So right now, this chapter is kind of a test run on whether I'll continue this story or not. I'm kind of excited because doing mirrorverse will be hard. It's easy because you have a lot of creative freedom, but hard because you really have to keep the characters intact while changing who they are at the same time. I really want a mirrorverse fic. A long one that's not all about sex. I will eventually get back to Game Over. Just let me write something violent first okay?

Welcome to the weekly, Battle Arena match! The Empire's favorite form of entertainment! Today we have a David and Goliath matchup!

In one corner, we have the previous Gorn captain, Slar. Captured with his ship before it could self destruct, Slar has proved to be the boogeyman of many contestants. His thick skin is tougher than many of the sharper weapons contestants can get a hold of, and his strength makes close combat seem like a lost cause. We have one tough opponent here folks and already the gambling odds are with him, 2000 to 1.

In the other corner is our David, smaller than most of our human warriors, this slave has proved his worth time and time again in the arena. James Kirk, quick on his feet and with his brain, has his work cut out for him with this match up, but can his wits protect him this time with such a daunting opponent? We hope not, but we do hope he gives a decent fight compared to Slar's previous opponents. It should be a blood bath tonight folks! Place your bets and find a seat. The match will be starting in 10 minutes.

The announcer's voice echoed off the rather dimly lit tunnel he would emerge from. He stood slouched, but rather than look defeated, James Tiberius Kirk looked impatient. Even with the metal cuffs chaffing his always bleeding wrists and phasers pointed at his back, he exhibited an air of confidence and rebellion. They told him that it wouldn't last. That within the first year in the arena, he wouldn't stand with his head held high, that he wouldn't have the look of defiance in his eyes. He proved them wrong.

The three years he had been here, he survived. Despite all odds, he kept going, taking out opponent after opponent. 39 fights later, he was still here. Still alive, still breathing, still waiting. Many of the other contestants who survived this long grew accustomed to this life within six months. After a year, if they were still around, they grew to love the battle. They lived for it.

Not him. Well, perhaps that wasn't entirely true. He loved a challenge, and occasionally, his opponent would offer him one. Today's opponent would be a challenge, and he eagerly awaited this battle. All the spectators were hoping for a slaughter. They would get one. Just not from whom they thought. He would survive, no matter what.

The crowd's loud cheers reached him. He could make out the muddle of chants for Slar and surprisingly his own cheering section was loud enough to get through as well. It was only a matter of time. He would get free eventually. He refused to stay a slave and fight for other people's entertainment. He just had to bide his time a bit longer until he could escape. Until then, he would make the crowd love him, support him, and inadvertently protect him when he did.

Spock showed his identification to the burly guard standing at attention. With a quick glance, he was waved on through. The VIP room was like every other one Spock had seen. Two plush chairs were positioned in front of a transparent wall overlooking the arena, the décor was luxurious with gold and silver trims on the walls, and three servers hovered around an already seated man, working around the bodyguard beside the right side of the VIP guest.

Spock stepped forward his own two Vulcan bodyguards standing on either side of him. He raised his gloved fist to his chest then extended his arm forward, slightly elevated and hand flat, palm down. "All hail the empire."

"May all bow down to the might of the empire," the seated man said. Spock looked over the man. It was the first time he had ever met Admiral Marcus in real life. His grey hair was slicked back, his aged eyes full of ruthlessness and mirth, and he was dressed to impress, wearing his dress uniform despite their location. The admiral had probably escaped some sort of function to gamble instead. The older human man had his right ankle resting on his left knee, bouncing his shiny black boot in an energetic rhythm. Despite the pent up energy, he seemed relaxed in Spock's presence, his cheek resting on his right fist in what looked like a bored manor. Not many were comfortable in the presence of Vulcans. Spock had a begrudging respect for the man. "Sit down, Commander. The show is about to start."

Spock sat in the overly plush armchair. It made having perfect posture impossible as he sank into the cushions. Annoyance flashed across his expression, but he managed to keep it mostly blank in the presence of this human. He was never a fan of these fights. It was easy to predict who would win and more often than not, the arena would choose its fights on which pair ups would sport the most blood rather than what would make a good fight. He didn't have to look through the program in his hand to know the Gorn would win against a human.

However because custom demanded it, he put money down on the fight to appear more "human", an advantage that would work in his favor during this talk. Knowing the Gorn would win, he placed his bet on the human. He did not know what possessed him to make a losing bet. There was no logic behind it though he could probably spin it that he wanted to lose on purpose to let the admiral's guard down around him, but he would be telling a falsehood. He could only sum it up as a whim or hunch. "Thank you for your hospitality, Admiral."

