Kissa's Story

Kissa
Kissa shivered, and she drew what she had left of her worn dress around her. She was hungry, exhausted, and emotionally tired out to the point of apathy. She didn't care anymore. She knew what was going to happen, and she was ready for it. She knew that it would be foolish to even dream of seeing her family again, and what happened to her was not a concern. She just wanted it to end. For her to be sold or to die. She did not care which. But she could not stand this anymore, she hated everything. She hated her cell, she hated the slave traders, she hated the other slaves, she hated the rotten smell of death in the air, and most of all she hated the filthy Romans who casually walked by, regarding her and her people as nothing more than animals fit for market. And that is exactly what they were. They were nothing more than animals, if they were even as high as that. Her misery subsided as she watched a Roman man approach the trader at the door of the cell. The trader unlocked it, and the Roman stepped in. He began to look all of the slaves over, and Kissa knew this was her chance. She was not sure what she could accomplish, but she could not simply sit there anymore. Without a moment of hesitation, she threw herself at the Roman and hit him with all the force she could muster. The Roman was shocked, and she would have inflicted reasonable damage to him had two traders not rushed in and taken her away from the man. They drug her out of the cell and beat her. She cried out in pain, but she was not ashamed. There was no more that they could do to bring her any lower. The Roman, recovered from his shock, stepped out of the cell and studied Kissa once again.
"She'll do excellently. A bit of beauty and ferocity, I am sure the crowd will be impressed. She might even last for more than a minute, this one's a fighter.", said the Roman. Kissa was a bit confused at this, but the traders simply bound her wrists in chains while the Roman went and picked a half a dozen other slaves, who were all bound in chains into a long line. The Roman paid the slave traders, and then he led the chained procession down the streets of Rome.

Antonius
Antonius sat upon his raised chair on the balcony that overlooked the arena. He watched as his gladiators trained in the sand, their swords and spears clanging against shields and armor. Tonight would be a fairly good evening of entertainment. He had sent one of his men to go and fetch a fresh batch of slaves, and the new conquest of some villages in Egypt meant that there would be a decent stock coming in. Not that he expected the slaves to last very long in the arena, but the people always loved it if the slaves gave a good fight. Antonius got up from his chair and walked down to one of the holding cells for the slaves underneath the arena. Right on time, the man he had sent was just arriving with a half a dozen slaves from the market. He looked at them approvingly, until he noticed that one of them was female, something that they rarely used in the arena. She was very beautiful, and he asked his man why he chose her.
"She may seem tame, but she almost teared me to pieces when I got within a few feet of her. She's got spirit, this one.", said the man. Antonius nodded in understanding, and he watched as the man locked the slaves up. He then went back up to his seat, and knew that the crowd would be very pleased indeed. Some of them may protest about the woman, but blood was blood, no matter male or female. He might even let this one be permitted a sword, just to give her an advantage. He smiled as he thought about tonight's games. As always, he knew that he would enjoy himself. Many say that the Colosseum is the heart of the Roman Empire, and he was proud to be called its keeper.

Kissa
Kissa slumped against the wall of the holding cell. Great, another cage... Kissa wasn't sure what was in store for her, but whatever it was, she knew it couldn't be good. She was in the sort of place where disobedient slaves were preferred, and she knew that disobedient slaves were only good for one thing: being killed. Perhaps she could make an escape. But what then? There was no way she could get out of Rome with soldiers and guards everywhere.
Kissa sat there for hours, spending what might be her last moments dreaming about Egypt and her family. Then the time had come. There was a general, hurried commotion under the arena, people bustling about here and there. Soon a loud cheer erupted from above, and it continued on. Once in a while, a man would come and take a few of the slaves at a time. The cheers continued. Slowly, the cell became emptier and emptier, until Kissa was the only one left. Most entertaining for last..., she thought bitterly. Then her time had come. A man appeared to bring her up, and he took her out of the cell and led her through a series of passages,until finally they stood in front of a closed gate. She could hear the cheering, louder than ever, coming from the other side. The man went to a table nearby and grabbed a sword. He gave it to Kissa, and she turned it over in her hands. It was quite heavy, and felt very unbalanced. But she was thankful to be given one at all, so she resisted the urge to kill him with it. The cheers became louder, signaling the end of the previous match. Then a silence fell, and a muffled voice rose over the arena, and then ended with a large amount of cheering. Kissa's heart quickened as the gate in front of her opened. The man pushed her into the arena, and she stumbled into the blinding sunlight. She squinted around her, and almost dropped the sword in astonishment. Around her was a giant stone arena, where thousands of Romans sat and screamed. All of their eyes were upon her, and at that moment she hated Romans even more than when they had burned her family's farm to the ground. They were cheering because they wanted to see her die. At that moment she finally noticed her opponent: a large, bulky gladiator covered in armor, with his sword drawn. She knew then what she had to do. She had to defy these Romans at any cost. She would not die, not like this, not while thousands of spectators screamed for her blood. She raised her sword, ready to kill.