Meeting

The anchorperson called out my name once again. I surmised it was because he hadn't caught any glimpse of me amidst the new teenagers. With great contentment, I walked out of their underground tunnel. The sun shone brightly on my face and I inflated the cool fresh air. I can't remember the last time I was allowed to fight in the arena. At least it is better out here, on the battleground, fighting and running across the field for my survival than being latched in a fucked cell that smells so badly. I wonder if they even saturate it at all. "Isn't it Mr. F.I.S?" From among the crowds, I heard someone inquire. Don't be surprised by what I heard. He is standing close to the commentator's mic. So, his voice was broadcast throughout the entire amphitheater. The commentator announced again, "The betting time will be closed in 5 minutes. I want you all to start betting now. Mine goes for R.R." The commentator yelled, and the crowds went wide with their stupid cheers again. I could see the gape of bewilderment on some of the people's countenances, including Mr. Clarkson. And I could guess that they were newcomers who hadn't seen me in the arena before. Well, I couldn't blame them. I am an inexperienced black boy from Africa, Nigeria to be factual. I am a scrawny boy and tall. I was also not the fat boy species. I am sure you know what I mean. I am not fat or thin, just normal size, distinguished from the newbies that just arrived this morning. They are fat, well-built, and scoundrel. But, that doesn't concern me. "Who will place a bet on a malodorous skeleton boy?" Mr. Clarkson yelled, followed by the mocking voice of the stupid audience. I yelled back, making sure that I let my voice go louder and higher enough for them to hear. "Your people are the skeleton." When I heard the crowds gasping in shock, it was obvious they didn't expect such abusive words from me. But who cares? "At least, you should learn how to respect other people's privacy. Or can't you bring your kids or family offshoots here and let your idiotic people watch them fight until death? " I saw his eyes change to red immediately, and before I could assimilate what was happening, I felt a large heavy object hit me from behind. Without being told, I knew those stupid people were throwing stones. "You are stupid kids," I bellowed to the kids in front of him, referring to anger to them. They were busy laughing, which means they were enjoying what I was going through. If my guess is right, they are from rich shacks, or they were probably lured here. "You will go through the worst fate, fools." I bellowed at them. That is why those people are calling me F.I.S., which stands for FOOL, IDIOT, and STUPID. I am sure they give me that name because I can't do without saying any of those words. Only if these kids knew that I have been through the horrible here. Well, I won't blame them. I was once like them, young, stupid, and ignorant. My mind automatically flashed back to when I first got here. I was kidnapped on my way to Mega Model Mercy nursery, primary and secondary school. I was in S.S 3. Then, I just finished celebrating my 16th birthday. "Mom, I will make you proud and insulate you, unlike Dad." Those were my last words to my mom before I was kidnapped. My mother immediately chased after the motorcycle, but her efforts to reclaim me were in vain. After that, I was pushed into the boot of a vehicle, followed by a foul fragrance that made me blackout instantly. I was awakened roughly by a whipping and immediately got chained to some young kids of my age that I also met there. A heavy metal collar is placed around my neck. The chains weigh so much that it's hard to even stand upright. "This way," one of the men said to me. When I didn't move, he whipped me in the back and I let out a loud whimper that echoed throughout the room. I gasped for air and tears sprung to my eyes. Then he gestured for me to move again, but this time I didn't argue. It took a moment for my eyes to diversify, and I gasped in horror at the sight in front of me. As far as my eyes could see, there were other groups of people, chained together, moving heavy blocks and stones. The commentator's ugly voice jolted me out of my thoughts, "It is enough." And the crowds stopped throwing the stones. I raised my head and used the opportunity to investigate my environment. I can just make out a metal shape in a rectangle on the floor in the middle of the field. It looks like some kind of trap, and I knew anything that lay beneath it would be dangerous. But those juveniles are just too stupid to notice. "Ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together for our vicious and undefeated player, Rey Reed." The crowds roared again, while I hissed in irritation. I wonder if they don't ever get tired of repeating my name. "Go straight to the battle, Ryan," I heard a voice that I could have presumed belonged to Mr. Clarkson. I raised my head a little, and my suspicions were confirmed. He was the one, his eyes staring directly at me with resentment and enthusiasm. Gradually, the commentator started calling out the names of the kids, but I paid no attention to it until the last four names caught my attention. "Kira, Michael, Favour, and Manuel," Ryan concluded his speech. "Ladies and gentlemen, now sit tight and watch the fight below." For the first time in my entire life, I felt pity for the kids. Looking closely, I could see that they were from Africa, but I couldn't guess which part of the country they came from. I felt the urge to help them. I felt like it was my responsibility to save them, protect them, and make sure they survived. I brace myself, ready to face any challenges they might throw our way. I also used the opportunity to scrutinize the arena ground. It was built on an old sports stadium. The arena is like timberland, with dusty black sand covering every inch of the ground. It is completely open to the elements and the blue sky up above me. No wonder I could feel the sun burning through my skin. The crowds stretched up in the bleachers as far as my eyes could see. I can see the look of dissatisfaction on their faces when they notice that none of us is going to fight each other. "I guessed we should do it the hard way." Ryan's voice bellowed through the speaker, followed by a loud buzzing sound. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw the trapped door open, and a tentacle shot out. It grabbed one of the kids and pulled him inside, his voice echoing down the tunnel of the trapped door. Before the blinks of their eyes, his blood splashed out and the kids screamed in fear. I heard the spectators cheering like crazy, while some were doubling the bets. I could feel the eyes of Mr. Clarkson staring dagger at me, but I didn't let that bother me. I calmed myself down and let my ears do the work of picking out any sounds for me. Despite the loud roaring of the crowds, I was able to pick out a small sound from the underground tunnel. Move out, "I yelled at one of the four kids. Without reticence, he jumped out of the way and maggots poured out of the trap door, down to his previous location. He looked at me with awe, but I shrugged it off and returned it with a cold expression. "If you all want to survive," I raised my voice enough for them to hear. "Then you all have no choice than to stick with me." Without question, the rest of the kids run towards me. We stood beside each other, ready to fight UNTIL DEATH