>> Error: Unknown serial number detected, powerplant

  That was new.

  I was used to waking up after my ‘sleep’ with an entirely new set of arms and legs attached to my body. Every gladiator burned through those spares with no regard for the consequence. This was the first time that something more essential had been switched out. Beyond that – having an error wherein my system couldn’t discern the make, number and status of the part was even more unusual. Either there was an issue with my operating system, or Pompeii had custom-built the part and caused a glitch.

  Both my theories were disproven within moments of waking up. Every robot came with a background process meant to check the health and output of the powerplant. The compartment could be used for both batteries and engines. Engines were a lot rarer than batteries, and they were considered less convenient and efficient overall. It also constantly sent information about the current power output and consumption to the log. It was unavoidable.

  These readings were at least four-times as intense as the ones from the standard battery I was using before. Not only was it outputting more into the system, but it was an engine of some description too. The log couldn’t even estimate how long it would be before I ran out of power and went offline. I refreshed the monitoring program several times and saw no difference in outcome.

  “Pompeii, did you meddle with my OS while I was asleep?”

  He stepped back and held out his palms as if I was about to explode at any second.

  “I can’t believe this is really working.”

  The longer I experienced whatever this was, the more concerned I grew.

  “My internal database doesn’t even know what this is. Where did you get it?”

  “Is that really important?”

  “Yes. Very much so! You’ve been hiding a lot from me recently. I’m placing a lot of faith in you to see this plan to the finish, but you’re not returning the favour. I’d at least like to know what you’ve been putting into my power plant while I was asleep.”

  I thought about recent events in detail and came to the obvious conclusion. The batteries, the spares for our disguises, Pompeii was in no position to source all of it himself. We were about to enter the semi-finals of the tournament too. Aguntum was the one who kept handing them over in return for seemingly nothing.

  “What did Aguntum ask you to do? Where did she get this stuff?”

  Pompeii sighed, “The answer isn’t going to make you happy, London. Aguntum doesn’t know where they came from either.”

  “How?”

  “She traded for them, at least according to her account. Some random bot came into town a while ago and was selling a lot of nice parts. She bartered with him when he visited the arena district and got them all at a bargain price. She only realized how strange it was when she tested them in one of her own fighters.”

  Unusual was an understatement. Whatever was placed into my battery compartment was leagues above everything else in my database, and that included serial numbers for components which were military-grade. It outputted a huge amount of energy without an accompanying rise in the levels of heat being generated. Such a thing defied all known laws of physics.

  “And… when she found out that Rome, Castra Regina and Antioch were around – she insisted that I take it.”

  “Why wouldn’t she keep hold of such an advantage?”

  “Seems pretty obvious. Aguntum isn’t trying to win this tournament at all, even with one stable-member still in the running. The spare batteries were one thing, but now she’s changed her mind completely.”

  “That still doesn’t explain why she’s giving it to us.”

  He hesitated.

  “I don’t know.”

  >> Another lie.

  >> It’s not merely a lie. This stinks out loud. Pompeii is hiding more from us than where this powerplant came from.

  >> Suppress error messages re: powerplant.

  >> Error: access permissions not granted, please contact a human supervisor.

  Great. I couldn’t even get rid of those irritating error messages on my own. Now my memory was going to be jammed up with an endless stream of panic about the powerplant not having the correct serial number…

  “Is this really safe?”

  “I’m not sure, but it’ll be a good asset for the semi-finals.”

  I thought we weren’t that concerned with winning it all – but it could be a backup plan if the deal with Venice fell through. It did give me cause to worry. The amount of energy being outputted by this device was spiking my charts, and I could also detect an unfamiliar electromagnetic wave coming from inside my body. Was I going to step out into the ring and detonate into a million tiny pieces? It remained to be seen.

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  >> Even ignoring where it came from, this generator is too strange…

  Pompeii left no time for further debate about the issue. I had to accept whatever parts he handed me without too much complaint since the semi-final was due to begin within a matter of minutes. The more he twisted my arm the more I chafed against him.

  “You’re fighting a bot named Dubris today. I’ve been keeping a very close eye on him during his fights. He had an easier path through the bracket than we did, but I still got a good look at how he works.”

  >> Straight to business.

  “First up, his weapon. He likes to use a custom-made trident. Not only is it a dangerous bladed weapon which can penetrate armour, but if it gets caught in a plate you’ll be locked into place. There are hooks built onto each edge to make it more likely to happen.”

  Pompeii walked me through Dubris’ normal game plan. He would open with a long-range assault using the tip of his trident to try and close the match early. If that didn’t work, he’d mix in horizontal and vertical swipes to try and catch me off-guard. He would try to fish for an opportunity to dig one of those metal teeth into my body and throw me off my feet.

  “Under absolutely no circumstance should you fall to the floor this round. It might be fine with a gladius or other one-hander, but this trident will stab you to pieces if you open yourself up like that. Keeping on your feet is the number one priority. Dubris has closed out all four of his fights that way.”

