Nearly after Xarlin left them, Cannon walked into the first of the cells, and collapsed on the bed. Spike quickly rushed in after him, yelling at him because he wanted the bed. When he entered the cell, the iron door closed on them.
“Looks like a magical door to trap in prisoners,” said Twilight, “it doesn’t help us that Charles is a unicorn. I could probably unfix most of these enchantments, but we never got back to Canterlot....” Her voice trailed off.
“Don’t worry Twi, we’ll figure out a way to get out of this joint,” said a very eager Rainbow Dash. “It doesn’t matter right this moment anyways. It’s best to just go to sleep, seeing how we have a chance to.” She walked into the cell opposite of Cannon and Spike and dove onto the bed.
“Sheeeeiit...,” began Tyrone, “I wanted the bed.” He trotted in after her in rage and the door slammed shut behind him. Patel soon yawned.
Patel looked at an open cell. “I know this sounds terrible, but I’m glad I finally get to sleep. I’m used to sleeping until ten o’clock in the evening during this month.” Both Fluttershy and him went unto the next open cell, and also had the door close on them. Patel decided to be nice so he let Fluttershy be a cell mate with him. Since they were both shy, they never spoke to each other.
“Hey, I know this is probably a late time to bring this up,” began Poncho as an alarm went off to show there were only two minutes until lockdown, “but the order of my friends dying in my dream is the same as in real life.” He gave a nervous chuckle.
Twilight looked at him funny. “What?”
“Oh, when I was abandoned at that town where we met Xarlin, I had a dream of my friends dying in a bus crash and with the flames. The order of them dying in that dream is so far correct with deaths out here.”
The others looked at him flabbergasted. “What was the order?” asked Applejack.
“Well-” Poncho began but was cut off as the alarm went off and a guard walked into the section. The guard quickly pushed Poncho and Pinkie into a cell, then Applejack and Twilight into the one opposite of it. The guard walked toward Clyde and Rarity, but Clyde pushed her into the cell with him before the guard got close. The thick iron door slammed shut in his face.
“Well, looks like it’s the two of us again,” said Clyde as he turned around to face her. “You can have the bed. I will lie down in front of the door so they have to literally go through me to get to you.” He sat down with back against the iron door.
Rarity walked over to the bed and then glanced at the cell's floor. “There’s enough room on here for both of us, you don’t have to sleep on that dirty floor.”
He looked up at her. “That’s definitely a single sized bed. There’s no way we both can lay beside each other and fit on there without one of us falling to the floor.”
“We don’t have to lie beside each other.” She had a tint of red appear on her face.
Clyde also flushed red as he caught her meaning. “You know, I would, but I’m pretty sure we have this trust bond right now, and I don’t really want to mess it up.”
Rarity's face became serious. “Clyde! This is no time to be so chivalrous! If you want to protect me so badly, then I’m sure it would be more effective if you were closer to me than being down on the floor, where they could simply just walk over you!” She kept her serious gaze on him as he slowly got up. He looked at her serious expression and smiled.
“Alright then.”
* * * * *
The next morning the guard in charge of their section opened the door to Cannon’s cell. “Wake up you maggots,” he said angrily, “King Charles wants to see you and your friends, ASAP.” He then proceeded to wake up the others in their cells. After all of the cells were open, the guard turned to leave. “You have five minutes.”
In almost no time at all, the group was being escorted down the multiple passages towards their captor. Under the escort of two brawny individuals, they soon found themselves in the face of Charles. He told the group to line up for inspection, whatever that meant. Confused, everyone lined up and waited impatiently.
Charles passed by most of the group, which was the females, and instead inspected each of Poncho’s friends from head to toe, even taking the time to squeeze their muscles to check how large they might be. The dark lord stopped only at two of the imprisoned comrades; Clyde and Cannon.
"Well, well, well, my dear gentleponies. I've chosen you two for a privileged lifestyle, and yes, this is in fact an offer towards the both of you, but I believe you'll gladly accept it."
"What do we have to do, your almightiness?" said Cannon in a smartass filled tone.
"Well ya see, I've chosen you two to be in my elite group of gladiators if you will. Granted, I have no living gladiators at this point and time. At least none to compete with. The current Champion at this moment is Janice, and I expect nothing less than for him to continue his reign as such. He does, after all, take after me.” He smiled, then continued, “But anywhos, you two, if you accept, will compete against any foe I shall put you up against, fighting to the death, and nothing less. Until one is dead, no one shall exit the arena, fans included."
