Where to Draw the Line
Sitting down on the couch, in the luxurious suite of my hotel room, I look down at my bloodstained hands through eyes of scorn. In reality the appendages are spotless, but despite all of the soap and water and washing...I could still feel the Comrade's thick, sticky vital fluids on my hands as if they are still there.
They even still smell of blood!
What are you doing?! Finish him!
Even now, I can't believe what I've done...or try to do, anyway. It's not that I haven't done it before, but...with Blocks, it had been the only way to win. I didn't have time to think of a better alternative. I had an excuse.
Today, I had just been caught in the moment. It was like a rush, a high, maybe. And I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the crowd's collective cheers and screams of horror. I basked in the frightened and pained look in my enemy's eyes. I reveled in it, in all of it.
What am I becoming?
From word of mouth and my own dreadful past I can recall an extremely sadistic streak in my father. The old man was known for many wonderful and honorable things...but also for those equally or even more horrible. When I had run away from that hellhole I vowed never to be like him. Ever.
Now, when I look into the mirror it is him I see. Not me.
Even my golden eyes appear crimson in my own reflection.
What have I already become?
If it's any consolation at all...I didn't go into the match intending to do any of those things... Truly, I didn't. I intended to stop, after Big Ben Bash was executed. Lord Flash wanted me to give my next opponent, that ignorant buffoon Kid Muscle, a taste of what would be in store for his future. I didn't want to, initially, but I obeyed anyway. It seemed like a perfectly good idea at the time, and I'll bet the look on that wimp's face was priceless!
But...when did it go too far? When was the line between a simple warning and an act of sadism crossed? Was it in the beginning, when I heard the sickening crack of the Comrade's metallic arms breaking and severing from his battered body? Was it afterwards, when I hurled the poor bloke off of the sky cube ring and down to the world below? Where do I even draw the line? I don't know.
I still don't know.
"Kevin?" My trainer's voice breaks my train of thought and I glance over my shoulder to see him standing there. Upon looking into my eyes he comes closer and sits down at the edge of the couch. "You seemed troubled, Comrade. What ails you?"
I pause for a moment, unsure of how to form the question. For that second, I worry that I may come across as weak. Despite his lies in regards to his identity...I still care for him and his opinion matters more to me than it probably should.
Maybe that's why I had destroyed Turbinsky so completely...maybe it wasn't to scare Mantaro as much as it was to show off my skills to Croe. To prove to him that his decision to train and befriend me had been the right one. Yet...when did I start to care what anyone thought of me?
"Did we go too far?" The question sounds so stupid in my own ears; I wish I could simply take it back. Sometimes silence was the best choice of words.
I can feel Croe's hand on my back, even as I look back down at the invisible blood on my hands.
"You feel remorseful?" He asks. Without waiting for an answer, his hand drifts to my shoulder and he pulls me back so that I'm leaning against him. I don't mind. I enjoy the warmth of his body heat, the security of his embrace. Had anyone else seen me, they likely would die. One would never think that someone as cold and ruthless as I am would ever yearn for the touch of another.
Heh, people can be such fools.
"No...not entirely," and it is the truth, as frightening as it sounds to even my own ears. Had I the chance to do it all over again, I don't think anything would have changed. I still would have cracked the Comrade's mechanical shell like a tin can, still would have hurled him to certain death below, still would have reveled in all of it.
I think it's that knowledge that scares me.
Lord Flash nods, as if in understanding. "I think what you're experiencing is a feeling many great chojin do from time to time, Comrade. Everyone has a dark side, and at times wrestling can compel you to draw from it. It can be hard, to embrace something that society bans so completely-"
"I care not for society," I say more coldly than I intend.
"I know, but you cannot be unaffected by it. It is impossible," Croe's words made sense. A lot of sense. "When one gets into chojin wrestling, he is taught from the very beginning that this is not a gentle field. There is nothing to stop an opponent from maiming or even killing the opposition, whether or not the match has ended. In order not to be the prey, one must be the predator. To be the best, Kevin, you must crush all opponents and use them as warning for future enemies! It sounds harsh, I know, but that is simply the way life is."
"You're right," I conclude.
"Good," He says, his voice warm with approval. "Worry about this no further. You have a match coming up soon with Kid Muscle. Although he seems to lack on the intelligence and seriousness factor, he makes up with it by sheer will and his relation to his friends. He won't be as easy as he looks, and underestimating him could be your downfall. This is the Chojin Crown Tournament Finals, the match that you have been waiting for, the chance to step out of your father's shadow and show the world that you are unstoppable!"
"Yes!" I say, clenching my hands into fists. Lord Flash always had a knack for stoking the fire of my will, a way of destroying any of my doubt and lingering second thoughts. "The glory will be mine!"
Releasing his hold on me, Croe stands up. "Come, we must head to the gym and continue your training right away. We don't have much time to spare before the match and every second is crucial!"
Nodding in agreement, I make my way with him to the front door. However, as I pass by the mirror, I glance at it to see golden eyes, tinged slightly with crimson, staring back at me.
I blink and it's gone.
Author's Notes: This fic was more of a little vignette, to try to stoke my fan fiction writing fire again. It's been over a month since I've written any form of fan fiction and before I tackle any of my big monsters I wanted to make sure that I've still got it. This could possibly be linked to "No Need For Words," however it is not intended to. I think both Kevin and Croe's mindsets and personalities are slightly different in this fic, as well as their overall goals and needs. I'll let you be the judge.