HELP, MY TURTLE IS ON FIRE!

~The middle of the road is where the white line is-

- and that's the worst place to drive.~


Robert Frost

Chapter One: Middles.

"Sinedd! Watch out on your left!"

Artegor's nervous scream echoed in his earpiece. Out of the tail of his eye he saw a blue lightning moving at an incredible speed, heading straight for him. So fast one could barely notice it. In a spilt of second Sinedd recognized the dreadlocks, amber eyes, saw the outstretched foot bolting through the field in his direction. He saw what was incoming.

A tackle that could break his ankle. Again.

That blasted bone had seemed to become everyone's favorite kicking spot lately. It haven't even fully healed from his last Netherball fiasco and judging from last two matches against the Rykers and the Cyclops nobody was going to cut him any slack, let alone give the ankle a chance recover anytime soon. Sometimes football felt just like it had been during his old days in the orphanage, just like on the streets of the capital of Akillian, where by the law of the asphalt jungle the weak and the wounded were quickly eliminated. Sinedd hated being stuck in the same situation again, especially receiving the worse end of the survival stick. After all, he was the one with the reputation of the hardened criminal of GF, fouling whenever and whoever he pleased, not the other way around.

And yet, had Rocket been more fierce with his attack Sinedd would probably be already on his knees, fists and mouth clenched so hard they would bleed, holding back a scream of agony. Instead, he automatically leaped over the midfielder (it seemed that growing up in a gutter had blessed him not only with fleas and bad manners, but also with street-rat reflexes), passed D'Jok's girlfriend and the other defender with ease and sent the ball spinning into the net- right between that redhead's hands.

Epic win.

One hand triumphantly raised in the air, he put on his best fake smile for the cameras hoping nobody had noticed the moment of hesitation when a blinding pain shoot through his ankle. It was barely half-time and the painkillers were already giving in. Not good.

"Good work Sinedd! One more goal and you'll score a hat-trick!"

He cringed at Artegor's words. This whole 'encouragement' and 'caring' stuff didn't suit his coach and it had 'Aarch' written all over it. And a dreadful thing that was. Sinedd almost missed the old Artegor; almost because the old Artegor was heartless son of a glitch who treated him like crap, didn't care about his well-being and was more of a pain in the ass than a coach. Still, he could deal with that, he knew what to expect from the man. Now this new, improved version of Artegor had made him wary and reminded him of 'bad men' touching you in 'wrong places' caretakers in the orphanage warned him about when he was still a little kid. Artegor Nexus might have never been that sane to begin with but now he was just plainly creepy.

"Go for it Sinedd, you have da powah!"

Those stupid sunglasses and retro hairstyle also didn't improve the situation.

"Yeah, I'm just getting warmed up."

He turned away from the goal without sparing the beaten goalie a second glance. He would score against her with both legs tied, one hand fending off a giant xenon turkey, the other playing newest Starcraft game and walking his turtle in the meantime. To kick that poor what's-her-face ass six ways to Sunday was no achievement at all; to escape from Rocket's pathetic (yet dangerous) attempt at fouling was, on the other hand, absolutely sweet. Pleased with himself Sinedd headed for the midfield to get over with his playmaking part. He rarely went to the center of the pitch, never during the actual game. There was no need for that. If by some weird occurence he lost the ball he knew that it would eventually come back to him in a matter of seconds, as every Shadow passed to him, and to him only. That was the only strategy he would (could?) put up with and Artegor knew it.

Few meters from the penalty area, panting heavily, stood Rocket. His golden eyes, hidden by the mass of loose dreadlocks, were glimmering with anger, ugly scowl baring his upper teeth. A girl was standing behind him; worry has made her face look old and sad.

'That could have been a horrible foul,' thought Tia.

