Breeding Battles

ROME, CINECITTA, DAY 1

BIG LUCAS

The heat still hung heavily over Rome that September. The air-conditioned car sped through the streets toward Cinecittà. Gian Franco, my boyfriend of more than two years, possessed the carefree confidence of a man born into wealth and privilege. I was both anxious and excited. I was about to make my debut as the historical and technical consultant for a Netflix series set in Ancient Rome during the reign of Emperor Néron.

Gian Franco had insisted that I wear an outfit that showed off my muscular bodybuilder's physique. For contrast, he had chosen a pink tank top for me, probably to make me look even more attractive. As always, he wore an impeccably tailored outfit perfectly suited to the season, one that effortlessly emphasized his natural elegance.

GIAN FRANCO VALERIAN

When we arrived, the paparazzi were already there, along with a handful of reporters from the celebrity press. Some months ago, a producer friend had approached me to help develop a series set in Ancient Rome, centered on the life of the famous gladiator SPICILUS during the reign of Nero. Gladiators have always been my greatest passion. After a few dinners, parties, and countless meetings, Netflix became interested in the project. The success of the Gladiator films had certainly helped convince them.

I had also managed to have my love, Lucas, hired as the series' historical consultant. I had even hoped he would be cast in the lead role. Instead, they chose a Greek American actor named Timatheos, famous for his career as a professional wrestler and for starring in a handful of big budgets but rather forgettable blockbuster movies.

BIG LUCAS

Gian Franco was at ease everywhere. No matter the setting, he displayed the same effortless charm and the irresistible smile that had made me fall for him the moment we first met.I had come to consult a fifth-century manuscript containing a passage about the Fountain of Life, which would later evolve into the legend of the Holy Grail. On the day of my visit to the magnificent library of his family's palace, our interests quickly shifted from scholarly research to something far more physical, and our search became one for pleasure rather than knowledge.

Since then, we have been an unmarried couple. We try to keep our relationship as private as possible, but every gesture we make seems to be watched. Without ever seeking the spotlight, we have become a favourite topic of discussion on social media, where fan sites devoted to us attract thousands of followers.

As Gian Franco stepped out of the car, he flashed the journalists one of his disarming smiles. Then, without waiting, without even listening to their questions, he disappeared into the production offices, where several meetings and costume fittings were scheduled. I, on the other hand, decided to take my time. I knew my physique was perfect. I had trained specifically for this series, for my small role as a Pretorian guard who was Spiculus's sworn enemy and who was destined to die at his hands in a duel at the end of the sixth episode. It seemed a shame that all those months of effort should go unnoticed, that my fans should be deprived of my godlike muscular body.

So, I turned toward the cameras and struck a classic double-biceps pose. Posing in public thrilled me to the core. I sometime get hard. But here I had to control myself I loved being admired. Questions came at me from every direction, about my private life, the character I was going to play, about Timatheos, and whether I would ever leave Gian Franco for a man like him. Then someone shouted, «Take off the tank top! " Without the slightest hesitation, I pulled it over my head and struck another pose, this one emphasizing my washboard abs and, above all, my massive pectorals. I could almost feel the furious gaze of my love burning into my back. He hated my exhibitionist streak, especially when I shared my gladiator's body with people other than him.

 «Lucas, we're already late. Stop clowning around." I simply shrugged, gave the journalists a friendly wave, and followed him inside. They were insatiable, but I knew I had given them exactly what they wanted. Within five minutes, my pictures would be all over the Internet. There couldn't have been better publicity for the series.

TIMATHEOS

I was standing by the window of my dressing room, impatiently waiting for the guy who was supposed to play my sworn enemy. I’d been told he was the lover of an incredibly wealthy Italian prince who had pulled strings to get him both the job and the role. I hated that. I hadn't even seen him yet, and I already had a mountain of prejudices against him. I already knew I was going to make him pay for that special treatment. Fight scenes were the perfect excuse for a little "accidental" brutality. Before long, that little whore would be lying in a hospital bed. And who knows? Maybe I'd even steal his prince while I was at it.Nothing had ever been handed to me on a silver platter. I'd fought for everything I'd achieved. First, I'd built a successful career as a professional wrestler. Then came a few small movie roles, followed by bigger ones.Now I was the star of a Netflix series. If it was a success, there would be another season.

Just then, a luxury sedan pulled up outside. An elegant, athletic-looking man stepped out and headed straight into the production offices. Probably the prince…A second man followed, much younger, but taking his time. So, this was Lucas, the one everyone had been talking about behind the scenes. A fine specimen...Just arrogant enough to make me hate him. "I’m going to crush you, you fucking faggot."

