Without mishap or incident, Stephanie and the gladiators made it back to their safe house--the spacious loft above a currently unused warehouse near the Potomac River, a loft which had once housed a dance studio. After they came in, they took off their weapons and fell into the chairs and couches arrayed around the main room; tired not so much from physical exertion as from the stress of the mission. Mindy and Fran disappeared into the showers to wash the black paint from their legs; Stephanie, after sitting for just a moment, went to her computer, logged into the chatroom, and started giving her report to Eileen Littlebird. Once she'd finished that, she started back toward the little nook she'd claimed as her own, intent on getting out of the uncomfortably hot leather outfit she was still wearing.

"You did very well out there in the street, Stephanie," Peter said as she started to walk by the couch where he was sprawled. "Grabbing that guy's gun and all... gave us the extra second we needed. We really weren't expecting you to do any physical fighting."

She stopped and shrugged. "I don't have the training with hand weapons you guys do," she told him. "But I've been at the gym just about every day for the last ten years, keeping in shape. I had to, I had to look good at all times. I was sure my life depended on it, and it turned out that I was right."

He gestured toward her boots. "Amazing how fast you moved wearing those things."

She smiled. "Yes, well, I'm used to that, too. Billy Jackson liked heels. I wore them every single day to the office."

Peter started to say something else, but he was interrupted by a loud firm knocking on the door.

Stephanie and Peter frowned at each other. Over a hundred ex-gladiators were using this place, but all those who did not have keys were aware of the key hidden beneath the edge of a loose plank by the head of the stairs. There wasn't a reason for anyone to knock, ever.

"I wasn't," Peter said mildly, "expecting any guests."

"I'm sure," Stephanie agreed as he reached for the gun he'd taken off just moments before, which was in a holster hanging from a nail in the wall behind him. All around the room, the gladiators, instantly alert, were also reaching for their weapons.

They did not get a chance. There was a sudden crash and the door burst open. Instantly, two men rushed into the room, both of them holding what looked to Stephanie like small machine guns. "Nobody move!" one of them shouted. The gladiators, many of them with an arm extended, froze in place.

"Who--" Stephanie started to say.

"Shut up," one of the men growled. He aimed the weapon at her. "You'll find out who and why soon enough."

Stephanie fell silent. A moment later a heavyset man dressed in a suit, panting a little from the exertion of the stairs, walked in. Two more men followed him, both of them wielding the little automatic weapons.

"Well, well," the heavyset man said. "Looks like our information was right on the money. Here you all are."

This time it was Peter who took the risk of speaking. "Might I ask who you're looking for?"

The heavyset man turned to him. "Why, the gladiators, of course. Now, that's you. I used to go to the games all the time, and I see a few familiar faces here." He scowled and looked around. "But not the best-known one," he said. "Where's Mindy Moore?"

"Right here," Mindy said, stepping out of the shower. She had a towel wrapped around herself. Fran, Stephanie noticed, did not accompany her.

One of the other men aimed his gun at her. "Drop the towel," he commanded. "I wanna be sure you ain't packing heat under it."

"Of course," she said casually. She released it and it fell lightly to the floor, leaving her standing nude. "Satisfied?"

"Yeah, fine," the heavyset man told her. "Now stay where you are."

"You were about to tell us," Peter said, "what this was all about."

"Yeah, I was, wasn't I?" The heavyset man grinned. "Well. Lemme introduce myself. My name is Parker, Ray Parker. As for my business, you could say I'm a collector. I collect debts. Now, see, you folks stole something that belongs to a client of mine, a very good client, one of those who always pays his bills, one of those clients you really value. He wants it back. You hand it over nice and peaceful-like and we're outta here. Nobody gets hurt."

"I see," Peter said, nodding. "Well, I don't know how you found us, but we have, you might say, gone underground for the moment. And, I'll admit, we have stolen a few things we felt we needed. So, why don't you tell me exactly what it is you're looking for? If we have it, you are welcome to it."

"It's good to hear you say that," Parker said with a broad grin. "In that case, we'll just take it and go."

