Year: 5478

Present Day Los Angeles

"Did he say why?" Gerry asked.

"No, he just said he needed you" I said, driving my F-350 back to The Penthouse.

"Huh, weird" Gerry mumbled. "How is work?" he asked, looking out the truck window at the passing scenery.

"He acknowledged my existence finally" I said, still internally frustrated.

"Did he really?" Gerry turned to me, shocked, his brow furrowed.

"Yyyeesss?" I said, taken back by his expression.

"Well... " Gerry trailed off as we parked. We made our way up the elevator and when we the doors opened, they revealed Brock relaxing casually against my desk, staring at the elevator.

"Hey boss, what did you need?" Gerry asked, but Brock was not looking at him. The only reason I knew this was because I could feel his gaze burrowing into the top of my head.

"We need to talk" Brock said vaguely.

"Alright" Gerry answered, confused.

Brock stood there for a few more seconds, then stood up and walked into his office, holding the door open to Gerry. Thinking Brock would close the door immediately, I looked up. He stood, watching me for an instant, then shut the door gently.

"I'm screwed" I whispered.

Two hours later Gerry came out the door with Brock.

"-has to come out. She's running out of food sources. We'll get her" Gerry said assuredly.

Brock nodded then shut the door once Gerry crossed the threshold.

So he wanted to discuss me then. Bastard wasn't going to catch me.

"Hey, are you listening?" Gerry asked.

"Huh? What, oh no. I'm sorry, what did you say" Gerry looked from me to the object of my pointed stare, the door.

"I said you're done with work. This weekend is the start of The Games, meaning you get off work early today. This will happen from now on and there will be a round every month."

"The Games?"

"Yeah, Boss is a big fan of not going soft because we live in a safe setting, so we have The Games in The Arena to keep strength and morale up. There's competitions of all types; martial arts, weapons, partner, etc. You can do whatever you want" Gerry explained, ushering me to the elevator.

"Oh, ok. Well I guess I need to go change. I also have to walk Ares. What time do we meet at the err The Arena?" I asked.

"Five. I'll come get you since you don't know where it is" he said with a smile.

Well damn....

___________________

"Brock taught me everything I know about hand to hand combat, weaponry, and agility. All except for archery, but if I pick the bow he's going to know immediately that it's me. He's already suspicious Ares" I said, handing him a plate of ground chuck. He began lapping up the crumbly meat as I patted his head, a recent nervous habit. "But I have to do an accuracy competition because if I do a hand to hand I might get cut or slightly injured and when I heal instantly both idiots will know it's me. I already told Gerry that I was a crappy shot, so I can't do guns. Damn, I'm screwed" I went to grab my cargo pants and button down when I realized that I couldn't wear those without giving myself away either. Instead I grabbed the standard issue cargo shorts and cotton t-shirt Gerry had given me.

"Only slightly different than normal" I tried to console myself. As I laced my combat boots up, I felt my stomach drop at the idea of living this lie forever. I looked at my reflection in the mirror and sighed, not displeased with what I saw, but definitely a little uncomfortable with my face. I had kept my original appearance for thousands of years, to see it different made me nauseous. I wasn't equipped to handle this. I may be thousands of years old but in our age I was still young, I wasn't supposed to be running for my life surviving on my own.

A knock on my front door shook me from my reverie. As I walked to the door, I saw Ares slowly pacing back and forth at the door, growling.

I opened the door to reveal Gerry, at whom Ares growled. I put my hand on his head to silence him, with which he responded by nipping me gently then returning to the kitchen.

"Are you sure he's safe?" Gerry asked, eyeing Ares with a hand on his gun.

"Yes, his nipping is how he communicates with me unfortunately. He's just protective, don't worry" I said, plastering on a fake smile.

"Yeah ok" his tone completely disbelieving. "Ready?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm ready" I said, closing the front door behind me and locking it. We climbed into Gerry's jeep and he started driving toward The Penthouse.

