“They’ll never believe it,” Dr. Henry Jones Jr. said as he handed his student’s book back, its handwritten pages rustling more than audible in his office at the Jump City Museum.
“What do you mean, they wouldn’t believe it?” the young archeologist asked incredulously from his seat across from Dr. Jones. “After all my research-”
“Your research don’t mean squat, kid,” Dr. Jones said evenly. “Hey, I’m just saying it as it is,” he said, holding his arms up. “What you’ve got here’s not the sort of thing that the archeological community in general’s going to support, not without putting a lot of reputations on the line. They’re gonna need a whole lot more exposure on this thing before they’ll start doing the important stuff, like giving funding and press statements.”
“You sound like you don’t like them much,” the young man remarked.
“My, my, does it show?” Dr. Jones asked with a not-quite-authentic expression of wounded innocence. “Look, what you’ve basically got here’s a Catch-22.”
“I can’t publish until I get publicity, and I can’t get publicity until I publish. I get it,” the young man acknowledged bitterly.
There was an uncomfortable silence in the office for a while, and the young man was about to make his excuses and leave when the silver haired Dr. Jones asked, “Why don’t you make me see you’ve got here?”
“Tell you, Dr. Jones?” the young man asked. “But my notes-”
“I don’t want your notes, kid. I want you to make me see,” Dr. Jones said.
The young man blinked, then began to tell a story…
(scene change)
“Just you wait ‘till you get to Rome,” the slave trader’s guard said, a cruel smile on his face. “You’ll soon learn what happens to women who don’t know their place!”
The Brittanian he was speaking to turned her face away, not listening anymore. Ever since she kicked him between the legs for trying to ‘take liberties’, he had been careful to keep her in the wooden cage and taunt her, not that she cared.
Apparently other people did, though.
The guard soon found his face slammed against the wooden cage by a hand that had reached out from the girl next to the copper-haired girl. “Hey, guess what- you’ve made me curious,” the hand’s owner said, a pale skinned, dark haired woman.
“Help!” the guard gasped out.
“Don’t even try it,” the woman said as several other guards drew their weapons. “Last I heard, guards paid for damaged goods with either their purses… or their lives, whichever’s cheaper,” she said with a wicked smirk.
“True, but it is common for slaves to die while being transported,” the senior guard said, “and we have many spears, and many accidents,” he finished ominously.
The pale girl scowled at him for a moment, then sat back down. “I’ll show him,” she whispered, poison dripping in her tones.
“You’re going to get yourself hurt if you do that,” the redhead warned.
“What do you care?”
“I think you’ve just saved my life, and now I’m saving yours,” she replied.
The pale girl snorted, admitting, “Yeah, you’re probably right. Thanks.”
They rode on in silence, the guards keeping their distance; they knew that whatever their leader’s remarks, their pay was dependent on the amount of money the slaves fetched at the market, and while the amount of slaves in the other wooden cages rolling behind the one occupied by the two women would fetch quite a sum, it was generally understood that the real prizes were the occupants of the first cage.
After a while, motivated by both the oppressing silence and her curiosity, the Brittanian shifted her place to sit next to her would be savior. “So, uh…”
“I’m from Moesia.”
“Huh?”
“You know, Moesia? That place near Dacia? Never heard of it? Fine.”
“How’d you know what I was going to ask?”
“Hello? My skin? It ain’t exactly the sort of thing you’d see on a Roman,” she said, spitting after the word ‘Roman’. “Don’t worry,” she said, lying back, “you’re not the first to ask. Name’s Shiko, by the way. And you are?”
“Kiminax.”
“Wait, don’t tell me- Gaul, right?”
“What’s Gaul?” This was technically, a lie. Kiminax’s parents were from Gaul, but had settled down in Britannia…
“Never mind,” Shiko said. “So, how’d you end up here?”
-the sound of metal on metal-
-screams of despair, shouts of victory-
-“Ave Suetonious! Roma Invicta! Ave! Ave! Ave!”-
“Hello? Hello? Hey, I asked you a question!”
“Sorry,” Kiminax said, startled out of her reverie. “I was just- just remembering something.”
“Heh, this sounds interesting. Tell me more!”
