In the Arena, Mayhew watched as the body of another opponent, the third, was dragged away. This one had been young. Bronzed skin, golden hair, handsome. Now, however, he was just so much medical waste, to be taken away and dumped somewhere, perhaps his intact organs to be harvested first. And once more, Mayhew hadn’t even caught his name.
The boy had been overconfident, not to mention stupid, which had allowed Mayhew to best him easily. He’d swaggered into the Arena, blowing kisses to various ladies or maybe gentlemen in the stands. He didn’t watch where he was going, so he’d slipped in a puddle of blood left behind by Pangano or the other nameless fighter. The boy fell and Mayhew had slashed his throat before the boy even knew what was happening.
He didn’t like doing it, didn’t like kil
