Beastmaster: The Eye of Braxas

Fom the third film in the Beastmaster series, "Eye of Braxas".

Five Rebel Gladiators

The five gladiators were among the first to join Spartacus in the revolt at Capua and they fled with him and about seventy other gladiators to the slopes of Mount Vesuvius. By the time the Roman legion was dispatched to suppress the revolt, Spartacus’ small band of gladiators had swelled to thousands and included runaway slaves, rebellious gladiators, and even some criminals.

Spartacus’ spectacular defeat of Rome’s Ninth Legion at Pompeii had energized his rapidly growing army. With another two Roman Legions marching toward them, Spartacus dispatched his strongest and most trusted gladiators, those that trained and fought with him in Pompeii, to the Roman camp.

The five gladiators, battle hardened from years in the arena and their recent triumph over the Ninth Legion, accepted the mission willingly. They would arrive at the Roman camp at night when most of the two legions were asleep. The gladiators would kill as many guards as possible and capture one or two centurions to be interrogated by Spartacus himself. The gladiators would approach the camp from the south to avoid detection by any scouting cohorts that the Romans often sent out. A southerly approach, however, meant descending a rather steep cliff wall to reach the valley camp, a strenuous feat for even the strongest among them.

The five gladiators readied themselves for the mission and they received some final words of encouragement from Spartacus. They wore only the short blue tunics that they had worn since the initial revolt at Capua and were naked to just below the waist, most of their muscular bodies were fully exposed; they wore no armor or helmets. This was not uncommon for these gladiators. as all preferred to fight with their torsos bare. The gladiators were confident enough in their skills with a sword that the benefit of full freedom of movement outweighed the risk of catching an errant blade on their bare skin. They wore no armor when they fought in the arena at Pompeii or when they defeated Rome’s Ninth, and this mission would be no different.

Most troubling for Spartacus was the decision by the gladiators to not carry any weapons with them. They did not want to risk a sword clanging against the rock wall as they descended the cliff and alerting the Roman guards of their presence. The gladiators would have to arm themselves with weapons taken from the guards as they killed them. Many in Spartacus’ camp feared this was a mistake and that this was a suicide mission but the brave gladiators shrugged it off as a minor inconvenience.

The five gladiators were an impressive site as they mounted their horses and confidently rode out of camp. All the gladiators were heavily muscled and all stood over six feet tall. Their meager diet of fruits and grains had sharpened the definition of each muscle in their lean bodies but had not diminished their strength, for each was still strong as a lion. All five gladiators had worn nothing more than their tunics since the revolt at Capua three months earlier and the warm Pompeian sun had baked their nearly naked bodies to a golden hue. Their smooth muscular torsos glistened in the late afternoon sun as they rode away.

Although there was no formal rank among the gladiators, it was Baro that the others often looked to for guidance and it was Baro that took the lead as they rode out of camp.

Baro was the oldest of the five gladiators although he was not old by any standard measure of the day. Baro’s wide shoulders and broad back angled sharply into a narrow waist. Two large pectorals sat high on his chest and his abdomen was thickly muscled with large but pleasingly shaped abdominals that were clearly visible under his taut bronzed skin. Despite his rugged training and experience in the arena, Baro was an even tempered fellow who preferred to settle disputes with his tongue rather than his sword. But when swords were drawn, Baro was a deadly opponent.

Attius, who rode behind Baro, was the youngest among them but was certainly not the smallest. Attius came to the barracks at Capua less than a year ago and was sturdily built before he began training as a gladiator. After a few months at the lanista, Attius’ body blossomed and it seemed his muscles hadn’t stopped growing since. The other gladiators often remarked that Attius’ young face looked a bit odd sitting atop his heavily muscled body. The young Macedonian took to the sword naturally and soon wielded it like it was an extension of his own arm. His opponents in the arena often mistook his youthful appearance for inexperience and always paid the ultimate price. Despite his imposing size and youthfulness, Attius was a quick wit and could always bring a smile to the lips of the others.

Valerius and Sextus rode next to each other behind Attius and were inseparable. The other gladiators often joked that one was never seen without the other nearby. Both gladiators were about the same height and both had extremely well developed muscular bodies. Individually, each was an impressive sight, but standing together, they were intimidating to all but those who knew them best. Every muscle in each of their bodies was in proper proportion to every other muscle, perfect symmetry. Valerius and Sextus trained together in Capua and the editor of the games, knowing their fondness for each other, would often team them together to fight in the arena, often pitting the two of them against six or more opponents at one time. Valerius and Sextus were both fierce opponents, but when paired together they were unbeatable. Their swords could hack through half a dozen gladiators in the blink of an eye. Their closeness to each other was the subject of many whispered asides but no one ever dared speak of it aloud for fear of incurring the wrath of one or both of the big muscular gladiators. But it mattered little to Valerius and Sextus what was said about them. They were both good natured and slow to anger and they knew they had earned the respect of the other gladiators where it mattered most, in the arena.