The admiral hummed, lifting his glass to have one of the servers fill it, a scantily clad human woman in what could barely be qualified as clothing with as much skin she was showing. Spock supposed he should be grateful she was wearing anything at all. "It was the least we can do after your victory against the Romulans. Nero had been a pain in our side since he showed himself 25 years ago. You however managed to not only defeat him, but got a hold of his futuristic technology. Progress has leapt forward almost a hundred years thanks to you."

"It was my pleasure to serve the empire," Spock replied, urging down his will to shred the chair to pieces. He would not be able to stand without lots of maneuvering with how far into the cushions he sank into. The Vulcan was 78.9 percent sure, Marcus chose this type of seat to annoy him and set him off balance.

The stadium went into an uproar that came through the intercom as the announcement for the battle started. The battle arena was a terra former simulation. The geography of the previously large dirt area with aluminum walls began to change, forming large rocky hills, mineral deposits, and a flat grassy area. The VIP room was immune to the rumbles the change in terrain caused in the lower areas. Throughout the battle field parts for weapons were strewn about along with barbaric primitive ones.

The two participants for the day's battle entered the stadium on opposite sides where they could not see each other. The roar got louder as chants filled the area, most chanting the name, "Slar! Slar! Slar!" Faintly, Spock picked up another name among the almost uniform chant of the Gorn's name. "Kirk! Kirk! Kirk!"

He was surprised there were enough fans of the human to cheer for him despite overwhelming odds. It was not logical. Far below he could see the small form of the human. It was not logical for there to be enough fans to be heard during this match. Curious, he turned his attention to the big screen that was currently displaying the human male.

He was small for a warrior to have survived three years. While he stood at average human male height, his build was slim. There was muscle of course, but it was lean, unlike the burlier, and therefore more successful, fighters. But it was the face that drew Spock's attention. He was handsome, beautiful even. The Vulcan had never seen such a shade of blue in a pair of eyes before. It was bright, almost glowing, a genetic mutation for sure. His face was mostly free of deformities and scarring, his hair, wheat gold, and his skin lightly tanned, probably natural. It even looked like he had all his teeth. Such beauty to exist in this place was unheard of.

"I know what you're thinking," the admiral said, picking out a hors d'oeuvre from a tray presented to him. "Why isn't he at a whore house?"

"It does appear to be the choice most would choose for a human of his appearance when selling a slave," Spock admitted.

"They tried. When he was brought to the selling block with that intention, he managed to kill three guards and wound a fourth while his hands were shackled after being deprived of food and water for two days. The arena owner happened to see the entire thing and made a deal for him. He hadn't disappointed either."

Spock's curiosity was peaked. "What is his crime?"

Marcus looked over at Spock for the first time, surprise on his face. "You don't recognize the last name."

Ah, so that's why. "I'm impressed he stayed off the markets for so long."

"His mother was good at hiding," displeasure marred his features. "Kodos was good for something at least."

Spock fell into silence, watching the beginning of the battle commence. The human did something strange. He bypassed the large primitive weapons available at the start and instead grabbed what looked like a pipe. Blunt force trauma, while a fan favorite, would not be the way to go in this battle. Surely the man knew this.

"So what would you like in compensation for your achievement, Commander? If we can get it for you, you will have it."

As Spock expected, he was called here to be offered an award. A trap really. He could not refuse without looking to be ungrateful to the empire's show of appreciation, but his choice would also give leverage over him. Power, money, and women would imply he could be bribed at the right price, and asking for a ship of his own would undoubtedly get him killed. The empire would never allow a Vulcan, even him, be in command of one of their ships without setting up a way to get it back. An assassination attempt most likely. The position he was in now gave him freedom, more than what most of his people had. He did not wish to jeopardize it. So what could he ask for?

He eyed the human making his way across the terrain, staying out of sight of his opponent. Most battles the two slaves fought head on, but this one thought differently. He was educated, using the terrain against his opponent heading for…

So that was his game. A smile cracked on the Vulcan's face having figured out the human's plan. He was wasted as a slave. Even though the crowd's loud booing for the lack of bloodshed was growing and Kirk's fans were turning on him for being a "coward", the human was not deterred as he made his way over the terrain. Spock would leave with quite a heavy wallet tonight. His whim happened to make quite a profit.

The smile gained the admiral's interest. Spock gave him no mind as he leaned forward in his chair, eyes still glued to the monitor. "I choose him."