GIAN FRANCO VALERIAN

There was still a great deal to be done. The screenplay was complete in its broad outlines, and the dialogue was almost finished. What remained was to finalize the costumes and sets, sign the actors' contracts, and put together the shooting schedule. I had no real experience in that field. Fortunately, many members of the crew had worked on the first Gladiator. Lucas was an expert on Ancient Greece and Rome, while I was something of an encyclopaedia when it came to gladiators. I couldn't help admiring the man I loved. I kept imagining him as a bestiarius or a retiarius. He had put on even more muscle, and his youth made him utterly irresistible—especially to me, because I have never been able to resist a muscular blond man wearing glasses.

BIG LUCAS

These meetings dragged on for hours. Fortunately, once the financial matters came up, I was free to leave the room.

 I knew Gian Franco had negotiated a generous salary for me, one that would leave me financially secure. I spent the rest of the day with the set designers, revising some of their plans to make them historically accurate. After that, I devoted a long time to inspecting the costumes, which, overall, were remarkably well made. I finished the afternoon examining the weapons and equipment of the legionaries, the Praetorian Guards, and the various gladiators.

 I myself was playing the role of Tigellinus, the commander of the Praetorian Guard and one of Spiculus's enemies. As Gian Franco was still tied up in meetings, the costume designers suggested that I try on all of my outfits. 

I thought I looked magnificent, and judging by the admiring glances the women in the wardrobe department kept giving me, I wasn't imagining it.

 Someone leaned over and whispered in my ear that the set for the dining hall of the Domus Aurea, Nero's Golden House, had finally been completed. It was there that one of the series' major fight scenes would take place, between Spiculus and a young Gallic gladiator.

When I stepped onto the soundstage, my breath caught in my throat. Today, only ruins of this extraordinary palace remain in Rome. Here, however, it had been painstakingly reconstructed down to the finest known details. Even the ingenious mechanism that allowed the dining room to rotate slowly, just as the ancient sources described, had been faithfully recreated.

TIMATHEOS

I had come to see the set for my very first scene. It was a fight against a young Gaul. The whole sequence would take place before Emperor Nero, played by a well-known British actor. The young gladiator was to be portrayed by Tom Sawn, the trendy young bodybuilder and social media influencer.The set was magnificent. I had already rehearsed every move of the fight in my head. Tomorrow would be the first day of shooting.As I stepped onto the soundstage, a massive silhouette stood motionless at the far end of the set.At first, I thought it was Tom, but the figure was far too heavily built.As I drew closer, I recognized the pink tank top.

Lucas.

A fresh scent of orange cologne barely concealed the faint smell of sweat.Up close, he was impressive. Bigger than I had expected.I stopped a few feet from him and smirked."So you're the asshole who's going to play the Praetorian."

BIG LUCAS

The voice was confident, edged with aggression and just enough vulgarity to provoke. I turned around slowly, instinctively flexing my muscles, a smile spreading across my face."Yeah, that's me. And you're that second-rate actor who's starred in so many flops they call you Shit-tima." I knew he was a former professional wrestler and that intimidation was his default way of dealing with people. But this... this was different. He seemed genuinely furious with me.He outweighed me, stood a little taller, and possessed the kind of physique that could have competed with the world's best bodybuilders.

His fists were clenched, as though the only thing he wanted was an excuse to hit me.I decided to ignore him. Still, I knew I had just found my rival. I walked past him, brushing my shoulder deliberately against his—a silent challenge. He smelled of gin mixed with sweat, the scent of a dominant alpha male. It was an aroma that, for reasons I had never fully understood, always stirred something inside me. Suddenly, his hand slammed down on my shoulder. His fingers dug painfully into my flesh. «Who the fuck said you could leave, fucker?" I spun around in one swift motion, grabbing his wrist with both hands, ready to snap his forearm if I had to.A fleeting grimace crossed his face.Then it vanished, replaced by an expression twisted with blind, irrational hatred.

TIMATHEOS

Chance brought the little shit into my path. Luck is smiling on me. I'll be able to get rid of him before the shoot starts.  He got quite a grip. My wrist hurts, but it's nothing compared to the headbutt I'm about to give him. BAM BAM. Right in the middle, to smash his nose, to smash his eyebrow. But the guy recovers fast, and before I can land a third blow, I feel intense pain in my groin. That bastard crushed my balls.

BIG LUCAS

This asshole headbutted me twice. I'm furious. Nobody touches my face, especially the day before a shoot. So desperate times call for desperate measures. A good shot to the nuts.  I've still got him by the wrist. I pull his arm and drag him into my spin. When I'm turning at full speed, forcing him to follow, I let go and he goes crashing into plaster statues that topple from their pedestals and bury him. He's dazed but not stunned enough to stop fighting. I yell after him: "See you tomorrow, asshole." Just got a text from Gian. He's been waiting at the car for a while now.

