“Cousin Askis’ grand-father lived to tell the tale and he—“
“—you don’t come out of any such experience unscathed and it is much better than the rear end ending, never mind the—.”
But the cranes screech and come to a halt. The prisoners watch, dumbfounded and terrified as the cages are deposited onto the sand, close to an arena’s colossal gates. Fast flying policemen zoom past them while some hover and scan the area, ensuring the newly arrived are ready to be processed for their ultimate trip.
From behind the massive arena’s walls the clamour of an impatient crowd arises.
“Nothing like a good fight,” the Captain comments.
“We’re bait,” a prisoners insists.
“Bait with an edge.”
One large policeman lands by the cages. With his baton, he taps on his box and metallic sticks appear that unfold into individual cages, sticking and clinging to the larger cages where the prisoners are held. Guards enter and, with one movement of the tongue, instantly, remove the nauseating glue from the now tenderised prisoners by ingurgitating it. Then, the prisoners are prodded and pushed unceremoniously towards the individual cages which snap close behind each of them as they go in.
Underneath, small metallic mechanical toes lift the cages and position them in a queue, with that of the King leading them into the arena. Inside it, the dim is unparalleled until one strident whistle’s signal calls for a wall of silence to promptly fall onto the crowd.
A sideway gate opens up and an army of a thousand policemen, their torsos naked, in tights, high heels and all wearing dark goggles appears inside the arena.
“Fuck!” the Captain exclaims.
To be continued…