December 2, 2036

Day 1, Freedom Championships

Hanna stood in the empty dugout watching her terrified students gathered around where home plate used to be when the place was still a baseball stadium.

The grass had been replaced with coarse dirt.

Tall, iron fencing had been placed all along the edges of the field to keep the monsters and mutant animals from reaching the crowd. Partially-trained or not the slaver kingdom wasn’t going to take any risks.

She wondered if they had learned that through experience.

Speaking of the crowd.

The stadium was almost full.

The feeder fights and jobber matches served as warm-ups to get the crowd’s juices flowing for the more important events to follow.

Her students had the dubious honor of being the opening act for the 3v3 Silver Division fights in this stadium.

She thought back to the previous week.

Training hadn’t gone great.

It was too much to expect for a group of traumatized and abused people to get anywhere close to ready.

They had been broken mentally and physically.

The healers fixed the latter. The slaver kingdom wanted a good show after all.

But no one could do anything about the former.

She remembered the first day when they had been barely strong enough to get through an hour of learning to hold their shields and thrust their spears.

An hour’s practice, followed by an hour’s rest.

They were spent by lunch time.

She had pushed them past that wall with a Skill.

Cruel, but necessary.

To their credit no one quit.

They went till their bodies simply refused to work anymore.

Day by day their physical condition improved.

The learned to stand together with their shields forward and spears out.

She put together a simple tactic.

Present the spear wall to the monster while the handful of mages hammered it with all their spells.

If they killed it… great. If not, then the spear wall would advance to finish the job.

The oldest woman turned out to be the highest leveled mage. Level 17.

None of the rest was over 20 in their primary class. And most of them didn’t have more than a handful of levels in a combat class.

The one-eyed girl didn’t have a class at all.

No Skills or spells, yet the nameless girl threw herself into the training. She had wanted it more than any of the others. She had the fire in her eye.

Hanna remembered her desperation as the day drew near.

She lit the candle in her window at her hotel room near the stadium. The prearranged signal she had with Cal in the event that she needed something or she had information for him.

Not one hour later a small young woman in a dark cloak that seemed to writhe in the candle light had appeared inside her room.

She hadn’t even noticed, which was troubling.

Her every instinct had told her to be on guard.

The young woman had a familiar look in her eyes.

She was assessing Hanna.

Looking for weaknesses.

“Well. What do you want? I’ve got a busy night… hunting,” the young woman said.

“Carne Asada, Lakers, Indignance.” Hanna pulled her aura close to the surface.

“Turd Sandwich, Celtics, Delusion,” the young woman said. “Checked and verified, let’s get on with this.”

“The first feeder match at Marlin’s Stadium… if possible I’d like to know what monster or mutant animal will be used.”

“Got it.”

The young woman rushed to the open window.

“I need to know as soon as possible.”

She vanished in a rush of cloak and shadow.

Why was the young woman in such a hurry?

The hunger in her eyes.

What or who was she hunting?

Troubling thoughts that made sleep even more difficult.

She received her answer on a piece of paper left on her desk a day later.

It wasn’t enough to change the tactics she had settled on.

Her students weren’t capable of more anyways.

A loud horn pulled Hanna back to the present.

Time was up.

The announcer blathered on about honor and how great their king was.

Each word made her grind her teeth.

And, yet, the crowd cheered.

It was easy to do that when you didn’t have a collar around your neck.

When you weren’t the one sent out to die in the teeth and claws of monsters.

“You’re supposed to fight monsters to save people. Not feed your weakest to them for entertainment,” Hanna said.

The outfield wall had been modified as well.

Instead of the green padded wall in center field there was a thick iron gate.

It slid open with ponderous doom.

“Formation!” Hanna barked. “Two deep.” It was all they could manage with the numbers.

Her students struggled to comply.

“Hold your ground! Let it come to you!”

The gate clanged.

Two roars, so close after each other that it sounded like an echo.

Her students were too slow.

“Get in formation!”

A great black bear came thundering out of the gate.

Two misshapen heads on one over-sized body.

“Shields forward, spears out! Or you will die!”

They got it together a bare second before the bear hit their front line.

The mutant bear scattered her students like bowling pins.

“Fuck this,” she muttered as she reached out with her aura.

The mutant bear was just at the edge of her range.

She sliced the eyes of the right head just before it chomped down on a downed student.

She couldn’t reach the left head and an old man paid for it with his life as the mutant bear bit his head off.

A few of her students managed to recover. They charged in and thrust their spears into the mutant bear’s flanks.

