A Game of Hooligans, Played by Gentlemen

by Corralero

This is no sport,' Heero said slowly. 'This is legalised violence.’ Watching a battle from the outside in is a terrible thing, nearly being involved is even worse.

So, I'm back, with a few more tales to tale and a few more chapters of Dickensian Streets done. I hope you didn't miss me too much!

A very short little peice, for my own entertainment. I will write a story for any non-English person who works out what I'm talking about before the end lines!

A Game for Hooligan, Played By Gentlemen

It was a savage battle, revealing the raw and brutal bestiality of men. The conflict raged over exposed, churned up ground, the clear, short, crisp winter air rent with roared commands and cries of encouragement:

'Come on, lads!'

'Up as a line!'

'Attack!'

'Look left! To the left!'

'One, two, three…engage!'

The wounded lay, bloodied and bruised, on the ground, groaning in pain as brave field medics risked the fray to reach them. The battle went on regardless. In persuit of victory, there was no time for those that fell behind...

They were watching, for once not fighting, secure behind the safety of a white line, mouths open in horror, eyes glazed as they watched the carnage.

'By Allah,' the words slipped from Quatre's lips, half exclamation, and half prayer.

A whistle pierced the air, calling a peace. The combatants broke off from engagement, nodding to one another with surprising amicability as they gathered around their bag of orange quarters, panted breath curling and clouding the air.

Heero turned slowly to look at the others.

'This is no sport. This is legalised violence.'

Wufei nodded in frowning agreement.

'I have never seen such savagery amongst men.'

Duo, fidgeting under the regard of curious dog-owning spectators, jumped slightly as he caught the accusing glare of his friends and spread his hands in appeal.

'Hey, guys…c'mon…they said it would be good.'

'We were nearly sent out there,' Wufei snarled.

'It is nothing like basketball,' Heero noted.

'Well, it does have a ball,' Trowa noted absently, his one visible eye still warily watching the nearest team in case they changed their minds and attacked.

'An egg shaped one!'

'This would have been an dangerous risk,' Quatre said. 'We could have been seriously injured, even killed.'

'Hey!' A muddied player detached himself from his team and jogged over. A tall, broad boy who Duo had befriended at their latest school, Matthew Tait towered over the slighter terrorists. He grinned down at them.

'So, enjoying your first match?'

The End

A Rather Belated Dedication to an Impressive Effort

2nd in the World Cup and Six Nations

Well Done, Lads!

Swing Low, Sweet Chariot!