A part of Malox's past

The emperor Lucius pulled him closer.
”I have saved you (from death) so many times, Malox.” He hissed in Malox's ear. ”I don't buy your lies! Get out on the field tonight or I'll finish you off myself.”
Lucius turned his back on him and started walking but then he suddenly stopped to add:
“You don't want to disappoint me, do you Malox?”
Malox didn't answer him, which the emperor took as a no and he left the cellar with a satisfied grin.
He sat on the stone floor of his cold, darkening cellar and starred down blankly on his feet.
“I heard they're bringing the lions tonight.” Maximus said.
Malox muttered.
“Don't really like lions.”
“Me neither...”
Silent fell around them. Plato made a throat ripping cough, from the cell in the corner.
Malox glanced at him and then back to Maximus.
“Is he still sick?” he whispered.
Maximus nodded.
“He won't survive, they'll probably throw him to the lions. As the first act. To get the crowd going.”
Malox's eyes focused back on (to) his feet. He had lost so many friends. He felt sadness towards the way he lived – like an animal in a cage, but he still knew so little about the world outside that he didn't know what to think of it. Would he even survive out there like he did every night on the arena? Maybe this was safety compared to life outside the walls of Colosseum?
He closed his eyes and thought of Lysandra. Her long brown hair, her same brown eyes, warm and soft, the smile on her curled lips... She was the reason he still fought. The day would come when he would have earned his freedom as a great champion, the day when he would buy himself freedom and take her with him.
“Plato! Malox! Herodes! Nikon!” A stern voice called from the stairs.
The four men stood up in their cellars.
Malox glanced over his shoulder to see Plato barley being able to stand steadily. His heart sank.
The two guards opened the doors to each cellar and put chains around the fighters so they wouldn't be able to escape. Maximus stood up, his eyes met Malox's.
“Fight well.” He said.
Malox couldn't force himself to smile. The thought of Plato being thrown to the lions made him sick.
“Get back!” The guard on the staircase shouted at Maximus. The werewolf didn't listen, he just pierced his mad eyes in to the guards.
“Are you threatening me?” The guard yelled and stormed down the stairs. In seconds he had reached hold of his long leather whip. With one hand he steadily threw the end of the whip in Maximus direction. As the leather hit the cellar bars the sound of metal echoed in the underground prison. Maximus looked at him even more furious, but swallowed his pride and stepped back in to the darkness.
The guard then turned and walked back up, followed by the four gladiators who walked on a straight line, escorted by the other two guards.
Once again the heavy door to the prison was shut with a hard noise and the few remaining fighters were left in the darkness, rescued from pain and suffering. Maximus leaned back on the cold wall of bars with a sighed and sunk down on the floor, covering his face with his big hands.
The moonlight hit Malox in the face as they reached the ground floor. He wished he could save Plato, who looked paler than ever, from the mayhem he would soon come to greet. Above him he heard the noise of the crowd, cheering their favorite fighters on. The panic grew in him. He saw the lions, he could see them sprinting towards Plato with their fangs and claws out, ripping and tearing til there was nothing left of him.
“Stay still.” The guards said and walked off.
Malox suddenly looked at the sword in his hand, squeezed it tightly... it would be so easy.. so easy to just.. save him from the misery. He was so close. With the gates to the field of the arena not being far away he had to make a choice, quickly, before the guards returned. He could either spare his companion or feed him to the animals. The blood pounded harder in his veins. He had to do it, he had to... Once more he squeezed the sword before he raised it and “staked” it right through the middle of Plato's back. Plato whined, his face even paler as his legs gave way underneath him and he fell slowly to the ground. Herodes who stood behind Malox grabbed his arm, hissing:
“What are you doing?”
“Have you gone mad?” Nikon growled from behind Herodes.
Plato's back was covered in blood as his gaze died away.
Malox looked at Herodes with darkening eyes.
“They would have fed him to the lions.” He snarled.
Herodes look at him with disapprovingly.
“Lucius will kill you for this.”
“I had no choice. I could not let them see him get slayed like that. He was worth a better faith than that.” He said with a sad voice and pulled his sword out of Platos body.
“What is going on here?” The guards came back running. They stopped shocked at the sight of Plato on the ground. One of the them couldn't take their eyes off the pool of blood. The bigger guard punched him in the stomach to remind himself to behave. The smaller guard gulped and looked up from the ground.

Lucius rushed in to the closed room, Malox's rose from his seat, still with his hands chained together. The guards on either side of him looked at their emperor with “” eyes.
“Leave.” Lucius said calmly.
“But your majesty..” one of the guards stuttered and gazed at Malox.
“Are you refusing an order?”
“Ehm.. no si-- your majesty...”
In seconds Lucius was at the guards side with his hands around his head. “Don't EVER refuse my words.” then he snapped the guards neck. He only glance once at the other guard before he left the room.
Lucius looked at Malox.
“Madness, Malox, madness. My people want to see slaughter. They come to my arena to see ripping and killing. They pay me to see animals bite peoples heads of, people who doesn't matter to them.” He paused. “You, I don't really get Malox. You think you are much better than everyone else, don't you? Think you are more powerful. Think you don't belong here. Well I just think you are overrating yourself. You are no king of gladiators, no ruler of the chained ones. You are just a fighter who belongs to me and there is nothing you can do about it. I will/can keep chains around your neck for the rest of your life if I want to. I own you, slave.” The last world rolled off his tongue like silk.
Lucius looked at Malox with a sigh and put his hands together.
“Hmm, now I do not have anyone to feed to the lions...” Their eyes met. “If you weren't the big favorite I would have thrown you in there without a single doubt.”
Malox made a low growl.
“I would kill them in seconds.”
Lucius chuckled, evil running along his face.
“I know you would, I know you would. Maximus Malox. But I will not do that. It will not be an exciting game. I will find someone else to fight them instead of Plato. I will...”
He turned his back on Malox and walked towards the door.
“Two lives, Malox. Two lives you have sacrificed today. I hope you understand that.” He said with irony rolling his eyes. Then he turned to glance quickly at the gladiator. “Oh, and you will be fighting with chains on today, should not be a challenge, for you.” He said before he opened the door and disappeared out of sight.
Three guards entered the room and dragged Malox out in to the huge corridor and dropped him to the ground in front of the gates to the arena. He could hear the loud roar of the lions. Hear the crowd cheer them on.
“Here. Your sword.” One of the guards said and threw the weapon in front of him with a mean chuckle. Malox looked at it. The sword was rusty and blunt. This was his punishment for misbehaving. He knew Lucius couldn't not let him fight, it would disappoint the crowd whom had come to see the great Malox, the slayer of all things... They would leave if they found out he would not participate tonight. He had to fight.. with whatever weapons he was offered.
“Stand up slave!” The large guard roared and pulled him up in the armor around his hips, in haste Malox picked the sword of the ground. It was heavy... He made a silent sigh, not knowing how he would win this fight.