Private - Gladiator -2002- May 2026

“What do you want?” Marcus’s hand rested on the knife in his boot.

Lucius opened a crate. Inside, nestled in foam, was not a vase or a statue. It was a gladius —a short sword, its steel impossibly bright, its hilt carved with a wolf’s head. Beside it lay a bronze helmet with a scratched, silver visor.

Philippi. That was the codename for the failed op. Private - Gladiator -2002-

Marcus stared at the gladius. “You want me to go in there? A US Army private, fighting a corrupt officer in a billionaire’s blood sport?”

The crowd gasped.

Marcus went. Not for glory, but for answers.

Decimus emerged from a steam-filled door. He wore a muscle cuirass over his dress uniform trousers, a centurion’s plume on his head. He held a modern K-bar in one hand and an ancient gladius in the other. The crowd cheered. “What do you want

“The op in Philippi wasn't about a warlord,” Lucius said. “It was about this. A cache of Imperial Roman artifacts that a certain general wanted to sell. Your squad found it. Then your traitorous captain, Decimus, killed them and blamed you. He sold the artifacts to a man named Antonius Gaius—today, he calls himself Tony Gage.”