A/N: Is there anyone interested in partnering up to create like a chaptered fic? I prefer au type fics and I have ideas we can work with. It just. I cry. I want to write and be good at writing but *screams*
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“I’m a champion of the people who don’t believe in champions.” - “Champion (Remix),” Fall Out Boy, RM
With his ears ringing, he smells and tastes the sharp iron and copper taste of blood, although he’s not sure if it’s his own at this point. He isn’t sure when it happened but he blacked out and, now that he’s awake, he’s coughing. It’s his own blood that’s surrounding him.
Trying to move hurts more than he’d like to admit, and he’s not allowed to admit it. It means nothing to the ones around him. He means nothing to those around him.
He hates this game but he knows that the only way to survive is to play along and not give in. If his opponent doesn’t kill him, his superiors will and he’s not ready to die.
Born to fight, it’s all he knows, and he doesn’t give in.
A few more rounds of coughing and wiping the blood from his lips with the back of his hand and he’s on his feet. His vision is blurry for a moment thanks to the collision his head had with the ground but he clutches his hands into fists at his sides.
He never gives up that easily.
His features are soft, despite his age, and despite how wrecked he looks, covered in soot, blood, and dirt. His height and build are perfect to play, one big reason why he’s so cherished in these battles. His shoulders aren’t that broad but they’re just broad enough and his muscles aren’t all that noticeable but they’re hard to miss when his body is in motion. From head to toe, he’s built thick and strong, like a young ox. He’s dangerous. Very dangerous.
He smirks and he notes the fear in his opponent’s eyes.
That look on his face spells death for his opponent. Anyone and everyone knows this.
He charges forward and it’s as if he hadn’t taken any injuries at all. He doesn’t feel a thing and doesn’t see anything but his target. He gets his fingers around their throat and hears their plea for mercy. It almost goes unheard with the way his pulse is pounding against his ears.
“Wouldn’t it be better for us both to die?”
He asks and his opponent’s eyes widen in terror, shaking his head weakly, not that there’s much else that he can do besides that.
“I’m too close to escape. Please.”
Escape. Escape?
Is there a such thing as escape?
“I’ll even take you with me.”
He grip falters. He’s learned to read people after all this time. He’s had nothing else to really do over all of these years. Whoever this other kid is, he’s telling the truth. He has a way out.
“I want out.”
He pleads, eyes narrowing as a warning that the other better not be lying. The other freezes for a moment, not out of fear. He’s contemplating something apparently.
There were cheers before but now there’s nothing but screaming.
“Now’s our chance.”
He releases his grip at the words and pulls back, eyes finally taking in the ring and how everyone standing just outside the ring is covered in currents of green electricity.
All but handful of them.
“I’d rather not kill them directly. Can we get out of here?”
The voice comes from someone that hasn’t been affected. He soon finds himself following after that voice. He isn’t sure how long he’s run before he blacks out but there’s only one thing on his mind:
I’ve escaped.
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