  “Noted.”

  “I’ve pushed every part to the maximum, and you shouldn’t have to worry about running out of energy this time.”

  >> Aguntum still has a participant left in the tournament. Is she trying to sabotage us? Why would they willingly give up such a huge advantage?

  Pompeii chuckled, “Not that you should rely on wasting time. It won’t endear you to the crowd in the slightest. You can take care of him before his battery runs out like you always do.”

  “I wasn’t planning on wasting time.”

  “Alright then. I think that’s everything we need to cover. Let’s go.”

  This was the last chance for us to baulk at the final round and preserve what we had. Either way – we’d have to make our presence known even if we planned to throw the fight. It was also difficult to pull back and let myself be beaten convincingly. I was no actor. The past few weeks of my existence were dedicated entirely to fighting in the arena. My voice was not fluid enough to convey any genuine emotion like the others.

  Despite the field being whittled down to no more than four competitors, the gutter floor that surrounded the ring was as busy as it had ever been. Everyone wanted to see the final two rounds of the competition – even if it meant spending the battery charge they’d saved up over many, many weeks. My march through the tunnel caught their attention. Some clapped their hands or jeered at us, others slamming against the edge of the window using their forearms.

  There were two tournament matches happening today. The first was mine, and the second belonged to Apollonia. She had also reached the semi-finals. Aguntum and Caesena were giving her a pep-talk by the curtain when we arrived at the staging area. Pompeii made polite conversation with her.

  “And you were downplaying your chances of winning a few weeks ago.”

  Aguntum shrugged, “It’s always hard to tell where the winds of fortune will take us. Apollonia has been eager to get to the top of the heap, and beating the legendary Pompeii would be a fitting final challenge.”

  “Legendary,” Pompeii murmured, “I wish I could live up to that kind of reputation.”

  Standing there and listening to them chat brought a fresh wave of suspicion to mind. Why exactly was she trading away some of her most valuable parts to a direct competitor in the tournament? Either she believed that they wouldn’t be a difference maker – or she simply didn’t care about claiming the crown. She even stared at me for a few seconds, undoubtedly picking up on some of the background waves being made by the generator.

  “I wish you wouldn’t talk so badly of yourself, Pompeii. You’ve inspired a lot of bots to keep on fighting in their own ways. It’s easy to dismiss your efforts when they’re buried under this gambling con that the Committee is running…”

  “There was one bot I cared about – and my best wasn’t good enough to keep him alive.”

  “Do you think that friend would want you to throw away your own life to match?”

  “I’m not throwing anything away. I’m going to go as far as I can. If it ends in me going offline, so be it.”

  Critical context was missing from this discussion. Sensing that I was about to cut through the ambiguity and ask an uncomfortable question, Pompeii and Aguntum mutually ended the conversation and returned to their jobs. Frustration was starting to build. Pompeii was keeping important information from me, and from experience that was usually bad news.

  “Is there anything you’d like to share with me before I go out there?” I asked.

  “No. Don’t listen to her. She’s trying to rile me up. Look out for yourself, remember? That’s the most important thing.”

  “I am looking out for myself, which is why I want to know if you’re hiding important information from me.”

  “We’ve all got our secrets, London. This particular one doesn’t concern you.”

  The bell rang. We were out of time.

  “We’ll see about that.”

  I turned away and pushed through the curtains and onto the dirt ramp.

  “Introducing our first semi-finalist! Under the tutorship of previous championship handler Pompeii – the merciless machine who dissects his foes with precision; London!”

  The arena was filled to capacity. The fights in the ‘undercard’ had gotten them warmed up for the dual main event. From my perspective this had only been going on for around twenty-four hours. For them the anticipation was much greater. They had been waiting weeks and weeks to see how the final bracket would play out.

  “And his opponent, under the management of Aequum. The ruthless spearman who tears his enemies to pieces, Dubris!”

  Dubris made his grand entrance. His handler had gone all-out on the presentation side of their preparations. He was adorned in perfectly painted and scratch-free cyan panels. Pieces of metal had been inlaid into them so they could glitter under the artificial light. Even his eyes were covered with a row of bars to keep them from getting smashed during our fight. The trident he used was similarly lavish, with a well-made blade that made my gladius look like a piece of scrap metal by comparison.

  >> Heavy armour – Aequum does not want their gladiator being picked to pieces.

  >> But those feet have been heavily modified too. He’ll be hard to knock down.

  But maybe they’d gone a little too far. A larger base would keep him stable, yet there was also a balance to maintain between being stable and retaining the ability to move and control the space. The gait of Dubris’ walk suggested that it was difficult to use the full range of motion that came with his legs.

  >> Does it matter? He has a range advantage, we’ll have to go to him.

  “The bets are closed, and our competitors are ready to cement their place in history!”

  The lights changed colour, and the horn sounded.

  >> Hopefully they remember me as the one who got away…