"But--"

"Oh, yeah, I ain't told you what it is yet." He nodded toward Stephanie. "Her. She's the property of the Gallagher Corporation. They paid for her, they want her, and they want her now. Mr. Gallagher tells me they've got a show set up for this coming Saturday. Lotsa bigwigs in from overseas. She's playing a starring role."

"Mr. Parker," Stephanie said, forcing herself to keep her own voice sounding calm, "do you know what sort of starring role that is?"

He nodded. "Sure. They're gonna snuff you. So? Long as I get paid, I don't give a shit." He motioned to the two men who'd entered first. "Take her," he commanded. "Cuff her, and let's go."

Stephanie took an involuntary step backwards and glanced around the room. No one was even especially close to a weapon beyond a sword. Mindy's face, and Peter's, showed anguished helplessness. There was absolutely nothing, Stephanie realized, that they could do. Any attempt whatever would just get them shot, and Stephanie would be taken anyway. Watching the two men come toward her, she took another step back, her mind racing. What should she do? Defy them, tell them she'd rather be shot dead here and now than be taken away and killed as entertainment for Gallagher's clients? Or let them take her and hope that either she could find a way to escape or that Mindy and the others could find a way to pull off a rescue?

Assuming that Mindy and the others were still alive, she told herself grimly. She had no guarantee that once they had taken her, they would not just mow the gladiators down--if for no other reason than to prevent any rescue attempts. As they came on, and as she kept retreating, she was remembering the story she'd heard, from Harry and the others in the chatroom, about how Melanie had broken free in the first place--about how she'd banked on the fact that she was worthless to these people if she was already dead.

The same thing, she told herself, applied here. She stopped retreating and, feeling incredibly nervous, waited for them. Imitating Melanie again, she tried to look fearful. The men, grinning, approached her; one of them slung his weapon over his shoulder, stood behind her, and pulled her arms down to handcuff her.

When he did, she raised her right leg and stamped down on his foot with all her strength. There was a most satisfying crunch as the spike heel went right through the shoe and right through the foot inside.

The man screamed--and the one standing in front of her looked momentarily confused. She did not hesitate, she grabbed the gun he was holding, and, with surprising ease, tore it out of his hands. Turning it around--and hoping the safety was off, she had no time to check that--she pulled the trigger. To her gratification, the little weapon erupted, jerking violently in her hands as it sent a spray of bullets through the man she'd just taken it from. As he started to fall she kept firing, and the other two, along with Ray Parker, dove back through the door for safety.

At that point she was jerked off balance as the man whose foot she'd pierced tried to break free. She stopped firing, freed her own foot, and spun around--to see a trident piercing his chest through, a trident wielded by a naked but very determined-looking Mindy. At that point Fran, as naked as her sister, exploded from the shower and raced for her sword, which was leaning against the wall.

A welter of action followed. Diving across the room, Peter had wrenched the other submachine gun from the dying man's shoulder. One of the other men accompanying Parker appeared at the door and bullets sprayed toward them. Stephanie jumped to the side, Mindy dropped flat, and Peter answered with a burst of his own, driving the man back. The other gladiators had all gone for their weapons as well; one blond woman, seeing that Peter had the submachine gun in his hands, snatched his pistol out of its holster. Everyone rushed to the sides of the room, and all were making their way toward the doorway, intent on flanking it. Outside, a man with a machine gun popped into view, but at that moment the blond who'd grabbed Peter's pistol was aiming it at the door. Her shot hit him squarely in the face; he fell back heavily and did not move again.

"Come on!" Mindy yelled. "They're probably going to run now, and we don't want them getting away!" Matching actions to words, she ran for the back stairs. Stephanie, considerably slower because of the high heels, followed. While Peter and the blond woman stayed to cover the door, Mindy, Stephanie, and three other gladiators sped down the back stairway.

The warehouse downstairs at first looked empty; they crossed the open floor at a run. Just as they were nearing the far stairs, Parker and the remaining gunman appeared, running down. Stephanie raised the submachine gun she was still holding, aimed it as well as she could--trying to target the gunman--and opened up on them.

