The hot sun burning Morbid Angel’s face is what wakes him! But how could this be? He was in the middle of winter laying in an open grave…where is all this heat coming from. Morbid’s eyes opened and adjust and all he sees is the sand…hot sand…looking down at his hands he sees his tone changed from a pasty white to a tan…his tattoos were gone! His muscles were….SMALLER!
Morbid grabbed at himself trying to figure out what the fuck was going on!

Morbid jumps up to his feet and quickly looks down. He was wearing a brown dress-like tunic and sandals. Morbid looks into his hands to see what the fuck was going on…they had blood on them and they were dirty! His eyes look around and seeing only what could be described as the arena! Morbid sees fighting and screaming! The crowd chants for blood and death! Morbid stands looking in awe not really understanding what was going on at this moment in time. A man holding a sword runs screaming at Morbid Angel…Morbid stands looking not sure if this was real or fake allowing the man to lunge at him attempting to drive that sword into his flesh.

Morbid grabs the blade to divert the deadly sticking of ones flesh and Morbid hits the attacker in the face with his fist! The man does not go down so Morbid does it again and again and again until finally the attacker falls back and slicing Morbid’s hand not releasing the sword as he falls. Morbid looks around for something to kill this man with….NOBODY TRIES TO KILL MORBID ANGEL! NOBODY! He sees another sword stuck inside another man laying just 10 feet away. Morbid rushes over and grabs the blade and turns to attack! The other man is already on his feet and is rushing towards Morbid who starts running away trying to find safer ground as he is not sure what in the fucking hell is going on. He see’s more people killing others, blood spilled across the ground. Two more men rush towards Morbid Angel as the crowd starts booing and a rock comes flying at him hitting him in the knee and Morbid tumbles to the ground and rolls onto his back. He looks over head and sees a man carrying an axe fixing to drop it down onto his chest! Morbid quickly rolls out of the way and thinking of his Spetsnaz training he decides to act! He jumps back driving his knee into the mans face causing him to fall back and drop the axe. Morbid quickly throws the sword at another attacking man sticking him in the chest and stopping him dead in his tracks! Morbid then grabs the axe and starts to spin it around making a bladed shield with it while charging the other attacker who in return attempts to drive his sword through the spinning axe blade. The axe hook grabs the sword and rips if from the man’s hands. As now he is unarmed Morbid hits the man with the axe directly in the face! The man falls back twitching as blood squirts from the gaping wound in his face! His eyes open glairing at the sky as the life fades from his body! Morbid stands with blood spattered on his face and breathing heavily…its been a good while since he has killed a man…Morbid felt refreshed and willing to continue his ways here…killing shit! Who doesn’t want to kill shit?

Morbid turns to the fallen man who attacked him with the axe. He lay unconscious on the sands. Morbid walks over to him with the axe in hand and lightly ran the bloody blade softly down the man’s flesh attempting to awaken him. The man’s eyes open and sees the bringer of fate standing over him. Morbid lifts the axe and drops it sending it through the man’s skull and into the dirt . Half the skull flops over onto the sand exposing the brain and the wound that caused it to split. Morbid looks at the man…no longer looking like a man but more like a smashed animal! The blade was far from sharp and the impact broke through the bones instead of cutting them. A much more painful way to die...more feeling in death

Morbid hears the cheering crowd and sees no more men running for the attack. He slowly and cautiously lifts his right arm in victory! Men dressed as Roman soldiers rush out and pull Morbid from the arena to a dark hallway leading down…down under the arena. Once he was in the cave like area he was locked in a cage…alone. Morbid walks his cell slowly running his hands across the wall trying to feel any door or way out but none to be had. He sits on the floor and waits quietly listening to the screaming of the crowd and the screaming of people dying!

Hours pass while he waits. The sounds of the crowd and others fade to nothingness…a torch light is seen coming down the halls and stopping just outside his cell. Morbid stands up to prepare for another attack not really knowing what to expect after what happened earlier.

Two men stand outside his cell talking






Man 1-”This is the one from earlier. He might look simple but he is a strong fighter as you had witnessed.”


Man 2-”Can he speak? He is no use to me if he is dumb. I need one that can understand and answer.”






The first man looks into the cage and yells





Man 1-”SLAVE! Tell this man how smart you are! Tell him your name!”






Morbid walks over to the bars and looks at the two of them for a few seconds.






Man 1-”SPEAK SLAVE!”






Morbid looks back at the man






Morbid-”Why would you like to know my name? Where I am from they call me Morbid Angel!”








The two men look at each other







Man 2-”Well, that was a good stage name. What is his actual name”



Morbid-”Stage Name?”



Man 1-”SHUT UP SLAVE! His name is Quintus.”






The second man looks at Morbid for a few moments looking him up and down trying to make a decision.







Man 2-”I think I’ll purchase him. Have him cleaned and sent to my villa by the next morning.”








