Theater of Pain 2099UG #1

Act 1 of 4: Meeting

The Curtain Rises

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The Island of Hawaii, 2099

Once, this island and it's brothers claimed fame as a vacation retreat, a place for families and for lovers. Today, only those seeking death reach the island's obsidian shores, only to find something worse. A citadel rises on the superheated slopes of Mauna Loa, a scar on the surface of the earth and the sadistic heart of humanity. The Theatre of Pain.

Scene 1

The sound of machinery was deafning. Aliana Carson sat huddled in her chamber, feeling the cold air flow over her. She was a pretty, young woman, with a slender physique. Her hair was dark and spread out across her shoulders in a tangled mass. The cell she was imprisoned within was made from cold metal, with a heavy steel door which remained locked at all times, except for her "training" sessions. Dim, purple light was the only illumination, barely enough to see. A small panel on the side of the wall opened every eight hours to deliver a noxious, but edible slop. It was her only home, if that word could even apply to a slave.

The machines continued. She didn't know what they did or why they never stopped, but she knew it was not something she would like to see. The sound bore into her head, keeping her awake at night. Even after all these years, sleep still came only rarely. And when it did come, it was filled with the sound of the machines. At times she would cry out for them to stop, but they never listened.

From the other side of the door she heard the sound of heavy footsteps. She backed into the corner as the door opened. Standing in the hall beyond was a horrifying monster. A demon's face complete with large horns stared at ther. Clawed hands pointed to her as the creature turned and spoke to a figure Aliana couldn't see.

"Is she the one?" he asked, his voice was low, gravely and not human.

"Yes master," a light almost musical voice replied. Aliana recognized it as the voice of her "teacher", the terrible woman who would periodiaclly take her from the cell and force her to watch as prisoners were subjected to horrible tortures.

Terror gripped Aliana in a vice. Would she be next? She could picture clearly the devices used on the others. Horrid machines, some more flesh than metal. Those devices, they leapt unbidden into her thoughts, and often into her dreams as well. Her stomach turned at the thoughts of what happened to the others, their bodies torn, burned and mutialated. All the while she had to stare and listen to their screams.

The demon strode forward, his masive frame more agile than it indicated. Aliana could smell sulphur and brimstone in the air. She lurched forward and nearly emptied the contents of her stomach onto the cold floor as the beast's claw touched her trembling shoulder. "Ah my dear Aliana," his voice was merely a whisper in her mind, "you are nearly ready. Don't fear yourself." He turned and walked back to the door. He pressed the control panel and it begun to swing slowly closed.

"Rest well, my sweet Succubus," he whispered without her hearing.

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Scene 2

Brimstone Love stalked the darkened halls of his citadel. He walked with confidence, the master of all he surveyed. His eyes scanned the dim lit corridors like a rabid animal, bestial and hungry. Those few whose path he crossed would cringe away, less out of respect, more from fear. Heat enveloped him like a shroud, but he barely noticed. Thoughts of revenge seethed in his mind. 'The X-Men! Those dammnable mutants, because of their interference I've lost the Slaughterhouse. And Xi'an, the treacherous bastard.' He arrived at a massive door. It was completely sealed, no panels or scanners were in place to allow access to the interior.

Brimstone stepped towards the door and slid through the metal. Energy crackled around him as the door phased, allowing him access to the chamber beyond. He felt heat radiate around him and he could smell sulphur and his namesake mixed into one.

More energy flowed from his fingertips, bright and fiery, racing across the room. Upon striking dead center a bright yellow glow shone forth. A column, fueled by the fire at its base, cast light over the chamber. Obsidian and bare limestone covered the chamber. Molten rock cascaded along the far wall sending out a red glow across the room. A large throne, constructed from granite, obsidian and an unamed stone the color of blood rose from the center of the chamber. Monitors flickered on the wall to his right, in each one was a face.

Brimstone Love smiled as he watched the agony tear across the faces. Tears ran freely alongside blood. 'That fool, Doom. Did he truly believe that taking away the Slaughter House would stop the Theatre.' After the X-Men and the SHIELD Agents took down the Slaughter House Doom's government rounded up all of the Theatre's clientel, 'At least those they found. How little he knew.' Brimstone sat in the throne, flipping open a small panel on the arm rest. He hit a switch and each moniter blinked until they all rested on the same image, the young woman Aliana, his newest ally, although she was as yet still unaware of that fact. She sat in the corner of her cell shivering. He spoke into a comm panel, "Fyre, I would suggest canceling Aliana's regular lessons for today, I have something else in mind for her."