“I… I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“Don’t want to talk about it? Sorry Kimi, but you started this,” Shiko reminded her. “Now spill.”
Kiminax sat in silence for a moment, and Shiko was about to throw her arms up in exasperation when Kiminax replied, “It was a Roman raid, all right? Romans came to my village and…” she trailed off.
“Oh, Kimi, I’m so sorry- not! Come on! One little Roman raid and you’re all ‘ooh, tragic past!’. But hey, if you put up as much of a fight against the Romans as you gave that guard-”
“I think you’d be surprised how much fight I can give,” Kiminax warned.
“Ooh, kicking a slob between the legs when he’s not paying attention? You’re a scary girl,” Shiko snorted. “Now me, I killed six Romans before my sword broke, and then I killed another four with my bare hands,” she said with an air of smug superiority. “Ten in all. You? How many was that?”
“…none…”
“Ha!”
“But I tried!” Kiminax said angrily, as then memories flashed through her mind again-
-the feeling of being suffocated-
-the legionnaires marching across the bodies of the dead-
-the gleam of their armor as cruel as their leers-
“Look, forget I said anything, okay?” Kiminax said, sitting back down.
“No problem,” Shiko said easily, joining Kiminax in silence as they proceeded on their way to Rome.
(scene change)
“Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!”
The joyful shouts of the Roman crowd in the Colosseum echoed within the gladiator’s helmet. Although equipped with the weapons as well as the egg-shaped helmet and armor of a secutor, this gladiator was actually a bestiarius, trained to fight animals.
Not that he was very good at it. In fact, he was spectacular at being bad at it. Looking back, this fact was probably the only thing that saved his life.
Today, however, it was just humiliating.
“What are you waiting for, Gladiator?” the ringmaster said during gaps in both the audience’s and his own laughter, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Kill the creature! Show this savage beast the strength of your mighty arms!”
The gladiator raised his short sword, ready to give the stabbing blow, but when he saw the creature below him, he…
His blade wavered, and then the gladiator dropped to the ground, a broken man. He just couldn’t do it. Let the crowd laugh. He couldn’t kill the Romans who raided his village, after all. He got sick to his stomach when he had to cut trees, for the Gods’ sakes!
So how could he expect himself to kill this naked molerat? This cute, widdle cweature…
Laughing, Emperor Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, turned toward the man sitting next to him, a man whose skin had been given a bluish tinge due to the strange medicines a Greek quack had sold him in his youth. “My dear Dracus Maximus, you and your gladiatorial school have outdone yourselves this time!” the Emperor said, still laughing.
“I try, Caesar, I try,” Dracus Maximus said, trying to keep the pride out of his voice, and failing terribly. “So, was this worth taking a break from your military campaigns?”
“Worth it?” Nero asked, his multiple chins jiggling in his mirth. “Of course he was worth it!” he said, pointing to the ‘gladiator’, who was now kneeling in the middle of the arena as the crowd jeered further.
“Look! Look!” the ringmaster said, also pointing at the bestiarius. “See how this brutal, bloodthirsty animal embraces him!” And indeed, this was what was happening; the naked molerat had run up to the gladiator and was now doing its best to hug him.
Still laughing, the ringmaster continued, “Let us all pray that the barbarians, who are equally savage, embrace Roman ideals as this creature embraces this Roman!” before breaking down again.
Suddenly, the crowd’s laughter began to turn into revered silence, as the Emperor rose. “Fellow Romans, my countrymen, give me your ears! Let it not be said that we Romans are merciless, yet let it not be said that Rome is weak! This noble gladiator,” there were stifled sniggers breaking out here and there in the crowd, “his indeed strong, but not yet strong enough to defeat such a powerful enemy!”
The crowd couldn’t take it anymore, and Nero waited indulgently as he waited for their laughter to stop. “But see! How his murderous opponent has overcome its beastly nature to show him mercy! Truly, this is a strange, wond’rous day, where the animal shows more strength than a gladiator!”
His eyes took a more sinister cast as he continued, “So, I will grant both these combatants their lives, and they may both return to Dracus Maximus’s school, where the animal may hopefully train the man!”
Carrying the naked molerat in his hands, the uproarious laughter of the crowd echoing once more in his helmet, Ronnicus bowed his head in shame and walked out of the arena.