Chapter 3 - Trial by Ordeal

Chapter 3 - Trial by Ordeal is the third Chapter in The Haven, and introduces us to the tritagonist David Reynolds.

Synopsis
David Reynolds is fighting a man in an arena, watched by a crowd - he eventually defeats and kills him, and returns to a cell, identical to John Doe's prison.

Transcript
Thick, hot blood drenched his fists. The crowd egged him on, desperate for a good fight, a distraction from the horrors of existence. His opponent swung a right hook, but he ducked and gave him an uppercut to the jaw - he felt his wrist fracture. It was a poorly executed punch, but it had the desired effect - his opponent stumbled and fell against the side of the ring, armoured with sheets of scrap metal and covered in the blood and souls of previous combatants. The crowd was whipped into a frenzy, relishing in the combat. Blood drooled out of his mouth, and he started throwing up a mixture of blood and phlegm.

Taking his chance, he tackled the wounded man, and pummeled his face with his powerful muscles, His long black hair flying in his face, until his opponent’s face was completely destroyed. Moaning in agony and pleading for death, he went limp and accepted his defeat.

Breathing deeply, he got up, and curb stomped the dead man one more time for good measure. Satisfied he bested his opponent, he launched himself off the ground, roaring in pride and dominance, and he ran around the ring, asserting himself as the most powerful person in the Haven. The crowd cheered and clamoured to touch him, to touch a man so close to God. He finally slowed down, and allowed himself to be escorted back to his cell, where he could await the next battle. Feeling very happy and proud of himself, he strolled down the corridor, passing boarded windows and broken lights, the   corridor in total darkness. The two guards escorting him were deep in a discussion that he didn’t hear. Finally, he reached his rotting, wooden door leading to his cell that he called home. The guards unlocked the door, and he strolled through, and threw himself onto his chair. Bored, he gazed out of the window, and instead got up and sat down onto his bed.

Lying on his rock hard bed in his musty cell, looked at the old, tattered posters, remnants from the Golden Era, advertising long forgotten products and movies and shows lost to the eternal flame of Time. He breathed a deep sigh of relief, and let himself drift off to sleep, his nightmares punctuated by the suffering of Man.