The crudely built mechanical mule awkwardly stepped on the pock-marked ruin of a highway toward the remains of a city ahead. It dragged behind it a crude wagon made from the frame of a gutted automobile. Two figures sat in the wagon, a bald man garbed in as close to fine duds as one would manage in this day and age; the other a young, dark-haired woman with a toned but not quite Amazonian physique, her tunic cut open enough to show the scar that ran along the top of both breasts.
The man, named Gusto stared at their destination, "Look," he said to the woman, whose previous owner had named Mari Su, "Ta'Rana Toe- the high point on the arena circuit. To fight there- it doesn't get more prestigious than that."
"You're the one who gets the prestige," Mari said, "If lucky the best I hope for is to live without losing a limb."
"Now, now, your luck has held this far," Gusto smiled, "I have no doubt you'll knock them dead- your opponent in one way, the crowd another. That aside, I'm told the Ta'Rana Toe arena well rewards survivors between matches- impress the audience enough, you might get your pick in food, companionship..."
"I'll leave that to you," Mari answered, "You know what I like."
"Indeed, we share the same tastes," Gusto mused.
"Yeah, just make sure you don't sample them beforehand- master," she sneered.
"I wouldn't think of it- slave," The two of laughed.
As high noon approached people thronged toward the ruined buildings that once comprised Toronto City Hall; spectators took seats in the curved inward towers that had been stripped of the wall to gaze down on the circular structure beneath. It's roof long gone, the walls and rooms within had been cleared away to make one single space, the floor covered with sand to absorb any spilled gore. Like most of the few communities still existing after the Cataclysms, the wealthy elite and the hungry rabble had little in common but a taste for the excitement of the bloodsports.
From the other side of a barred entrance to the arena Mari Su watched the opening bouts. A pathetic spectacle, none of the so-called combatants looked like they had eaten in days. Nor had any benefitted from the lifelong training she had, they flailed at each other with blunted blades and crude clubs until one got a lucky hit in.
Once the last urchin standing had been escorted off the sand, two opponents who looked like they might be professionals stepped forth on opposite sides of the arena. The largest of the two gripped in both beefy hands a steel pole with one end sunk into a massive block of concrete- an impromptu hammer. His adversary was sleeker, clutching some sort of spear in his left hand and dragging something behind him in his right.
The announcer had barely shouted "Begin!" when the hammer-wielding giant thundered toward his opponent, swinging his maul in broad arcs. Somehow the spear wielder managed the speed and agility to avoid the attacks; when the hammer bearer's swing turned him almost completely around the slimmer fighter threw what he'd been holding in his right hand- some sort of net fashioned from nylon ropes. As the brute swore and struggled to free himself his opponent stabbed him in the leg with his two-pronged spear; the entangled fighter dropped to the ground and clutched at his bleeding limb- and the spearman took the opening to skewer his enemy in the heart. Said spearman basked in the cheers of the crowd as the fallen fighter was unceremoniously dragged off the arena like a particularly heavy piece of garbage.
The spearman exited through the entrance he emerged from and seconds later the portcullis Mari Su watched through creaked as it rose above. Mari Su drew her sharpened machete as she strode into the arena, raising both arms high she drank in the sounds of the crowd exulting in her arrival.
"Young as she is, Mari Su has made quite a name for herself in the pits and arenas of smaller towns," the announcer started his spiel, "Over three dozen fights she has participated in and, as you can see her here, has won them all. It has come into question whether any single human can best her..."
Mari Su grew nervous- they didn't usually pile it on this thick unless...
"So, the arena masters brought it upon themselves," the announcer continued "To provide this illustrious gladiatrix with something that should prove a true challenge."
Dammit! The bastards had gone and wrangled some freak from the wastelands just so they could sic the thing on her. Sure enough, on the far end of the arena they wheeled in a steel cage in which her 'adversary' gnashed and growled.
The thing stood some eight feet tall, in a grotesque parody of the humanoid frame a second head rested on its left shoulder while a smaller head and torso grew out of its waist on the right. It was bipedal but swung at the bars with three sets of arms.
"Guests of the arena," The smug announcer started, "I introduce Geryon!"
Someone behind the cage pulled on a pulley system and the cage opened. 'Geryon' snarled as it thundered toward Mari Su, kicking up sand as it charged.
Mari Su ducked and bolted past Geryon, slashing at his side as she did so. She took glee in the mutant's cry of pain, and having avoided an attack herself.
Whirling around, she backed away from the monstrosity, holding her blade at the ready. Clutching the wound with one hand it stretched out the other five arms and rushed toward her. Mari Su ducked into a roll and kicked herself between Geryon's legs, slashing at both limbs just beneath the groin. She felt the mutant's blood spurt on her as she tumbled past them and sprung to her feet.
Roaring from the pain, Geryon reached behind with one arm and grabbed Mari Su by the shoulder. Yanking her off the ground he pulled Mari Su to his front and wrapped four arms around her in a crushing embrace. Just as she started to black out, Geryon's grip loosened and the mutant tumbled onto it's back.
Mari Su pulled herself to her feet and looked back at Geryon. The cuts on his legs had opened major blood vessels where her training taught her would be on a human, and the mutant had bled to death beneath her feet. Mari Su took several deep breaths and then, for the coup de grace expected of her she raised her weapon high- then sank it into where she hoped was Geryon's heart. Letting go of the machete she raised both arms high and rejoiced in the masses' cheering.