The admiral frowned, following the commander's gaze to the large screen. "Kirk?" At the Vulcan's nod, he laughed. "I didn't know you swung that way, but he is easy on the eyes. Now I know Vulcans can be tempted with flesh just like any man."

"Incorrect. I want him as a bodyguard," Spock said, standing. There was no point in him staying now.

Marcus looked amused. "Sure, if he survives the fight, I'll give him to you."

"He will win in approximately 9.38 minutes. I will be in the infirmary to collect him in 12." Without another word, he left leaving the puzzled admiral behind.

He could hear him. The Gorn wasn't very graceful, at least not this type. It was one of the bulkier green one, built for strength rather than stealth like the smaller camouflage ones Jim had heard about. It still was fast though and had a much easier time maneuvering over the rocky hill. He would have grabbed a small knife, but he would be in trouble if the Gorn was close enough to use it. The lizard-like creature also had a heightened sense of smell, making it more difficult to evade.

Slar was becoming impatient though. Jim could hear it in his movements. There was frustration as the large lizard moved a rock with more force than necessary. He was close. Jim only had a minute before he was found, but he couldn't afford to move. His preparations were almost complete. He had successfully predicted which terrain they would use and planned accordingly. If they had gone with the dirt arena then he would have been in serious trouble. He'd have to thank Gaila for helping with that.

He picked up his pipe, having just finished preparing it, when he was grabbed from behind. He was yanked back and thrown several feet away, hitting his head as he fell down the hill. His vision swam, and for a moment he was disoriented as the world around him tilted, making his stomach lurch. The Gorn grabbed him by the leg, dragging him back into reach. Jim's shirt lifted, the rocks cutting into his back as he was dragged. The human fumbled to get his rock ready, still clutching the pipe in one hand.

Slar proceed to toss Jim around by his ankle. Kirk clenched his teeth in pain, feeling it snap. It wasn't the worse injury he ever had, but it still hurt like a bitch, but he refused to let go of his pipe. He just needed the right moment.

His body curled to protect himself when Slar finally let him go, letting his body fly into a large bolder. He protected his head that time. He could hear the crowd's applause for the display of violence. Well they'll have their fun now, Jim will be happy to take away their champion.

Before the human could get his bearings, Slar picked up Jim by his throat so that his legs were dangling off three feet off the ground and started to squeeze. The lizard snarled in Jim's face causing Jim to smile. Kirk lifted the pipe to Slar's face, and with a fluid motion, he ran the rock over the metal, causing a spark. The end of the mortar facing Slar exploded. Where once was a giant lizard head, twice the size of Jim's, was now filled with only empty space.

Silence filled the arena as the now, very dead, Slar released Jim from his hold. Jim fell to the ground hard, falling on his burned hands and tender skin. The make shift mortar rolled away, the smell of sulfur still heavy in the air. The audience suddenly went into an uproar full of cheering.

I don't believe it! Kirk has literally blown the head off of his competitor! Using a pipe and sulfur from the mineral deposit, he made a very rough, homemade mortar. A risky gamble as too much sulfur could have blown Kirk away too! But he managed to pull it off with just some minor burns to his hands and chest. Our longest running champion defeated by a human in such a deliciously brutal way!

Jim tuned out the announcer, carefully sitting up. The pain was tolerable, but he wasn't going to be able to walk out with his broken ankle. Nursing his hands in his lap, he waited for the stretcher that would take him to the infirmary, laughing to himself. He cost a lot of people a lot of money. It made him quite happy.

They carted him off to the competitors' infirmary. In a way, it was scarier to go to the infirmary rather than fighting the battles themselves. Slaves didn't get top grade treatments, and the doctors didn't care about the pain they caused while healing. There were no anesthesia and doctors happily took bets on when patients would pass out from the pain or how fast it would take for patients to bleed to death. A lot of competitor's would rather deal with their wounds and risk death.

Luckily, his wounds weren't too serious. Kirk could grind his teeth as the bones mended and had his skin regenerated. If he batted his eyelashes, the doctors might even care enough to keep him from scarring. Of course when the doctor tried to get "payment" for their generosity, Kirk would break their hand. People were so easy to manipulate.