Dax rode behind Valerius and Sextus and was the biggest of the five gladiators. He was easily half a foot taller than the others and his curly black hair made him appear even taller. Dax’ body was without doubt the most muscular of all the gladiators in Spartacus’ camp. His huge arms hung from boulder-like shoulders; two large pectorals hung over his thick but chiseled abdominals. His thighs were like tree trunks as they hung from the side of his horse. Dax was the champion of the arena at Pompeii and had already garnered much favor with several senators in Rome where he may have eventually earned his freedom. But Dax, like the others, was taken with Spartacus’ words and had no regrets about joining him and fighting the Romans. After the defeat of the Ninth, word quickly spread amongst the other Roman Legions of the Herculean gladiator. Dax didn’t know it but he was already a legend among the Roman soldiers.

The gladiators arrived at the top of the cliff on foot at dusk; the horses were left grazing about a mile behind. There was still quite a bit of activity in the Roman camp in the valley below but after about an hour the camp was quiet as Rome’s fiercest two legions, The Fourth and The Tenth, settled in for the night. The gladiators carefully noted the position of each guard and devised a plan of attack. Because of the unlikelihood of an attack from the cliffs, there were only a few guards on the south side of the camp. Most of the guards were on the north side of the valley where the Romans were more vulnerable.

The gladiators pulled off their sandals and began the perilous nighttime descent down the face of the cliff, their full body weigh supported only by their powerful arms and legs. Their muscles strained as they slowly navigated the treacherous jagged rock; the gladiators were confident that their presence had so far gone undetected by the Roman legions below. And that would have been the case if not for one Roman soldier’s urgent need to relieve a swollen bladder near a tree at the foot of the cliff. The soldier’s casual glance over his shoulder while he was urinating and the pale light of the waxing moon revealed the five gladiators clinging to the face of the cliff. The soldier quickly but quietly alerted the guards on duty and, before the gladiators were half way down the rock wall, ten Roman soldiers in full battle armor were positioned at the base of the cliff with more troops on the way, ready to repeal the attack. The gladiators continued their descent down the cliff unaware of the soldiers waiting for them below.

Dax descended the wall the quickest which surprised the other gladiators because Dax was the biggest and bulkiest of the group. It may have been his fear of heights that motivated his rapid descent or just his brute strength, but Dax was the first gladiator to reach the bottom of the cliff. What the gladiator didn’t know was that there was a Roman soldier waiting for him with his sword already unsheathed.

As soon as Dax’ feet hit the ground the Roman grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. Dax was surprised by the soldier and was thrown off balance. The Roman jabbed his left hand into Dax’ abdomen and pushed him back violently, slamming the gladiator back against the rock wall. The jagged rock dug into Dax’ bare back and the gladiator instinctively pulled his shoulders back; his thickly muscled chest and abdomen were left completely exposed and vulnerable to the Roman standing in front of him with sword fully cocked. The overzealous young Roman then furiously rammed his blade into Dax’ bare belly with a powerful thrust of his sword. The soldier’s blade sliced through Dax’ muscular torso and the tip of the blade hit the rock wall behind him.

AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!! The crisp sound of the Roman’s blade cutting into Dax’ granite-like abdomen was quickly followed by the gladiator’s roar that echoed throughout the base of the cliff.

Dax’ yell was partly in reaction to the agonizing pain of the blade that was run through his gut and partly in anger at letting himself be stabbed so easily by the young Roman soldier who was more than half a foot shorter than him and about half his body weight. In the arena, Dax would have crushed this Roman soldier’s skull with his bare hands. But now the young soldier had Pompeii’s mightiest gladiator pinned against the rock wall with his sword run through the gladiator’s belly. The Roman put his left hand on Dax’ powerful chest and pushed hard against the gladiator’s beefy left pectoral as he ripped his sword out of Dax’ gut just as viciously as he had stabbed him.

UUUHHH!!! Dax yelled out again and took a few steps forward with the Roman’s sword as it was pulled out of his belly.

The soldier was sure his sword thrust through the massive gladiator’s gut was fatal and with his confidence buoyed by the kill the soldier turned away from Dax, eager to join the fight with the other gladiators that were coming down the cliff.

The Roman soldier didn’t get more than a few steps before Dax grabbed the Roman from behind and dragged him back.