The reply came from the comm panel of the throne. "Yes, my lord."

Brimstone hit another button, "Charon, make preperations ready for our newest show."

Brimstone sat back in the throne and smiled. 'And now on to other much more important matters . . .'

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Scene 3

Aliana opened her eyes to a bright glare. Floodlights filled her field of vision. Her hands dug deep into hot sand beneath her and the reality of her situation dawned on her; she was in one of the Splatterpits! She rose hurridly to her knees, her head whipping from side to side to determine her exact location. She realized with sinking disappointment that she stood dead center within the pit.

Dead center, she thought, what an apropriate word.

Strangely the audience was absent, and it was that fact which inspired the greatest fear. The shows in the 'Pits were often packed.

"Ah my dear sister," a voice called out over a loud speaker. "So good of you to be able to attend our little rehersal. The show would be ruined if you didn't know your lines."

"Who are you?" ALiana cried, unable to identify the voice due to distortion.

"Why, I'm the director of course, who else would oversea our star's first, and last, rehersal before opening night."

Aliana's mind spun, trying to understand what was going on. Show? Opening night? They were treating this like some fanciful play. Of course the Theatre was known for its twisted sense of humour.The last thing she could remember was Fyre, her so called teacher informing her that the lessons for the day had been called off. Then within less than a minute the cell filled with thick, acrid smoke knocking her unconcious.

From behind her she heard the sound of rusty metal groaning, cutting off all further thoughts on the situation. She spun to see a set of large double doors swinging slowly open. Her feet slid backwards easily through the sand till her back came up against the far wall. Two pinpoints of red light began moving within the darkness beyond the doors. A creature stumbled out from the chamber beyond. Long sinuous limbs dragged through the sand as a yellowed, tusked jaw opened. The blinking red eyes, set in a hideous and twisted visage, stared at Aliana with open hatred. She could see flashes of light reflecting off the small portions of the creatures body which had been cybernetically augmented. It approached with grunts, punctuated by the ocaisonal sound of a mechanical crunch.

The Splatterpit was circular in shape and Aliana began to move around the wall, keeping the creature as far from her as possible. Without warning the thing leaped at her, crossing the space between them in the blink of an eye. It slammed her back against the wall, its claws digging into her exposed skin. A deep growl rose from its powerful throat. The pain, as excrutiating as it was wasn't new, she had seen pain before. The memory of those moments flooded back, almost overwhelming her.

'Dont give in,.' she thought. 'Kill it and free yourself,' her mind screamed at her. .

Without a another thought she twisted to the left and, pulling her right arm in towards her torso, sent the creature careening into the Pit wall headfirst. It hit with great force and with a sickening thud. A short leap backwards allowed her time to wait for the creature. It shook its head slowly, scattering sand into the air. Thick blood ran down a wound in its head and a large section of the wall crunmbled, damaged from its impact.

"Watch everything," the voice called to her.

Aliana stared, tears filling her eyes, at the young boy strapped to the chair. He screamed in agony as a thin blade was drawn across his stomach. Blood, bile and worse oozed from the wound. She tried to move, but a powerful hand held her head in place. She tried closing her eyes, but the wires which held them open resisted. These were her lessons, her daily exposure to others suffering.

"Don't resist your impulse," the voice screamed at her. "He will recieve no better treatment if you feel comapssion." To prove the point, a needle, containing a highly corrossive acid was inserted into the boy's arm. His screams, however, didn't change; they couldn't get worse.

"Don't you feel the rush, the pleasure of seeing him at your mercy?", the voice asked again. "There's nothing wrong with enjoying this; why let his pain cause your own? Why not let it fuel your pleasure?"

Aliana shook her head as best she could, yelling that it didn't matter, that this was wrong. Yet deep inside, within her heart, in a place she didn't want to accept existed, she agreed with the voice. That thought disgusted her, but it was there nonetheless. She fought the thought, knowing that it was wrong, but it wouldn't leave, and so she continued to watch.

In the Pits, the memory of that session remained in the back of her mind. This creature which stood before her was in pain, but it wasn't pain she caused.