ROME, CINECITTA, DAY 2

GIAN FRANCO VALERIAN

And so we're off to Cinecittà, the start of the shoot. Last night got a bit rough. On the way back, I got a call from production informing me that the Domus Aurea set had been vandalized, plaster sculptures destroyed. I knew right away Marcus was certainly not innocent in this matter. Sure enough, he soon explained to me his first encounter with Timatheos. I knew that B-list actor had a bad reputation, always ready to fight, to get rid of actors who were better than him. But above all, willing to do anything to hire some guy he knew, a buddy or a lover.

BIG LUCAS

The car takes us back to the Studios for the first day of shooting. I don't know what's waiting for me, but I know the day will be turbulent. Gian's giving me the cold shoulder because of my altercation with the Greek who's probably waiting to settle the score with me. But that doesn't scare me; I'm actually rather excited. It's a new adventure. And on top of that, it's being filmed. I head straight to my assigned dressing room. A young boy has been designated as my costumer. He has the face of one of those ambiguous figures you see in certain 16th-century paintings. I notice from the bulge in his groin that I don't leave him indifferent.

TIMATHEOS

That coward ran away. But he won't get away with it. I saw that in today's shoot, I have my first scene with him, before Emperor Nero. A costumer is taking her time getting me ready.

 The moment her back is turned, I hide a knuckleduster in my loincloth. The script says: "Timatheos strikes the Praetorian Guard commander in the stomach". I'm going to spice up the scene a bit. We'll see if that shithead's abs are really made of steel. Of course, everyone's talking about the vandalism at the Domus Aurea. I left quickly. And no one saw me leave the set. I slowly make my way toward the soundstages. Followed by my assistant and by my costumer. Am I ready? My future is riding on this film. And by making it more realistic, by adding a dose of real brutality instead of faked violence, I'm sure it will surpass the success of Gladiator.

BIG LUCAS

Everyone was gathered on  set except Timatheos. Tom Swan had the cold beauty of a lifted statue. Everyone knew he'd undergone surgical operations to reshape his nose, his cheeks, his chin. Some even claimed those muscles were implants. Personally, I found him insignificant, smooth as a cutting board. I would later discover he had the brains to match. He spent his time demanding this and demanding that. Meanwhile, the technicians had tried to satisfy him with lighting he deemed worthy of himself. With the Greek's broken arm, the shoot would become a battle soon enough. But I was ready to take hits — and above all, to dish them out.

TIMATHEOS

I arrive a good hour late. Everyone needs to understand that I'm the star. I walk straight toward Tom Swan. I know him well. He's a bit stupid but he has millions of followers, and our last video about a joint training session broke all records. I ostentatiously ignore the others. The faggot in his Praetorian costume actually looks credible. Not one of those carnival getups they use in cheap sword-and-sandal flicks. My antipathy toward him grows even sharper. I check that the knuckleduster is still there.

GIAN FRANCO VALERIAN

I look at the set and feel proud of what I see. Everything is highly realistic, worthy of the series *Rome* and others that came before us. Tom Swan is sexy. If he were an antique sculpture, I wouldn't hesitate to display him in my collection. But as a flesh-and-blood being, he's rather disappointing. 

He lacks the flaw that makes beauty come alive. He reminds me of those countless influencers with the physique but no soul or character. A cold, even glacial beauty. Timatheos arrives very late. In my world, politeness remains a mark of education. He is definitively destroyed in my esteem. He shows clear contempt for the entire crew, except for Swan.

BIG LUCAS

The sack of shit has arrived. And now I feel nothing but rage toward him. He ignores me, and without apologizing for his lateness, without even greeting the crew, he only seems to find young Tom worthy of his attention. A Netflix executive welcomes us. He doesn't hesitate to throw some barbs, insisting on the tight schedule, how every minute of delay will cost the production thousands of euros, and that he insists relations between everyone remain cordial. The director continues, holding back his anger but clearly furious about this delayed start.

TIMATHEOS

ACTION! The word cuts through the silence. Nero sits at the table surrounded by courtiers. The dining room slowly rotates around us. Our dialogue is brief. The emperor demands that I fight a young Gaul, a palace slave who fell asleep during an evening of poetry where Nero was declaiming his work. I refuse at first, finding it unworthy to fight a slave without reputation. At a signal from the emperor, Tigellinus must force me into combat. That's when I'm supposed to send my fist into his abs. The bastard Lucas wears leather armor, but it won't withstand my weapon. He delivers his line. I rummage in my loincloth and slide my fingers into the knuckleduster. Then I thrust my arm forward with all my strength.

