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1
The mansion was in the Northern
part of Metropolis—one of the rich districts—and its backyard was facing the
beach.
Tonight, however, Joslynda Magari couldn’t enjoy the captivating view of the
ocean, or see the thin line of red sky on the horizon. Gray walls surrounded
her. There was no time to enjoy the sunset, and there were other things on her
mind too. Anticipation. Bloodlust. She tasted blood in the air. Joslynda heard
the waves though, felt the warm wind. She was standing in the center of the mansion’s
inner yard, a white robe covering her perfect nakedness. A black woman of 43
summers, her body packed with muscles, yet extremely feminine. A woman who has
ended so many successful careers and lives, and loved every second of it... Many
of them were powerful challengers, but not powerful enough. And now she was
waiting for a new challenger to arrive. A beautiful blonde. Gerta her name.
Killing her game. Only tonight she’d become the game of the Black Goddess. And
she would suffer greatly before death would take her—Joslynda would see to
that.
Joslynda Magari was not a villain. Not bloodthirsty either. But a challenge
towards her person shall never go unpunished. Whenever and whomever she fought,
the execution of the loser was a terrible ordeal. The conquered woman usually
screamed in pain and terror. Some of them begged for mercy. Others didn’t, accepting
their doom like true warriors.
Professionally Joslynda knew Gerta
Wagner from several pits she herself frequented as a guest, as well as from a
few private Pay-Per-View channels that aired death matches from various upscale
arenas in town. Joslynda placed her bets on Gerta more than once, and she
always won. The Nordic amazon was quick, hard as a rock, and merciless towards
the losers. Whenever Gerta fought, smart money was on her, and Joslynda’s money
tended to be smart, more often than not.
Gerta had a wealthy boyfriend whose
wife she has killed in a private death duel three years ago, but she kept
fighting in various pits, to stay in shape, and simply because she loved it. Also,
she always put some money on herself before a fight, and that became a
significant source of income in addition to the money she received from the pit
owners for every kill. By now Gerta was 32 and rich, with more than 500 gold
bars in the Bank of Metropolis, and countless slain victims to her name. Gerta
enjoyed her live, believing to be the best. But of course, she knew of Joslynda
Magari, and that was a roadblock she would never steer clear of. The Black Goddes
had to become part of her death list.
The Black Goddess was a nickname
from Joslynda’s old days in the fighting pits. By the age of 27 she was one of
the most feared and respected female fighters in Metropolis. Whenever she did
not destroy and kill her opponents within mere seconds, was mostly when she was
in the mood to fool around and prolong a bitch’s suffer. One of her biggest
fans was Leandro Thorne, a billionaire, who couldn’t live without watching Joslynda
wiping the floor with other women. He proposed to her, and thus she married
into Leandro’s billions, and they had ten years of happiness. They were happy
indeed, these two. Quite often Leandro would pay a gladiatrix of his choice to
challenge his wife. Every challenger was guaranteed to receive a thousand gold
bars if she wins. Nobody ever said no. They later wished they would have, but
losers are always smart in hindsight. In this inner yard Joslynda always
destroyed them, and Leandro always watched her ripping them apart from the
balcony of their bedroom, and then they made love in their bed, fresh sea air
filling the room through open windows, a freshly killed corpse still downstairs,
in the inner yard, untouched by the servants.
