Meditation seems to come more and more naturally. I must have done a fair amount before all of this. Something to ask Mac about if I manage to survive. That is if he decides to tell me about my life. My last name is still a mystery. It is most likely something dumb.

A small square hole opens up. In it is a bottle. I reach with my senses. The bottle contains water. Tentatively I pull out the bottle and drink. Once it is in my mouth I get a hint of something different. It doesn’t feel like anything particularly bad. Different then the water before. Sort of like a meal supplement.

Sipping the contents slowly while fighting sleep. The weight is long and boring. The math indicates that so far at least eight people have entered this tournament of sorts. Since I already beat two and there is at least one more left. Dozens could have entered. I could be here for a while.

The door flies open. Begrudgingly I get up and leave my waiting room. Still holding my bottle and taking sips from it. He is already waiting for me. Leaning against a wall. Acting as though this whole situation was beneath his attention.

“From how you handled yourself before, I am surprised you made it this far.” Mr. Electric fist says. “The council had their plans for Goliath's floor. It did not involve any of us that you forced into the fights. Especially not those idiot brothers. Fortunately I faced off against one of them right away. It was tough figuring out which one was real and which was an illusion. In the end he went down with one punch.”

“I just took Carlos out of the running.” I say and his face goes from bored amusement to shock. “I’m new to this and my skills are still pretty raw. Fighting a group is a bit difficult for the time being, but one on one. Well that is a whole different story.”

He looks me over again. This time a sensation passes over me. As if I am being violated in some way. It’s beyond physical. As if he is peering into the essence of what made me me. His gaze goes from intense scrutiny to confusion.

“Are you real?” he asks.

“What counsel?” I ask in response. He cocks his head in further confusion.

“I am not that good at using my magic senses, but there is nothing to you. Less than Micheals illusions. I can see you, I have seen people touch you, and you touch others. What is wrong with you.”

“Don't know what to say aside from what counsel?”

“The High Counsel. They make the rules that the leaders have to follow. How has no one told you about them?” He says annoyance building in his voice.

“Well when I came to I was fighting Goliath. Then I had to be tested. After that there was a bit of training to fight. Now here I am. Sure there could of been a little bit more explanation of the political situation in this fucked up prison, but I don’t think it would of mattered much at this point.” With that I place the bottle on the ground gently. Not wanting to waste any of the water.

“They will not be happy if you come out of this the victory. It will be better if you let me beat you down.” he says as he rushes towards me. I attempt to teleport out of the way, but his fist lands on my shoulder as I am about to move. The electric shock from the strike somehow grounds me.

Not risking teleporting again I stand my ground. We exchange blows. His are electrically driven, mine with ample kinetic force. Few land. When they do the effects are staggering. Hitting him results in light shocks that I barely notice. I try grappling him. That is a huge mistake. Touching his flesh felt just like getting hit by his fist.

Time to change tactics. Going only on the defensive now. Keeping away from him and avoiding as many strikes as possible. He is much much faster than Lucy. More hits are landing. My defensive abilities are barely helping me. I try to store up some of the energy behind the hits. The electricity is too new to me. If I had more time to practice I might be able to do it. That's not an option right now. It’s all I can do to keep the electric force out of my body.

We are both getting winded. His strikes are getting slower and slower. However, he is putting more and more power into them. They burst with lightning when his fist gets fully extended. It feels as though he is hemorrhaging energy trying to take me out.

“What does it take to bring you down.” he pants out.

“No man can kill me!” I say in the raspiest voice I can pull off. With that I bring in heat. The air wisps around me as I move it into the palm of my hand. The look of frustration and pain fills his face. He takes in a deep breath, stretches his neck, and goes in for another round.

He reaches me and grabs hold of my shoulders. The electricity course through me. A somewhat familiar buzz as my muscles contract barely responding to my commands to move, but my hand slowly makes its way up.

Screaming inches away from my face. Putting everything he has into trying to kill me or at the very least knock me out. My hand reaches his chest. His body jerks in response as he feels the collected heat in my palm come into contact with him. I let go of my hold on the heat and he flies back a couple of feet. Then collapses onto the ground gasping for air.

A doorway appears. It isn’t clear who it's for. Looking at Mr Electric fists I don’t think it matters. He is barely breathing. I am pretty sure I nuked his chest. That kind of damage can’t be easy to heal.

I sauntered over to my bottle which thankfully hasn’t spilled. Taking sips I enter the room and the doorway shuts behind me. With that I sink to the floor. The electric shocks did a lot of damage to me. I focus on recovery while huddled in the fetal position.