Mere pinpricks against an unnaturally tough hide.

One man had a combat Skill. He stepped in and drew real blood from the mutant bear’s chest.

Then paid for it when a paw splintered his shield and the arm behind.

“Spells!”

The old woman’s magic missile took the form of two small orbs that swirled with blue and white like a snow globe. They burned holes in the mutant bear’s blinded face.

A young man with glasses flicked an ice dart that shattered against that tough hide.

A magically conjured stone broke a fang.

An orb of light flashed in the left head’s eyes.

“Pull it this way!”

Her students didn’t listen.

She couldn’t fault them.

They were in survival mode.

The temporarily-blinded mutant bear could still smell and hear.

It mauled two men that had been stunned by its initial charged.

It ripped open a woman’s lightly-armored chest with a single swipe.

More spells struck it to little effect.

The mages were weak.

Their bodies and spirits had been broken many times over.

If only Hanna had more time to build them back up. If that was even possible.

The mutant bear lumbered toward the back line.

Spears jabbed at its flanks, but it only had eyes for the old woman.

Her magic fizzled.

She fell to her back.

Ready for the end.

Eyes closed.

A peaceful look graced her scarred, weathered face.

The one-eyed girl darted in. She had cast aside her shield to wield her spear in two hands. She looked so small against the massive mutant animal.

Hanna watched in fear that turned into shock and wonder as the mutant bear suddenly faltered.

Its left side collapsed bringing it face to face with the girl.

She screamed with pure hatred as she drove her spear with strength that belied her size into the left head’s eye. Deep, all the way to its brain.

“Go! Go! Go!”

Her students pounced like lions.

Spears found the right head’s brain.

The huge mutant shuddered and died.

It took a moment for Hanna to realize that the roars were coming from the crowd. She slumped onto the bench and held her head in her hands for a moment before rising and clapping for her surviving students.

15 remained.

Against all odds and expectations.

Now they had a reprieve.

Another week.

To heal.

To train.

To improve.

Hanna needed to ask the one-eyed girl how she had done that.

“Wow! Did not see that coming. Did you, Lanny?”

“No, Chip. The first highlight of the first inaugural Freedom Championships and it came from a feeder match!”

“Bit redundant there, Lanny?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Chip. I’m still shaking from that match. Did you see that girl? Just… shivers.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you’re just tuning in, this is Chip Hern with my partner, Lanny Stewart coming straight from the Hard Rock. We’re honored to be your main broadcast team for the Freedom Championships beaming in right to every screen in the nation.”

“Thank you to the king for giving every household access free of charge.”

“Right you are, Lanny. Is there a more generous man? I don’t think so.”

“What’ve we got for our viewers today, Chip?”

“Events, events and more events! In stadiums, arenas, gyms and parks all across the city. Bronze, Silver and Gold Divisions. We’ve got full coverage across all our different channels. There’s something for everyone!”

“That’s right, Chip. But, we’ve got the main event for Day 1, don’t we?”

“That we do, Lanny! Team fights! Gold Division! Three versus Three! Eight teams begin their climb for riches, rewards and glory!”

“This is the pinnacle, folks. All at least Level 40 or the equivalent. And we’ve got unclassed competitors! That’s right! A true rarity brought to you by the king!” Lanny said.

“Why don’t we break down the competitors for our viewers, Chip? And to do that we have a special guest.”

“Let’s welcome the king’s champion, Malcolm King!” Chip said.

“Thanks guys!” Malcolm took a seat behind the broadcast desk. “Glad to be here!”

“Let’s get right to it!” Lanny said.

“Why don’t you go first, Champ!” Chip said.

“Well… I’d like to get the worst ones out of the way… so… the Meat Parade,” Malcolm said.

“I think everyone knows what those monsters are about,” Lanny said.

“Won’t they be at a disadvantage? These aren’t death matches. They can’t eat anyone,” Chip said.

“You can eat parts of people without killing them,” Malcolm said.

“Looks like their first round opponents have something to watch out for,” Lanny said.

“A team you’re familiar with, Champ,” Chip said. “Aptly named, The King’s Chosen.”

“Right, I’ve fought against and with those guys. They’re great!”

“I know that our viewers are familiar with them. Thousand Cuts, The Broken and Soul Netter. Long, storied careers across all the different arenas,” Chip said.

“I’ve always wondered… how do you guys come up with those names? The nom de guerre, so to speak,” Lanny said.

“Well, it depends on the individual. It could be from a fighting style or a favorite weapon. It could come from the fans. Or an iconic moment,” Malcolm said.

