GLADIATOR | ELYSIUM RISING 1 ✔️

⍢ | 5

He tapped a few of the options on the screen and watched as the android prepared his tray. Seconds later, he was presented with a strange-smelling slop the Hand claimed to be vegetarian. A few small pieces of bread laid and a metal tin of water laid on the outskirts of the porridge. Scrunching his nose, he grumbled out a "thanks" before stepping out of line.

The food wasn't the greatest, but it was better than nothing.

He remembered the many nights he went to bed with his stomach empty on Novr. At least he didn't have to worry about starving while on the Chyron.

With his tray gripped tightly in his hands, he searched for a seat. He lucked out and found a spot in the corner of the cafeteria. It gave him a clear view of all the exits and the other prisoners eating around him but was out of the way enough so that only a few people would notice him.

Perfect.

He sat down and started to eat. The porridge was vegetarian alright. It was also disgusting. He made sure to eat it all, though. Under no circumstances did the Arigorii people waste food, especially if it was given to them by someone else. His mother beat that into his head early.

Despite not being able to grow up alongside his species on Yensari, his parents did their best to instill in him the values of their people. After his father disappeared, it was up to his mother to pass on the knowledge. But after she got sick, she couldn't keep up with his lessons.

Iggy wondered if he'd ever get to return to Yensari. Would he even meet another Arigorii before he eventually perished on Elysium? He took a bite out of his bread. Maybe he'd get lucky and see one at the arena.

Only time would tell.

As he devoured his breakfast, listening in on the various conversations in different languages around him, he felt a chill race down his spine. Someone was watching him. He could feel their eyes boring into the back of his head like lasers from an Elysian soldier's blaster cannon. His fingers tightened around his tin of water. As he brought it to his lips, he carefully turned around in his seat.

He sucked in a breath and turned back around. His entire face went red. Tension seized his muscles as he froze in his chair.

It was the old man.

He was sat alone a few tables away. Every other table was full of inmates—all of them except for his. The tattooed man's weathered face was still like a stagnant pond, his irises darker than the blackest obsidian. They were seared into Iggy's mind, visible even when the boy closed his own eyes. Even if he wanted to, he would never be able to forget them.

Against his better judgment, he stole another glance over his shoulder. The man was gone. Pursing his lips, he rose from his table and searched the large room. His face lit up once he spotted the stranger dropping off his empty tray at the counter near the front of the cafeteria.

Now was his chance.

Iggy grabbed his own tray and headed toward the old man.

He'd never make it there.

As he limped across the cafeteria, his leg still in bad shape, he tripped over the foot of an inmate. He tripped, his tray and water tin flying forward. The tray clattered to the floor, but his water splashed onto a muscular man who had the top half of his jumpsuit pulled down, exposing his scar-riddled skin.

Judging by his features, Iggy figured he was an Andradan like the old man watching him from across the room.

Iggy picked himself up from the ground, his heart beating at lightspeed. He glanced in the direction of the old man. He stood with his chin lifted ever-so-slightly.