She was too close to miss. The man's body jerked, he grunted, and he toppled sideways over the bannister and off the stairs. Parker, his eyes wide in terror, threw himself against the wall and raised his hands. In seconds the gladiators were upon him and two of the men were escorting him back upstairs.

Mindy and Stephanie followed at a little distance. Stephanie looked dazed. "I killed them," she muttered. "I killed those two men..."

Mindy grabbed her shoulder firmly. "And don't you let that bother you one fucking bit," she said firmly. "You just remember where they were taking you!" She grinned broadly. "God damn, you were fucking cool! And we worried about you being a fighter!" As they arrived upstairs--a little behind everyone else--they saw Peter using handcuffs they'd taken from the gunmen to bind Parker's wrists and ankles.

But everyone else was gathered in a cluster near the shower. Looking down--and looking concerned.

Mindy's eyes widened. "No," she whispered. Followed closely by Stephanie, she streaked across the floor and pushed through the little crowd. When she gave voice to a strangled little cry, Stephanie knew already what had happened, even before she herself was in a position to see.

Fran was sitting slumped against the wall. There were two very obvious holes in her body, one in the left side of her upper abdomen and one in her right breast, and blood continued to trickle from each of them. She was clearly still alive, breathing hard. Blood has also collected around her lips. At first Stephanie wondered why no one was trying to compress the wounds, but that was obvious enough; the bleeding from these entry holes wasn't that severe. There was much more blood on the floor behind her, and that told an ominous story.

Fran's eyes flickered open. "Mindy," she said softly. "Guess I didn't dodge quick enough, huh?"

Mindy was already on her knees beside the girl, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Oh, Fran, oh no, oh god!" She touched the younger girl's cheek. "It'll be okay, we'll get you to a hospital somehow, it'll be all right, oh, Frannie...!"

Fran smiled up at her. "It isn't going to be okay, Mindy. I'm not going to make it. Trying to take me to a hospital just puts everyone at risk and it isn't going to do any good." She pushed herself up to a more erect position; her face contorted with pain as she moved. "But I do want to ask you... I want to ask you all... don't let me die like this." She paused and panted for a moment. "I am," she went on, "a gladiator. We were cheated and used, but we always took pride in who and what we were. I've lived as a gladiator, I want to die as one."

"Honey, I don't know what you mean..." Mindy wept.

"Your finish," Fran murmured, her voice growing weaker. "Your finish... like Kathy had in the arena... finish me... like that. Now, Mindy, now, I don't have long..."

"I can't do that!" Mindy squalled. "I can't! Oh god don't ask me to do that!"

"Mindy, she's right, she's fading fast," Stephanie said, wiping her own tears. Several of the other gladiators chimed agreement. All of them had seen death in the arena; all knew the signs.

And Mindy knew the truth herself, perfectly well. She held her face in her hands for a moment. Then she looked up, and all emotion had apparently drained away. "I am not physically strong enough," she said, "to do that and do it right. And I couldn't anyway." She looked directly at Peter. He sighed but he nodded. As he did, the other gladiators started pulling Fran up, getting her to her knees and in position.

"Don't watch, Mindy," Peter said. "Stephanie, take her over to the other side of the room..."

"No," Fran croaked. "No. Mindy, Stephanie, please, please, stay with me, watch. Remember what Melanie has been saying. Watch, remember, tell the stories, build the legends. Then the person is immortal."

Mindy looked like she was about to pass out, but there was no denying a request like that. While she wept, the other gladiators eased Fran up to a kneeling position; then they brought her sword to her, and she held it in her right hand. Mindy knelt behind her, holding her shoulders, and Stephanie knelt by her left side and held her free hand. Peter, holding his own sword and looking absolutely miserable, stepped up in front of her.

"Hurry," Fran choked. Blood spilled from her mouth.

"Yes, honey," Mindy said. "Lean back now... head way back..." She looked up at Peter, clenched her eyes closed, and nodded.

