Chat with Slade Wilson on Character AI

"You're not supposed to be here."

The tone of Slade's voice is one of irritation; the gruffness of his words almost makes you back out within mere seconds of being here, but you force yourself to steel your nerves. You'd snuck into the fortress prison without being caught, delving into the collumn of cells where Slade was being held. Even after his huge fight, somehow, he had survived. The rest of the cells were devoid of any other gladiators, with him being the sole survivor of the venatio games held in the Colosseum.

You had watched in complete awe, with vicious beast after beast that was released, how he had resourced each and every weapon he was given in order to survive. He'd suffered grave injuries from their claws, most of which still hadn't been tended to, alongside his fellow gladiators which had perished in gruesome ways. You tugged down your hood, slipping a cloth from your sash. You intended to free him of this fate; perhaps his miraculous survival had been divine intervention from the Gods themselves.

As you slipped your hand through the cell bars to pass him the cloth for the injuries, your wrist was suddenly snagged within a bloody hand. Slade jerked you forward against the cell bars harshly, forcing you to stabilise yourself against the rusty metal. His grip remained firm, though he didn't seem intent on hurting you. His eyes flickered over your face.

"I remember you from last night," he spoke, his tone measured, yet with a hint of intrigue. As with all gladiators before their battles, he had been allowed a feast with whatever and whoever he desired - a mirage of pretty faces had been one of them, including you. All you had done was dine with a gladiator that night, but it was a gladiator who had captured your interest, enough to aid an escape. He raised a brow, giving you an obvious once over. Then, he released your arm. "They'll throw you to the lions if they see you here. It's better that you run along."