The march down the featureless, silver-white hallways was no different now than any time before. Flanked by two of the guards, identical in both uniform and face, M'gann M'orzz shuffled forward toward the newest Hell she knew to be just around the corner. It was the same every day now; awake to the monotone orders of the guards, receive a meager meal composed of an unidentified substance, then immediately be escorted out of her cell and further into the building where [i]he[/i] would be waiting. The martian prisoner had repeated this process so often she had long since lost track. 

When she had first arrived, M'gann had attempted to keep a mental note of the passing time. It was easy for the first two weeks as she had little else to occupy her thoughts while relegated to her modest confinements. Then, the torture had begun. Not that they seemed to treat it as such. As much as she could gather, her captors were studying her, experimenting and testing the limits of both her physiology and mind. Their techniques, though, were far from considerate. M'gann had faced some of the most terrifying intergalactic threats known to the universe, she had been exposed to numerous powerful energies and even faced the tyrant Mongul in single combat during which she had been momentarily torn in half. Yet the 'experimentation' she underwent here had been so unbearable she had felt tendrils of crippling pain seize her for days afterward. 

What followed that had only made tracking the passing days more difficult. The death games. Forced gladiatorial combat for the sadistic pleasure of her captor and countless other reprehensible individuals. Not only were the events themselves exhausting, painful, and often traumatizing, but M'gann would be sedated both immediately before and following the challenges. She would always come to in her cell afterward but with the chamber completely devoid of any external light source or viewport of any kind it had been impossible to determine exactly how long she would remain unconscious for each time. 

The first several matches had come days apart which allowed her to at least have a general sense of the passing weeks. But the more she competed, the more she won, the more the faceless audience hungered for more carnage, the shorter the intervals became. Where once she had only fought a few times over several weeks, M'gann was now subjected to the games on what she assumed to be a daily basis. And while time was often a blur for her, the enslaved gladiator knew exactly how many times she had been made to battle for her life. 

For the fifty-ninth time, M'gann M'orzz was ushered into the familiar waiting room. For the fifty-ninth time, she was greeted by the cold, calculating eyes of the slender Major Domo. The man's creased face turned towards the device he held and a narrow finger swiped across its screen. M'gann knew by now that this meant he was confirming her arrival. Major Domo glanced up almost immediately after and fixed his sharp gaze at her. Another short swipe across the screen. 

M'gann's eyes narrowed. This was new. Major Domo would only ever swipe once before beginning his typical monologue, then send her off to be prepared for the upcoming battle. 

She became aware of the presence of another a moment before their small form shuffled into her peripheral view. The thick, grey collar secured around their neck immediately informed her that this was a fellow slave. The first she had ever encountered during her captivity, though she had always been sure there must be more. M'gann shot a look back towards Major Domo, wondering what this meant. Were they to be paired together in the matches, forced to survive together as a team? She felt her chest tighten as she considered the other possibility. 

Turning back to the small figure, she tried to look them over without seeming too interested. They wore the same all-white jumpsuit she had on. The relatively pink skin and shaggy, oily, dark hair reminded her all too much of her time on Earth. A human, and a young one at that given they barely came up to her chest. A boy as far as she could tell, though they held their gaze towards the floor making it difficult to know for certain. M'gann shifted her position slowly as to not alarm the guards she knew to still be present, and subtly leaned forward to get a better look. 

Yes, she thought, as the human child's features became more visible. Definitely a boy. The patchy sections of fuzz clinging to his cheeks and lightly coating his upper lip told her as much. And there was something more, something familiar. M'gann leaned forward further, disrupting any illusion of disinterest as her curiosity got the better of her. This was, after all, the first thing she had encountered in this forsaken place that reminded her of home. That was likely even from her adopted world. After all, if she had been abducted from Earth what was there to stop them from doing the same to others. 

M'gann abruptly stiffened, her mouth going slack. It couldn't be...

The boy's face had come into clear view now. A face she had first seen over a decade ago, not long after she had first settled down on Earth. 

"Toro?" A voice softly called out. She hadn't meant to speak and didn't even realize she had until after the metallic ring around her neck glowed red and sent a minor shock through her body. The only warning she would receive to remain silent and well-behaved. But at that moment the boy had looked up at her and she was sure now. 

Tomás Raymond. Toro to his friends. Sunfire to the people of Earth. He was a hero and ally to M'gann, a fellow member of the Justice League. They had fought side-by-side on several missions and Toro had even saved her life once. She would recognize him anywhere, and yet... 