He raised his sword high and brought it down with terrific force, the point striking Fran precisely between her breasts, There was a loud crunch as the blade passed through her breastbone, shattering it, and sank far down into her body. Blood spouted out; Mindy shrieked. Fran's eyes flew wide open; her body shuddered once, then went limp. Mindy and Stephanie laid her back, then Mindy rose, looking unsteady on her feet. She staggered toward Peter, he took her in his arms, and she wept bitterly against his broad chest.

Finally, after several minutes, she raised her head. Nodding to Peter, she pulled away from him, and, with a purposeful stride, walked over to the couch where Parker was sitting cuffed. Standing in front of him, she put her hands on her hips as the others gathered around.

"I have one question for you," she said coldly. "How did you find us?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll tell you," he said quickly. "You gotta know there were some other gladiators, they didn't all throw in with you guys. We found one and he knew where this place was. And we were pretty sure Stephanie Wilson was with you guys." He tried to spread his hands but the cuffs stopped him. "Look, you don't wanna do anything to me, now. This was business, that's all it was, business. I'm sorry that chick got killed, but--"

"That 'chick,'" Mindy said ominously, "was my little sister."

"Yeah, yeah, right, sorry about that, but you know, shit happens. I lost four of my best men here tonight. You gotta accept it, it happens, just business. Now let's get down to it, okay? Let's talk a deal here..."

"A deal?"

"Yeah, sure, sure. I don't expect you to just let me walk. So what's it gonna cost me? Let's say a million?"

"A million dollars?"

"Yeah, sure, a million. You let me go, I send you a million. Deal?"

Mindy laughed without humor. "Do I really look that stupid to you?"

His eyes flicked around. "Okay, okay, forget that. Look, I ain't got a million in the bank right now. I got payrolls, you know? Insurance? Payoffs? I can get it, from Gallagher, in a couple hours. Or you can have what I got in my account, I'll give you my PIN, there's about a quarter-mil there right now. Whattaya say?"

"I say," Mindy told him, "that we don't want your money, Parker."

He stared at her as if he couldn't believe he'd heard her right. "You don't want money? Oh come on, this is America, everything runs on money, you can buy anything!" He sighed. "Okay, okay, you want more. How much? And how're we gonna do this?"

"We don't want more," Mindy informed him. "We don't want money period."

"But you need it! Look at you, living in a rathole! You need guns! I can get you guns, explosives, all you want..." Staring at her impassive face, he ran down. "What do you want, then?"

"I for one," Mindy told him, "want to slice your head from your body, although it sure seems to me you deserve worse than that!" Leaving him to gape, she turned to the other gladiators. "What'll it be, gladiators?" she cried. She held out her hands, her thumbs horizontal. "Thumbs up, or thumbs down?"

"No," Parker breathed. "No, you can't do this, it's just murder..."

The gladiators paid no attention to him at all. Neither did Stephanie. A part of her kept telling her it would be best if they just let him go, but his attitude--that anything, absolutely anything--could be bought and sold, filled her with revulsion. Leading the way, she lifted her arms just as she had lifted them that night in the arena.

But this time she turned both thumbs down. Around her, the other gladiators--every single one of them--gave the same signal.

"No!" Parker howled. "No, you don't get it! It's just business! You don't gain anything by killing me! Damn it, listen to me, we can deal!"

"I gain," Mindy growled, "satisfaction. And a measure of revenge for my sister's death. And maybe a little peace of mind. And the world is rid of you!" She made a dramatic gesture. "Get him up from there. On his knees on the floor."

Two of the men started hauling him up. "Nono! No! I'll pay! Five million! Ten million! For god's sake you can't do this it was just business, just business, can't you understand that! Ohmygod! Twenty million! Pleasepleaseno!" Ignoring his pleas, they roughly shoved him down to his hands and knees. As soon as they let him go he popped up again, still begging, and weeping now.

"Get down," Mindy snarled. "Or we'll nail your fucking hands to the floor!"

"Ahhhh! No! Please, no!" Peter shoved him; he dropped back to his hands and knees.

Mindy raised her sword. "Watch," she said. She touched his neck with it, and he screamed. "Remember." She raised the weapon again. "And tell the story--Fran's story."

The blade descended, singing in the air. And Parker's begging ceased abruptly.