BIG LUCAS

While I'm delivering my stupid lines, I see my rival rummaging in his loincloth, then a flash of light catches a metallic object in his hand. I realize this bastard has hidden a weapon to hit me. But I'm young, alert, and fast. He throws his punch and I catch his wrist once again. I twist it with all my strength while my knee sinks into his abs, forcing him down onto his knees. "The emperor demands a fight. Even your glory does not allow you to refuse." 

The knuckleduster falls to the ground, and with a kick I send it into the pool that's just appeared in the middle of the room. A heavy silence falls, then I hear: "Cut. We're keeping it."

TIMATHEOS

I’m doubled over in pain, gasping for breath. So no one noticed that that bastard actually attacked me. When I hear “CUT,” I get back up, furious. The crew applauds. Tom slaps me on the shoulder and whispers, “Very realistic, man.” I go to the director and tell him that wasn’t in the script, that it wasn’t supposed to go down like that. He replies that the scene is much more powerful this way and that, given how far behind schedule we are, we can make up some time by keeping it. Then he asks me to join Tom, who’s shirtless in the middle of the set, near the pool, ready to play his role

GIAN FRANCO VALERIAN

The first scene is in the can. I’m surprised by the change. It was my Lucas’s idea, but a good one that makes the scene realistic. From where I was standing, I could only see Timatheos from behind. But when he gets back up, I notice that the blow he took wasn’t faked. His face shows signs of pain but also of intense anger. He doesn’t really have time to complain. The director has only one goal: to make up for lost time.

BIG LUCAS

I'm surprised by the result. My move was a complete success — both in humiliating that other bastard and in how the action played out. Many came to congratulate me for making the scene so vivid. Now I'm free until tomorrow. The main event is the fight between Tom and Timatheos. They're both shirtless and wearing loincloths. ACTION. "Scene 2 -1." The two men throw themselves at each other. The choreography is precise. From time to time the director calls for close-ups of their blood-gorged muscles. Their bodies glisten with sweat. It's a back-and-forth where one sometimes has the advantage. But Tom stands little chance. The script calls for his death.

GIAN FRANCO VALERIAN

The fight between the two muscular actors is hot and realistic We hired the best stuntman specializing in hand-to-hand combat and weapon-based fights. And I really feel like I'm right there with Nero, witnessing a fight to the death. .At one-point Timatheos wraps his arms around the slave's waist and squeezes. I can see the pleasure he takes in it. His muscles are enormous, veined, glistening with sweat. Tom's face is twisted in pain. I understand that bastard is taking revenge for his humiliation on the kid. 

Then suddenly Tom goes limp as a rag doll. He's passed out in Spiculus's arms. The latter lifts him overhead and throws him into the pool as the script dictates. The emperor rises enthusiastically, shouting " My beloved moray eels love human flesh."

THIMATHEOS

I think I went too far. Tom lays uncoun nucious in my arms. The cold water will bring him back. I lift his 100 kg about my head and through him in the basin. Artificial bubbling should indicate the moray eels presence. But a terrible scream erupts. We see Tom's arms rise from the water, then his face appears with two moray eels attached — one to his neck, the other to his cheek. Then he falls back with a monstrous cry, a mixture of pain and terror. The bubbling intensifies. Panic seizes the crew. The cameraman keeps filming. The director is beside himself. Someone gets the idea to drain the pool. Tom's body appears at the bottom, covered in moray eels, half-devoured.

ROME, CINECITTA, DAY 3

BIG LUCAS

Filming had been suspended.What had happened was far too horrific to be dismissed as an accident. Someone had planned it.Naturally, the Italian police had arrived within minutes. Their first intention was to seal off the entire studio as a crime scene. But Gian Franco had negotiated relentlessly, making a few carefully chosen phone calls to influential friends. By the end of the evening, everything had been settled.The production was allowed to continue.The footage already shot could even be kept for the series, which was becoming disturbingly realistic.

Filming resumed today after only a brief interruption.Fortunately, Tom Swan did not appear in any of the remaining episodes, so his loss, tragic as it was, did not force any major changes to the script.The producers were still debating whether to keep the final shots showing him emerging from the water, his body covered with moray eels clinging to his flesh.Today, I was scheduled to be arrested by Emperor Nero because I was unable to protect him from a slave who tried to kill him

TIMATHEOS

I still couldn't believe it.Who could have imagined such a cruel end for Tom? Who was trying to sabotage this production?I had plenty of enemies, but I couldn't think of one who would go to such extreme lengths just to ruin my reputation.Today, I only had a small scene to shoot.I was supposed to witness Lucas's arrest by Emperor Nero.His final scene would be his duel with me......and his scripted death at my hands.

