A lone figure sat in the dark, cold room. The roar of the crowds above echoed across the walls, hundreds of spectators gathered to watch the upcoming show. The figure stood up and stretched before walking through the only door. These are the moments I live for, he thought as the crowds’ cheers and stomps grew louder. Of course only slavers were allowed to attend events such as this, and they were held weekly by RedEye’s decree in order to “raise moral and encourage unity” among his soldiers.

He walked through the dark tunnel towards the closed gate, the bright sunlight shining through and lighting up the dusty air. A lanky buck sat near the gate, looking at the approaching figure with awe and more than a hint of fear. “We’re ready when you are sir…” The pony fidgeted and tried to avoid looking in the larger figure’s direction.

“Of course you are,” he replied with a hoarse voice. “No one is stupid enough to keep Draven waiting. Now hurry up and open this gate before I decide to do some warmups!” He pointed to the two razor sharp, custom made axes holstered on his back with a wicked grin. Predictably the pony hurried off to tell the others to raise the gate.

The crowd was growing ever restless before Stern’s shouts rang out over their cheers, quickly silencing them. “Quiet down! Quiet down everyone it’s time for the show to start! Today’s event is… a Freedom Run!” The crowd applauded wildly and even Draven laughed aloud. He always did love seeing the hopelessness in his opponents’ faces in this event.

“Now you all know the rules, but for any new guys I’ll repeat them anyways. Over the past week we’ve selected the baddest, the worst troublemakers in all of Fillydelphia and gave them a choice. They can either work the Parasprite pits till their dying day, which would likely be soon and rather undesirable,” many members of the audience shouted their agreements. “Or they can participate in an event in the Pit. This week’s event is called Freedom Run, and the rules are very simple. We let one slave out of the red gate at a time, and they are allowed to choose any of the weapons we provide. Note all of them are for close combat only, though we’ve had some creative participants in the past.”

“The goal of the slave is to cross the arena and exit through the black gate without dying a horrible bloody death at the hands of our resident axe thrower. Now enough stalling! Out of the black gate, you all love em’, but no one loves him more than he loves himself, we have the undefeated, untouchable, and doubtless best fighter in all of Filly! Draven the Executioner!”

Draven walked out of the tunnel as the gate slowly rumbled into the ceiling, the crowds going wild as he waved and laughed. “Yeah, yeah! Who wants some Draven?” The crowd kept cheering despite Stern’s attempts to quiet them, some throwing personal belongings and clothing to Draven hoping to catch his attention. Oh yeah, this was what made him feel alive.

Stern’s voice could barely be heard over the crowd, but she’d learned by now there was no stopping the crowd as soon as Draven took the stage. “And out of the red gate, we have our first slave fighting for freedom. He’s traveled everywhere from Manehatten to Hoofington and beyond. He’s fought off hellhounds and manticores, raiders and Rangers alike, but does he have what it takes to earn his freedom? Some call him a patron saint of caravans, others call him the Two Ton Gun. He’s big, he’s bad, give a big cheer for Stonewall the Brahmin Pusher!”

A huge stallion lumbered out of the red gate, making the tunnel behind him look small in comparison. His aged eyes looked over the crowd with hatred before finally settling on Draven, a grim determination etched on his face. He was met with mixed feelings from the crowd, some slavers cheered him on thinking if anypony could defeat Draven he was a likely candidate. Others shouted vulgarities and obscenities at him, remembering the many slavers he’s killed during his time in Filly.

“Hah! I’ve killed children that looked scarier than you! Show me what you got work horse!” Draven taunted as he pulled his trademark axes off of his back and began spinning them rapidly in his hands. Of course the crowds always cheered him on as he taunted his opponents, making a show out of their deaths.

Stonewall snorted before turning to look at the weapons he was provided to defend himself with. Most of them were in worse shape than the building around them, looking like they were cobbled together by children in a hurry. Finally after searching through the racks he found a sturdy looking metal bar sharpened on one end to make a spear. Without waiting he charged across the arena, crossing a blood-red line with the words ‘No Mercy’ written across it.

“Ha! Let’s admire me for a bit…” Draven laughed as he threw the axe in his right hand at a frightening speed. Stonewall was caught off guard and barely managed to shift the spear in his mouth to block the steel projectile, the impact sending his mind reeling. Draven didn’t let up though, rolling to the side to catch the axe with practiced ease as it flew back towards him and throwing it again without ever breaking his wicked grin. Oh yes, this was going to be a good day.