“Where did you get yours?” Chip said.

“From my middle name, Xavier,” Malcolm grinned sheepishly, “I know, it’s lame,” he shrugged.

Chip and Lanny laughed.

“I’m just lucky that there’s no one left to sue me for infringement,” Malcolm chuckled.

“Or a country and courts where that matters,” Lanny added.

“So, Champ, prediction?” Chip said.

“Easy, I’ve got to go with my guys. Although, I am a little worried about the no enchanted or otherwise boosted gear rule, not to mention the no health and mana potions rule. I make use of them for the worst monster kill matches, myself.”

“As we said at the top of the program, if you’re just tuning in. It’s important to note that weapons and armor are equalized. No enchantments unless it comes inherently from the wielder himself. So, you’re going to get the purest possible expression of a person’s abilities,” Lanny said. “Naturally, we’ve generously offered to provide high quality gear to replace those, but from my understanding most of the contestants haven’t availed themselves of the offer.”

“Well, they’ve had close to a year to get regular gear and if I’m being honest I’d probably do the same if I didn’t already know that I can trust the quality of our smiths’ work,” Malcolm said.

“I’d have to agree with the champ, can’t see us losing to a bunch of crazy cannibals,” Chip said.

“Agreed, though I’m concerned about the shape we’ll be in after. You’re right, Champ. You don’t need to kill a person to take a bite out of them and I don’t care how good the healers we’ve got in the locker rooms you can’t regrow a chunk of muscle,” Lanny said.

“Alright, moving on,” Chip said, “the Furies…”

“Yeah, I got confused about that, there’s a Furies and a Heartfuries,” Malcolm said.

“According to this,” Chip held up a piece of paper, “the Furies claim to be a grandmother, mother and daughter, three generations of… well… fury. They embody the Greek Furies. Alecto, unceasing anger. Megaera, jealous rage. Tisiphone, vengeful destruction. The appraisers didn’t get much more than their levels, all 46. Nothing on their Skills, spells and classes.”

“And why is that, Chip? For the viewers,” Lanny said.

“Levels matter, folks. And these contestants are some of the highest you’ll find. Our appraisers can’t match them.”

“They’ve got a cool gimmick,” Malcolm said. “Do we know which is which?”

“Do you mean, which is the grandma, mom and daughter?” Chip said.

Malcolm nodded.

“No idea,” Chip shrugged.

“They look pretty close in age to each other,” Lanny said. “They might not actually be related.”

“True that, could be part of their gimmick, fierce looking,” Malcolm said.

“And their first round opponents… The Mongols,” Chip said.

“From the steppes of Mongolia?” Lanny chuckled.

“Nope, the empty highways of old America, where they kill monsters and pillage like their namesakes once did. Nothing much to say, two Level 41 marauders and one Level 44 raider. Skills to ride in fast, hit hard and spread terror.”

“No bikes in the arena is going to hurt them, Chip,” Lanny said.

“Easy pick for me,” Malcolm said. “The Furies have the levels and The Mongols are used to punching down. They aren’t facing scared women and children here.

“I think Lanny and I are in agreement,” Chip said. “Up next, Blackstar 3.”

“Another cool gimmick,” Malcolm chimed in.

“We’ve got ourselves an unclassed,” Chip raised a brow. “Blackstar, shoots concussive blasts shaped like black stars from her hands. At least strong enough to be in the Gold Division. Her teammates are Blackstar Warrior and Blackstar Mage.”

Malcolm grimaced. “I see what happened there. They got put on the spot. Didn’t have names already picked out. Word of advice, you would’ve been better off using your real names. Let the names come from the fans, your actions or a big event. Better chance to get something iconic that way.”

“Right you are!” Lanny said.

“So, the warrior looks to be a defensive tank-type, Level 43. While the mage is Level 40, focused on healing and defense,” Chip said.

“I see how they’ll fight. They’ll rely on Blackstar to dish out the damage. The warrior will hope to draw and absorb threats, while the mage will keep them all in the fight, occasionally taking or blocking anything that gets past the front-liner. Decent set-up, but it’ll all hinge on Blackstar. They better hope she can pump out enough damage.”

“Might be a glass cannon,” Lanny said.

“That’s usually how it is,” Chip said.

“Their opponents?” Lanny prompted.

“Stars and Stripes…”

“The last gasps of a dead country,” Lanny said solemnly.