The two men walk off down the hall as does the light. Morbid looked around the dark room as if to try and find answers to his questions! Was he actually a slave? Could this be a dream or was his other life actually a dream and this is reality? His hand actually hurt from the sword cut and he was laying in the sand…possible that he was actually a slave dreaming of future happenings! But what the fuck for? Morbid Angel was another time? Could his name actually be Quintus? What about Russia? Germany? His training? His funeral homes? What about his TITLE! What about all his victories? What about all his accomplishments? How is it fair for him to lose or to dream all that? These things haunted him for hours until the torch light returned and this time unlocked the gate and let him out. Morbid Angel walked down the halls being led by a much larger man with a mace attached to his belt. Morbid says not a word as they walk.

As the light of day reaches Morbid’s face it was near blinding from the reflection off the light sand and the white buildings. Morbid was led to an area where he was to wash and dress in a white and red tunic and is loaded in the back of a carriage to be sent to his new home.

As the carriage moves he looks around at all the sites that he could only dream about. Being in such a time and seeing how people lived and thinking to himself





Morbid thoughts-”Wow! This place fucking smells like shit! And this tunic is chafing my genitals!”





The ride took a little longer than it should have considering they don’t have cars and the horse drawn carriages only go up to maybe 20MPH. Arriving at their destination a few hours later. The doors or a large building…obviously of someone of quality. The carriage enters the compound and stops 20 feet from the covered porch attached to the building. The same man who purchased him last night comes out with a flock of other slaves in toe to greet his new addition.

This short, old and fat-like man walks over to the carriage and waves Morbid Angel off. Morbid hops down and is lead quickly into the house and into his chambers and is left alone. Morbid quickly looks around the small room with a pile of straw on the floor to sleep on and a small desk-like area with a few wax tablets and a rod for writing. The first thought was for Morbid to write his story down for the future people to know he existed. He also thought that he could be considered prophet to a lot of things to come…

Morbid took a seat at the desk to write and could only think of one thing…Enigma…that goddamn motherfucker! Truth be told…that isn’t good history so far…he needed to think of something good otherwise all of this would be for nothing! His mind was a blank…almost like the memories disappear the longer he tries to think of them. He walks to the window and looks out and sees the skies turning dark…its going to rain, Morbid said to himself.






The scene fades out.






A unknown time later it picks up. The sun is out again and cooking those walking outside. Morbid’s job here was to guard the family from any troubles that could be had…so far there has been no trouble as far as can be seen. None the less Morbid stands guard every night awaiting trouble. Now Morbid is supposed to be resting in his room but still finds sleep hard considering the state of everything here. Who could sleep if all you see it the inside of this room then the front fucking door. No one is allowed to talk on watch…offenders will be beaten. What’s the point of talking anyway if no one understands where you are coming from anyway? No slave would understand the things Morbid knows or speaks of. Would they know who Enigma is? Would they care? Probably not…they would think he went totally insane.

Morbid paces the room and hears someone walking up to the door and opens it…it is his Dominus (man 2). Morbid stops pacing and looks at him. The old fat man stands looking at him with sweat dripping down his face and gasping for air…Morbid looked at the man and with his eyes started wishing a heart attack for the fat old man! Seeing how the man hobbled around you can see that his fat was weighing too much on his joints and his heart seemed to be about ready to pop from all this nasty fucked up food.






Dominus-”You have been protecting us quite well Quintus. I thank you for your service. I see you do not sleep much during the day. Why is this?”



Morbid-”I find that sleeping isn’t needed as much as it should be. I don’t get tired.”



Dominus-”Well, you should try. You need to be sharp so try and get a few hour of sleep in before dark.”



Morbid-”I will try.”







Dominus turns to walk from the room and slowly turns around again and looks at Morbid once more.







Dominus-”I am a kind man…and even at times a very generous man to those who service me well.”



Morbid-”Are you now? How does one service you well by guarding the doors?”



Dominus-”there are other types of service to be had Quintus. If you are interested in finding more ways to gain favor here I have a few other…tasks to be handled.”






Morbid looks around the room pondering the odd wording of that answer…it could mean anything!








Morbid-”What would you like?”







Dominus slides off his tunic and allows it to fall to the floor beneath him. And here it is…Morbid looking at an old fat man who was concealing a 4 inch erection! Morbid’s face looked…confused and mildly disgusted at the idea of speaking with a man with an erection…not to mention the man being naked in the same room with Morbid with said erection.







Dominus-”I will repay sexual favors with a spending allowance and freedom to go into town for things wanted.”



Morbid-”So I service you and I get money and the freedom to go into town and buy things I want for my room?”




Dominus-”Yes”








Morbid stands silent for a few moments thinking of the many ways this could play out.








Morbid-”How Much?”



Dominus-”1 Denarius a day.”







Morbid knew how much that was. He knew that it could buy him a lot more to make his life more comfortable living in such savage times. But he also wondered what would happen if he said no….the man has the power to have Morbid Angel raped every day and from now on he will be the Raped motherfucker in the back room…so what if he had to take a dick every day as long as he didn’t get raped by 20 guys that helped guard the house every day until Morbid decides to hang himself…what should he do?










The scene fades to a blood red!