Aliana watched calmly as it turned towards her. She reached out and grabbed its front legs as the creature leapt. With a twist of the shoulder she pulled the creature over her delicate body and slammed it into the ground. A streak of heat flashed over her as she felt the creature's claws drag across her arm, leaving deep scratches. Her lips twisted into a cruel smile, 'Yes, kill the creature. It's only a stupid beast.' Before the cyber-beast could rise up she smashed her closed fist into the creatures throat just below the chin. It's breathing became ragged and raspy. Gargling sounds soon replaced the breathing as the creature collapsed limp on to the arena floor; dead.

A moment later Aliana stood panting in front of the strange beast, before a wave of darkness washed over her and sent her into unconciousness.

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Scene 4

The walls were black and glistened with humidity. Several figures huddled in the dark room, their features indistinct. Christopher Blake leaned back against one wall, his muscles tightening with each movement. He paced his breathing, allowing the air to become a single rythm with his heartbeat. His eyes were closed but he could feel the presence of the other men in the room, the other Gladiators. That was all part of who he was and what he did. He was heavily muscled and wore little beyond a simple loincloth. And then there was the collar. It fit snuggly around his throat, ready at any moment to deliver a fatal injection of poison should he make any move beyond those ordered by his masters. Thos cruel men and women who fed a sadistic hunger by forcing him to slaughter other people.

Like the others in this chamber, he was tired of this life, but clung to it with fierce passion. He would not die. If the death of others was the price, he would pay it before his own. After all, if he didn't kill them, someone else would. And so he stayed under control, allowing his masters to misunderstand his reasons. They thought the collars worked, kept him quiet, along with one other consideration.

He knew it would begin soon; the gnawing hunger would start. Deep within his body he could feel it building, and he knew he would need the drug soon. As the desire washed through his mind he could feel himself weakning and the sense of the others fading. If he didn't get the drug soon, he knew he would quickly succumb to worse withdrawl symptoms than simple weakness. His muscles would become like rubber, and slowly become more and more useless. Soon his heartbeat would become eratic until it would stop. But it was the emptiness, the lack of the drug in his body which hurt most of all.

The drug, known only as the Stimulant, was the main part of the diet for the Gladiators. For many it was the only way they could survive a single session within the Splatterpits. Prolonged use of the Stimulant would inevitably lead to the addiction, something Blake was all too familiar with. He craved it now, for the energy it supplied.

The door to the cell opened and admited a lithe, supple figure. Shadows washed over the woman, hiding her face from view, allowing only a glimpse of flaming red hair. Blake could feel her eyes on his body, "You, Gladiator, it's your turn," she said, turning and leaving the room.

"Yes Mistress Fyre," he replied submissively and followed the woman out.

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Scene 5

'What happened?' was all Aliana could think. She stared down at her left arm, at the scratches which ran the length of her arm below the elbow. A scab had grown over the scratch, and was quickly darkening as the cells died. She felt terrible as she thought about her feelings while fighting that creature. And how did she fight it? She'd never fought something like that before, she hadn't fought anything before. But something had lead her hand, something instinctive. Something that made her feel good.

A sound caught her ear as the food dispenser opened to excrete a meal. The thick liquid splashed on the filthy floor. Apparently the plate dispenser had failed. "Oh shock!" she said as she moved to the small panel. The liquid continued to pour from the opening, covering her outstretched hands. A growl in her stomach told her she was hungry, but not this hungry. And still the flow continued. After five minutes it still hadn't stopped, and a large part of her cell floor was now covered in the substance. She kneeled in the far corner of the tiny chamber, having finished what she could of the food, she now just watched it continue to fill her cell. When the slop finally began to collect around her feet she kneew it was time to do something. She slid towards the door to her cell and began banging on it. "This isn't going to do anything," she thought outloud, but knew it was all she could do. She didn't have anything to clog up the dispenser. "Help!" she cried, hoping that someone would hear her. "Son of a glitch!" she yelled and continued to pound on the door.

Her diner began to creep over the top of her feet, feeling cold and slimy. She continued to bang on the door and watch the growing level of sludge. The hair on her calves rose with the feeling of the substance. Suddenly the door slid open and someone entered pushing Aliana back roughly. She barely managed to stay on her feet in the slippery slop.

"What are you doing, you little. . .?" the man asked leaving the ending hanging as he saw the cell. He wore a simple sterilized suit and carried a small rifle, one of the Citadel guards. The rifle came up as he stepped into the room. "Back against the far wall, and don't move or no one'll be able to tell the difference between you and this mess."

