The games begin
We blinked like moles in the bright sunlight as we were led across a large square by the large man, who seriously resembled a minotaur. Not kidding. He was taller than any of us, more massively muscled than even Steve (by about twice), and wore a helm from which two horns that were similar to Texas longhorns protruded. They looked like they might actually be attached to the man, but how did the helm get on him? It was a question I wasn't prepared to ask. His face wasn't visible. We were brought into a pavilion, where we stood one at a time and were scanned by some sort of machine. I listened as the scanner read out my height, weight, body fat percentage, bone density, brain mass, estimated strength and agility, and identified my skin mutation and vision enhancement. After this had been completed for each of us, he gathered us and reviewed the team.
"Overall, you have much strength in your group, especially these," he indicated Steve, Bucky, Sam, T'Challa, and Clint. "This one," Natasha "has strength and flexibility. Your fliers and this one," Tony, Jim, and Scott "are entirely dependent on their technology, which some will find easy to defeat. In addition, one is crippled without his gear. The other two females are weaker than the males. For the best chance to succeed in the games, my recommendation is to reduce the team to the first six, seven if the able one can fight without his suit of armor."
"No," T'Challa said, his voice deep and resonant. "It is all or none."
The man shrugged. "Your choice, one by which you will live or die. The rules of the games are these: in the first round, you will meet four opponents as a team. The opposition will almost certainly not equal your numbers, but the aggregate strength of each group will be approximately the same. The teams with the highest numbers of victories will advance to the second round, no more than half of the starting numbers. Victories are determined in this round when one team is clearly overwhelmed by the other, but the Grandmaster will make the final determination. Losers in this round will be detained to provide the work setting up the arena and cleaning for at least the duration of the competition." He waved his hand and a list of dates and times appeared in the air, red letters burning. "It is decided. You will fight first tomorrow morning, the last match of the day tomorrow afternoon, the first match after the midmeal the day after, and the third match on the third day. Rankings are posted before the lastmeal each day following the final match. A word of warning; the top scoring teams are served first and...as you humans would say, go to the head of the line at every opportunity. Challenge them only in the arena; punishment for fights outside are immediate removal from the games and your fate is at the whim of the Grandmaster. We are coming to the end of the day; daily showers will be provided for those species who use water to clean themselves, followed by the lastmeal. There is free time, during which combatants can mingle if they choose; teams also can use this time for strategy. During the day when you are not in the arena, you may make use of the training facilities. When you are not training or in the arena, your weapons will be placed into lockers. Only the owner and designated games officials will have access to the lockers, and tampering with the lockers and/or weapons will not be permitted. When you are in the showers, you will place your clothing in a hamper to be cleaned. It will be ready for you by the time you are done. Place the clothing into the hamper, shut the lid, and take the flexible band that will eject. Retain this during the shower, return it when you are done, and reclaim your clothing. When the lights go out, you are expected to sleep. You are to find an unoccupied pallet; they are not assigned. When you are not occupied in the arena, you may spend your time as you see fit; however, physical damage to other combatants is not permitted, nor is deliberate psychological intimidation." He led us over to a barn-like building and indicated rows of lockers. We found lockers here and there in reasonably close proximity in the same row, and racked our weapons. "You will be roused for firstmeal in the morning and you will have approximately half an hour in your reckoning of time to consume it. There will be half an hour following that for preparation, then you will be brought to the arena. Your collars will flash blue before you are scheduled for combat; retrieve your weapons and wait by your lockers and you will be guided to the arena. If you attempt to remove the collar or attempt an action that could be interpreted as an escape attempt, the collar will flash red and you will have a few moments to desist. If you do not, the collar will inject a drug into a major vein or artery which will kill you shortly. Depending on your physiology, it may or may not be painful. I advise you not to find out which it would be. If you advance to the next round, the new rules will be explained to all combatants then." He turned and left. We looked at each other, processing all the information.
A graceless buzz sounded, and all sorts of people emerged from buildings and began to stream toward the large building next to ours, which turned out to be the showers/hampers facility. There were no separate facilities for males and females. I couldn't tell the sexes apart in many of the species, while others looked like they'd stepped straight from mid-century SF novels: busty women with wide hips and two or three breasts and improbably muscular men. Out of politeness, I tried not to look too closely. Some of the players took this opportunity to have sex in the showers; some species it wasn't clear what they were doing, but with the more humanoid versions, it was pretty obvious. The sex appeared to be consensual, which was a huge relief. When it was our turn, my biggest desire was to get done as quickly as possible, and this was encouraged, it seemed, by a cleaner that was sprayed out at five minute intervals and used to clean hair and body. Some of the hairier or furrier species needed at least two cycles, but I made sure to be done in one. After a rinse, I walked through a tunnel that blasted warm air, and arrived at the hampers dried off. The band around my wrist buzzed to help me locate my hamper, and I scrambled into my suit. My teammates were equally swift, and we followed the others to what turned out to be a dining hall. We lined up and at a window, trays of food were ejected, one to a customer, different items depending apparently on physiology, quantity made proportional to each individual. At least they weren't going to starve us. Our trays contained items none of us were familiar with, in colors we weren't accustomed to eating, but the taste wasn't bad, if a bit bland, and there was a beverage that contained electrolytes, carbohydrates, and proteins. Interstellar Gatorade, apparently. There was also a tube with a straw that contained water; a stick and ball drawing of the water molecule on the side matched those on placards on walls that I'd noticed throughout the complex, evidently signalling refill stations. After the meal, most people returned to the courtyard, where there were benches and room to stand as well. We observed a small amount of fraternization, but most groups kept to themselves. There were a surprisingly large number of individuals; they also mostly kept to themselves. We stuck together, trying to be inconspicuous, observing and discussing, then it was time for bed. By the time it was our turn to enter the barn-like structure, all the spaces in the bunks were occupied and most of the pallets; there was just enough room by the doors for us to settle as a group. It had been a long day and I fell asleep quickly.
