A/N: This is my first multi-chapter story that I am EVER attempting to post. And, I would like to that Writeronaroll, Dondena and TheUltimatesonicfangirl for the encouragement on my last poem! And if you like this or think I should continue this let me know!
*Disclaimer: I do not own TMNT
I stand here in the middle of the arena undefeated. My face is a mask of gore covered with my opponents blood, the blood of those who have stood in my way. I don't know my name and I don't remember where I am from all I know is that I live in a world of one rule. And that is too kill or be killed.
I am now known as The Survivor here. I don't make friends. And, I don't talk to the others. I go, I kill, I conquer. I am the most feared of all out of all the men here. They know that in due time they will have to face me and when they do, death will fall upon them.
All they have to do is announce that I am "performing" as they like to call it, in the arena that day and the bets instantly triple.
Barbaric men look at me with a hunger that I have never seen before a lust in there eyes to have me as a prized possession and I blanch, grateful that I am tied to this arena. Many have tried to buy me but without me here there is no champion. I woke up exactly 6 months ago in the back of a vehicle tied to a chain post with a collar around my neck. On me there were two swords on my back and I had knee and elbow pads and a sash around my waist. But anything else that could have been on me was either tossed or taken away.
The worst part for me though I guess you could say was that I have no memory of anything before that sometimes I see flashbacks but its not that often and something has to trigger them. The usual ones are of a rat. A girl with red hair. A bulky man. And, these other... turtles... that look similar to me. But, I don't know anything about them. The minute I stepped out of the vehicle though all of those thoughts left me. Not like it mattered because it didn't matter. The only thing that has mattered since that day was to focus. Because I was fighting. I was fighting for my life.
I didn't even know that I knew how to fight. I was thrown into the arena the first time with wide eyes and no clue what to do. The only thing that I knew what there was a man in front of me holding a spear. He charged at me with the point ready to pierce my upper torso, but pure reflex had me block it. And, before I knew what I was doing or how I was doing it. I had defeated him. Decapitated his head from his body. The first time the crowd went silent. And from there they same me as what I am. A threat. From there, I built a new name for myself.
But, I know that someone out there I have a family, a family that could help me and tell mew who I am, and it is not here. Here, I am kept in a cage with 40 other men. I am the only one who is not of the human race. They are afraid of me. Good. My "Keeper" is a man who is in late 40's who enjoys whipping us on a constant basis if we do not perform well or we cause him to lose money or both. Lucky for me it only happened once. He doesn't care all that much about us fighters rather on his customer wages than keeping his fighters healthy and well nourished. We are treated as mere beasts thrown into this place for others pleasure.
I hope one day to escape from this hell hole, but until then I hope to just keep fighting to stay alive.