The Toro she stared at in wonder now was younger. Much younger. Even when they had first met, Toro had been a young man in his early twenties. By the time she had been captured he should have been celebrating his thirty-fifth birthday. Not barely pushing his teenage years. And the eyes that had looked up into hers just a moment ago had been confused, unsure. Not of someone recognizing a friend. Still, the boy's resemblance to Toro was unmistakable. 

She wanted to speak up more as a hundred questions floated through her mind, but the numbness from the previous shock reminded her to hold her tongue. 

Could Toro have had a child? She dismissed that idea almost immediately. Although it had been several years since she had last seen him it would not have been long enough for him to have raised a fully grown child. Unless...

M'gann's chest tightened once more and she ground her teeth in frustration. She doubted she could have misjudged the length of her captivity to such a dramatic degree but maybe the flow of time here was not the same as on Earth. She knew of certain dimensions where such things were possible. Perhaps this was one. 

She returned her attention to Major Domo who stood nearly unmoving. The fact that he had still not begun his expected speech made M'gann think there were still more competitors to arrive. Something that only made her more concerned that her suspicions for what was to happen next would come to pass. 

It took five minutes for the next captive to arrive. Then two more individuals were brought in, one after the other. Each seemed to grow wary as they realized they weren't alone. And each, M'gann noticed, were distinctly human. 

First, there had been an older man. Tall and with head held high, he strode into the room with an air of daring. M'gann wondered if he had only recently been imprisoned and had yet to face the atrocities, if he was refusing to give his captors the satisfaction of breaking him, or if the man was a psychopath. All seemed possible. 

Next, there had been another man, similarly tall, whose wildly unkempt beard suggested a somewhat lengthy stay. He appeared to be somewhere in his thirties, though the dark circles under his eyes easily could have added another decade. This one immediately took stock of his surroundings upon entering the room, unconcerned about feigning disinterest as M'gann had done. She noticed the younger man tense when he laid eyes on the older one, hands curled into fists briefly before relaxing. He seemed to know the confident one in a way that hinted at a less-than-amicable past.

Finally, a young woman with long, light purple hair was ushered in. She, too, instantly appeared to recognize the older of the two men. But whereas the previous detainee's rage had been barely contained, the girl merely seemed surprised. Or anxious, M'gann thought, watching as the woman crossed her arms impatiently. 

Then, Major Domo stepped forward.

"Welcome, gladiators." He said through thin lips. As was the case every time M'gann heard him speak, he kept his voice level and concise. 

"You have each received the highest honor, having been selected on this day to compete for the glory of our lord Mojo. Moments from now you will be greeted by the cheers of your adoring fans eager to watch you perform in grand combat."

'Adoring' was not the word M'gann would have chosen. 'Bloodthirsty' more like. 'Sickening' or 'disturbing,' perhaps.

She glanced across at the four other collared slaves. From their reactions, it seemed they had all heard this same spiel from Mojo Domo before, as had she. It was changed slightly to accommodate the increase in contestants but for the most part, it was word-for-word the same speech she had listened to fifty-eight times already. M'gann waited, knowing it wasn't until after the mindless praise for this slavemaster called Mojo that the real information would be given. Until then it was as if he was reading off of a prepared script.

As expected, after several minutes, Major Domo paused and swiped his finger across the screen of his device once more. 

"As you have all no doubt noticed," he continued, "this competition will be unlike all others previously encountered. For this event, you will be pitted against one another in a winner-take-all extravaganza."

He stopped briefly to cast a glance over the five of them, gauging their reactions. M'gann did her best to remain neutral, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing her crestfallen as her suspicions proved true. 

"Some of you have been chosen because of your great feats in previous competition or due to appeal amongst the audience. Others," Major Domo cast a glance at the dark-haired boy, "are merely fodder to enhance the entertainment value. Regardless, you will each be given a fair starting chance. How well you perform afterward is entirely on you. 

"Failure to participate will result in immediate termination. Mojo would prefer each of you to succumb to one another but do not be mistaken, should you refuse to compete against your fellows you will be destroyed excruciatingly and spectacularly. At most, only one of you will survive. Possibly none. I suggest you all put your best effort forward and eliminate the others with brutal efficiency should you not wish to perish." 

His eyes narrowed at the five gladiator slaves before him. "Do [i]not[/i] disappoint the audience nor your master." 

With that, he tapped the screen and a familiar hum filled the room. M'gann turned expectantly towards the left wall. It split vertically down the center, the two sides parting to reveal an adjoining room. The group shuffled toward it, knowing this meant they were now allowed to move. Inside, suspended in mid-air, were various colorful outfits and pieces of armor. In one corner sat a large, mechanical suit that the older man approached. The others were already shedding the outer layers of their stark white prison uniforms and M'gann joined them. 

