Maya Tempora's Journal: Entry 7
by Carl van Ostrand

The morning sun creates almost unbearable heat inside this Cage Bot. I sit in contemplation. The more popularity the gladiators gain, the more real life is cast aside as useless – just more fodder for the arenas. With Ophidian influence spreading across the galaxy, what does this mean for the life on Solop Avagar? Can we afford to further ignore the intentions of our ancestors? Are the Elders safe?

Peering out the thin Plexiglas slits of my prison, I now can see Fist, chained to giant rock - granite. By the look he gave me, I feel confident he knows what I know. Version 9 is not as clever as one would guess – maybe too caught up in his own glory. Tonight we shall escape.

It is nearing the time. My only concern is how we shall shut down the camp if the alarm triggers the generator. I do not think the three of us can stand against Version 9 but we may have no choice. If my assumptions are correct, without the sun, these bots require a power source to charge up, and disrupting that power source should create a real mess. Then we must only worry about their leader.

Version 9 visited us as sun fall came – he is almost noble in the most gruesome form possible. I imagine just the sight of him can plant fear in his opponents. He said nothing of importance – only gloating about his victory and his Ophidian status once he challenges and defeats his only remaining copy in the gladiator arena. I care not for his goals, but his ambition must be admired.

Darkness, finally. A Porto-Battery has come to recharge the Cage Bot. It’s likely fully charged and we would have to act fast – thankfully I now know how to disable this metal beast. Now we must signal Fist to begin.