BIG LUCAS

The atmosphere was tense. On the soundstage, everyone eyed one another with suspicion. No one spoke much, wondering who could have orchestrated such a cruel death for Tom.Today's scene was a short one. A slave was supposed to rush toward Nero and try to stab him with a dagger. Timatheos was meant to stop him before the blade reached the emperor. I, playing Tigellinus, would then be accused of failing to protect my sovereign in time. Nero would order my arrest.

Everything was ready.The clapperboard snapped."Action!" The extras laughed and feasted during the imperial banquet. I stood beside the emperor while musicians played in the background.A servant approached carrying a silver goblet. He slowly climbed the marble steps toward Nero.Suddenly, a dagger appeared in his hand.Timatheos lunged forward. But the slave had just enough time to drive the blade into the emperor's chest. The knife sank in as though it were cutting through butter."Cut! Cut!"

The director exploded with rage."That's not how the scene goes! Timatheos, you were too slow!"Then someone screamed.Blood was pouring from the English actor's chest. The prop dagger—with its retractable blade—had somehow been replaced by a real one.A second murder had just been committed.

ROME  CINECITTA DAY 5

GIAN FRANCO VALERIAN

Three days.Three days wasted.Three days during which the Italian police questioned everyone, searched every soundstage, every dressing room, every prop warehouse.The poor extra who had played the slave was even arrested for a while.The investigators wanted to know why he had driven the dagger into the actor's chest. It wasn't what the original script called for.Fortunately, he was able to justify his actions by producing a production memo he had received that very morning. It informed him that the scene had been rewritten. Instead of merely threatening Nero, he was now supposed to stab the emperor in the chest before being cut down by Timatheos.No one knew who had issued the memo. He was the only actor who had received it.

I was beginning to question my involvement in the project. Someone was manipulating us from the shadows, and two people were already dead.Fortunately, my connections had helped speed up the investigation, and this morning filming resumed.I was worried about Lucas's safety.The day's work unfolded exactly as planned.A new actor had been hired to play Nero. The production's priority was to reshoot the assassination scene.This time, the dagger was inspected repeatedly by the prop master, the stunt coordinator, and the assistant director before filming began.Everything went exactly according to plan.

BIG LUCAS

My arrest scene had gone exactly as planned.To make up for the lost time, several scenes were filmed that day. Spiculus—better known as Timatheos—appeared in every one of them. He really was a terrible actor, but his physique more than made up for his lack of talent.I was free until five o'clock, when we were scheduled to film my duel with Timatheos—my character's death scene.Cinecittà had a fully equipped gym, and with Gian Franco having left the studio to welcome a Caravaggio specialist—his family owned several of the master's paintings—I decided to spend the afternoon training my chest.I had just finished my workout. Sweat streamed down my body as I stood in front of the mirror, flexing and assessing the results of the session.Then a voice called my name from behind.I turned around.

Two men stood in the doorway, both wearing tank tops. I had never seen them anywhere on the set. Judging by their physiques, I assumed they had been cast as gladiators for the final arena sequence, in which Spiculus fights to prove he is the greatest warrior in Rome.One of them smirked."So you're the faggot who's getting fucked by his prince?"

THIMATEOS

I had several scenes to shoot.My dialogue was simple enough, and the scenes were mostly physical: a love scene with Poppea Nero’s wife, a fight in the underworld beneath an arena, and finally, that evening, the duel with Lucas—assuming he was still capable of fighting by then.After the previous murders, I had understood that I had to tread carefully. I could no longer attack that bastard directly without risking suspicion.So I had asked a few friends to help me.Right now, they were supposed to be taking care of my problem.

BIG LUCAS

I frowned."I don't think we've met."The taller of the two men stepped into the gym. His shoulders seemed almost as broad as the doorway, and his tank top strained to contain muscles forged by years of brutal training."No," he sneered. "But we've heard a lot about you."The second man quietly moved to one side, cutting off my only exit.I understood immediately.This wasn't a chance encounter.They had come for me.I calmly picked up my towel and draped it over my shoulder."If you're looking for the gym, you've found it."The first man burst out laughing."No. We're looking for the prince's little faggot."I smiled."You've found him."

Without the slightest warning, the giant lunged at me, reaching for my throat. I reacted on pure instinct.My hand shot between his legs, crushing his massive balls in an iron grip.With a howl of pain, he released my throat and instinctively reached down to free himself. At the same time, I seized his wrist with my other hand and hurled him into a squat rack.The steel frame shuddered.Heavy weight plates crashed onto the floor with a deafening clang.The second man charged.A powerful right hook whistled toward my face.I ducked just in time.His punch slammed into a hanging heavy bag, sending it swinging violently.I drove my shoulder hard into his ribs.The impact knocked the wind out of him.Before he could recover, I wrapped my arms around his waist and threw him over a bench press station.The bench toppled over in a metallic crash.