The axe flew at Stonewall faster than before, and even though he was ready he still had to stop his charge and do all he could to block the onslaught of instant death flying at him. Again and again Draven threw the axe, always catching it just to throw it again with fluid-like motions. With each throw and catch of the axe Draven got slightly closer to the large slave who was now trying to backpedal to get away from the Executioner.

Draven threw the axe in his right hand one more time, and as usual Stonewall braced himself as he raised his spear to block it. Only this time Draven stopped playing nice, and with a laugh he finally threw the second axe in his left hand. This time the buck had nothing to block it with and the axe sank deep into his right shoulder, blood pouring from the wound as he cried out and dropped the spear. Never one to stall, he caught his axe yet again and let it fly, it’s aim straight and true as it hit the injured slave in the chest.

Stonewall looked towards the sky with hollow acceptance before collapsing to the blood soaked ground, never to rise again. Draven ran over to his opponent and ripped the axes from his corpse, a foot standing on the stallion’s head as he cheered and waved to the crowd with his axes. “Welcome to the League of Draven!” He laughed as the crowd cheered their idol on, their rhythmic stomping shaking the stands violently.

“Well that was as short as expected, but a great show nonetheless! Draven continues undefeated in the Pit, but what about our next contestant? It’s time for round two everypony! So hold on to your seats and forget about your dates, because this young mare brings some serious fight to the Pit. Known for killing hundreds of slavers before being captured, she’s a town guard bringing the law to the wastes. She’s determined, she’s skilled, and more importantly she’s seriously pissed off, we have The Lone Gunmare, Sandy Roads!”

This time when the mare trotted into the arena, she was met with nothing but jeers and hateful shouts from the crowd. Every slaver knew somepony that had been killed by her before they finally captured her. She looked at Draven without fear, hatred burning deep in her eyes. Not like he wasn’t used to it, so he merely laughed.

The crowd obviously didn’t care for her, and he decided to rile the crowd up some more for this fight. “Well how do ya do, sheriff, here to lay down the law, or just lay down and die?” The crowd cheered and laughed, many members joining in by shouting their own taunts and lewd suggestions. But the mare didn’t bat an eye, if anything she seemed to laugh a little herself as she smirked.

“I don’t plan on doing anything until I’ve broken my hoof off in your ass.” The crowd went silent, many slavers leaving their jaws hanging open. No one taunts Draven.

The Executioner sneered as he finally took his foot off of the corpse at his feet and walked back to the black gate, standing right in front of it. “You sure think you’re special don’t you? Well don’t worry, I’ll repay the favor and make sure your death is memorable.”

Sandy still didn’t even seem fazed by his remarks, even knowing he meant every word and probably had the skill to back them up. Instead she nonchalantly browsed the racks and tables littered with weapons as if she didn’t care that she was about to die. “Oh please, you think you’re something because you can kill a bunch of almost defenseless, malnourished slaves? You wouldn’t last a Manehatten minute in Hoofington, much less outside your little castle here. I’ve killed more slavers than could fit in these stands, and the only reason I stopped is because I ran out of bullets. You’re nothing, and when you’re dead ponies will forget about you by the end of the week.”

Finally she found what she was looking for, a small knife with a strong handle made from bone. “Well let’s see if I learned anything from those lessons you taught me Updraft…” she whispered before picking up the knife in her hooves and turning to face Draven. “When all’s said and done Draven, your nothing but a show pony like the rest of us.” And with that she grabbed the knife with her mouth and sprinted across the red line.

Out of all the words one could use to describe Draven right now, angry would be an exponential understatement. With a cry of rage he began spinning his axes faster than the eye could track, watching the mare as she circled around to his left. After watching her movements he threw the axe in his right hand, leading her perfectly with the shot. Sandy expected the throw however and managed to duck under the brutal weapon, losing some of her tail in the process.

Draven spun up his second axe as he ran towards her, determined to not even let her get close to the gate and her long desired freedom. They collided and Draven swung his axe downwards in a mighty strike, nearly pushing Sandy to the floor as she blocked it with the large knife. But she was faster, and with a twist of her neck the axe was parried to the side and Sandy was able to cut Draven’s shoulder with the rusty blade as her momentum carried her behind him.

