck, that ricocheting bullet would hit Peet.

The referee was inspecting the prone form of the Butcher now; then he straightened and blew his whistle. Slowly, the chants subsided.

"I declare the winner of this fight to be Asar's Killer," the ape announced. "Win by knockout." He blew his whistle again when angry shouts rose all along the walls. "The statutes are clear," he shouted. "No killing an already unconscious opponent! He's out cold, he won't get up on his own any time soon, Asar has won this fight! Now pay up, gents! Be a good sport!"

Peet had won. Peet... had won.

Galen put his hand on Alan's arm. "Hold your fire a moment longer, Alan. I need to... just wait here."

He quickly hid his gun in the folds of his robe and hurried down the steps.

The room was tilting back and forth, or maybe that was just the flickering light of the torches.

Or maybe it was him, swaying on his feet. Burke was dimly aware that every inhalation sent a sharp pain into his left side - maybe some cracked ribs. Maybe something else. Didn't care. He just wanted to find a dark corner to curl up in.

The sounds around him were strangely muted, but the light was too bright, then too dark, disorienting him. He felt Asar's hand grip his neck possessively, and this time, he leaned into it - it was the only unmoving thing in this swirling world, a point of rest.

"I told you to kill that thing," Asar's growl sounded at his left ear. "Now you'll have to fight it again at some point."

"I really doubt that," another voice said conversationally, and Burke felt Asar stiffen, felt that tiny jolt travel through the ape's arm and into his hand, tightening its grip on him.

"And I suggest you let go of my human immediately," the familiar voice continued in the same friendly tone, "because I can assure you, if I see those fingers of yours tighten just a bit more, I'll tighten my finger, and I'm not gripping a human neck, but the trigger of a gun."

Burke felt Asar's fingers relax; then the heavy warmth left, and he staggered back a step.

Galen... ?

It took him a moment to catch up to what was happening, and in that moment, another hand clasped around his arm and directed him a few steps to the side until he felt the wall in his back. Nothing but the wall behind him, and in front of him, Galen, pointing a gun at Asar and, by implication, at every ape in the room.

Burke leaned his head against the bricks and closed his eyes. Galen you idiot, how many bullets are in that thing? Six?

"Listen to Killer, he can count," he heard Asar sneer.

Damn, did I say that out loud? 'm more out of my mind that I'd thought...

"But we can prioritize."

Burke yanked his eyes open and pushed away from the wall to gape at the source of that new voice. Sure enough, at the top of the stairs, Virdon's blond hair caught the light for a moment, before he retreated deeper into the shadows again.

"I hope you're able to set the right priorities, too," Virdon called down to Asar. "You don't impress me as the kind of ape who'd sacrifice his own life for his fans."

Al's here. An' Galen. How... how the hell did they find me?

He was too numb to feel relieved, or happy, or anything. And they weren't out of this hellhole yet, and despite Al's warning that everyone should think long and hard if they wanted to risk being the first one with a hole in their skull, they were still fiercely outnumbered. It was too soon to celebrate.

But damn! They were here! They had come for him. He couldn't suppress the slight tremble in his limbs at that thought. I shouldn't be so surprised... they've come for me every time...

His chest hurt. Damn cracked ribs.

Galen reached behind himself and pushed a heavy leather bag against Burke's stomach. "Can you hold that for me? I have a feeling I'll need both hands soon..."

Burke caught the thing, too surprised to object. "What is that?"

"Our money," Galen said without turning his head. "I bet a nice sum on you and, sorry to say, the odds were quite decisively against you."

And so he had won big, after Butcher over there had used his thick skull as a battering ram. Burke stared at the bag in his hands. "You're a real bastard, Galen."

"Well, how do you think I found out the location of your latest performance?" Galen was still not looking at him, keeping his sights - and his gun - trained on Asar, whose calculating expression made Burke's skin crawl. "They wouldn't have invited me if I hadn't placed a bet."

Burke decided to let it rest for now. Wouldn't do any of them any good if he distracted Galen with a discussion. He weighed the bag in his hand. It really was damn heavy. "Well, 'm touched that you placed your bet on me, an' not on the other guy. We can talk later about divvying up."

Galen didn't respond to that, but his shoulders stiffened a bit. They'd had their share of discussions about splitting Burke's prize money when he had run races for Galen back in Sapan.

"Indeed," was all Galen said. "And now I think it's time to leave this establishment. If you'd be so kind as to lead the way..." He pointed his chin towards the exit, keeping his gun trained on Asar.

The chimp stared him down without moving an inch. "And what if I don't? Are you gonna shoot me? There are about fifty apes in here, give or take a dozen - even if you have enough ammunition crammed down your pants, you won't reload quickly enough before they tear you to shreds." The last words had come out as a snarl.

"Too bad you won't be around anymore to watch," Galen said evenly, but Burke heard the slight hitch in his voice. He sucked the air through his teeth as he cast a quick glance around the room. The apes had recovered from their shock and were now leaning in, eager to spring into action if Galen wavered.

"You won't shoot me," Asar said with a cold smile. "Pussy."

"Don't let him provoke you," Burke hissed, as Galen tightened his grip on the gun. Once Asar fell, all bets were off. This damn standoff hinged on Al's calculation that every ape would be afraid to be the first one to catch a bullet. But Burke had come to know this crowd by now - everyone here fancied themselves to be one of the lucky guys who'd dodge that bullet, and would get to tear apart the intruders limb by limb.

They wouldn't get out of here alive.

"Move," Galen said.

Asar planted his feet and hooked his thumbs into his belt. "Make me."

Galen fired.

Asar was whipped around, yelling with pain, but he didn't drop. When he turned back toward Galen with a snarl, he was gripping his right upper arm, blood oozing through his fingers. Burke turned his head to stare at Galen with newfound respect.

"I had entertained the thought of shooting you in the knee," Galen said, his knuckles white around the handle. "I heard it hurts the most. But then I remembered that I had told you to get moving-"

"Everybody freeze! Hands where I can see them!"

This time, everybody did freeze. It was as if the scene before Burke's eyes was coalescing into a photograph, except for the commotion at the only door, where black uniforms were jostling aside the stunned apes, pushing them against the walls, and snapping handcuffs around limp wrists.

Police.

And then another figure strode through the door and came to a halt at the top of the stairs, hands propped on her hips, and surveyed the room with a disapproving glare that only softened when it fell on him.

"Mothers, Peet," Zana said. "What did those brutes do to you?"