Only the Wealthy are Immaculate.
The Three were searching for hope. They were longing for a way out, a new beginning and a chance for a better life, but above all else, they were fighting for freedom.
But with any reward comes risk, and in this game the stakes were high; a loss in the real world is just another excuse to find something new to pass the time with, but in here a loss could cost a man his life. To play this game once must be willing to pay the ultimate price.
Dupree Black called the room to attention. Dupree was a burly fellow, big and meaner than a rabid dog. His yellow jaundiced eyes cast a bleak scowl into the crowd and his midnight complexion strung uneasy tension across each man looking in his direction. Peering out far beyond any man he declared:
“The pit is for fighters only. Spectators leave now while you still can. All new fighters step forward and present yourselves.”
The Three emerged from the crowd of fellow freedom fighters, their skin intact and their nails clean; no bruises and no limps in their step. Their clothes were relatively clean and untattered, but everyone’s clothes in this town expressed at least a modicum of dirt. In poverty one find comfort living within a certain amount of filth. Only the wealthy are immaculate.
The Three approached the statuesque Dupree whose eyes never shifted as if he was staring at all three of them simultaneously and with equal intent.
“Gentlemen, from this point forward everything you’ve come to understand about life disappears along with your names, but don’t be afraid. You are not alone; you are one of many.”
Dupree signaled with his hands for the militia of the men to approach. Soon the crowd of fighters surrounded The Three where they assimilated into the horde. All individuality subsided and soon their faces were indiscernible from the rest.
Everyone eagerly stared upward toward the master. His yellow eyes gleamed and he flashed a smile of broken teeth to the adoring crowd.
“Gentlemen, tonight we make history. Let the games begin!”An electric charge surged through the masses; adrenaline pumped through every man’s heart and dripped off his tongue. The fighters were seething.
The ceremony ceased and they were hungry. They were starved for blood, for pain and suffering, all in the name of the greater common good. These men were not alone in their plight, they fought side by side with the likeminded; gang mentality superseded all.
Chanting to themselves and flexing every muscle in their bodies like hungry dogs, the fighters stood their positions in front of the giant titanium shutter doors ready for war.
Suddenly the doors burst open and sunlight flooded the eyes of the fighters momentarily blinding them and further fueling their collective rage. Like a hungry pack of wild banshees the fighters charged out of the gate spitting and cursing and screaming their way unto an unsuspecting world.
This city has had it coming for years. It’s about time a real fury came to clean this city of the filth and waste. This city will burn from the fire swelling within the hearts of these men. Nobody will be spared, the vagrant, the meek, the vile, the weak; all will suffer the same grotesque fate.
The fighters ferociously attacked the streets with the passion of one thousand dead souls. On this day those souls will finally receive retribution, these men will be the vessel for their message. This will be the day of reckoning.
Dupree watched as his creations pillaged and burned and scorned and raped and killed their way to freedom. He watched contended knowing this moment in time would never be forgotten. His men will sacrifice themselves for something much greater than they could possibly comprehend, Dupree’s legacy. He will be remembered forever and he will achieve the truest and most pure form of freedom. He will become immortalized.