Dax’ wound was indeed fatal but he had the stamina of a bull and it would be several minutes before he would bleed to death. He, like the other gladiators, was trained to fight to kill until the very last breath was drawn and the inexperienced Roman was now caught in Dax’ deadly grip.
With one arm wrapped around the Roman's chest and the other arm around his throat Dax pulled the Roman into him until the Roman’s cold metal armor was pressed tightly against the gladiator’s bare chest. Dax’ huge biceps strained as he slowly squeezed the life out of the Roman. The gladiator’s left arm crushed the Roman’s armor and snapped his ribs like twigs. Dax’ right arm closed off the Roman’s throat denying him air. The young Roman was soon limp in Dax’ powerful arms and the gladiator let the soldier fall to the ground.

Killing the soldier who stabbed him distracted Dax’ attention from the pain in his gut for a few moments but now he was keenly aware of the severe stab wound in his belly. Dax flexed every muscle in his body hard as he tried to endure the searing pain. He knew it was only a matter of time before he would join the dead Roman who was slumped at his feet. The gladiator struggled to stay on his feet.

A Roman soldier who had just emerged from his tent to join the fight spotted Dax about twenty yards away. The Roman was at first intimidated by the gladiator’s impressive size and the dead soldier at his feet and was hesitant to attack. But the soldier soon realized Dax was unarmed and wounded. The Roman would seize upon this opportunity to avenge the death of several of his friends from the Ninth Legion who were slaughtered by Spartacus’ army in Pompeii. It mattered little to the Roman whether Dax’ sword was responsible for the deaths of his friends. Running his sword through the belly of one of Spartacus’ rebel gladiators was his only thought at that moment. The Roman soldier would have his revenge with Dax, whose severe wound had now left him virtually defenseless.

The Roman ran at Dax with his sword fully cocked. Dax had turned his head to look behind him at the other gladiators descending the cliff and he never saw the soldier running at him.

“This is for my brothers in the Ninth!” the Roman yelled as he stopped a foot in front of Dax and rammed his blade into the gladiator’s tightly flexed abs with a brutal thrust of his sword.

AAAAAHHHHH!!! Dax yelled out and his upper body lurched forward as the Roman’s blade ripped into his belly.

Dax’ abdominals tightened around the blade that was stuck in his gut and he twisted his torso and gasped desperately for air.

The soldier had half his blade stuck in the gladiator’s gut but the Roman’s vengeance was still not yet fully satisfied. He grabbed Dax’ beefy shoulder with his left hand and abruptly pulled his sword out of the gladiator’s belly. The Roman cocked his sword arm all the back and ruthlessly stabbed Dax again, driving his blade into Dax’ abdomen to the hilt of the sword and running him through with a single thrust.

UUUUUUHHHHHH!!! Dax grunted loudly. His body stiffened and he rose to his toes as the sword sliced through his upper abs, just below his sternum.

The Roman ripped his sword out of Dax’ body and the gladiator fell to his knees, then fell forward face down on the ground with his big arms out to his sides. Blood flowed freely from the cuts on Dax’ back where the swords of the two Romans has sliced through his skin. Dax was dead.

The other gladiators heard Dax yell out when he was first stabbed and they then knew of the Romans waiting for them at the bottom of the cliff. They were too far down the wall to turn back so there was no choice but to keep going and fight when they reached the bottom.
Baro was the closest to the bottom and he watched as Dax was stabbed by the second Roman. Baro leapt the remaining twenty feet off the cliff and landed on top of the soldier just as the Roman spat on Dax’ dead body.

Both Baro and the Roman hit the ground hard. The soldier was knocked flat on his back and dazed. When he was fully conscious a few seconds latter Baro was kneeling over him holding the soldier’s own sword over his body, ready to strike.

AAAAHHHH!!! Anticipating his fate, the Roman started yelling even before the blade touched his body.

Baro rammed the sword down into the Roman’s gut and the blade cut into him just below the soldier’s armor and was driven deep into his abdomen.

AAAAAHHHH!!! The Roman shrieked again and his hips rose off the ground.

The soldier reached up with both hands to grab the sword that was stuck in his gut but Baro quickly pulled the blade out of the Roman’s body. Baro brought the sword up again and then quickly plunged the blade into the soldier’s chest, smashing the Roman’s metal breastplate and piercing his left pectoral. The Roman soldier gasped violently and was dead within seconds.

Baro pulled the blade out of the Roman’s chest and got to his feet. He looked at the red stained blade of the sword in his hand and was pleased that Dax’ blood had been replaced with the blood of the Roman who killed him.

“Baro, behind you!!!” Attius yelled from the face of the cliff as he looked down over his shoulder and saw two Roman soldiers with swords drawn running at Baro from behind him.