"That could have been a beautiful foul," said Sinedd as if he were talking about the weather, but Rocket could sense the mockery, feel it being rubbed in his face. No one else seemed to notice the brief glance they had exchanged. It had been quick, barely noticeable, irrelevant- it told Sinedd everything. He saw it in Rocket's eyes, behind those noble gold irises he saw that it was still there.

Fury. Vengeance. Netherball.

The problem with Rocket was that, although he theoretically had been freed from la Cage, he was, indeed, still trapped. Trapped between Rocket, the Midfielder and Rocket, the King of the Sphere. He was stuck in the middle, bouncing back and forth from one edge to another. No matter how desperately he tried to go back to his old, gentle self, there was no way he could stop his own violence, for the aggression was already in his heart, growing like a parasite, like a cancer threatening to strike at any moment. It was truly an untreatable sickness that would always be a part of him, no matter how hard he tried to hide it from Tia. The two of them used to be perfect together; him and her. They didn't use to hide things from each other. Now he would try his best to convince her that he was still the man she fell in love with and she would lie to herself every night believing that he indeed was back for good, pretending not to notice how he didn't hold her the way he used to. In turn he pretended not to hear her cry in the bathroom after he had made love to her. They had shared something beautiful and now it was no more. It hurt. And it was entirely Sinedd's fault.

Sinedd knew he was taking blame for Rocket's own weakness. And he was enjoying it, really. Rarely did anyone pay him so much attention. Rocket's accusations made him feel special, flattered; they made him laugh.

He could sense it in the air now, that strange aura of incoming punch-up. For a moment Sinedd was taken over by a bitter feeling of nostalgia. By the look of Rocket's eyes he could only imagine how badly the other wanted to hurt him. And it didn't take much imagination to see that Rocket wanted to do it really, really badly. 'And that would be awesome actually,' thought Sinedd, if they could just fight like a couple of animals in front of the entire Zaelion Galaxy, if they could simply tear each other apart. He liked beating shit up.

Nah.

Rocket would never do that, not in front of his parents, in front of Aarch, in front of her. The midfielder was going to simply stand there trying to find a way to activate his laser beam eyes. After all he was supposed to be on his best behavior to make everyone think that the goody-two-shoes Rocket was back. Their approval was essential form him to start living a normal (boring) life again. In other words, he didn't have the guts anymore, unfortunately. Once again, he had a good reputation to uphold, relationships to patch-up, he had something precious to lose- unlike some people.

As Sinedd passed the midfielder he raised his hand in a quick, seemingly unimportant gesture. Neither the cameras or the cybernetic referee had caught the moment when Sinedd shamelessly showed Rocket his middle finger with an unnaturally pleasant smile still plastered to his face like a mask. He had taken part in demolishing Rocket's perfect life and now all Rocket could do was to stand there and watch Sinedd laugh in his face. The extent of damage done to Rocket was just a guess for Sinedd but he was pretty sure it was big enough. Somebody's happiness was destroyed and it almost made him feel as if he were happy himself, it felt so good that for a moment he considered skipping another dose of painkillers he prepared for the other half of the game.

After a moment something moved behind him.

Sinedd's fake expression faded when he heard rushed steps approaching him. He had no need to look back to see what was happening. Shocked gasps of his Snow Kids buddies, Tia's panicked voice begging to stop, Artegor shouting at Sinedd not to do anything stupid and teleport the hell out of there.

The steps were getting closer; the energy field of the Breath was overwhelming-

I was a matter of few seconds and yet the time seemed to slow down. Sinedd closed his eyes and braced himself, collecting as much Smog as he could muster. His reflexes was sharp as that of an wild animal.

With a clenched fist raised he turned around facing the first strike.

And for once, he embraced it with genuine smile.

End.

A/N: Hello good people! First I'd like to say that english is not my native language so pardon my french for all grammar and spelling mistakes. I intend to write a series of one-shots for the fanfic100 challenge, all concentrating on Sinedd and other random GF characters. It might take a while to complete this so bear with me please.
And I don't own Galactik Football. My dog does, I'm just following orders. Really.