"You've got to be kidding m-," muttered Clyde through his teeth.
"What was this my kind sir?!" blasted Charles in a moment of rage.
"He uh, he said he feels blessed to be given such a privilege sir," saved Cannon, elbowing Clyde mid sentence.
"Ah, so you accept?!" Charles gleefully exclaimed.
"Yeah sure, whatever," Clyde mumbled.
"So then it is decided!" spinning the two new warriors around to face the group, friends and foe together, Charles continued, "Everyone behold the next two warriors!" he shouted then silently uttered to himself, "Hopefully these two last longer than the rest...."
Within moments the duo were being led aware from their brethren, while the rest were sent to the stands. Clyde and Cannon were soon being suited up in heavy bronze armor. Once fully clad in their protective gear, they each were given their own choice of medieval weaponry. Clyde chose two steel daggers, each having a handle wrapped in leather and each with a pommel embedded with diamonds that had a bright luster. Also to have coverage of both close and far distances, he chose a compound bow, which came with an unlimited supply of razor-sharp, poison tipped arrows.
For Cannon, he chose a sole dagger, composed of solid gold with a handle wrapped in deer hide strips. For his primary weapon he chose a twelve foot long trident, with razor sharp tips with fishhook like ends.
In a split second of choosing their apparel and weaponry, they were being shoved down a dark corridor to a solid steel door, with the roar of a thousand screaming onlookers on the other side. The five inch thick door slowly creaked open and the two friends were pushed out into the arena. The colosseum looked like a large circular sandbox, having just two doors at the perimeter. The sky was shown and apparent that the stadium was indeed outside and open to the public and looked as though they could handle the same number of fans as a professional football stadium.
“Looks like this is our fifteen minutes of fame,” said Cannon looking around at the crowd. He saw Poncho and the others sitting close to a fancy booth where Xarlin and Charles were in the stands. He gave a grin and turned towards Clyde, “Let’s make it count, huh?”
Clyde kept his gaze at the booth and the others for a few seconds then finally turned and looked at Cannon. He nodded, but Cannon saw a glimpse of an unexplainable emotion, mixed of sorrow and passion, in his eyes. Both friends stood in the sand, Clyde with his bow, ready to draw the string, and Cannon with his trident plunged deep into the sand, prepared to grab it and send it straight into the heart of any enemy presented to him. The door across the plane from them then flew open and out from it slowly emerged the largest cat either of them have ever seen. Charles began to shout from his extravagant booth.
“Ladies and Gentleman! I give you my two newest competitors, Clyde and Cannon!” The roar of the crowd grew louder. “And I’ve put them up against one of my toughest friends, a liger that I have appropriately named, Liger. Enough talking! Let the first round begin!” He gave a laugh and the liger sped towards them.
In a matter of moments, Clyde had already fired off three of his arrows at the beast, two grazing its back and side, and one piercing his broad front shoulder. Cannon, being the confident little bastard he is, wielded his golden dagger and charged at the beast. Upon the meeting of the two, the animal, which stands easily at eleven feet on its hind legs, pounced directly onto Cannon, pinning him to the ground. With the cat slashing away at his mane, luckily dodging the swipes, the war veteran gashed into Liger’s face, cutting as deep and long as he could. All the while, Clyde was still firing off shots at the animal, usually landing the poison tipped arrows deep into his chest, and even one into his right nostril, which grazed Cannon’s short mane. At this point, the small doses of poison began to tarnish Liger’s strength, and he became somewhat drowsy. In the middle of Liger’s attack on Cannon, Clyde rushed forward, dual daggers at the ready, and tackled the huge cat off of his best friend, impaling his daggers deep into his side. Being half dazed from the beating, and also somewhat out of it due to a slight poisoning from the arrow grazing his head, Cannon could hardly get to his feet. In his daze he saw Clyde valiantly fighting the beast, keeping him at bay to keep his friend safe. In a moment of inattention, Clyde found himself receiving a massive paw, claws included, to the face, knocking him down dazed and confused.
