Chapter One Hundred Sixteen

Francis Ackerman Jr. had been mentally preparing for this moment since he had watched the video of Agent Fuller being beaten and devoured. Fuller had played his cards well. He had tried to calculate the perfect opening move. He had taken his time and thought things through and had tried to get one step ahead of his opponent.

The Gladiator had made a mistake by giving Ackerman the extra time to plan his perfect move. It was an error born of vanity, and such arrogance warranted a slight uptick in the chances of their survival to twenty percent.

Ackerman and his brother had been secured to chairs identical to those used with Agent Fuller. And, just as before, the door opened, and the hellhounds entered like a processional of proud warriors. The Gladiator followed close behind. He now wore his typical skull mask, and Ackerman much preferred him with it on. He was shirtless and splattered with blood.

Marcus said, “Where did all the blood come from? You said if we were quiet and cooperative, then you wouldn’t hurt any of the girls.”

“The ladies are fine. I would worry about yourself right now.”

The Gladiator ran through the usual rules of his game, while Ackerman waited, chomping at the bit, yearning to be let off the chain.

“Prepare yourselves for combat, gentlemen. Get cleaned up. Take as long as you wish, but I wouldn’t get too close to my pets. They’ll tear you to shreds if you try to leave this room. I always feel it appropriate to give my opponent the opening move, and so I will be here meditating. When you’re ready, make your move.”

Noting that his opponent had used the exact same speech he had used with Fuller, as if it were a planned monologue, Ackerman increased their survival percentage to twenty-two percent.

After undoing their restraints, Granger struck a lotus pose, and they were given their moment to prepare before the match.

But Ackerman didn’t need a moment. His plan was already cemented in his mind.

As soon as Granger was in position, Ackerman took off in a sprint and rolled onto the floor, heading straight for his opponent. The Gladiator didn’t even have time to close his eyes and enter a state of meditation before Ackerman leaped into action.

He saw a flash of fear in the other man’s eyes, and it tasted like blood in the water to a shark.

It seemed like a very long time since Ackerman had witnessed such a look in the eyes of a victim. It gave him strength. It was a small reminder of a fact he had only recently come to realize: his lack of fear always gave him the advantage in a fight.

He adjusted the odds in his head to twenty-five percent.

Ackerman rolled twice before coming to a stop three feet in front of the Gladiator. Then he mimicked Granger’s yoga pose and said, “So . . . are there a lot of people watching?”

Because of the mask, Granger’s voice sounded muffled and metallic as he replied, “You should be honored. It’s a record-breaking night. Nearly doubling our next best ratings, which was the death of the FBI agent that you witnessed. It’s truly amazing how many people will pay such large sums of money to watch me kill you.”

Ackerman chuckled and said, “I’m afraid there are going to be a lot of sick and twisted folks who will be very pissed off when they don’t get to see what they want tonight.”

“I am undefeated, Mr. Ackerman. But even if you did best me, they would then get to see me die. Which would definitely be a twist ending.”

“You misunderstand me. I’m saying that they are not going to see what they want because we are not going to attack you. I’m going to sit here until you make the first move. Because you see, I think you’ve forgotten how to really fight, and so I’m turning your own challenge around on you. I’m going to sit here until you open the fight yourself.”

The Gladiator’s muscles tensed as if he was ready to spring into action now, but he hesitated. He said, “The rules of the match have been set. Choosing not to attack is a choice in itself, and if you don’t choose, then we will turn on the red light, and the Hellhounds will devour both of you.”

Ackerman closed his eyes, leaving himself completely vulnerable. Granger would see it as a great sign of disrespect, and even that small action would sow the seeds of doubt in the Gladiator’s head. After a few breaths, Ackerman opened his eyes and said, “That wouldn’t be much of a crowning achievement for you. Let’s be honest, you’d merely be showing everyone what a weak little freak you are. A confused child with both Daddy and Mommy issues.”

Granger balled his fists and then used a deep breathing technique to calm himself. “Fine, Mr. Ackerman. Let’s play a game of Who’s the More Patient Killer. But I warn you . . . stalling for time, thinking that one of your friends will rescue you, is pointless. No one’s coming to save you.”

“I’m merely demonstrating what a weak little freak you are. What is it that you hope to gain out of all this? Do you truly believe that if you prove yourself to be the strongest and toughest, then maybe Mommy and Daddy will actually love you?”

“I won’t fall for your bait. In reality, that’s a pretty poor attempt to manipulate me. But the longer you draw this out, the more our viewers will love it. So go ahead.”

“We’ll see. But if you’re too afraid to open the fight, then I suppose we’ll just sit and chat while we wait for the dogs to get hungry enough to eat us.”

“You can talk all you want. But I’m done answering. I’m going to close my eyes and go into a state of meditation, and as I said, you can begin when you and your partner are ready.”

“My dear boy, do you have any idea who I am? I was raised in a nice penthouse apartment atop the seventh layer of hell. I spent most of my life in isolation, staring off into oblivion. I could sit here and entertain myself for days on end.”

The Gladiator didn’t respond.

With a small smile, Ackerman winked at his brother and said, “This is going to be fun. What should we talk about? Or rather, what subject would you like me to explain to you, Mr. Gladiator?”

~~*~~