Arrowland by Paul Kane Page B

pitch - that would have to be fixed before he played the game again - at the various body parts, and one full torso. He spoke into the microphone, telling the guards to pick one of the two Rangers still alive: a choice between the guy with no kneecap and the one who'd been elbowed in the face. "We need one survivor to send back, to tell Hood about what happened here. Kill the other one."
    There, that look again. His latest odalisque was staring at him, her eyes still moist. Now that the match had reached its conclusion, it was time for other distractions. He'd teach her now to look at him in another way. Or Heaven help her.
    The Dragon gave the order to be wheeled away, and for the guards to bring the woman. "Just her?" they asked, as often he asked for several at a time to visit with him. The Dragon nodded and she was grabbed by the arm. At first he thought she might resist; there was just a flash of 'fuck you' in those tearful eyes. But she thought better of it, thankfully.
    As he was taken away, the Dragon glimpsed the Ranger who'd been knocked to the ground get shot in the head. They'd chosen the man who could barely walk to release, and he approved. The Ranger's wound alone would serve as a warning.
    Today had been a good day, he thought to himself. And it was about to get even better.
    In his head, he heard those crowds again back when there used to be real matches here. But instead of chorusing with them, he changed his own contribution to:
    I am a Dragon! I am the Dragon!
     
    He could do nothing but watch.
    Stand and stare as those innocent men were slaughtered by that slug. Gazing down at the devastation, there had been one last act of cruelty to come: a Ranger shot in the head, while his colleague with the shattered kneecap was set free. It was doubtful whether he'd ever walk properly again, though, let alone run as he had been doing when the bullet struck him.
    What kind of sadist was this?
    He was half tempted to make a move right then and there, but he'd have ended up just as dead as the Rangers in that explosion. Might have been worth it, just to take this so-called Dragon with him.
    Dale turned away from the window in time to see one of the women in the slug's private collection get dragged to her feet. She was crying, had been since she saw the killings below. But he saw a strength there also, a determination and resolve. And... something else. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Briefly, he caught her eye and the look lingered - far longer than any glances between her and the Dragon. Again, he almost sprang into action, fully aware of what would happen to the girl when those doors shut behind her. When the Dragon got her back to his lair. For some reason the thought of that happening to this one girl in particular turned his stomach.
    He looked around at the others on display, all wearing skimpy outfits to tantalise the fat pig. How is it any different to what you've done in the past? he asked himself. The way he sometimes thought of women, as disposable, as objects. As meat? Dale shook his head. He might not be the settling down kind, but he was nothing like this. The Dragon forced them to dress this way, to do... things with him. He'd never forced anyone to do anything in his life. So what if he'd never been in love, never had a relationship that wasn't based on sex? It didn't make him the kind of monster he was dealing with here.
    It did make him lonely, though, and sad that while people like Robert and Mary were getting hitched, while Mark and Sophie were getting it together, he still had nobody apart from the occasional girl in a village or town he was patrolling, or at a fête like the one they held last Christmas at the castle.
    If he wasn't careful, he really would end up like his father: not able to commit to Dale's mum, chasing women left right and centre.
    What was the difference between the woman sitting not far away, and those he'd looked at in lad's mags? In those strip clubs he'd