Free Zein: The Homecoming by Graham J. Wood Page B

Amelia, exasperated. She knew that nothing good would come from this bravado.
    Men and their egos .
    Amelia realised that nothing she could say or do would change their minds. People had been hurt in these realistic programmes and Amelia did not want either of her friends injured. The blades or guns wielded by the opponents had no impact when they hit a person, though the code registered a “hit” but soldiers could be thrown around and impact on the sets had left men and women bloodied and with a few broken bones. ‘Look, if you want to do this hair-brained stunt then I am not watching,’ said Amelia, stamping her foot in frustration.
    Tyson laughed and placed an arm round her as Kabel tugged on a top. ‘Don’t worry we will look after each other, won’t we, Kabel?’
    ‘Of course dear brother, of course,’ Kabel answered. Amelia didn’t like the rising tension between them. She had spent many hours teaching Tyson how to calm his mind and anger and now just as she thought she was winning, they have to resort to this macho challenge.
    ‘Gemma you coming?’ she turned for support from her friend, only to find Gemma was engrossed in the battle of wits between the boys and therefore declining Amelia’s request. Gemma’s heart was beating fast caught up with the excitement of the situation.
    ‘I would like to see how this plays out,’ she said, running a hand across Kabel’s back. Amelia just stared at her friend and seeing that she had no intention to either say anything to stop this stupidity or storm off like she had every intention of doing, vented an annoyed grunt and left the arena in disgust.
    Tyson’s eyes followed his girlfriend’s ramrod retreating back with a hint of regret. Then shrugging his shoulders in resignation he raised his hand gesturing to the Coliseum, ‘Now, shall we go and have some fun?’ he said. They both walked to the console outside the Coliseum and Kabel opened the panel and reviewed the different programmes. He selected one of the urban ones and punched in the details, setting the number of opponents at twenty. Tyson playfully asked for more by holding his palm out and bouncing it up and down. Kabel doubled it to forty and as Kabel rested his hand on the panel, Tyson nudged Kabel’s hand and it increased to four hundred.
    ‘Four hundred Ilsid!’ said a shocked Gemma, now wishing she had supported her friend to stop this nonsense. ‘No one has faced four hundred Ilsid in the Coliseum, ever.’
    ‘We are not just anybody, are we, Chancellor?’ Gemma detected the resentment in Tyson’s voice and for the first time felt a level of uncertainty. If Kabel had noted thechange of tone he did a convincing act of ignoring it and turned to Gemma and took her hands in his.
    ‘We will be fine, don’t worry,’ he said, his blue eyes twinkling. ‘Remember we have our shields,’ he reminded her. Gemma understood he was trying to alleviate the tension, it didn’t help, and her heart was still racing. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek.
    He dropped her hands and pulled from his jacket one of his real seckles to replace the wooden one he had used during the earlier training session. Tyson pulled out his own weapon; he now had his own seckles, handcrafted by skilful Tyther hands from the finest zinithium. Each picked up a photon shotgun from the rack of weapons outside the Coliseum.
    ‘Shall we go, your Excellency,’ said a smiling Tyson, cocking his shotgun and then holding his hand out directing Kabel to the doors, bowing with a mischievous look on his face. Kabel, following his gesture, laughed and took him up on his invite. The doors opened and on entering Tyson was surprised to find they were on Tower Bridge in London.
    ‘Good choice brother,’ said Tyson, ‘A little history whilst we fight.’
    ‘Thought you may like the setting as you are always going on about London,’ replied Kabel, looking carefully around them. They were on the middle of the famous bridge which was