Arena Ch. 09

Opening the door he first flips on the fuel cell, then the lights, before bringing in the recording equipment. He starts the air conditioning and then unpacks his equipment, connecting the various cables from the arena cabling to the recorder. Once the equipment is set up, he returns to his car and pulls out six large flags, neatly folded, and carries them to the control room where he carefully slips them over six large wooden staffs, each with a small hidden plug near the base. The flags, copies of various Roman flags, hide the receiver panels for the capture equipment. Once the flags are mounted and plugged into the port, he carries them one at time to the arena and affixes them in mounts in the arena wall, being careful to not pinch the wire hidden inside the pole connecting the receiver into the arena wiring.

Flags mounted, and sweating from the heat, he returns to the blissful cool of the control room and powers up all the equipment. Everything with the exception of the recording equipment has already been checked, but he checks it again, just to be sure. They had a spare of everything on hand, just in case something fails, but changing out a failed component now will be a lot less stressful than trying to do it on the day of the capture.

He accesses the equipment through the arena network to assure himself the equipment is working properly, then starts the soundtrack, a heavy, driving, martial-like drum beat that stirs the blood. The beat, piped through hidden speakers, will surround and saturate the arena in sound, adding tension to the lead up and drama of the event, or so he hopes. Finally, he starts the recorder and logs in before leaving the control room to slowly stroll around the arena.

The music, hard and driving, seems to be coming from nowhere, and yet everywhere, making it impossible to pinpoint its location. He walks the perimeter of the arena, thinking of Giselle and all the pleasures they've given each other, all the pleasure they've yet to give to each other, intentionally fanning his desire for her. The drums cause his blood to run hot in his veins, his penis becoming hard as he thinks of his wife, his lover, his soul mate. Moving to the center of the arena he turns slowly, taking it all in, imagining what it must have been like so long ago, men and women sometimes fighting to the death in front of the cheering masses. There will be no death in this arena, only pleasure, as man and woman contend once again in front of a cheering crowd, competing in the oldest contest known to man.

He shakes off his reverie, wishing desperately for Giselle to be here to share this moment with him. Pushing away desires he can't fulfill, he strides briskly to the control room. He stops the recorder and slouches in one of the chair before playing back the immersion of himself walking the arena. The signal has been captured perfectly and he instantly feels the surge of desire for Giselle, the longing for her company as the deep pounding drum beats stir his passions for war and love.

He checks the connection to the net. There is enough signal to send a ping, but it would take forever to send an immersion over such a low grade connection. He erases the immersion rather than try to download it to his chip or send it over the net. He was going to send the immersion to Todd so he could see the results of all of his hard work, but he'll see for himself in a couple of days.

Once the immersion is erased, he powers down the recorder but leaves the air conditioning running. Flicking off the light as he leaves, he relocks the door before walking around the arena to the common area on the other side. Unlocking the door with the same key, admiring once the again how something less than three months old can look like it's been in place for hundreds of years, he enters the common area and flips on the lights. The area is cooling off nicely as the air conditioning removes the heat and humidity from the air. He opens and turns on the two industrial refrigerators they've rented, listening until he hears them click into life.

He then spends a few minutes checking that each faucet and toilet works as expected before opening the refrigerator doors and sticking his hand in to make sure they're cooling. Confident the 'fridges are doing what they're supposed to, he spends several minutes carrying cases of bottled water and loading the refrigerators, so the extras will have water available during the capture. Satisfied that they are as ready as they can be, he walks back to his car, stifling the urge to walk into the arena again.

Late Saturday morning Rick, Todd, Giselle, and Charlie meet and greet the extras as they mill about, preparing to board the buses. Everyone is in a festive mood so there's much laughing and teasing among the crowd, each of them feeling as if they're part of something special. Rick is pleased they only have two couples as a no shows, leaving them with four hundred ninety-six people. As the milling crowd boards the buses, the caterer hands out box lunches and drinks they can eat on the way if they choose. Originally Rick thought they were going to feed the people onsite at the arena, but after some discussion they'd decided to feed them on the buses so they didn't have to deal with all the trash... and it'd give the people something to do on the two-hour ride.

Buses loaded and underway, the remaining four load into Todd's Honda, Rick driving so the other three can eat one of the boxed lunches. He doesn't mind driving while the other eat since he's so nervous he has no appetite.

"Rick, I want to talk to you about something," Charlie says from the back seat.

"Okay, what?"

"I want to put a bounty on for the winner."

