Fourth entry for the Songchallenge, this time inspired by 3 Doors Down's Dangerous Game, and I'm so very satisfied with this!

Enjoy!

Emil wiped the blood off his face, listened as the person infront of him took their last gurgling breaths. Around him the crowd cheered and he knelt, traced his fingers over the body to inspect the damages he had caused them. The clothes had burned, fused with the skin beneath. Emil's opening move had done its job this time as well. Emil found the neck, covered in blood, and his thumb located the first bullet wound, his index fingers the third and second. Emil wiped blood and tears from his face before continuing, closing the other's mouth and eyes.

"Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for our reigning champion: Emil Västerström!"

The crowed roared again and Emil stood up, looked towards the crowd with eyes that could no longer see, slowly blinded by his own flashbombs and eventually completely destroyed by a knife five weeks ago. He heard the crowd roar from the other arena as well and picked up his weapon, went back to his corner and started cleaning the weapon, his fingers memorizing every part of it, had already memorized each dent in it. He put the weapon down, pulled off his coat to inspect the damages he had recieved during the fight.

A broken rib, a couple of cuts and some bruises. A bullet had grazed the side of his forehead. Nothing he couldn't handle. Something slimy crawled over the floor, approached him slowly, but he didn't move. Tentacles grabbed around him, smelly goo was applied over his bleeding wounds and then the creature disappeared again. Emil let out a sigh, reloaded his gun and put his coat on again. His hand traced the front side of his coat, where he stored his specially prepared weapons. He was out of flashbombs and he only had one smokebomb and one grenade left. He had to make them count.

He heard the door on the other side of the arena open up, tried to hear the steps of the other person entering to determine who it was and what strategy to use, but the crowd cheered louder than before and the steps drowned in the sound.

"Next round will start in five minutes!"

Emil stood up, grabbed his gun and put his energy-infused dagger in its sheath. He heard light steps as the other person got ready and he froze, recognized those footsteps. Emil's weapon fell to the floor, he started running towards the steps but two metal rods hit his chest and he stopped.

"Return to your corner, Champion."

The voice was hard, stern, and Emil wanted to disobey, but clenched his fists and returned. He couldn't take them out anyway, he had tried before. He found his gun, held it close and turned around, raised a hand to his opponent. The other froze, Emil heard his sudden stop, his gasp when he saw and maybe even recognized Emil.

"Ladies and gentlemen, return to your seat. The next match will start in ten, nine, eight..."

Emil threw the gun over his shoulder, stepped into the ring. The floor behind him became electrified and the sounds from the crowd died out as a protective field raised above Emil and his opponent. There were no sounds from the other person and Emil's hand reached for the modified smokebomb, grabbed it. He heard light steps to his right and he threw the smokebomb, lifted his arms to shield himself from the flames he had added to it. No one froze in the smoke that appeared, because every moment you stood still was a moment you were a target and Emil used that. His hearing had always been exceptional, had gotten even better since he started losing his sight, and he could locate his opponent by the sound of their steps.

This time there were no steps. Emil pulled his gun down, listened intensly. He heard soft words to his left, a voice that tugged at his heartstrings, and he took a better grip around the gun, started running in the other direction. Something appeared beside him, wrapped around him. Emil grabbed his knife, cut through the woodlike thing. A jolt of electricity rushed from the knife, went through the thing, went through Emil's body and he hit the ground, laid motionless for two agonizing seconds as his body tried to get rid of the electricity. Steps, and Emil forced himself to continue, he threw his remaining grenade towards the steps, rolled in the other direction and got up, but was thrown to the ground by the shockwave. His ears rang and he covered them with his hands, got back up and shook his head. He removed his hands, listened closely over the ringing in his ears. Soft, angry words in a language he had heard long ago, a language he had never managed to learn. His heart skipped a beat.

Emil fell to his knees, his fists hit the ground and he screamed. The voice died out, he heard steps again and reached for the gun, only to discover that he had dropped it. The light footsteps were coming closer and he turned his head around, tried to locate the source, tried to figure out where he dropped his gun. The steps stopped, Emil judged it to be five meters infront of him. His gun was two rolls to the right, he was certain, and he lifted his head, faced his opponent. He didn't need to see to know that two light-gray eyes were looking at him. He remembered them, had dreamt of them.

The crowd started roaring again, the protective field around them slowly going down. Emil darted to the right, his opponent ran to the other right, and then the sounds from the crowd disappeared again. They had been spared from the Executioner this time and Emil's feet found the gun, kicked it infront of him. He rolled, grabbed it, turned around and heard a gun clicking in his direction.

Silence.

Emil's finger rested on the trigger, his opponent breathed in short, quick breaths and Emil tried to calm his own beating heart.

"So this is how it ends", he said.

His voice shook, the other didn't answer, but Emil knew he was there, could still hear his breaths, could hear him sobbing.

"I'm sorry it came to this."

Simultaneously both men lifted their guns, gunfire echoed over the arena, together with a scream, a cry. Emil's body hit the floor, he felt his shirt getting wet, didn't lift his hand to confirm what he already knew. The other man approached him, knelt beside him and thin hands pulled at his coat, pressed against the wound in his chest, tried to cover the wound in his stomach. Emil lifted his hand, placed it on the other's arm, traced it and stopped on the other's cheek. Bloody hands grabbed Emil's hand, pressed it closer to the cheek and Emil could feel water, gently moved his thumb to dry it off, but his hand fell.

"Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for our new champion:"

Emil's chest rose and sank one last time, a thin, bloody hand closed his eyes and the other man got up again, looked at the crowd.

"Lalli Hotakainen!"