1

Enter the hero.

Orion Abel sat on his motorcycle and looked through the rain and mist to the view screen sitting on the roof of an office building across the river. “R U Glad?” glowed brightly through the mist. Its a dumb ad campaign, thought Orion. It stood for Real Urban Gladiators, a relatively new sport that was catching like wildfire. Like the ad suggested, the fights were as real as they get. People fought, people died. Sure, at first the nation was in uproar. People harming each other on television was met with contempt, but soon, as is the way it happens, people’s morals adjusted. This was aided by the organization of the CSL, the Combat Sports League. The waivers and training to fight non-lethal fights quickly converted the rest of the nation and soon the sport caught on like wild fire.

The screen neon colored flickered for a moment, then the words flew off to the right and a man in a mask emblazoned with a red star wheelied onto the screen riding an X-900 Tomahawk motorcycle. After a moment he drove off again and was replaced by another message. This time it read “See KillerStar take on The Golem! Team based combat in the Slums Pit.”

Orion’s motorcycle hummed to life with with the push of a button and he turned away from the screen. Drops of rain kicked up from the back wheel when he turned the throttle and peeled out onto the the road. The rain had puddled in street creating large patches that Orion weaved between on his way back to the small apartment he rented from a nice old lady who lived on the first floor. 

The storefronts and view screens lining the roads were all hyping the same thing. The only topic anyone ever really wanted to discuss anymore were the folks mangling each other for the entertainment of the masses. Despite how new the sport was in comparison to the ancients like soccer and baseball, it gained a fast fan base by catering to the basic human lust for violence.

  The world was way too full of gladiator crap if you asked Orion. He saw people in bars chanting the name of whichever side of the match they supported, bookies offering modified odds and stealing money as usual, and view screens showing clips from previous fights. Even the schools were beginning to organize “soft” gladiator leagues with foam core weapons and gymnasium arenas. The whole situation filled Orion’s stomach to the brim with acid

In the parking garage, Orion dropped the kickstand on his bike in his usual parking spot. He took off his helmet and shook out his long black hair while the elevator doors slid open and a family from down the hall walked out. Orion gritted his teeth at the sight of the twins. They each had shirts emblazoned with that freaking slogan. R U Glad? Orion regretted ever thinking up that campaign, but the CSL organizer’s had loved it and paid him a hefty sum of money for it.

Both the boys ran up to Orion and started talking at the same time, jumbling each other’s words and confusing Orion to no end.

“Slow it down kids,” he said with a slightly forced chuckle, “I can’t understand a word either of you are saying!” 

“Mr. Abel, Mr. Abel!” said one of them, either Tommy or Toby. At times ORion got them confused, “Are you gunna watch the big fight? You gotta tell me who wins! My mom says I’m too young to watch.”

“And she’s right, Both of you are way too young to be interested in gladiators,” said Orion, ruffling the enthusiastic child’s hair, “Shouldn’t you be into, like superheroes or something?”

“No,” said the other one, “superheroes aren’t even real, but gladiators are actually real and they fight for real. Its so cool.”

“Well sorry guys, I don’t really keep track of the CSL, just superheroes. I’d be glad to tell you whether Electro wins his fight with the evil villain Trambeldage over the fate of the city. Just picked up the new book”

“Whatever,” the twins said in unison, suddenly bored. The pair raced off to the van with their father, while their mom approached Orion.

“We’re stepping out for a bit Orion, remember to call us if you need anything,” said Alicia Aaron.

“I’ll be fine,” Orion sighed wearily.

“But you’re so young to be living on your own,” she pouted, pulling him into a hug.

“I’m seventeen, and my parents set me up with a huge trust fund at birth. I’m perfectly self-sufficient.”

“Ok, I trust you,” she said stepping towards their van, “but remember we’re always here for you.”

Orion felt a little bad for lying to such a kind lady and her family, but they couldn’t know the truth about him. Michael and Crystal Abel had died in a raid on the farm they owned on the boarder between the United Eastern Union and the Liberated Central States. The Abel family had lived there since the civil war that left a once powerful nation divided into three. The three nations supposedly had peace, but there were still incidents. The remaining skirmishes around the boarders left a young Orion to fend for himself.

After years of struggling to get by, Orion Abel stumbled on a way to survive. For almost two years now, he had participated in the CSL. He entered his little apartment and grabbed two knives, deftly spinning them in the palms of his hands. Catching the tips of each blade, he flung them across the room and lodged them into a practice dummy. One wedged itself in an eye socket, the other buried itself hilt deep between two of the ribs.

The walls of the apartment held various bladed weapons, ranging from ornately carved bo staffs with steel reinforcements to a huge claymore that had been used in wars in the distant, distant past to decapitate opponents three at a time. A footlocker by the door to the bedroom held an assortment of firearms and high-tech weapons like the buster glove, a metal glove that had an electric current running through it when worn.The rest of the apartment was pretty average for a teenager, an in-wall view screen with gaming system, a kitchen with the basic appliances, and a big stereo sitting in the corner. 

Orion never let anyone inside because he never wanted anyone to find out about him, not even the landlady had been inside since he moved in. A mask with a crimson red star hung above the door to the bedroom. The black eye sockets glared maliciously down at the teenager who had just needed some way to get by without dying in the streets.

Reviews

[Irish_Ranger]

Wow, I saw the subtitle to your next chapter and I have to say that you've already got loads and loads of backstory with this chapter. Your characters are very well-developed and described, and you've really set a great tone for what's to come. The somewhat-mysterious yet highly-publicized Gladiator show and the CSL (shades of Unreal Tournament, which I like).

There are a few typos here and there ("boarders" should be "borders). Otherwise, very solid piece of writing, I'll be sure to catch up on your further work. Good job!