Baro spun around with his sword arm raised high above his head ready to strike but it was too late. As Baro turned one Roman soldier crouched down low and furiously drove his blade into Baro’ gut with a full thrust of his sword. The second Roman stabbed Baro a moment later, his blade plunging deep into the gladiator’s rock hard stomach.

“AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!”

“AAAAAHHHHH!!!” Baro’s upper body lurched forward and his eyes opened wide as he felt both Roman blades cut into his belly.

One soldier pulled his blade out of Baro, and the other quickly followed

UUUHHH!!!

UUUHHH!!! Baro took a step forward and grunted as each sword was ripped out of his abdomen.

Before Baro could bring his sword up and try to defend himself, a third Roman soldier pushed past the other two soldiers and stabbed Baro in the gut with an savage thrust of his sword.

AAAAAHHHHH!!!! Baro’s muscular body jerked forward and he instinctively flexed him abdominals hard around the blade as it ripped into his belly.

The Roman pulled his blade out of Baro and the gladiator covered his stomach with both hands and fell the ground.

Baro had always believed his death would come honorably at the hands of another gladiator in the arena. He would nobly offer his neck to his victorious opponent who would mercifully slit his throat, killing him instantly. But Baro never imagined his death would come in this manner; left squirming on the ground to die a slow death, stabbed in the belly by the common swords of Roman infantrymen.

Death came soon enough for Baro and the three Romans were pleased with the kill.

Valerius and Sextus jumped together from about ten feet from the bottom of the rock wall. Valerius grabbed one of the Roman soldiers from behind and wrapped his beefy arms around the soldier’s chest. The gladiator tried to grab the Roman’s sword out of its scabbard but while they struggled for the sword another Roman came up from behind Valerius and slashed him across his lower back with a sword.

AAAHHH!!! Valerius growled as the Roman’s blade sliced open his bronzed skin leaving an eight inch gash on the gladiator’s muscular back

Valerius let go of the Roman he was holding and arched his back in reaction to the painful slash across his lower back. The soldier he was holding had his sword unsheathed as he spun around to face the gladiator. When Valerius arched his back and reached around with his ride hand to cover the wound on his back the Roman in front of him viciously thrust his sword forward, stabbing Valerius in the belly.

AAAAHHHH!!! Valerius wailed and he snapped forward at the waist when the blade ripped into his thick abs and sunk deep into his gut.

The Roman pulled his sword out of Valerius and the gladiator staggered back a few steps.
The soldier that had slashed Valerius’ back then grabbed the gladiator’s shoulder from behind him and spun him around and brutally stabbed Valerius in the gut again.

UUUUUUHHHHHH!!! Valerius cried out again and rose up on his toes when the Roman’s blade cut into his muscular belly.

With half his blade driven into Valerius’ gut, the soldier wrapped his left hand around the gladiator’s wide back, now moist with perspiration, and ruthlessly shoved the rest of the blade into Valerius’ belly. The blade was driven into his body to the hilt of the sword.

AAAAAHHHHH!!! Valerius howled as the Roman’s sword was run completely through his thick torso.

The Roman tore his sword out of Valerius’ belly with both hands on the grip, pulling Valerius forward a few steps. Valerius squeezed every muscle in his body hard for a few seconds then fell straight back to the ground and was still. Valerius was dead.

Sextus was fighting furiously without a sword and he managed to hold off several Roman soldiers at once with his bare hands. Sextus grabbed one Roman who attacked him and picked the soldier up over his head and threw him onto a group of three other soldiers sending them all crashing to the ground. As Sextus turned another Roman came at him unexpectedly and speared Sextus in the belly before the gladiator could deflect the attack.

AAAAAAHHHHHH!!! Sextus bellowed and doubled over at the waist as the finely sharpened spearhead was driven completely into his gut.

The Roman held the spear in the gladiator and pushed him back a few steps but Sextus grabbed the shaft of the spear with both hands and, with his biceps straining, he pulled the spear out of his gut and pushed the Roman soldier away. Sextus struggled to stand up straight but as soon as he did another soldier rushed forward and furiously stabbed Sextus in the belly with a hard thrust of his sword.

AAAAAHHHH!!!! Sextus yelled out again as the soldier’s blade tore through the flesh and muscle in his abdomen and was driven deep into his muscular torso.

Sextus grabbed his stomach with both hands and fell face down on the ground. The gladiator thrashed around violently on the ground as he tried to endure the pain of the two deep wounds in his gut.

The soldier who had speared Sextus put his foot under the gladiator’s shoulder and flipped him over onto his back. Sextus rolled onto his back still clutching his belly and he tried to lift his head off the ground. The Roman soldier raised his spear over Sextus and ruthlessly rammed it into the wounded gladiator’s bare chest, spearing Sextus’ left pectoral and piercing his heart. Sextus died instantly.

