Van Terra

Chapter Thirty-Five ~ You're Gonna Go Far, Kid

Twenty-three years old. Jaguar stared at her face in the cracked mirror. It hadn't changed, really. Sure, there were more bruises, more scratches, more scars, but—

"Jaguar. It's time." The guard held up a shackle. Jaguar accepted her fate.

When they arrived at the gate, Mars held out her assigned weapon: a tiny ass dagger.

"This?" Jaguar exclaimed as she took it. "Really?"

"It'll make things more interesting," Mars told her. "Good luck."

"Make things interesting," she muttered as the gate went up. "Those assholes."

At least she wouldn't be here much longer, if all went according to plan.

Her opponent stepped out of the opposite gate: a bulky orange alien from the planet Reo, triple her size. He wielded a mace that he swung as he stalked toward her. As usual, her speed would be her best hope of winning. The dagger was all but useless.

"Our next match is Jaguar versus Blaze," the announcer told the crowd.

Blaze charged and swung. Jumping out of the way was easy enough, but Jaguar had to carefully time her duck to avoid the next blow, and then he was only feet away.

Jaguar drove the dagger into the shoulder of the arm wielding the weapon. Blaze hissed, tossed the mace's handle to his other hand, and swung again.

Great. Ambidextrous. Jaguar yanked the blade free, dodged another swing, and backed up. The mace would be perfect for her escape plan. She needed a way to keep it in the arena for her next fight.

Jaguar kept moving backward, veering toward the nearest pole. She threw a few slashes at Blaze's arms and legs, both to distract him and keep him close. She feigned a look of alarm when her back hit the pole.

Blaze swung. Jaguar ducked. The metal spikes dug into the pole above her, and she lunged up to drive her dagger into Blaze's neck. Quick. Clean. She yanked the weapon free. Yellow blood splattered across the dirt.

Jaguar could have dragged it out longer, earning more praise from the crowd and Mars, but she was saving her energy. She had one more fight, and it was going to be a good one.

"Not bad," Mars said when Jaguar returned through the gate. "Though Blaze has been losing his edge lately. I wonder if they'll bother trying to heal him."

Jaguar didn't dwell on the thought. As the guards chained her to the wall, she ran through her plan. Her biggest obstacles were the guards, the heavy doors around the facility, and the fact that she was always kept in her cell, in chains, or in the training rooms.

The training rooms had seemed to be the best option at first, but Jaguar had heard stories over the years of failed escape attempts, and even witnessed a few herself. Sure, the prisoners had access to weapons, but so did the overwhelming number of guards and handlers.

And then Jaguar realized there was a place where she had no chains, no guards in her immediate vicinity, and access to weapons: the arena.

The most important part of the plan was the added advantage of the spectators. Above all else, Lion's Den personnel were going to protect the people who made them money. Jaguar had two matches today, and the second one would be more crowded, for a variety of reasons: time of day, the placement of well-liked fighters in the time block, and the fact that Jaguar was not fighting another prisoner, but a free agent. The only one scheduled this pentasol.

There were still unknown variables she'd have to deal with along the way, but a failed attempt would be better than another day in the Lion's Den.

Jaguar was handed a whip for the second match. She focused, focused on the way air filled her lungs, the way her boots thudded against the dirt, the way dust floated in the light spilling into the waiting room from the arena. Now or never.