In his moment of instinctive action, Cannon mechanically ran to his savior’s aid. Liger was now five feet away from the fallen horse, crouching towards the ground, readying himself to spring onto his soon-to-be victim. Noticing this, Cannon kicked into high gear and galloped as fast as his body could allow himself. Liger was now in the air, body as straight as a board with his claws extended, and teeth bared, hell bent on killing his foe. Cannon got there just in the nick of time and slid into the madness on one knee, plunging his trident into the ground, ready to spear the immense feline. In this chaos, Clyde slowly regained consciousness, waking up to a blurry image of his best friend in front of him, and Liger fast approaching with a scared look on his face. He then blinked, reopening his eyes to a bloody scene of Liger laying on top of Cannon, neither moving nor making a sound.
Clyde rushed to the bloody heap, ripping the cat off of his friend. In the madness of seeing his mutilated friend, he unsheathed his diamond studded daggers and began to create the deepest gashes possible in the liger. In a moment of pure rage and uncensored emotion, he even took the time to cut the cats fifty pound head off. After ripping the skull off, he took the blood red trident and threw it deep into the sand, impaling the cat’s head onto the end. When he spun around from the madness, he looked at his friend and began to sob quietly. Determined to wake the motionless body, Clyde began to shake, hit, and even stomp on his pal. In his final, and hardest, stomp to the chest, Cannon sprang up, coughing as though he had just smoked a whole pack of cigarettes in thirty seconds. Relieved, Clyde picked the revived pony up and embraced him in such glee.
“What the hell? Get the fuck off me!”, yelled Cannon, blood dripping from his body.
“Oh my god man, I swear to Jehoshaphat you were dead!” trailed Clyde.
“Well maybe if you were a better fucking shot and didn’t graze my fucking skull with your POISON-TIPPED ARROWS! And maybe if I didn’t have to save your ass too!” He wiped blood off of his face and out of his eyes.
“Hey now, man you gotta chill. Just be chill. I saved you too!”
“Alright, alright, touché”, retorted Cannon.
At the realization of seeing the two newest warriors be so victorious, Charles raised out a golden goblet, sticking out horizontally in judgement. Slowly, ever so slowly, he gave the two a hoof up, granting them to continue in the madness of the arena. In seconds of sending the approval, a “clean up crew” walked out and carried Liger away to the crematorium, where all the dead were taken. Then two cult members walked out through the door and escorted the victors back to their cells. Here, they reunited with their friends, and talked to them about what had happened, even though they had watched the whole thing.
For the next week, the same schedule happened everyday. Cannon and Clyde were escorted to the arena where they continued their reign as a team. During their streak, they defeated some of Charles's best fighters such as Bruce the grizzliest of all bears, Oxnard the mighty ox, and Greg the shape shifting chihuahua. Their success in the arena gained them some fame from the crowd, who before booed them, as they now gave chants and cheers. Not only morale changed for them, but both Clyde and Cannon both became stronger, faster, and bigger. Due to this, they were able to defeat multiple foes in a few minutes. However, no matter how great and popular they became from the arena, they still remembered who they kept fighting for and kept trying to figure out ways to escape from Regnum Fabarum with their friends. Other than their cellmate, they were not allowed to see the others.
For Poncho, Patel, and Tyrone, because they were not arena participants, they were forced into labor for Charles or Xarlin. Whether the chore was to mine out huge boulders for expansion, or simply getting a glass of water, they were all worked ruthlessly.
For Twilight and her friends, when asked about what Charles had them do, most of them didn’t answer in much detail. The only close answer that was given is when Clyde asked Rarity one night if Charles had hurt her, or the others, and she replied that there was no harm to them on any accord.
When morning came on the tenth day of their imprisonment, Clyde woke up to a vague premonition that something was about to happen.
“Today feels weirder than any other day I’ve felt before,” he said to Rarity, “I guess my time is about to end soon....”
“Don’t say that!” she yelled at him. During the past week, both of them became even more closer to each other than any of the other pairings. Every night they recalled their latest days adventure and sometimes about their life before they met. In a span of two weeks, they went from complete strangers to becoming close friends.
“I know I shouldn’t, but it’s just the feeling I have.” He looked over to see her worried face. “Don’t worry about me, Cannon and I will make sure we get back home. That’s our main goal.”
Rarity smiled then became sad again. “You better promise me that you won’t leave me without saying goodbye....” Her voice trailed off and the look of her sadness struck Clyde's heart.
Clyde nodded and put his head to hers. “I promise.”