Attius was the last gladiator still alive and he was fighting wildly as most of the Roman soldiers were gathered around him. A Centurion was now present and barking orders to the soldiers. Attius, unarmed, was deflecting the attacks but his arms and legs, already weary from the descent of the cliff, were aching.

In an attack coordinated by the Centurion, two Roman soldiers charged at the same time and grabbed Attius beefy arms, one soldier on each arm. The soldiers pulled Attius back and slammed him against the rock wall and held him there. Attius struggled to free his arms but his strength was severely diminished; he was pinned against the wall and defenseless.

The Centurion stepped forward and his steely eyes slowly scanned the half-naked muscular gladiator from top to bottom.

“Ah...to have a thousand men as big and strong as you in the legion, gladiator...” The Centurion’s voice trailed off.

Attius’ struggled to free himself but the two soldiers had latched themselves to his massive arms and held the gladiator firmly against the wall. The gladiator’s bare back scraped against the jagged rock wall behind him as he struggled to get free.

Without saying another word and without any show of emotion, the Centurion suddenly pulled his sword out of its scabbard and callously stabbed Attius in the belly with the fierce thrust of a seasoned warrior; one for whom killing had no meaning.

AAAAAHHHHH!!!! Attius cried out as the Centurion’s blade cut into his hard muscled abdomen and was driven through his torso, striking the rock behind him.

The Roman pulled his sword out of Attius’ belly and stepped back.

UUUHHH!!! Attius groaned loudly and his muscular body shuddered when the Centurion’s sword was ripped out of him.

Attius flexed every muscle in his body and pulled his huge arms away from the wall dragging the two Roman soldiers who were still holding him. The gladiator’s burst of strength was short lived however, and the two soldiers slammed him back against the wall again.

The Centurion stepped forward as he cocked his sword all the back and coldly drove his blade into the gladiator’s gut again, turning his upper body to the left to give his thrust more power.

AAAAHHH!!! Attius yelled again and his upper body snapped forward. The Centurion’s blade once again sliced through the gladiator’s heavily muscled torso and hit the wall behind him.

The Centurion ripped his blade out of Attius’ body.

UUUHHH!!! Attius grunted and was dragged forward with the momentum of the blade as it was pulled out of his belly.

The Centurion wiped the blood from his blade and sheathed his sword. The two Roman soldiers let go of Attius’ arms and both stepped back from him. Attius’ deeply tanned skin was now covered with beads of perspiration as he struggled with the two cuts in his gut; both stab wounds were bleeding heavily.

Attius focused what strength he had left and managed to stand up straight and take a few steps forward. In a final act of defiance, Attius slowly raised his right fist high in the air and, in a raspy halting voice yelled, “Long...live...Spartacus, conqueror...of Rome!”

The Centurion who was emotionless before was now enraged by the gladiator's insolence. The Centurion pulled a dagger from his belt and ran at the huge gladiator who still had his fist high in the air, mocking the Centurion and all of Rome. The Roman stopped a foot in from of Attius and furiously stabbed him in the belly with the dagger, driving the full eight inch blade into Attius’ gut.

The Centurion’s earlier thrusts with the sword were cold and stoic, but his thrust with the dagger was fueled with rage at the gladiator's act of defiance.

The Centurion pulled the dagger out of the gladiator’s belly and brutally stabbed him in the gut two more times.

Attius’ body shuddered with each angry thrust of the Roman’s dagger but despite the excruciating pain, Attius denied the Centurion the satisfaction of hearing him cry out and so he muffled his yell in his throat and grinned disdainfully at the angry Roman.

Attius’ brawny body finally gave out and he fell to the ground on his side and slowly rolled onto his back. His massive chest heaved up one last time and Attius expelled his last breath and was dead.

General Marcus Claudius Marcellus, commander of the two legions, ordered the bodies of the five gladiators be crucified and the crosses be erected on the road to Spartacus’ camp before dawn. And so it was done.

Fine

Sin City

Nick looked worried as he threw some clothes into a duffle bag. A damp towel was wrapped loosely around his waist. His back muscles rippled as he pulled open drawers and tossed clothes onto the bed. We had been together for two years and I thought I had memorized every square inch of his perfectly muscled body. Still, every time I saw him without a shirt on, it was just like the first time…I couldn’t pull my eyes away. We promised that we would always stay in shape for each other... Nick took the promise a lot more seriously than me. I could barely keep up with him in the gym anymore. Jeez, I thought, Nick looked like he just fell off the cover of a men’s fitness magazine.

