By joshmightbe 12 Comments
Continued from here part 13
Rome, 85 BCE The Coliseum
Two men sit among the crowd watching as the gladiators march out. The larger of the two was a man who would come to be called Johan, beside him was a former king named Lycaon. Lycaon had become fascinated by a gladiator who had just been brought up from Greece called Hektor.
Johan looked to Lycaon, "He doesn't look like much."
Lycaon chuckled, "Exactly, to his enemies he appears to be an average man but just watch."
Hektor strolled out on to the sand, looking almost bored as he approached his much larger opponents. As he walked toward them he picked a shield up from the ground then stopped. He looked on the sword that had been left for him and then to the largest of his opponents who held a three pronged spear then spoke to him, "I'd prefer the trident, bring it to me."
The man roared as he ran toward the motionless Hektor. As he came in striking distance Hektor deflected the trident and slammed a fist into the man's jaw shattering it as he snatched the weapon from his hand and plunged it into his chest. The remaining three charged as Hektor freed his weapon and hurled it into the midsection of his nearest enemy then grabbing the sword from the ground.
The next man through out a net to ensnare him but Hektor used his sword to tangle it and dragged the man to him where he smashed his skull with his shield. The last tried to strike him down with an ax but Hektor chopped off his hand then drove his blade into his heart. The crowd erupted in a chorus of boos over the too quick battle.
In the stands Johan looked to his brother, "That man is wasted here, if the Roman's had proper minds he'd be on a battle field."
Lycaon nodded, "So we're in agreement then?"
Johan sighed, "Are you planning on paying this time? I have no problem killing the odd slaver now and again but I'm in no mood to pick a fight with the legion in their capital."
Lycaon chuckled, "Relax brother, I've already dealt with it. His master is glad to be rid of him, the Romans prefer gladiators who take their time on the sand."
Sam and Steve sat in the truck as they had a quick dinner of fast food before sundown. Steve stopped Sam for a moment, "Edgar is here?"
Sam nodded as he swallowed, "You know about him?"
"Yeah, he's got a death mark signed by all thirteen vamp clan. Apparently he offed one of the First in a bar fight a few years back."
Sam put down his sandwich, "I thought elder vamps were supposed to be magic or something."
"They don't like to call it that but basically yea, but don't matter since it doesn't work on wolves. I heard that scares witches so bad they won't come within five miles of one if they can help it."
Sam shrugged, "My brother's a witch hunter, I should ask him about that some time."
He then looked up in the sky, "About time for your buddy to wake up."
Mathew hit the cellar floor causing Jack instinctively reach for the machete as his son began writhing in pain from the change. A tear rolled out of his one good eye as Mathew's claws ripped out from his hands. Without a moment's hesitation Jack struck his son's head off and dropped back down on the bench he was chained to and began considering his escape options.
Robert and Edgar went quiet when the screams stopped early. Robert then looked over, "Thought it'd be harder for him."
Edgar shook his head tossed a set of keys down in the cellar, "Its as it should be."
Robert looked shocked as Edgar walked away, "Johan's gonna be pissed about that."
Edgar didn't break stride, "Don't care."
Robert then felt the familiar pull that told him the change was coming as Edgar entered the house.
(To be continued)