Soon, the guard in charge of the cell banged on the door three times, to signal the arena was waiting. After wishing Rarity good luck for the days work, Clyde strode off with the guard. The guard woke up Cannon, and the three of them set off for the arena. The walk to the arena was silent, as Cannon was still drowsy from being woken up. Near the waiting lobby, Charles was there waiting for them.
“Ah! My two new stars!” He then shook hooves with Clyde and Cannon, “I’ll be frank with you two, I never imagined that you both would come this far. However, today will be the day to test yourselves for complete champion status.”
The word “champion” made Cannon attentive. “Who do we get to kill today?”
Charles laughed at his response, “Kill? You mean be killed by! Today, you finally get to fight the Supreme Champion, Janice! Good luck!” He quickly strode off towards the stands but turned around, “Just kidding, you won’t win. Janice is immortal after all.”
The two remained confident after hearing the news, but became somewhat uneasy. They knew how absolutely ruthless Janice was and also how much of a monster he was. The door opened, and the duo stepped out, unsure about their pending fate for the first time in a week. Standing in the sand, they awaited the coming of the satanic foe. The opposite door slowly opened, then was blown open, ripping it off the hinges. Out of the darkness of the tunnel, Janice came, even having to duck to pass through the ten foot doorway. Cannon looked down into the sand after seeing the bulking foe.
“You guys are fucking lame!” roared Janice. The three charged each other, full tilt, all the while, the two best friends were confidently charging towards the foe, and Janice was yelling at the top of his lungs the greatest battle cry anyone there had ever heard. Then they collided, making the sound of thunder cracking like the clash of the titans.
Janice was swinging his double-edged axe like a hurricane, while Clyde had backed off and was firing, accurately now, as many arrows as possible. Cannon himself was dipping, ducking, and dodging the perilous axe, and making sure to occasionally get his trident deep into the horse’s legs.
Janice could handle no more of the bee-sting like hits from the arrows, so he charged Clyde, who was not ready at all for the rush. Janice swung his axe at the bow-wielding pony, chopping off part of his mane, and disarming him of his bow and arrows. The blow scattered his arrows into the sand. Clyde was knocked to the ground from the strike, so in an attempt to get away from the Champion, he began to crawl backwards, but wasn’t fast enough. Janice had ahold of him and was swinging him through the air like a small child with a doll. Enraged by such an attack on friend, and seeing the ensuing possibility of death for Clyde, Cannon threw his trident straight to his brother in combat.
Back home, the two were always setting each other up for alley-oops on the basketball court, so this was nothing more than a routine maneuver for them. Clyde, catching the trident, immediately plunged the long, three-pronged trident straight into his attacker’s chest, multiple times. Blood was squirting profusely from Janice’s chest, and in his own rage, he threw Clyde as hard as he could straight into the ground. When Clyde hit, he let out a huge burst of air, both due to the air being knocked out of him and the intense pain he felt in his lower abdomen. While desperate for air, he looked down at his stomach and noticed one of his poison tipped arrows sticking through his body, with none of the poisonous resin on the tip.
Cannon too noticed this, and in pure and uncontainable rage, he ran over, grabbed his trident and threw it from about 10 feet away. Janice saw the thing coming from a mile away and was completely ready. While the projectile was approaching his face however, his vision blurred due to the rapid blood loss. When his vision finally became clear, he blinked, and had no time to react. The trident pierced both of his eye sockets, knocking him to the ground, dead. Victoriously, Cannon rushed over to Janice, removing his trident, and then decapitating Charles’ son and placing the head cleanly atop the trident, sticking into the sand. Cannon had done this for every fight, to show Charles just how proud he was of every victory. Once this was complete, he rushed to his friend's aid, who at this point had passed out on the ground, pinned to the arrow.
Charles stood up from his seat at the sight of his dead son. “Janice, my son!” he began to sob but quickly diminished his tears. He looked back among Cannon and the fallen Clyde, “You two! The fight isn’t over yet!”
Cannon stopped in his tracks and yelled back at him, “What? We killed the Champion! We are the Champion!”
Charles smiled then laughed, “I indeed said there would be a Champion today, but I also said there will be only one!”
Cannon shook his head as he caught the meaning, “No! That means-”
Charles laughed again, “Yes! You both now fight to the death for the title of Champion!” Xarlin joined in on the laughing and the two tones of laughter filled the dreaded silence in the crowd.