“What’s the matter, where’re we going?” I finally asked.

“We’re not going anywhere. I’m going alone. It’s business,” Nick said tersely.

“It’s business”…How I hated those words. It was Nick’s standard mantra when he got called in the middle of the night or had to leave for days at a time with just an hour’s notice. I knew who he worked for. He knew that I knew. But we pretended anyway. He didn’t do any of the messy stuff…no drugs or killings or anything like that. Hell, he didn’t even carry a gun. He was a money guy...he knew how to move cash. He set up financing for deals…some legal, some not so legal.

Nick zipped up the bag and walked over to where I was standing. He squeezed my shoulder and gently butted his head against mine. His hair was still damp from the shower.

“You know I would take you if I could,” he said tenderly.

I ran the back of my hand over his abs as I spoke.

“Let’s stop pretending Nick. I know who you work for. Let me go with you this time…I’ll stay out of the way.” I pleaded hopefully.

Nick was silent for several moments and then smiled.

“Be ready in ten minutes,” he conceded. “But remember…its business first, and then pleasure.”

“Where’re we going,” I asked impatiently.

“Vegas,” Nick shot back, as he slipped on a black silk button down shirt.

***

It was dark when we arrived. The house was magnificent. Whoever said “crime didn’t pay” never saw this place. Nick hugged and touched cheeks with everyone in the room and we sat down to a lavish dinner.

When the last of the espresso was gone, the old man at the head of the table stood.

“Nick, you and your friend get some rest now. Tomorrow, we talk business,” he said. “Jake, carry their bags to the room,” he barked with a wave of his hand.

Jake, as I learned during dinner, was a bodybuilder…a former Mr. New Jersey I think the old man said. He was a boxer now and not a very good one I surmised. The old man teased him several times about his hapless efforts in the ring. Still, Jake was an imposing figure. He was at least two inches taller than Nick or me and probably carried thirty more pounds of muscle than either one of us. He wore army fatigue pants and a loose fitting, oversized tank top that left most of his muscular torso exposed. He bent over to pick up the two bags and when he stood up again, his right pectoral was fully exposed, having worked its way from behind the flimsy shirt. I guess I stared at it a bit too long…I felt Nick’s elbow jab into my side. We followed Jake upstairs.

“Do they know about us,” I asked Nick as we stripped off our clothes and slipped into the oversized bed.

“Yeah, they know,” Nick answered. “It doesn’t matter to them,” he continued. “I’m good at what I do and that’s all they care about…this is not the Boy Scouts,” he chuckled as he turned out the light on his side of the bed.

***

Nick shook me.

“Wake up,” he whispered. “Go. Wait in the bathroom,” he said nervously.

I was groggy as I swung my legs to the floor.

What’s wrong,” my words were slurred.

The bedroom door was opened and the dim light from the hall silhouetted a figure standing in the doorway.

“Go!” Nick shouted in a loud whisper.

I went into the bathroom and left the door ajar so I could peer back into the room. Nick stood at the foot of the bed wearing only his briefs. The shadowy figure closed the bedroom door and moved closer to Nick…It was Jake. He wore the same pants as he did earlier but he wasn't wearing a shirt. His body was magnificent. His powerful arms hung from boulder-like shoulders. Three rows of thick muscle ran up the length of his abdomen from his waist to just below his overly developed chest.

Nick was talking fast. I couldn’t make out what he was saying but he was punctuating every few words with waves of his hands.

"This was bad," I thought to myself.

Jake said nothing as he slowly pulled out a knife that he had tucked into the back of his pants. The twelve inch blade flickered as it reflected the moonlight that filled the room. He grabbed Nick's shoulder with his left hand. His massive right arm drew the knife back slowly.

Nick was still talking and waving his arms when Jake suddenly shoved the knife into Nick's stomach.

“No!!!!!” I gasped, as the blade disappeared inside Nick’s muscular belly.

“UUUHHH!!!” Nick grunted and bent forward slightly as the blade cut into him.

Jake pulled the knife out of Nick and viciously stabbed him in the stomach two more times. The blade was driven completely into Nick’s belly each time.

“Nick!” I whimpered from the bathroom floor as I heard the crisp sound of the blade cut into Nick’s muscled torso. I was shaking with fear.

Nick stumbled forward when Jake ripped the blade out of him the third time but he managed to stay on his feet.

“Go down,” I whispered “Go down.”

I knew he couldn’t hear me but if he would just fall to the floor and play dead, I thought I could still get him to a hospital…and…

Before I could finish my implausible thought, Jake savagely rammed the blade into Nick’s belly again. Nick’s body shuddered as the razor-sharp blade cut into him just below the sternum. Nick grabbed the knife that was stuck in his gut with both hands and staggered for a few moments then fell straight back on the bed and was still, the knife was still stuck in his body.