He quickly recovered and turned to block her next attack, but the only thing he saw was her running towards the black gate. With another cry of anger he whirled up his axe and threw it at the fleeing pony. Whether by blind luck or careful planning no one will ever know, but she managed to roll to the side just in time to dodge, the spinning axe continuing its flight and embedding itself deep into the wall next to the gate. ‘He’s out of axes!’ she cheered internally as she ran as fast as she could to her goal, panting heavily as the malnourishment of slave life took its toll.

So close, she could almost taste her freedom again. Thirty feet, twenty feet, ten feet… She heard a loud grunt from behind her, but didn’t need to look back to know what it was. She collapsed in a pool of blood as the axe stuck out of her side, barely two feet away from the gate to her freedom. Draven grinned madly as he sauntered across the Pit from where his first axe had gotten stuck in the wall. Sandy grit her teeth as she tried to crawl to the gate, ‘Just a little farther!’

But Draven was having none of that as he pulled his second axe out of the wall next to her before standing on her back, being sure to put most of his weight on her. He had expected a scream, or at least a few tears, but the persistent mare refused to indulge him. After a few more vain struggles she gave up with a sigh, relenting to the cold embrace of death.

“So tell me sheriff, how does it feel knowing that you can’t even save yourself, much less anyone else?” Draven was going to try and get as much joy out of this as he could, because killing someone like this just wasn’t enough for him.

She grew still as the light faded from her eyes, but her the corners of her mouth were turned up just ever so slightly. “I’m still… a better person… than you…” He looked at her corpse with hatred as he pulled the axe from her side. Finally he took his eyes off of her to once again give his attention to the cheering crowd around him. He grinned before running back to the center of the cage.

“Draven does it all! Ha ha, yeah!” The crowd’s cheers grew and grew, their hero reveling in their adoration. Stern had to wait for minutes before her voice could be heard above the deafening cheers, even with her voice amplified by the megaphone she held in her talons.

“Alright everypony settle down! We have two more fights on the way, but it’s time to take a short break. Everypony return to your normal duties for the slave shift rotation, and in a half hour we’ll continue the event.” The crowd roared its protests, and Draven decided to join in.

“Why should we have to stop our fun just for them? I say we continue the event! Let them work away and we’ll go fetch them when we damn well please!” Oh the crowd loved that idea, and they backed him up with more cheers and rhythmic stomping. Stern didn’t like this one bit, but with Redeye gone and most of her Talons on patrols, it was obvious who the slavers would side with if it came to a fight.

With a scowl she relented and waved to Draven. “Alright you want more fights? I’ll give you more fights, but you better watch your mouth when you ask for shit.” After shuffling through some papers a smile creeped across her face as she turned back to the megaphone. “Alright everypony the next contestant is a mare as strong willed as she is exotic. Beaten and bruised in the Fillydelphia slave pits since Redeye took over, she’s the first volunteer for the pit we’ve had in months! She quick, she’s silent, and nopony knows what she’ll do next, give it up for Xenith the Zebra!”

The crowd was jubilant when they heard her name, every slaver knew of the only zebra in Filly, though some seemed a little sad that she was about to die a horrible violent death. Even if she never talked many of the slavers liked her because she always did what she was told without causing any trouble or reciting some ‘witty’ remark.

She walked silently into the cage, eyeing the two dead bodies in the arena nervously. She looked briefly at the many weapons next to the gate, but with a shake of her head she walked up the red line and stopped just short. She looked at the grinning Draven with a frown before lowering her head and reading the words written on the line. ‘No Mercy’ she silently mouthed to herself, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves.

Draven was getting impatient, the one thing he hated more than weak sentiments like ‘mercy’ and ‘compassion’ was waiting, so with a laugh he sashayed across the arena. “What’s the matter little one? Cat got your tongue, or are you just too stupid to speak?”

Xenith looked away and sank to her haunches, much to the crowd’s amusement as they started shouting their own taunts and cat-calls.

“Boring just cut her up already!

“Yeah I wanna see what color zebra blood is!”

“What’s the matter is this your first time?”

That last one got some hearty laughs among the crowd, and a few tears from the zebra mare. She looked at Draven sadly once more before bowing her head. And ever so slightly, almost too quiet for him to hear even though he was merely feet away from her, she whispered. “I’m sorry.” And with that she took a step over the line…

Author's Note

Positive/negative feedback? Have requests on who to do next, and maybe what they should do? Or maybe you just want someone to talk to? Feel free to comment below and let me know!