The first man was already back on his feet. This time he didn't say a word.He came straight at me like a raging bull.I stood my ground and smashed my forearm into the center of his chest.He was thrown backward into a dumbbell rack.Dumbbells rolled across the floor in every direction.One thirty-five-kilogram dumbbell stopped at my feet.With a mocking grin, I picked it up with one hand and swung it sideways into his face. I saw with pleasure his nose brake, some teeth fly away and blood dripping down on his chest.He let out a pitiful whimper before collapsing onto his side.The second attacker came at me again.

This time, he wrapped both arms around me from behind, trying to pin my arms.I drove the back of my head violently into his face.His grip loosened instantly.I spun around, grabbed his arm, and used a powerful hip throw to slam him onto the mats. I lay there, stunned, struggling to catch his breath.To finish the fight, I drove my fist deep into his solar plexus.Then I grabbed him by the hair, forced him back onto his feet, and hurled him straight into the large mirror.The glass exploded into thousands of pieces.He slowly slid to the floor, coughing, covered in shattered glass, unable to get back up.Silence settled over the gym.Sweat streamed down my chest.Around me lay overturned benches, scattered dumbbells, and two mountains of muscle that were no longer a threat.I picked up my tank top and slipped it back on without the slightest hurry.Looking at them one last time, I said,"If Timatheos sent you, tell him he's going to have to do a lot better than this."Then I walked out of the gym without looking back.

TIMATHEOS

I arrived on the set for the fight scene.I was relaxed.The fight choreography was already planned. We had never rehearsed it together, but we have the whole evening to make it perfect.Besides, nothing was set in stone yet.Accidents happen so easily.Time passed.Ten minutes.Then twenty.Still no sign of Lucas.I smiled to myself.The bastard never stood a chance against those two mountains of muscle.The director began to lose his patience.I walked over to him."I hope another tragedy hasn't happened," I said with a faint smile.

BIG LUCAS

I was drenched in sweat, stinking like the canals of Venice in the middle of a summer heatwave.I asked the costume designer to wait a few minutes so I could freshen up first.She looked at her watch."We're already behind schedule.""I promise," I replied. "I'll be quick."When we finally arrived on the soundstage, everyone looked tense."I'm sorry I'm late," I said. "There was an incident beyond my control." I looked straight at Timatheos.His face was as white as snow. He couldn't hide his disappointment—or his anger.

The prop crew fastened heavy chains around my wrists and ankles.The makeup artists covered my body with dirt, bruises, and fake wounds to make it look as though I had spent weeks imprisoned in a filthy dungeon.I wore nothing but a tattered red cotton loincloth.Silence fell across the set.The first assistant director raised the clapperboard."Scene 30, Take 1... Action!"

TIMATHEOS

The moment I saw him walk onto the set, my blood boiled.This couldn't be happening.I couldn't understand how he was standing there in one piece.Not a bruise.Not a scratch.Damn it. The two guys I sent after him were among the toughest men I knew. They should have destroyed him—broken his fingers, smashed that pretty prince's face, and sent him to the hospital for weeks, unable to eat anything without a straw.A month later, there would have been no muscles left......and no prince.But here he was.Smiling.And he knew.He knew I was the one who had sent those two muscleheads after him.I had no choice but to pretend everything was normal.

But during this fight...I'd find a way to make him pay for this latest humiliation.

BIG LUCAS

I looked absolutely miserable with all that makeup on. Dirt, bruises, fake wounds... I looked like a man who had spent weeks rotting in a dungeon.But beneath the makeup, my muscles trembled, ready for a fight.The script called for my death.Yet my instincts were leading me toward a very different ending.Or rather...Toward his ending.By now, I was convinced Timatheos was responsible for the two murders.The production itself seemed cursed, just like people used to say about The Exorcist.

A costume designer had recently been found dead in her apartment. The police ruled it a suicide. Yet she had worked exclusively with Timatheos. A few days earlier, she had made the mistake of commenting on his physique, asking whether he wanted her to pad his costume to make his pectoral muscles appear larger on screen.He had taken it as an insult.His anger had poisoned the set for days afterward.Then one of the lighting technicians had fallen from a ladder, breaking both an arm and a leg. He too had recently argued with Timatheos after accidentally shining a spotlight into his face during one of his love scenes with Nero's wife.If Timatheos really was behind those deaths and attacks...I knew I was next on his list.

The writers had planned an intimate scene between Spiculus and Telligus.The purpose of the scene was to reveal the attraction the gladiator felt for the Praetorian commander while increasing the tension between them, since Telligus rejected his advances.It wasn't an easy scene to play.Nothing about that steroid-filled bastard appealed to me. He was swollen with self-importance and about as deep as a cracked jug.But actors don't get to choose their scene partners.