  
Jake stood at the foot of the bed with a big grin on his face and snickered as his flexed his upper body in triumph a few times.

“Jake, you sick bastard,” I whispered as my fear quickly turned to rage. I got to my feet.

Jake turned and walked to the opposite wall toward the bags he had carried to the room earlier...he started rummaging through them. I quickly but quietly ran out of the bathroom and hurried to the bed. Seeing Nick’s body sprawled on the bed with the knife still inside him fueled my rage. I held my left hand on Nick’s stomach and pulled the knife out of his lifeless body with my right.

The knife felt good in my hand...I flexed my right arm a few times. The blade was stained with Nick's blood. My pounding heart quickly shot adrenaline through my entire body…I was invincible. Jake found what he was looking for in Nick's bag and was just about to open the bedroom door. There was no way he was leaving this room alive.

I ran up behind him with the knife drawn back, ready to strike. I grabbed his massive shoulder, then spun him around violently and rammed the twelve inch knife into his bare belly as hard as I could. Jake sucked in a mouthful of air and his chest expanded when the blade ripped into his abs.

Jake clenched his teeth and flexed his ab muscles hard as I held the blade inside him for a few seconds then pulled it out of his gut.

Jake covered the deep stab wound with both hands as blood rolled through his fingers and down his stomach. I put my left hand on his chest between his two large pectorals and violently slammed him back against the closed door behind him...my strength surprised me. Jake’s back hit the door hard and his big arms flung out to his sides. I quickly pulled back my right arm and rammed the knife into his belly again.

“AAAHHHhhh!!!” Jake yelled out as the blade tore into his thick ab muscles and deep into his gut.

His massive upper body lurched forward towards me and I caught him as he began to slump forward. Jake's right arm was slung over my left side and his chin leaned on my right shoulder. I leaned forward and whispered in his ear.

“This one’s for Nick, you bastard.”

With my left arm wrapped tightly around Jake’s back I pulled back my right arm and savagely shoved the knife into Jake’s belly with all of my adrenaline induced strength. His body stiffened...he rose to his toes...his eyes opened wide. Jake tried to say something but no sound came out of his mouth. I let go of the knife and stepped back. Jake's both hands grabbed the knife that was driven into the middle of his gut and he staggered forward. He then leaned back and flexed his upper body hard for a few seconds as he tried to endure the pain. He fell back on the floor and was still. I left the knife in him.
 

  I walked over to Nick and touched he face...his skin was cold. I quickly got dressed and climbed out the window to the first floor. I ran.

Living Room Warriors

"Well, that sucked,” I grumbled to myself as I walked out of the theater.

“It sure did,” a voice from behind me said. I turned. “The first new gladiator movie in decades and it turns out to be major disappointment."

“Yeah.” was the most intelligent thing I could come up with as my eyes scanned him from head to toe.

"Wow!" I thought to myself.

He was about my height, dark hair, with an intriguing smile. His over-sized white T-shirt hung off his wide shoulders and clung to his chest, then fell loosely over the top of his jeans. The veins on the insides of his arms ran into his nicely rounded biceps.

We walked and talked for hours as we each mentioned every one of our favorite scenes from every gladiator movie we ever saw. I don’t know how we ended up at his doorstep but there we were. It was late.

“Come on in,” he said, holding the door open for me.

“Nice furniture,” I said in a really sarcastic voice. There was a gold leather sofa on one wall and a purple velvet chair that didn’t quite match the purple wallpaper on another.

“Yeah, I know. It’s only temporary,” he said apologetically.

We watched dozens of scenes from his video collection of half naked guys being stabbed or impaled with swords, knives, arrows and spears. He showed me some great sites online.

“Wow! I had no idea so many guys were into this,” I said excitedly.

He just nodded in agreement as he navigated his way through edited images and video clips of guys getting stabbed in every way imaginable.

“Ever do any role playing?” he asked as he shut down the computer.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You know…pretend…gladiators…swords…in the arena…ROME!” his voice got louder as he went on.

Before I could say anything more, he had stripped off his shirt and pulled off his jeans. He had an awesome body; chiseled, muscular pecs that hung over a great set of really defined abs.

“Come on...take it off!” he coaxed, as he tugged on the bottom of my shirt. “I’m pretty sure gladiators never wore Abercrombie and Fitch T-shirts and Old Navy jeans,” he chuckled.

I pulled off my shirt and jeans.