Kirk was just brought into the infirmary, propped up on a table when someone entered. He had never seen this man before, nor did he look like any doctor he had ever seen before. He was tall, with a dark, straight, orderly bowl cut. His eyebrows were slanted up, ears were pointed, and his skin was sort of pale with a greenish tint. He wore a dress uniform, long sleeved and bright blue with awards decorating his coat with black leather gloves and black pants to finish it off. He was obviously important, but it was his face that put Jim on edge. The man's face was blank except for his eyes. The chocolate colored eyes were filled with emotions. Restrained emotions contained in that lean body of his. Every sense in Jim told him that this man was dangerous, even if physically, Jim should be able to take him in a fight.

"Mr. Kirk, I commend you on your display of ingenuity during your match."

"Child's play," he replied warily. "If you know how to play the game."

The nameless man arched an eyebrow and for a moment, amusement passed through those constantly intensifying eyes. "Indeed. As of today, you will be released as a slave of the arena."

"Really," Jim said with obvious doubt lacing his tone. "What's the catch? I'm not going to become your whore if that's what you're saying. "

He felt the man's eyes roam over his body, taking in his shredded, grey tunic all slaves wore, his raw wrists, and messed up ankle. "I would not flatter yourself so much as you are quite unappealing in your current state."

"Fuck you, buddy. Just because no one would want to fuck your ugly ass doesn't mean you can try to insult me."

Anger seemed to flash across the man's eyes before it was restrained. "You will serve as my bodyguard," Spock continued as if they hadn't gotten off track. And you will receive medical attention by the physician of my choosing."

"And if I refuse?"

The man's eyebrow quirked up condescendingly as if he was stuck explaining to a rather slow child. "You will find that I am a rather formidable opponent."

"As am I," Jim challenged back. "And I do not need your help to get out of here. I'll escape on my own one day."

"A futile attempt. You will either die in the arena or killed for escaping before you get far," the man said, walking further into the room with absolutely perfect posture and easy stride. He was obviously military the way he kept his shoulders squared and hands behind his back as if always at attention or intimidating an underling.

"Better than following you. And it's just you and me in here. Even injured, I could take your scrawny ass."

Amusement and challenge flitted across those eyes. "Prepare for departure, Mr. Kirk. My men will come to collect you shortly."

Jim should have left it at that and accepted his fate, but if he had accepted his fate before, he would have been sent to a whore house. He had no idea who or what this man was, and that made him an unknown. He knew the arena. He could survive until he escaped, but this alien did not hold the same guarantee. Drawing a scalpel he had swiped from a doctor before being admitted to his room, he threw it at the alien with deadly accuracy towards his head.

The alien turned gracefully as if expecting the attack, grabbing the scalpel out of the air, and crossed the short distance between them in an instant. The man's hand wrapped around Jim's neck and slammed him against the biobed. Having pinned the human down, the alien leaned over him, their faces inches apart. The man's eyes were alight with annoyance as he said in a very low and cold voice. "You will submit to me, Mr. Kirk."

The tone had Jim stop his struggling. He had underestimated this alien. He held as much power as the Gorn it seemed, but unlike the Gorn, this alien was intelligent, always calculating and anticipating, yet there was something savage underneath it all, animalistic and waiting to pounce upon his prey. And for the first time, Jim felt fear.

"If you do not behave, I will break you until you do. You can have faith in that."

The alien released him, allowing Jim to cough and get his breath back. The sight of the struggling and wounded human seemed to satisfy him. He backed away, getting ready to depart again.

"What are you?"

The alien paused and looked over his shoulder. "I am Vulcan." The fear intensified, and it must have shown on his face as the anger left the alien's eyes and was once again replaced with dark amusement. "You may call me, Mr. Spock. We will meet again onboard."

The Vulcan named Mr. Spock left the room just as two more Vulcans replaced him. It was then Jim realized that he was in serious trouble if Vulcans were involved. Whose attention did he catch to get himself in this position? He might not survive long enough to find out.

That was …interesting, Spock decided. He had not expected the human to be so lively. Slaves who have been captured for over a year rarely were. The deliberate defiance had been very unexpected. Something in him was eager for the challenge yet annoyed to be challenged. His two halves were once again arguing against one another, pushing for dominance.

They did agree on two things however. The first being that the human was going to be trouble. Despite the scare Spock gave him, he would not back down from that alone. He would be more cautious in how he handled Spock making him more dangerous. The other being the urge to dominant him. Spock allowed a small smile grace his lips. He would make that human submit.

Please tell me how I did. Details! You're comments will help me develop the stories non-existent plot at this moment. (believe it or not all my stories when first published have no plot til the 3rd or 5th chapter). Sorry for the short chapter. Like I said, trial.

Review please. (bows)