The scene began with me standing before Nero, who informed me that I would be given one final chance either to survive or to die with honor by facing Spiculus in the arena.The following day, in the Colosseum, I would become his opponent in a fight to the death.hat was the moment when Spiculus was supposed to appear in my prison, confess his attraction to me, and offer me a chance to escape. Deep inside...My own reaction was nothing like the one the script had planned.

TIMATHEOS

The director was nowhere to be found.His assistant kept calling his cell phone, but every call went straight to voicemail.Night was beginning to fall, and the crew was growing nervous. Their contracts stated that they could not work past six o'clock in the evening unless they were paid double.I killed time trying to picture my fight with Lucas, mentally replaying the choreography and, little by little, forgetting the script.After more than two hours of waiting, the decision was finally made to postpone both the intimate scene and the fight until the following day.I found it deeply unsettling.The director was famous for his discipline and professionalism.He would never have abandoned two scenes that were so crucial to the production.

ROME – CINECITTÀ – DAY 6

TIMATHEOS 

The assistant director looked nervou .He wanted to stay on schedule, but had to wait the return of the director.I walked over to him."I have an idea," I said. "Lucas and I have never rehearsed the prison scene. If we do it now, you'll get real emotions."He smiled."I like that.""Leave every camera running."He nodded."All cameras stay on." Eight cameras. One inside the cell. Two outside the bars.A crane above the prison.Everything would be filmed.The crew slowly left the set.Only Lucas and I remained inside the Roman prison.The heavy iron door closed behind me.Its sound echoed through the stone corridor.Exactly like a real dungeon.

BIG LUCAS

The chains were heavier than I expected. Cold iron bit into my wrists and ankles.The makeup artists had covered my body with dirt, fake bruises and dried blood.I wore nothing except my torn red loincloth.Water dripped somewhere in the darkness.Torches flickered against the stone walls. Eight cameras watched from every corner.Timatheos entered.He closed the iron door himself.His smile didn't belong to him.It belonged to Spicilus. Something was wrong.

TIMATHEOS

I picked up the oak staff lying on the prop table.Far heavier than the foam version used during rehearsals.Lucas looked at me without speaking.I walked around him slowly.Like a lion studying wounded prey."You've been causing me problems," I whispered.He didn't answer.Good.The first blow landed across his ribs.The sound echoed through the prison.Wood against muscle.He grunted but stayed silent.The second strike hit his shoulder.The third smashed into his stomach.I smiled.The cameras loved pain

BIG LUCAS

The first hit stole my breath.The second made my shoulders burn.The third folded me forward as far as the chains allowed.I tasted blood.My wrists burned against the iron.Timatheos came closer.His breath smelled of gin.His body smelled of sweat and olive oil."You should have stayed in France," he whispered."Gian Franco can't save you."I raised my head."You killed them."His smile disappeared.For a second I saw pure hatred.

TIMATHEOS

"So you finally understand."I struck him again.Harder."You stole everything.he role."he attention.The prince.""ou don't belong here." I drove the staff into his chest.He gasped.Perfect.The cameras were recording every second.No one would ever believe this wasn't acting.

BIG LUCAS

Every muscle hurt.My arms trembled. Then I looked at the chains.The rings holding them to the wall were olReal iron.Old stone.Not designed for a man like me.I filled my lungs.Every muscle in my back tightenedMy shoulders swelled.The chains groaned.Timatheos laughed.Then his smile vanished.

TIMATHEOS

Impossible.The wall cracked.Stone dust fell from the ceiling.The iron rings moved."No..."Lucas pulled again.The sound filled the prison.CRACK.The first ring tore out of the wall.Then the second.Stone exploded across the floor.He wasn't free because the chains had broken.He was free because he had ripped the prison apart.

BIG LUCAS

The weight disappeared from my arms.The chains still hung from my wrists.But they no longer held me.Timatheos stepped backward.For the first time...I saw fear.Real fear.He swung the staff at my head.I caught it with both hands.Our muscles tightened.Neither of us moved.Then I twisted.The wood snapped in two.His eyes widened.I drove my shoulder into his chest.He crashed into the prison wall.Dust covered his body.

TIMATHEOS

His fist crashed into my stomach.Air exploded from my lungs.Another blow. Followed by another.The cameras kept filming.I tried to fight back.Nothing worked.The world spun.The last thing I saw was Lucas standing over me.The broken oak staff in his hand.Then darkness.

BIG LUCAS

I looked down at him.One more blow would kill him.Instead...I dropped the broken staff."I don't kill helpless men," I said quietly.I stepped over his unconscious body.The cameras were still recording.Outside, nobody knew that the rehearsal had become real.I opened the iron door.The bright studio lights blinded me. I  asked for some water. On crew member gave me a bottle. I tasted bitter but I needed to refresh myself. I still had one fight left to survive.The arena.