“I wonder about that. We’ve got sideline reporters and they’ll be trying to bring us interviews from some of the teams throughout the day. Stay tuned and find out,” Chip said. “As for the team… we’ve got another unclassed. Death’s Dancer and… our appraisers got nothing except that this young man is strong enough for the Gold Division.”

“Well… that’s ominous,” Lanny said. “Doesn’t seem fair for the other competitors to know absolutely nothing about this guy. And that old American flag skull mask is in bad taste.”

“You’re right about that. Fortunately, we know more about his teammates. Both share an interesting class, something new and different. Soldier: Tier 1 Patriot.”

“What does that even mean?” Lanny shook his head.

“Well from what little our appraisers managed to get, it means that they’re deadly killing machines. First is a towering specimen, a real life amazon, Lt. Contrary. The second is Lt. Johnny, he looks just like you’d expect.”

“Sticking with the old military theme. It can work,” Malcolm said.

“I just hope they don’t call in an air strike. Some of the younger folks won’t remember, but I do not want to end up as collateral damage along with the seventy thousand fans in attendance,” Lanny shuddered.

Chip blinked. He slowly turned to Malcolm. “Is that even possible?”

“Sure, why not?” Malcolm shrugged. “We’ve got a few working old attack helicopters and artillery pieces. If Stars and Stripes is really from what’s left of the old government then I don’t see why they couldn’t have the same.”

“I’m sure our own military’s got that covered,” Lanny said hastily.

“Predictions?” Chip said.

“I’ll go with Stars and Stripes. This Death’s Dancer guy has a cool gimmick and I think he’s a wildcard while his teammates have what sounds like a good class. I’m thinking they’ll show good teamwork. Blackstar 3’s feels like they’re too reliant on one person to do their damage,” Malcolm said.

“Going to disagree with the champ, I’m picking Stars and Stripes to go down,” Lanny said.

“I’ll go with my partner on this one,” Chip said.

“Why don’t we move on to the next match, Chip?”

“Right, Lanny. We’ve got the Heartfuries versus… Tears of the Clown…”

Lanny chuckled, while Chip’s face went from confused to horrified in the span of three seconds.

“Chip?”

“I just remembered that I was afraid of clowns when I was a kid. Now… as an old man, I’m terrified. These poor women,” Chip shook his head.

“I don’t see it, Chip.” Lanny checked his notes. “The Heartfuries have the level advantage, barring the one called Sparky, she’s another unclassed. Electricity generation, whatever that means. Shootystabby is some kind of upgraded rogue and at Level 48 has the highest out of all our Gold Division teams. While Punchy is a Level 45 Punch Mage.”

“I’m sorry those are terrible names,” Malcolm said. “Interesting classes though. As for the clowns. I think if you survive this long with clown as a primary class and you get it past 40… these ladies should take them seriously.”

“I really wish we could show you folks at home their pictures. I’m told the tech boys are working on the graphics and hope to have them ready for the actual fights later today,” Chip said.

“Nothing on the clowns abilities? That’s strange,” Lanny said.

“Going by these pictures, I’d guess that they’ve can heal quick. They aren’t wearing armor and their costumes are patched up. And I’m pretty sure those are bloodstains,” Malcolm said.

“For the fact that they are facing clowns, I’m going to put my support behind the Heartfuries,” Chip said.

“I’m picking them too, but because they’ve got the levels and proven combat classes,” Malcolm said.

“I think these clowns will be crying after the Heartfuries send them home,” Lanny said.

“Well, there you have it folks. The eight teams competing in the Gold Division. I’d like to thank the king’s champion for taking time out of his busy schedule to break things down with us,” Chip said.

“I know you’re coaching The King’s Chosen anything you’d like to share about your strategy?” Lanny said.

“I wouldn’t go quite that far. The guys are pros and they know how to use their abilities to the fullest. I’m only offering what support and insight I might have. Obviously, I can’t give anything away,” Malcolm chuckled.

“Alright,” Chip said.

“Any last words you’d like to share with our viewers?” Lanny said.

“Please send your support to The King’s Chosen and for my fans, get ready to see my complete my Quest to become the champion of the Gold Division one versus one competition. I’m counting on all of you to push me to the top,” Malcolm said.

“You’ve got it from us, Champ,” Lanny said.

“Now, we’re going to cut to a break as we get ready for the first team match of the day. Furies versus The Mongols. Don’t go away, we’ll be right back to bring you all the action!” Chip said.

“Wow! What a match! So close!” Lanny said.