"A bounty?" he asks in confusion.

"Yeah. I want to put a prize out there that goes to the winner. To sweeten the deal a little. These two are fierce competitors. If we offer them a prize, it doesn't have to be much, a few thousand dollars would be enough, they'll go tooth and nail to get it."

"You don't think just the thrill of victory is enough?"

"I do, but I think these two are falling for each other. I know Coy is falling for Sierra, and he told me as much. Wednesday, Coy told me he actually wanted to pull out of the immersion because, and I quote, 'She deserves better.' I think I've headed off any crisis by pointing out he had to win her respect if he wanted to win her heart, but another carrot dangling in front of them won't hurt."

"Have they slept together?" Giselle asks.

"I don't think so. I think that's part of the reason Coy's so twisted up. They mentioned you'd spoken to them about not sleeping together before the immersion. Why?"

Rick and Giselle are quiet for a moment before Giselle answers. "Because when they finally do have sex, on the field of battle, Rick and I think it is going to be incredibly intense. More intense they'd likely believe possible. I want them to have that experience, and Rick does too."

"Why's that?" Todd asks.

"Have you ever had make-up sex?" Giselle asks.

Todd smiles. "Not that often, but yeah, a couple of times. Why?"

"How was it?"

"Honestly, I don't remember. It's been a long time since Charlie and I had a real fight."

"As I recall, it was pretty damn good. Almost good enough to pick a fight just so we could make up," Charlie says with a slow smile.

"Rick thinks that make-up sex is so good because your passions are already running high from the fight. Then there's the excitement of having someone for the first time. How often do you have a chance to have a fight, and make love to someone for the first time, at the same time?"

Charlie and Todd look at one another. "Damn... I never thought of it like that," Charlie finally says. "Wednesday, after Coy had his crisis in confidence, I told him you two were the smartest people I know, and he'd do well to listen to anything you had to say. I love being right all the time," she says, beaming.

"You really think a bonus of, say, five thousand dollars, would make that much difference?" Rick asks, pulling the conversation back to the issue at hand, desiring the best from their stars for the immersion.

"Yeah. I think that'll make a huge difference. Considering what we've already spent on this production, I can't think of a better place to drop another five grand," Charlie says with confidence.

"And we should tell them?" he asks, making sure he's following what Charlie's suggesting.

"It wouldn't do much good if we didn't."

She hasn't steered him wrong yet. "Okay. Let's do that. Todd, you're going to talk to Sierra? Charlie, you Coy? Get them pumped up and ready to rumble while I'm out there doing my song and dance?"

"Jesus, Rick, will you relax? You're going to give yourself an aneurysm. We've got this. Stop worrying!" Charlie chides.

Rick chuckles. "Yes mother."

When Rick stops Todd's Honda next to his Ford, he experiences another moment of panic. Where's the passenger van they rented? There were three other cars parked nearby, a Jeep, a Chevrolet truck, and a small delivery van with the words Designs by Fawn emblazoned on the side. Obviously Donna Fawn is here, somewhere, and the other two cars belong to Sierra and Coy, but where is everyone... and where's the damn van?

"Todd, any idea where the van is?" Rick asks.

"Yep," Todd says, pointing across the parking lot to an approaching white van.

Rick all but sags in relief. Charlie's right, he needs to relax. As the van rolls to a stop the driver hops out and opens the doors.

"Sorry. There was no way I was going to all seven of you, and get all the stuff that lady brought with her, in one trip. She said you'd cover the extra mileage and she wanted to go early to get ready."

"No problem," Todd says giving Rick a wink as he climbs into the van. "You nearly gave the boss a heart attack, that's all."

"Sorry. I thought I could get back in time."

Rick gives the driver a smile. "No problem. I'm just jumpy, that's all."

Once the four are aboard they ride along in silence for the short trip to the arena.

As the van glides to a dusty stop, Rick can see two large areas cordoned off with what appears to be sheets with the word 'Women' on one and 'Men' on the other. Stacked neatly by each entrance are ten plastic boxes, in two groups of five, containing the tunics the extras will wear, then another large pile of much of smaller plastic boxes set away from the others that will contain the extras' street clothes after changing. Once changed, the extras would lock the box and place it on the bus in their assigned seat. After the capture, the buses will return, and the reverse will happen.

It's only one, and it's already hotter than hell, but Donna and another woman, obviously a member of Donna's staff, sit on the plastic boxes in the shade of a tree rather than in the air-conditioned canteen. As the four walk up Charlie strides rapidly ahead and hugs Donna like her mother.