TIMATHEOS

The new director was nothing like the old one.He had been hired only that morning after the first director had mysteriously disappeared.He knew nothing about the tension between Lucas and me.He only wanted one thing."Keep every camera rolling."Eight cameras.Two cranes.One Steadicam.A drone flying above the arena.Nothing would be missed.Perfect. Lucas was already drugged.He would never survive.

BIG LUCAS

My legs felt heavy.Every muscle seemed filled with water instead of blood.Even breathing required an effort.The makeup artists covered my body with dirt and bruises.The costume designer tied the leather straps around my wrists.Then Nero walked toward me.According to the script, he looked at me with pity."You have fought bravely, Telligus."He took Spiculus's sword away.Then he handed me a rudis.A wooden training sword. The symbol of a man already condemned.The crowd of extras applauded. Thousands of people.None of them knew that one sword on this set was real.

TIMATHEOS

Nobody noticed when I switched swords. The prop gladius disappeared beneath my cloak.The real one rested perfectly in my hand.Cold,heavy,qharp.exactly as a Roman sword should feel.Lucas looked exhausted.His blond hair was wet with sweat.His chest rose slowly.His muscles were still magnificent...but they had lost their speed.The poison had done its work.

BIG LUCAS

The first assistant director raised the clapperboard."Episode Six.Scene Forty-Eight.Take One. Action!"The arena exploded with noise.Thousands of extras shouted my death.Dust floated through the hot Roman air. The cameras circled around us. Spiculus smiled. He wanted me dead.

TIMATHEOS

The choreography lasted only a few seconds.After that...I ignored it.Each blow became real.Steel crashed against wood.The vibration travelled through my arms.Lucas barely managed to block.He staggered backward.Perfect.The director shouted from behind the monitors."Excellent! Keep going!"He believed he was filming genius.He was filming murder.

BIG LUCAS

The wooden sword felt incredibly heavy Every impact numbed my hands. I could smell Timatheos.Sweat.A trace of gin.His muscles shone under the studio lights.Every vein stood out across his arms and shoulders.He wasn't acting anymore.He was trying to kill me.I kept retreating.One step.Another.My vision. was blured. The sand moved beneath my feet.

TIMATHEOS

Enough.No more acting.I raised the real gladius above my head.One strike.Straight through his neck.The audience would think it was special effects.The cameras would record everything.By the time anyone understood...it would be too late.I charged.

BIG LUCAS

I could barely lift my arms.I planted the wooden sword into the sand.Not to fight.Only to help myself stand.The blade came down.I moved by instinct.Nothing more.Just one step sideways.

TIMATHEOS

He wasn't where he should have been.My foot slipped in the loose sand.My whole body kept moving forward.Too fast. I tried to stop.Impossible.The broken wooden rudis was standing upright. Its splintered point struck beneath my ribs.Then everything stopped.For a second...I thought it was still part of the scene.Then I felt the wood inside my chest.Warm blood filled my mouth.I looked at Lucas.He hadn't attacked.I had killed myself.

BIG LUCAS

Timatheos stood frozen.His eyes were wide.The wooden sword had disappeared deep into his chest.Nobody moved.The cameras continued filming.The director smiled."Beautiful!""Keep rolling! Then Timatheos coughed.Real blood flowed over his stomach.His knees gave way.He collapsed into the sand.Only then did somebody scream.The illusion ended.The arena became a crime scene.

GIAN FRANCO VALERIAN

I reached Lucas just as he collapsed.His body was burning with fever.His breathing was slow.His skin smelled of sweat and dust.I held him tightly."Stay with me."His eyes opened for only a second.Then they closed again.The police sealed the set.Every camera had continued recording.Every second existed.Every movement.Every look.Every attempted murder.

TWO DAYS LATER

GIAN FRANCO VALERIAN

The first director was still missing.Someone suggested searching the real Colosseum.It made no sense. .Deep beneath the arena...inside the ancient underground galleries...the smell reached us first.Then we found him.He had been stripped naked.His abdomen had been cut open exactly like the execution of certain Roman criminals.His body had been arranged in the center of the passage.Beside him lay the original screenplay.Every page was covered with handwritten corrections.Not by the director.By Timatheos.One sentence had been written across the final page in blood.

ROME DOES NOT PRETEND.

The police closed the investigation. Timatheos had murdered the actors.The costume designer. The lighting technician.The director.He had believed he wasn't making a television series.He believed he was Spiculus.Everyone who failed to respect Ancient Rome deserved to die.Everyone except Lucas.Lucas was different.He was the only man who truly knew Rome.The only rival worthy of facing him.In Timatheos's mind..Only one of them could leave the arena alive.

THE END

Published: 2026-06-29, viewed 76 times.