Hershiser’s head dangled from side to side. Sweat-drenched hair covered his battered face as he was dragged through the halls of the torch-lit fortress. His feet slid along the stone floor while his one unswollen eye counted the cracks in the numerous rocks. The slow but steady clicking of chains demanded his attention. He lifted his head in time to see the large wooden double doors swing toward him.

Once the doors were completely open, he was carried into a grand circular chamber. The repeated noise of hundreds of collective feet stomping on the ground caused his heartbeat to quicken. As he was carried to the center of the room he looked up to see the full moon perched on the black backdrop, shining furiously through a dome window. His eyes ran down the cylindrical room, scanning the three levels of onlookers who waved their fists in the air, and landed on Kirk whose armor had receded completely.

“Kirk,” Hershiser hacked, unable to move his jaw. He attempted to crawl toward his comrade, but a large foot stepped between them. He looked up and the towering Cyclops snarled in reply. A pink light washed over the room, encouraging the owners of the hundreds of stomping feet to lift their voices with loud cheers.

The man from the boat stood at the steps of a throne. Seated in the massive gold and stone chair was a woman: Princess Maya. Her crimson hair draped down the side of her face covering her eye and cheek on the right, and was tucked behind her left ear on the other side. Her dress, inordinately long, sprawled all the way down the five steps away from her seat. It was slit along the right leg, exposing her olive skin. Her eyes were dark, but as she looked at Hershiser he noticed the slight orange glow around the pupils.

She stood, grabbing the sides of her form-fitting dress and flapped it, creating the cracking sound of a whip. Those who cheered before fell silent. A muscular gladiator dressed only in a loincloth knelt down on the steps before her, raising his hand to help her down the stairs. She reached the cobbled floor. Her spiked black boots made a distinct clacking noise as she approached Hershiser.

“What have you done with our Lord?” Maya asked, with a firm, yet alluring voice. He wanted to respond to her question—to give her a pleasing answer, but he didn’t know what she was talking about. She knelt beside him, exposing her smooth thigh, and grabbed him by the face. “Answer me.”

“I’ll help you find him.” He tried to grab her dress and pull her close, just hoping to smell her hair, but she pushed him away. He didn’t know why she spurned him nor did he know why he cared. He just wanted her attention. The song in her voice aroused him. “Please, I’ll do anything.”

“I find your begging to be pathetic.” She walked over to Kirk. Her fingers massaged his face, making Hershiser’s blood boil.

Maya’s lips pressed against Kirk’s, and her tongue slithered down his throat. His body convulsed as his genetically altered sandy blonde hair turned into a jet-black mess. His eyes reverted to their original color, and his cheekbones and squared jaw morphed into a fat round face. She stood, pushing off of Kirk’s aching chest, and walked toward the throne. The half-naked gladiator once again bowed.

“Another impostor posing in our great Lord’s armor,” she said, sliding her long lacy gloves onto her hands. She spun around and sat on her throne. “Kill them both.”

“No. I can be of service.” Hershiser stood, using all his strength, and ran toward the steps of the throne. He flung himself to the floor, his face down, and held his hands together. As if betrayed by a friend, his heart split in half. He pleaded with her. “I will do as you say.”

“Will you?” She grinned, leaning forward and rubbing her chin. Her legs crossed and the chamber let out a collective gasp of enlightenment. Hershiser looked up, nodding. She spoke. “Bring me the impostor’s head. Prove your allegiance and I will let you be one of us.”

Hershiser nodded, limping over to the half-naked gladiator and taking a sword. He slowly meandered over toward Kirk who was awakening from the transformation back to his normal self. Kirk slowly rose and drove his elbow into Hershiser’s arm, attempting to stop him from swinging the sword. The two men locked up, but Hershiser quickly gained the upper hand. His arm wrapped around Kirk’s neck, squeezing. He flung Kirk to the ground and knelt over him, dealing fist after to fist into the face.

Maya laughed and Hershiser looked up, allowing Kirk to roll backwards and drive a heel into Hershiser’s sternum. Kirk lunged for the sword, but Hershiser kicked it out of the way. He grabbed Kirk by the ankle and twisted it quickly with a snap.

Kirk screamed, raking his fingernails across the ground. Several broke off. Hershiser dealt three quick blows to the kidney. He slammed Kirk into the base of one of the large columns that climbed through each floor of the massive chamber. He yanked Kirk by the hair and repeatedly slammed his head into the large stone beam. Once his enemy passed out, Hershiser walked over to the sword and picked it up. He plodded back toward Kirk and slammed the blade into his neck, face, chest, and finally, jaw as his errant swipes failed to sever the head.

Building up the anger to try one last time, his sixth swipe went clean through Kirk’s jaw, severing the head and lodging the blade into the stone column. Hershiser grabbed the head by the hair and lifted it, much to the applause and delight of those who looked on.

“Are you ready to share your secrets?” Maya asked, leaning forward.

Hershiser nodded, unable to deny her.