"Donna! So good to see you again. All set up I see. The older you get the more efficient you get," she teases.

"Because I'm too damn old to work harder, so I work smarter," Donna says with a smile. "Today I'm trying for a personal best... five hundred people costumed in under an hour." Donna looks at Rick. "You're the tunic and toga, right? And you, the Dominia robes?" she asks, her gaze shifting to Giselle.

"Yes ma'am," Rick says.

Donna turns and opens the first box, then the second, pulling out a pure white pile of fabric with a pair of sandals on top, handing them to Rick before reaching back into the box and coming out with a flowing robe in the deepest blue, which she presents to Giselle.

"Here you go. If you need help, Pip over there can help you, or you can get me. But please either get dressed now or wait until we get the extras dressed. It's going to be a madhouse around here when those buses arrive." Rick and Giselle take the clothing and stand there, unsure what to do. Donna smiles. "Why don't you two go relax in the canteen with your stars so we can get some work done around here?"

As Rick turns to go he can hear the thrum of many heavy diesel engines in the distance. "Good idea," he says, before turning and walking away, Giselle on his right.

Entering the common area, Rick sees Coy and Sierra sitting at one of the tables across from each other. Neither seem particularly happy to be there.

"Coy, Sierra," Rick says by way of greeting, placing his pile of fabric on a nearby table. "How are you doing today? You ready for this?"

Neither speak immediately, but finally Coy takes a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm ready," he says with more bravado than he feels, looking straight into Sierra's eyes.

"You okay, Sierra?" Rick asks.

"Ready to rumble," she says, her voice low and deep, her eyes never breaking contact with Coy's.

"Okay, listen," Rick prompts. "I want a safe word. Something to let all of us know that things are getting out of hand. I don't care what the word is, but we need one. I don't want anyone hurt, okay? You guys have a suggestion or should I just make one up?"

"How about coliseum?" Coy suggests.

"Mmm... no. Pick something there is no conceivable way you would say today. Like diaper rash, something like that," Rick clarifies.

There is a moment of silence before everyone but Rick bursts into laughter. "Diaper rash?" Sierra asks with a huge smile.

"Okay, you pick something then," Rick says with a smile of his own.

"Okay, keeping with Coy's Roman theme, aqueduct." Sierra suggests.

"Coy?" Rick prompts.

"Aqueduct is fine with me. If I can just remember it."

"You better remember it. You may need it," Sierra says, a small smile on her face.

He feels his heat rise as she needles him, but he pushes the annoyance back down. She's just trying to get inside his head. He thinks about what Charlie said to him, how Sierra respects strength and determination. It would be just like her to push his buttons, to see if she can run over him.

"Maybe," he says mildly, "but without your ability to call upon that kung-fu shit, things might go a little differently."

"We'll see," Sierra says, her voice just as cool.

"Yes we will."

Rick is mildly alarmed. "Guys, guys! This isn't a battle to the death here. This is supposed to be, at some level, fun."

"I'm prepared to have some fun, how about you?" Coy asks Sierra, his tone not matching his words.

"Absolutely," she answers, her eyes still burning into his.

Rick slaps his hand down on the table with such force the crack makes everyone jump. "Goddammit, this shit isn't funny," he roars. "Someone could get hurt out there, and I don't want a bunch of macho bullshit from either of you, do you hear me?" he roars. "I'll call this whole fucking thing off right now! Do I make myself clear?"

Giselle, Sierra, and Coy all look at Rick, eyes wide in surprise. "You're right, Rick, I'm sorry," Coy says, breaking eye contact.

Sierra stares at Rick a bit longer, her eyes flashing in defiance, before she too backs down. "Yes, of course. You're right."

"Okay, that's better," Rick says, his voice softening. "There will be a paramedic on standby in this room when we start, but I don't want to have to use him, got it?"

Coy looks at Sierra and smiles, a genuine smile this time. "Is it just me, or do you feel like you've just been scolded by dad?"

"Funny," Sierra says, her face breaking into a smile, "I was just thinking the same thing."

Rick chuckles, "Now, this is more like it. Seriously, I don't want anyone hurt. This isn't worth that. No immersion is. Just keep that in mind, okay? And what's our safe word?"

"Aqueduct," Sierra and Coy say together.

Rick pulls out a chair and sits down, Giselle doing the same. "Okay, let me tell you how this is going to work," he begins.