"Where are we going?" I asked, scared.

"To get The Boss" Gerry said nonchalantly. Yep, exactly what I didn't want to hear.

"Oh, good" man my facial muscles were really getting a workout today, fake smiles were hard to maintain.

"Yeah... look don't get too interested in Brock" Gerry said suddenly. It threw me off that he called Brock by his name rather than Boss.

"What do you mean?" I asked, not having to try too hard to act confused.

"I know he's got a nice face but thats about it. He's broken. He doesn't date or show interest in women. I used to think it was ever but I was wrong. Anyway, it doesn't matter, now I know he definitely isn't interested in women or a relationship" Gerry seemed uncomfortable to say the least.

"So he's gay?" I asked, trying to play innocent while inside my heart was pounding.

"What?! No!! I mean not that there's anything wrong with- No he just... he's always been a cold guy. I just assumed he was one of those weird men who had no interest in relationships. But I was wrong, and he took interest in a girl a while back."

"What happened?" I asked, knowing the answer to my own question.

I ran away.

"She betrayed him" Gerry said, putting the jeep into park.

___________________

Fifty years ago

Las Vegas, Nevada

I threw my body into the blade, sinking the broad sword deep into my gut. I tried to angle the penetration so that it wouldn't nick my spine, and luckily I succeeded. This act put me close enough to slit the Sand Raiders throat with one of my throwing knives. He died and released the sword, but as he began to fall to the ground his friend realized what had happened and began to lift up his gun to shoot me. I grabbed the marauders body and held it in front of me as a shield. Bullets sprayed into his dead body as I tried to reach for my gun. I felt the blade jammed inside me slice through major arteries and I could feel myself getting light headed as I began to die from blood loss.

A single gun shot rang out as Brittock shot the second assailant in the head, point blank. I dropped the dead body in my arms and grabbed the handle of the sword. I could taste copper as blood began pouring from my mouth.

"Br-" I tried to say, but nothing else came out. I tried to stumble toward him, but someone's large hands gripped my shoulders from behind. In three long strides, Brittock came to stand in front of me. He moved my hands out of the way and gripped the handle in his large hand. Staring me in the eyes, he gave me a subtle nod, then with one decisive jerk, pulled the blade from my body. The force of the withdrawn blade jerked my body forward out of Gerry's hands and into Brittock's. I heard the thud of the sword being dropped onto the sand and saw Brittock's arms come up. My hands went to his chest to steady myself as his hands grabbed my waist, steadying me. I could feel myself healing and I knew a recovery job this big required a body reset. My eyes were probably pitch black. Regardless, Brittock continued to stare at me, assessing my condition. I can only assume my eyes went back to green, because he broke eye contact with me and looked down, lifting the hem of my shirt. He ran his hands over the area where my injury had been with his rough fingers. Finding nothing, he dropped my shirt and took a step back from me, relasing me but keeping his hands up in case I fell.

I was still a little disorientated from lack of blood but my body was working in over time to catch up. I held one hand up and closed my eyes, bending over to collect myself.

"You alright Kat?" Gerry asked, putting his hand on my back. I nodded and held up a thumbs up.

"Good, because that was amazing!" he responded.

"Thanks. I try" I coughed.

"It was stupid. What if we had not removed the sword soon enough and you died? Waste of desperately needed lives" Brittock said.

"Yeah yeah" I waved my hand back and forth disregarding him.

"She's got spunk. And Bravery. Maybe no common sense but the others are good enough" Scar, whose name was Rodney Lunkfield, commented. Brittock just grunted, meaning he didn't feel like dignifying that statement with a response. He hefted up the blade in his hand and examined it closely, feeling the weight and balance. I didn't realize how big the sword was until this instant. Brittock slowly cleaned the blade with a rag and then took a few swings with it, every stroke appearing powerful and deadly.

"You should keep it" Gerry offered.

"I plan to" Brittock responded, finally resting the sword, only to pin me with one of his signature, intense looks.