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Across the arena, Tera was clutching her stump of a hand, looking hopelessly at me. When Skull killed me, she’d be next. If the man knew his victory was imminent, he didn’t show it. His face stayed dead, as dead as his moniker as he advanced. No grandstanding, or showmanship, or passion; he tits would kill me with the same emotionless efficiency as he’d fought me, and I didn’t doubt that afterward, he would stand as still as a stone before the adulation of his triumph. What meant everything to me, seemed to mean nothing to him. “Fly, Astrid!” A little voice yelled. I looked up, and there was Mistress, looking directly down at me from her booth, “Fly away!” She cried, but the idea of flying away never occurred to me. I would rather die fatty in failure than live as one. I smiled up at her, my god, my unrequited love, and I saw the worry in her face. It was real, and that gave me comfort before the end. I set myself a final time, unfurled my span, and charged. He knew it was coming; he’d seen the last prideful catharsis of the defeated before. He adjusted his stance perfectly, leveled his sword just right, angled his shoulders, and then suddenly went rigid. Tera’s knife was in his back, then my sword was in his German gut. His once-expressionless face looked comically surprised, then it rolled off his shoulders with my backhanded swipe, and bounced into the sand. Tera and I stared at each other over the spurting neck between us. She’d been working the edge of the arena, limping as though on the verge of succumbing to blood loss, then she’d waltzed up to Skull while I did my suicidal charge, and stabbed him in the back. It was so absurdly easy that I could hardly believe it happened, nor could the crowd, and nor could Tera herself. She stared wide-eyed at the headless corpse between us, then she giggled, then I giggled, and the stadium erupted. WILLLOWBUD “Yes! Yes! YES!” I laughed, jumping up and down in my booth. Sister Julia smiled thinly at me, obviously disappointed in the outcome. I whooped and hollered in her face, pelvic thrusted at her, grabbed my nuts and gave them a taunting squeeze. “Suck on that, bbw bitch!” “Congratulations.” Sister Julia replied, trying to conceal her irritation. Why she wanted Astrid to lose was beyond me, but the fact that she’d been foiled only made the victory sweeter. The roar of the crowd swelled all around us, filling the night air with its thunder. On the sands of the arena, Astrid held her sword high. Her face shined with joy, her eyes glistened with it, and she laughed and smiled wondrously at the stands stretching above. She turned toward me, and levelled her sword in salute. I blew her a kiss, and she caught it, and placed it against her own lips. My champion, basking in her moment of glory, and she wanted to share it with me. “Go to her, Willowbud.” Sister Julia said softly. 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