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And I somehow need to keep him happy.
Crulden flicks a glance over at me, then turns back to the trainer in the arena.
No one moves.
"Well?" Crulden says in an angry voice. "Train me."
For the next few hours, I'm forced to stand in place and watch as Crulden goes through his first “training.” They test his reflexes with hits to the arms, legs, and anywhere else that has open skin. Considering he's wearing a loincloth, it's a lot of open skin. They test his “move catalogue,” which means they ask him to perform a move on a terrified clone, just to see if he can do it or not. They throw several clones in the pit and make him fight them, and when that doesn't prove to be enough of a challenge, they add the waiting gladiators in.
In my eyes, it looks like a lot of torture. They're absolutely brutal to one another, with biting, kicking and scratching going on in addition to the powerful flips, punches, and chokeholds. Hour after hour, Crulden looks to be unstoppable, but after a while, he starts to flag. The small wounds dotting his skin become bigger, and when there's a crunch of bone as someone lands on his hand, I suck in a breath.
"Not to worry," the scientist says at my side. "His healing will take care of it."
I don't care if his healing will. It looks like it hurts as he stands up, straightens a bent finger back into place, and re-enters the fight. It's hard to watch as new, fresh fighters are brought in from one of the barracks, because it just feels like they're picking on him.
By the time the scientist looks up from his data pad (where I assume he's recording information about how Crulden is performing), the man I'm sharing a cell with is crouched at the far end of the pit, blood-spattered sand all around him and more of it sticking to his skin. His mane is disheveled and his mouth is open as he breathes heavily. His shoulders are slumped and he looks…tired.
The scientist notices this too. "His stamina is not what we've been promised."
"You've been drugging him for weeks," I point out, since our fates are now tied. "And keeping him in a cell with nowhere to exercise. Give him time to build it back up."
He blinks and looks over at me. "Of course." He pauses. "I'm glad you're invested in his future."
Like I have a choice? His future is now mine.
The trainer picks up his shock-stick and heads for Crulden again, and my heart drops. He looks so damned tired.
"We'll work on your stamina, Crulden," the scientist says loudly, snapping his data pad closed. "I think this is enough for today, though. Let's get you back to your cell."
Crulden gets to his feet slowly, and I can tell his mood is shit. His jaw is clenched, and he looks as if he wants to murder everyone. I don't know what to do. Something tells me he won't like showing weakness, so maybe it's best that I get out of his way right now. He heads right for me, and I move forward to meet him before he does anything drastic. "Hey. Why don't I run to the kitchens and get you an amazing meal, okay? I promise I'll come right back and it won't smell like anyone but me."
His jaw clenches and he looks like he's about to argue.
I put my hand on his arm. I don't know why I do it. He still looks murderous, and I have to move closer to him to do it. But he seems to need…comforting of some kind. Maybe I'm imagining the bleak look in his eyes, but I know how I'd feel after a day full of being beat on. I'd want to be left alone, so I offer that to him.
Crulden glances down at my hand on his arm.
I quickly snatch it away again. Maybe I've pushed too hard.
"Go get food," he says gruffly, and stalks past me on the way to the cellblock.
16
CRULDEN
I hate all of them.
I storm past the leering faces of the clones, the trainers with their heavy gloves and their shock-sticks, and the hated, hated face of the scientist, back to my cell. I'm angry at everyone and everything. That wasn't a training. That was them venting their frustrations on me, pushing me to my limits just to see what my limits are.
I don't like that they made me look weak in front of my female. I don't want her to think I'm not capable of protecting her. I hate all of it, and I grind my teeth as I stomp back to my quarters. The clone guards trail behind me, but I stay on the path, heading back to my cellblock. Of course I'm not going to attempt anything. Not if it means Mina's life. I'll trot back to my cell like a good slave, because they know I want her back.