“Blackstar 3 almost had it, but Death’s Dancer with his invisibility for the clutch takeout of Blackstar. Once she was down the other two had no chance of doing enough damage,” Chip said. “We’ll get into a bit of analysis while they clean up the arena for the next match,” Chip said.

“So, that moves Stars and Stripes into the next round along with the winner of our first match, The King’s Chosen. Just two more matches to go to see who will join them. I hope the losers can recover quickly enough to join one of the other events. Especially the one versus one. I understand that the organizers have kept slots open for that reason.”

“I just want to remind our viewers to tune in to this channel at 8 pm for a full analysis of today’s matches with our panel of experts. Now—” Chip touched his ear piece. “Excuse me, but I’ve just got word from our field reporter Harley Kevins, she’s managed to secure an interview with the Heartfuries. Still waiting on word from field reporter Andrew Niers on whether he’s been able to do the same with Tears of the Clown… good luck and godspeed to the brave man,” Chip said solemnly. “Now, on to Harley,” he smiled.

“Thanks, Chip and Lanny,” a beautiful woman in a tight dress stood outside a locker room door with a microphone in her hand. Another woman stood next to her. This one was geared for battle. “I’m here with Punchy. First of all, thanks for agreeing to speak with me.”

“Yeah, I saw that the cannibal freaks gave you an interview, so we figured it’d look bad if we didn’t do the same, you know?” Punchy shrugged.

“So, you’re facing the clowns… care to share anything about your strategy?”

“Well, Harley, the thing is… clowns aren’t real,” Punchy stared into the camera, “they’re imaginary, don’t exist, which means we just have to hit them and they go pop.”

“Uh… I see… um… I understand you’re originally from the Austin area in Texas.”

“Yup,” Punchy made a sign with her hand, middle and ring finger down, thumb and the rest pointed up, “the old timers did this a lot, don’t actually know what it means,” she shrugged.

“Right… you’ve been in New American Republic for a few weeks now. How would you compare the two?”

A feral grin split Punchy’s mouth. “Glad you asked, Harley,” she grabbed the microphone from the field reporter. “I have no idea what that is. I was pretty sure this place was Miami, that’s what all the maps said.”

Harley tried and failed to pull the microphone back.

“What do I think of this place? You ask me… well, it’s fucked. You’ve got enslaved people everywhere I look. What the fuck is up with that? Haven’t you people heard of the Constitution or something? Do you have anything you’d like to say to all the watchers? Thanks for asking, Harley. Well, I say that we’re going to win this ridiculous contest and when we do we’re going to ask the king for a boon, since that’s one of the prizes. And that boon will be th—”

“That isn’t one of the prizes!” Harley blurted out.

“You’ve got it wrong, Harley. This is how this works. A king holds a contest. The winner gets to ask for a boon. And we’re going to ask for the freedom of everyone you’ve got in a collar. You listening, spires?” Punchy cackled. “Emancipation Proclamation 2, baby! Wooo! Dread it, run from it, freedom is inevitable! We’re gonna style! Profi—”

The camera cut back to a stunned Chip and Lanny.

“What a rude woman?” Lanny said.

“Is it too late to change my pick,” Chip chuckled nervously.

“She doesn’t lack for confidence.”

“I’d say delusionally so.”

“What are the rules for disqualification? Can I get someone on that?” Lanny looked off camera.

“While our staff gets on that let’s go to Andrew,” Chip said.

The camera cut to a perfectly coiffed young man standing in the middle of three garish and ghastly clowns.

Two had their arms around his shoulders on both sides while the largest one loomed closely behind.

Andrew’s face had been painted white with tears of different colors running down his cheeks. A red ball was fixed over his nose.

“I— I’m here with Tears of the Clown,” he stammered. “I— I don’t get it but I— I think I’ve been initiated into the troupe— I— I got a level in clown—”

“Probationary,” the round-faced clown on his right said in a deep baritone, “pending survival…”

The camera cut back.

Lanny stared in open-mouthed shock.

“Can we get security down there right away… more security! I golf with Andrew’s father. Lord Niers, we will do everything in our power to keep your son safe,” Chip said. “Let’s cut to commercial.”

The screen went black for a moment before cutting to a man in a dark purple robe, he flipped his hood to reveal a red devil mask. Eerie chanting echoed in the background. A scream. Sobs.

“Hello, citizens of the New American Republic. I am Mammon, member of the inner council of the Cabal. Do you think you have what it takes to delve into the mystical arts? Arts brought here by an immortal being from another world. If you do, come join us. For a small fee you can be initiated into our mysteries. Gain power beyond imagining! Take the reins of the world into your hands!”