Another jarring buzz roused us in the morning; there was time to use the facilities and grooming products were made available. Following this was another weird-looking meal, then, as promised, about half an hour before a very small blue person arrived to take us to the arena.
I don't know exactly what I was expecting, but the arena looked quite a bit like the Colosseum. It was a huge ovoid structure with a sandy floor, open to the sky, and there were white grandstands on either side. A decidedly un-Classical barrier was formed between combatants and spectators by posts set at intervals in the ground; looking at them revealed that they would conduct charge, so I warned my teammates to avoid them unless they wanted to be electrocuted. One end of the oval was a huge, ornate gate through which we entered; at the other end was a small structure like a pavilion, more luxurious than the grandstands, that seemed like a good place for the Grandmaster to observe. We found a group waiting for us, four enormous buttercup yellow beings bulging with muscle and claws. And fangs, we saw, when they saw us approach. They had some form of staff weapons.
"Beginning the combat trials this day, let us show our respect to the Grandmaster for the sport we are about to enjoy," A voice boomed, like there were loudspeakers all over the arena. We saw our opponents turn toward the small pavilion on the other end and make some sort of gesture. Steve stepped forward and bowed, so the rest of us followed suit. "Returning for their fourth and final match, the undefeated Rawqintha take on a new team of humans." We could hear a buzz from the onlookers, who were too far away to see unless I messed with my vision, and I had better things to do than that. There was a loud chime, which apparently opened the combat. The yellow people immediately moved toward us, separating, and bringing up their staff weapons.
Sam, Tony, and Jim immediately took to the air; Tony and Jim had had to surrender their lethal projectiles for this round, but they still had some options as well as the force they could generate in their flight plus the blades I'd made for each of them. One of the Rawqintha devoted itself to our fliers; the other three engaged the rest of us. I was surprised and gratified to find that my skin literally bounced the energy bolts from the staff weapons off me; it still stung and burned, but I wasn't harmed. We fought in ever-changing groups, engaging and getting our hits in. Steve brought down the first one with a throw of his shield to the head; after that, the fighting got a lot more determined. The Rawqintha fought unarmed as well, one powerful blow knocking out T'Challa. The second Rawqintha was hamstrung by Scott. One of the two remaining flung Natasha into Bucky, Clint and Wanda, who were standing too close together. Natasha was knocked unconscious, and Wanda rolled her ankle when she was struck. The other used his staff weapon to knock Sam out of the air; he fell to the ground, one of his wings mangled and clutching his side.
It was imperative to get this match over before anybody else went down on our side. We converged on the remaining opponents, each of us getting our chances in combat. I kept one of them busy deflecting blows from Nike; Tony tricked the other into discharging his staff weapon at him but dodging the blast, which hit his teammate. Steve was closing in on the remaining Rawqintha when a loud sound like a gong shimmered through the arena.
"This competition is ended; the Grandmaster has deemed a 97.4% probability that the Rawqintha will be defeated before managing to remove any more humans from combat. Victory is assigned to the human team led by the individual known as Captain America. All combatants will stand down." After a moment, we relaxed and dropped our weapons to our sides. The gate opened and attendants of the games emerged; they all wore wide orange sashes to denote their status. They picked up the fallen combatants and signaled those of us still on our feet to follow. There was some cheering as we departed.
When the gates had closed behind us, we were told that our wounded would be healed and returned to us and that we could make repairs to our gear in the locker room. We went there, and I repaired Sam's wing and Tony his right elbow where a blow from a staff weapon had frozen the joint. Shortly before the harsh buzz signalling a meal, T'Challa, Natasha, Sam, and Wanda returned, physically healed, but a little shaken up. We ate lunch and repaired to a corner of the courtyard where we hydrated and took naps until we were summoned for our second match.
Our 2-0 opponents this time were a swarm of what looked like spiders with humanoid heads the size of Torburn. Their native language seemed to be composed of squeaks, grunts, and clicks that we had no hope of understanding or replicating. I felt very sorry for Steve, whose lack of fondness for spiders was well known on the team. They were covered in oily bristles that caused irritation on bare skin, gradually increasing to a very painful rash. I was grateful that Steve had designed my costume so that there was no bare skin showing and that I had a full-face mask. This battle took at least twice as long as our first, and we discovered that their legs ended in crescents of some hard material that could slice through our fabrics. At one point, they had Steve on the ground, swarmed, tearing at his suit and spreading that rash. I used Nike on them; evidently cutting off a few legs here and there was permitted because I wasn't stopped although I didn't like it. Gradually the tide began to turn; game attendants had stayed out on the sand with us and removed combatants that were either missing parts or damaged or too affected by the rash to continue. Tony took over as field leader and by the time we achieved our victory against our opponents, none of us were unscathed and we were all pretty freaked out. The Grandmaster declared a 92.3% prediction of victory for our team and we were glad to get out of there.
We all received medical treatment and had had just enough time to clean the oily substance off our weapons before the shower. This time I was tired enough to ignore the sex in the showers, and when I picked up my uniform, it had been repaired, an impressive feat. The buzzer chimed, and in the courtyard, lists of the teams in the competition began scrolling at several locations. We were 2-0, putting us firmly in the middle of the pack. It was a good result for us, and we were able to take our places in line based on those results.
Then we heard a familiar roar. "Rogers!" Our heads lifted almost as one and before we could do more than look around, Thor was wading through our fellow combatants to seize first Steve, then the rest of us in manly hugs. "My friends!"