“You work out!” he said as his eyes traced every curve of every muscle in my upper body. He then fixed his gaze on my midsection. “Nice six pack ,” he continued, as he tapped the back of his hand on my firm stomach a couple of times.

We stood in the middle of his living room in just our white briefs and socks. I was getting excited as my imagination raced.

“What about weapons?” I asked.

He held up one finger, motioning for me to wait. He opened a closet door in the hallway and dragged out a laundry bag. He pulled out two swords from the bag.

“What do you think of these?” he said proudly, as he swiped the air several times with one of the swords. “I got them on e-bay.”

The swords were identical…twenty inches of gleaming steel, two inches wide, attached to a nicely carved, but rather plain looking wooden grip.

“You know, from the shape of the blade and the lack of detail in the grip, I would guess twelfth century, but definitely not Roman,” I offered.

He moved closer and pointed one of the swords at my stomach. The tip of the blade pushed against the skin just above my navel. I instinctively flexed my ab muscles as I felt the blade press against my skin.

"These swords were the real thing and damn sharp", I thought to myself.

“When you have eight inches of steel stuck in your belly, what difference does it make what period the swords are from,” he said, somewhat annoyed. The sudden change of tone in his voice surprised me.

I pushed the blade away from me. He flipped the sword around and smiled as he offered me the grip.

“Come on. We’ll just clang the swords together and pretend to run each other through a few times,” he explained.

He grabbed the other sword and we circled each other in the center of the room. My heart raced.

Our swords met violently several times, filling the small room with clings and clangs as the blades crashed into each other. I raised my sword for an overhead attack, he countered with a low thrust. He aimed at the center of my gut but he steered the blade off to my left at the last second. The blade missed me by an inch or two.

“Gotcha!!!” he boasted and slapped the blade against my left side a few times. He pushed the full length of the blade along my side and then pulled it back towards him, pretending to run me through. The blade scratched my skin as he pulled it back.

“Hey, careful,” I said as I ran my hand along my side. I glanced down and saw a speck of blood mixed with beads of perspiration that were beginning to show on my skin.

“Its only a scratch,” he argued excitedly. “Let’s go again.”

We banged our swords together over and over, each of us looking for an opening. I lunged forward with a thrust at his belly. He jumped out of the way and grabbed and held my sword arm with his left hand. He put the tip of his blade under my left pectoral and pushed with just enough pressure to indent the skin without breaking it.

“The Emperor says thumbs down!” he shouted enthusiastically, and then he flicked his wrist. The blade made a two inch gash just below my left nipple. A streak of blood appeared.

“What the hell was that?” I yelled at him as I covered the gash in my chest with my left hand. “What happened to pretend?”

“Playtimes over my friend,” he shouted wildly with a crazed look on his face. His sudden change of personality scared me.

He came at me with a vengeance that could not have been mistaken for anything but genuine rage. He was going to kill me. His sword swung wildly, punctuated with jabs and thrusts, everyone narrowly missing me by only inches. I countered as best I could but I was tiring quickly. I moved back and tripped over a sofa cushion that had fallen to the floor. I fell backwards and was on my back. He stood over me and thrust his sword down at the center of my gut as I lay on the floor. I rolled out of the way and behind him as his blade cut through the carpet and stuck into the floorboards underneath.

As he struggled to pull his sword out of the floor, I got to my knees behind him and had my sword pulled back, ready to strike. He pulled his blade out of the floor and spun around wildly with his sword held high at his side. I thrust my sword forward and the blade cut into the right side of his belly six inches deep.

“Aaahhh!” he yelled and his body stiffened. He took a step forward as I pulled the blade out of him.

“Ok, that’s enough,” I said as I got to my feet. “Let's put the swords down.”

He looked down at the cut in his abdomen and covered the wound with his hand. He looked up at me.

"To the death," he whispered.

He swiped his sword at me and I crouched to avoid being slashed across the chest. As I stood up, I grabbed his shoulder with my left hand and and I drove my sword through the center of his gut as hard as I could. His mouth opened wide as the blade sliced through his muscular belly.

I held him up with my left hand grabbing his armpit and I whispered in his ear.

“Thumbs Down! asshole....”

"Aaaaaaahhhhhhh!!!" he yelled as I shoved the rest of the blade into his belly to the hilt.

The crisp sound of the blade slicing through his muscular torso sent a chill down my spine. I ripped the blade out of his gut and he cupped both hands over the wound. He staggered on his feet for a few moments and then fell to the floor. Blood flowed from the two cuts in his belly. He squirmed on the floor for a few minutes and then was still.

I didn't know what to feel. I was frightened, but I didn't have any guilt about what I had just done. In fact, I was excited and wanted to do it again.

I grabbed my clothes, both swords, and ran out off the house.