Daniel was directly above the far wall of the arena. He sat on a throne, wearing a king’s robe and jeweled crown. Josie appeared above and sat down in the front row.

Daniel picked up a horn and blew into it, making spitting sounds but very little music. He set it aside, and then gestured grandly. “Welcome, filthy peasants, to the Initiation! This evening, Andrew ‘Headhunter’ Mayhem shalt prove that he is worthy to stand among us! He shalt battle a prisoner, a strong and mighty foe, until one of the two hath fallen dead!”

The gate on the far side of the arena opened, and a tall, muscular, but scared-looking black man was shoved forward. The gate slammed shut behind him.

“Come forth, Almost Initiated One, and choose thy weapon!” Daniel said, pointing to me. “Choose well, for it will be thy only source of defense!”

My legs trembled as I walked forward. Even if I were willing to fight an innocent man to carry off this ruse, I wasn’t even sure I could beat him! My mind raced through every possible escape method, but save for somehow managing to kill all of the bad guys from my spot down here in the arena, there didn’t seem to be one.

Daniel lifted a large brown box to the ledge. It displayed a sword, a mace, a short spear, some other bladed weapons I didn’t recognize, and a stapler. “Choose now!”

“I choose the sword,” I said.

“The Almost Initiated One chooseth the sword!” Daniel announced. He removed the sword from the display box, made as if he were about to throw it, and then grinned and put it down.

“Thy King rules that the Almost Initiated One isn’t going to get off that easy!” he said. “He hath far too much experience with his weapon of choice. Choose again!”

“Hey, he’s cheating!” I said, trying to sound amused. “What kind of crooked operation are you running here? Gimme the sword!”

“Thy King’s word is final! Thou must choose again!”

“What, are you just gonna make me run through the whole box of weapons until I pick the one you want?”

“Nay, Almost Initiated One! Thy next choice will be thy weapon! Thou hast my word as King!”

“Then I choose…” I said, as a sudden idea came to me. “I choose as my weapon…knowledge of the periodic table of the elements!”

There was a long silence.

“I beg thy pardon?” asked Daniel.

“Any man can fight with blades of steel, or maces of…steel. But true wisdom is the finest weapon of all!” I pointed accusingly at the prisoner. “I challenge thee to a duel of wisdom, a duel in thy knowledge of the periodic table of the elements!”

Daniel looked utterly confused. Then, after a moment, he shrugged and sat down. “Okay, sure, go for it.”

Now, of course, I had to hope that I still remembered. I’d wanted to be a chemist for about three weeks back in high school, but I’d had that stupid table hammered into my skull so deeply that it could never escape.

The prisoner looked even more baffled than Daniel. “Speak!” I shouted. “Prove thy worthiness at this battle of wisdom!”

“Uhhhh…” said the prisoner.

“Thy knowledge is miserable! Victory will be mine!” I flexed my muscles in glory.

“No, wait. It goes, H for hydrogen, He for helium, Li for lithium, Be for, uh, beryllium, B for boron…”

My mouth dropped open.

“…C for carbon, N for nitrogen, O for oxygen…”

I just stood there, flabbergasted, as the prisoner rattled off the entire list. As he progressed, his voice took on a singsong pattern, as if he’d memorized the elements using a song like the ABC’s.

“…and Lr for lawrencium,” he finished.

The spectators above exchanged questioning looks.

“Okay, well, I guess you have great wisdom,” I admitted.

“All right, enough of this intellectual crap!” said Daniel, standing up again. “Let’s see some blood! Andrew, pick your weapon!”

“But I won!” the prisoner insisted.

“You didn’t win squat. He was just messin’ with you. Andrew, weapon! C’mon, c’mon, let’s move, his royal majesty is getting impatient!”

That annoying little voice in my head began to speak again, forcing me to consider the option of fighting to the death. After all, if I killed the prisoner, I’d earn their trust, and then I’d have a better shot at rescuing Roger and the others. One would die so others could live. It was a worthy sacrifice, wasn’t it?

No. I couldn’t do it. There had to be another way.

“The stapler,” I said.

Daniel leaned over the side of the wall. “Okay, Andrew, I know I’m standing here dressed like some dipshit king and we’re making this into a fun little game, and we’re trying to be all silly by sticking a stapler in the weapon display case, but you do notice the element of danger here, right?”

“I notice it. I choose the stapler.”

“Okay, whatever, it’s your funeral. Stapler it is.”

He removed the stapler and tossed it onto the sand next to me. I picked it up and held it in a menacing manner. I was still hoping to find some way to get out of this mess without either of us getting hurt. If the prisoner didn’t feel he was in serious danger, maybe we could figure something out.

“Prisoner, choose thy weapon!” shouted Daniel.

“The sword!”

Damn. The annoying voice told me that now I was going to die so that the others could die, too.

Daniel picked up the sword and tossed it onto the ground next to the prisoner. I immediately rushed at him, arms outstretched. I had to keep weapons out of this as much as possible.

The prisoner moved out of the way, and then kicked me in the shin. I flew forward, landing on my stomach and ending up with a mouthful of sand. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him pick up the sword.

I quickly got up, spitting out the sand. I wiped my mouth off on my sleeve as we stood there, six feet apart, trying to stare each other down.

“Gooooooooo Andrew!” shouted Daniel. “Staple him to death!”

“You can do it, Andrew!” Josie pitched in. “The Wench Brigade has faith in you!”

The prisoner stepped forward and took a quick swing with the sword. I moved back out of the way, wishing I had my trusty tire iron. And that my car was between us. And that one of us was back in Chamber.

I unhinged the stapler, ready to fire staples at the slightest provocation. I hoped I looked ridiculous, but the prisoner’s expression remained serious and wary. Did he really think they’d let him go if he killed me? Had they even promised such a thing?

He dashed at me, and I let loose with a mighty storm of staples. I tried, anyway. The stapler jammed after the first one. I dodged his attack, and then fled to the other side of the arena.

Daniel cupped his hands over his mouth. “Boooooooo!!!”

“Release the lions!” shouted Josie.

It would not have surprised me one bit if real lions suddenly rushed into the arena, but fortunately none appeared. I lifted my foot in the air and made comical kung-fu noises while I contorted my body into ridiculous fighting positions. I had to get this prisoner to relax. And I didn’t want the others to know I was terrified.

“I’m rootin’ for the prisoner,” Stan declared, flicking popcorn into the ring at me. “Gooooooo prisoner!”

“Gooooooo prisoner!” Mortimer chimed in.

“Kiiiiiiiss my ass!” I replied.

The prisoner ran at me again. I stood there, arms casually folded, and then let myself drop just as he swung the sword. It smashed into the wall, and I quickly wrapped my arms around his legs. He fell to the sand.

I began pressing the stapler against his right leg. It wasn’t working, but they probably couldn’t tell that from above. “All fear the mighty stapler!” I shouted, trying to grab for the sword with my other hand. The prisoner rolled on his side and swung the sword, slashing my shoulder.

The sting was incredible. I cringed and reflexively pushed my hand to the wound. For a split second I felt nothing but pure fury. It faded instantly, but perhaps that was something I could use.