"Y . . . yes ss . . . sir," she stammered and moved to the wall. The guard moved towards the dispenser and shook his head. Kepping his gun pointed at her head, the guards pulled out a small hand held comm device. "Renik's? Yeah listen shut down the food dispensers in the Lower Cell level." He waited. Aliana could barely hear the response. "Yeah, one of the trainee's got hers stuck," the guard replied. Suddenly the liquid food stopped.

The guard moved back to the door, "You know, you're a lot luckier than most, it's not everyone who gets this much to eat."

"You're not going to have it cleaned?" she asked, shocked at having to remain in the cell with this stuff.

"Do you think anyone has time, maybe if . . ."

Some movement behind the momentarily forgotten guard caught her eye. Two figures walked through the corridor, one she didn't recognize, a handsome man wearing the outfit of a bloodfighter. The other figure was all to familiar. The woman's red hair framed a pale face and cruel green eyes. Fyre was a Norn, and like most of her ilk, had little patience or compassion for others. "What is going on here!" she demanded, stopping at the cell entrance,in a voice only thinly masking violence.

As the guard explained what had occured Aliana looked over the bloodfighter. There was something familiar about him, although she had never seen him before. When he looked up and stared at her, she saw something else, defiance and patience. He seemed like he was on the verge of murder, and wouldn't be picky with his victim when the time came. He nodded as she stared, and it seemed to make her situation a little more bareable.

"Well, do it now!" Fyre almost screamed, her patience obviously growing thin. The guard noded and hit a switch, allowing the door to slide shut. Aliana was once agin left alone with the smell of the foul food and the memeory of the bloodfighter. She didn't even realize when the gas knocked her unconcious again.

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Scene 6

The Gladiator, Blake, stood within the waiting chamber, stripped bare except for a simple loincloth. An unnamed physician slowly inserted a needle into his flesh, immediately below his right elbow. A warm liquid was pumped into his blood, the Stimulant.

As the drug merged with his blood, he felt the surge of strength. The hunger in his mind burned away in an inferno of sensation. His muscles contracted under the influence, and energy swept through every cell. For a moment he almost collapsed under the high, wanting nothing more than to spend eternity enjoying the feeling. He could smell everything, from the fetid and rank odour of unwashed bodies, to the hint of tangy perfume left by Fyre. He heard the air circulate through the ventilation system and the waiting crowd beyond the doors to the pit. He felt his heartbeat quicken as his body pumped the drug to every extremity. His fingers and toes tingled and twitched. His opponent lay without and Chris knew what that person's death would bring; more of this pleasure. He might tell himself that he killed to survive, but in truth he killed to get more of the drug.

Then the initial wave passed, and his mind returned. He relaxed his body as well, and waited as a second needle was brought forward.

This needle contained a water solution and the nanites. He knew the process well, before each fight they would implant dozens of these machines into his body so that they could register the sensations of the battle for the customers. Most registered simple physical sensations, but one batch of these came from another container. This batch registered more than the physical, but also the emotional, tapping into the neuro transmitters in his brain.

The memory of the girl he saw earlier was still lingering in his mind. He had to get rid of it, knowing that any waver in concentration could throw him off. That was what made the difference between an old Gladiator and a dead Gladiator.

After the implantation was finished, he moved towards the weapon rack, it's lethal collection glinting in the red light. With the experience he had, the Bloodsport directors allowed him the choice of weapon. His eyes passed by most, all bristling with sharpened edges which were useful only for show, and were all too unwieldly. His choice was far more precise; and more suited when it came to delivering pain. A Shock-Gauntlet. The glove, a simple black piece of cloth with thin golden wire woven across the surface and a small power-cell on the underside, was a very simple weapon. A charge of electricity was sent along the wires and with a single hit could almost electrocute a person. It was never enough to kill, but the burn scars and pain it delivered more than made up for it. The audience paid for pain, and pain is what they recieved when he fought.

Once outfitted with the gauntlet the Gladiator turned towards the doors to the Pit. They slid open slowly, and he could hear the applause. He stepped out, feeling a calm efficiency fall over him. As a veteran of dozens of these fights, he was prepared for what would come. His eyes swept over the audience, dozens of the worlds wealthiest and most disturbed men and women. Most were outfitted with simple Sensation Webs, allowing a controlled amount of feeling to be passed to them. A few however, wore full body Stimuli-Suits, for a much more direct sensation.

He closed his eyes to clear his mind of the residue emotions and stray thoughts and turned to face his opponent. The memory of the girl he saw earlier was gone, left deep within the back of his mind where it wouldn't disturb him. As his foe stepped into the bright light he moved in for the kill . . .