It doesn’t take long to stabilize. To keep from getting too bored or worn out I slowly rejuvenate. Finishing the water a thought crosses my mind. I tap the bottle against the ground. No sound is generated with each contact.

This goes on for a while. When I get bored with one hand, I switch to the other. Tapping away. Back and forth. Again and again. Time crawled by. When the doorway finally opens, the bottle is vibrating intensely.

I quickly step out expecting to see my new opponent only to find an empty fighting room. A bit anxious, I rock my head back and forth while paying close attention to my perception. A large muscular extremely surly looking man I’ve never met steps out.

Before he can react I teleport around and throw the water bottle with all my might. He seems to have sense the bottle flying at him. An arm raises to catch the bottle. When the metal comes into contact with his hand it releases all the pent-up force. Two maybe three hours of me banging the bottle on the ground worth of energy. Being released in one instant. Resulting in disintegrating the bottle and leaving a short bloody stump on his elbow.

He lets out a bellowing scream.

“Shiiiiit” I say.

“WHAT THE HELL MAN!” he screams as he clutches his arm.

“I had no idea it would be that effective. I am so very sorry. Do you want me to get something, do something.” I say panicking.

“I don’t think I can regrow limbs. We shouldn’t be doing this to each other. Fuck your such an asshole.” he says making his way back to his still open doorway. Leaving a trail of blood and insults. My doorway is still open as well. I sort of slink back into it.

The doorway seems like it slams shut behind me. I go back to a semi meditative state. The wait goes on a while and I look over at where the bottle cubby appeared. There is no way they will give me another one of those after that. Fortunately this wait isn’t a long one. By now there can’t be many people left.

When the door opens again I very tentatively leave. Worried that my next opponent might be instructed to do to me what I just did. In the middle of the room is the knife guy. Waiting patiently. He doesn’t look the least bit surprised that I am here.

“Congratulations. By my calculations this should be the last fight. It’s also the end of the road for you. Did Chuck or Mac explain how this place works?” he asks.

“No. They told me I would be able to enter. Aside from that they didn’t mention any rules. They didn’t have much opportunity. I ran off. Well walked off before they could.” I respond.

“Well that I hate to be the bearer of bad news. There are only two outcomes to the final fight. Draw or death. Which would you prefer?” The words leave him as though he was explaining choices off a menu.

“I don’t think a draw will work out for me too well. By now I’ve pissed off some sort of counsel, which I’ve just learned about. What about you?” I ask.

“You are correct about pissing off the High Counsel.” He puts emphasis on high. “We don’t like when people try to disrupt the system. We have been here a long time and formed an uneasy alliance with the Seraphim. I was willing to agree to a draw if that was your initial intention. Your response was not what I hoped. What is your name by the way?

“Dimitri.” I say. Coldly glaring at this man. “I am not so easily taken out.”

“Well Dimitri it was nice meeting you. I am Oliver. It will be an honor to take your life.” With that he reached out his hand to shake mine.

Weighing my options. It is a really dumb idea to shake his hand, but he was somewhat respectful. More than I have been throughout this whole process. What the hell might as well die with honor. I walk up to him and grasp his hand with mine.

We shake and stare into each other's eyes. The hand shake is lasting a bit longer than it should. Probably because he is manifesting knives in the air behind me and to my side. Well outside my peripheral vision.

He grips my hand tight and puts his other hand on my shoulder to keep me in place. Time for another first. I push towards him, moving into a hug. He tries to push back. We are already in motion. We teleport.

If it was not for the knives and the sensation of teleporting, we wouldn’t know anything was different. The blood now seeping from his lips. This maneuver must be super effective to most of his competitors. I am a little sorry I wouldn’t be able to ask him how he forms the knives.

His grip tightens and loosens as he fights for life in vain. I never break eye contact. This man was respectful and honest with me. Well respectful enough. Literally planned to stab me in the back. He also knew things. A potential ally maybe. Who knows what could have been.

Letting him go he falls to the floor. The knives have disappeared. My senses tell me he is dead, but no doorway has opened. Then I hear clapping. It is wrong and causes my hackles to stand on end. Something is extremely wrong. Deep loathing fills me as memories start to boil to the surface.

I turn around. Behind a see through wall are a dozen or so angels and demons. Terror fills me as I scan their faces. Trying to avoid the one in the middle. The one who is clapping. When I meet his eyes. My world crashed to black.