Little Dead Monsters by Kieran Song

home. The first thing Dog noticed were the tall oil paintings that decorated the walls. Many of them were of ugly looking people that bared resemblance to Ryker and Dog figured them to be his relatives or ancestors. The one piece of art that stood out in particular was an old oil painting of gladiators from ancient times. A gladiator in a metal helmet stood victoriously over two foes; one of them was dead, and the other was wounded, reaching up towards a balcony and begging for mercy from a group of Roman spectators. The spectators wore white shawls and their thumbs were pointed down with looks of contempt on their faces.
    “That’s a favourite of mine,” Ryker said, sneaking up behind Dog.  “Jean-Léon Gérôme painted this inspiring piece called Pollice Verso which translates to Thumbs Down . It captures the essence of everything I believe the Arena should be: the raw barbaric power of the gladiators, the helplessness of the weak, and the absolute ruthlessness in the spectators’s lack of mercy. Beautiful.”
    Dog said nothing.
    “As my new champion, you get two gifts,” Ryker said as he gestured for the guards to escort Dog to the dining room, where a feast was laid out on a large oak dining room table. The sight and smell of roasted chicken, grilled vegetables, hot gravy, and fresh baked bread made Dog’s mouth water. “The first is a hot meal,” Ryker said as he took a seat at the table.
    Dog was reluctant to sit at first, but Dallas jammed the barrel of the gun into his back and whispered into his ear. “Look, don’t make this difficult kid. You can either sit down and eat the chicken, or get a rifle jammed up an orifice. There’s not much of a decision here.”
    Dog took a seat opposite to Ryker and stared at the empty white plate in front of him.
    “I hope you like my home,” Ryker said. “Some days I find the Arena a little bit suffocating and I need to get out of there and enjoy all the expensive things I own. This property used to belong to the CEO of the Blackwater Corporation. After the entire Pearls of Life poisoning debacle, she abandoned the place. The land was perfect. I tore down her cute little home and built a house that would make my ancestors proud.”
    He barked orders into the kitchen and soon, a couple of female slaves came out of the kitchen with utensils, which they set in front of the two. Dog noticed that his fork and knife were plastic and it was telling of the level of trust Ryker had for his so-called Champion. Ryker was being smart though, after all, Dog had silently vowed to stick a knife in Ryker’s heart at some point.
    The serving girls, under the watchful eye of Ryker and Dallas, carved out slabs of chicken and placed them onto the empty white plates and filled the rest of it with stuffing, vegetables, and warm bread. Ryker was satisfied and he sent them back into the kitchen with a wave of his hand, leaving the two alone to dine, while Dallas stood watching over them.
    Dog was hesitant to eat the food at first, weary of being drugged again. However he saw Ryker dig into his food, shoveling forkfuls of chicken into his mouth so he did the same, poking at the meat with his plastic fork. It was awkward to eat with the chains around his wrist.
    “Am I supposed to eat with these on?” he asked, gesturing to the metal links.
    “Yes,” Ryker said. Dog shrugged and made do with what he had. The first morsel of tender meat was delicious. It had been so long since he had something hot to eat and the taste of the salt and grease of the savoury chicken was a welcome departure from the bland gruel that they served to him in his cell.
    “I’ve watched your fights pretty closely,” Ryker said, attempting to make conversation, “and I’ve noticed that you fight without any fear. Why is that?”
    “I have nothing to be afraid of,” Dog replied, in between bites.
    “What about death?”
    Dog shrugged. “If I die, then that’s it. In the meantime, I’ll try to survive.