As she had learned before her very first deathmatch, all competitors were to dress in costume. According to Major Domo it 'enhances the enjoyment of the spectators.' As far as M'gann was concerned, it was just another facet of control their captors held over them. They were even given the illusion of choice with an extensive variety of getups. 

For M'gann, none of it mattered. Her martian physiology allowed her to change her appearance at will, including giving herself any outfit she desired. Once the inhibitor collars were removed, that was. For now, she merely shed her prison clothes and waited. If the process for this battle royale was the same for all of her previous solo matches, as soon as everyone was suited up they would be rendered unconscious only to reawake in the arena sans collar. And that was where the real chaos would begin. 

When she only had herself to worry about, M'gann had been able to focus on only one goal: survival. And while they may have been exhausting and often demoralizing, the deathmatches had rarely caused her true concern. The assorted scenarios she had been put in, the myriad of manufactured foes thrown her way, none of it had given her pause for thought. It had been simple. Fight. Destroy. Rinse repeat. She could go all out as needed against the robots, hard-light projections, and traps. They were highly dangerous, of course, but none of it was 'real.' The only real factor had been her. But now...

M'gann cast a glance at the young boy. She still hadn't decided if she believed he was Toro's son or not, but regardless of his relation to the man she knew and owed her life to, he was still a child. And if Major Domo's insinuation was true, cannon fodder for her and the others to eliminate with ease. She knew she couldn't bring herself to harm the boy but she couldn't say the same for the other three. 

She watched carefully as one-by-one her fellow slaves dressed in their chosen garb. The woman strapped a set of crystal-looking armor across her body as the younger of the two men finished sliding into a skin-tight red and blue outfit. He kept eyeing the older male who by now had stepped inside the humanoid suit of metal which she now could see sported a large, shoulder-mounted ballistic weapon. She didn't know the capabilities of the others, but this one, she thought, clearly relied on his technology. A fact she planned to exploit during the match. 

Anything, she thought, to give the boy a chance of survival. 

Eventually, all combatants completed their preparations. Knowing what was next, M'gann closed her eyes and forced her mind to focus. In less than a moment, she would be finding herself awaking inside of the coliseum. In less than a moment, M'gann would have to decide just how much she was willing to sacrifice. Her life for the boy or who she was at her very core to ensure she remained victorious. 

The collar around her neck grew warm as it prepared to discharge the sedative. She heard the distinct sounds of Major Domo tapping his device's screen, keying up the latest command. 

The world erupted in a cacophony of detonations. A series of half a dozen blasts rocked the far side of the waiting room, blowing out the wall. More percussive salvos could be heard from elsewhere in the compound. A concussive shockwave knocked against M'gann, nearly toppling her as she tried to regain her composure. 

Her ears rang. Her vision was slightly dotted from the flaring explosions. Her neck felt warm, light. She reached to her throat, checking for a wound, shrapnel, anything. Fingers connected with her skin, tracing absent-mindedly from the front to the sides of her neck. Nothing as far as she could feel. 

Nothing...

M'gann abruptly clawed at the front of her throat, her fingers catching nothing but flesh. 

No bulky metal. 

Her eyes dropped to the ground. There, at her feet, lay the inhibitor collar she had grown so accustomed to. The inhibitor collar that had rendered her a useless, defenseless, captive for months. 

M'gann turned towards the others. All four were staring at their respective discarded neckbands, coming to the same realization as she had. The following several seconds seemed to stretch out forever before she broke the tension with a single word. 

"[i]Run![/i]"

Moving with vigor she hadn't felt in ages, M'gann charged through the opening into the waiting room proper. She could see several of the guards scattered across the ground. Two seemed to only be unconscious from the blastwave, but a third was crushed under chunks of debris. The remaining seven were positioned around the blown-out portion of the wall firing energy weapons through it at whoever had initiated this assault. Major Domo stood where he had been previously, unmoved, devoid of any injuries from the explosion, and consulting his device in what she could only describe as amused confusion. 

Without a second thought, M'gann pulled back her left arm before rocketing it towards the man. Her fist ballooned out to three times its size in the instant before impact. And then passed right through Major Domo's torso. 

The hologram raised its head to affix her with its familiar, steely gaze. "I am afraid that will not have the outcome you hoped to achieve. Now, if you would be so kind as to wait here for your apprehension, you will be rewarded sufficiently. It would be unfortunate if harm befell the champion before the exhibition match could be broadcast."

Despite the pleasant phrasing, the calm menace Major Domo exuded was unmistakable. 

Without bothering with a response, M'gann spared a glance toward the equipment room to make sure the others were following suit before she turned heel and ran towards the exit. She didn't know where she was heading exactly, but one thing was for sure: freedom was just around the corner.