Tragic Hero
Please Note: Wally, his imprisonment, and Mr. Boss is partially inspired by the movie 'Unleashed' starring Jet Li. The rest of the plot was collaborated by the ideas and suggestion of its authors.
PLEASE NOTE 2: This fic was formerly a three way collaboration between blackmonday, Animation Emir, and I. Unfortunately both authors have decided not to continue and this was on blackmonday's profile. Now it's on mine and I've decided to keep the chapters as the other authors wrote them before our collaboration ended. Please read and I hope you enjoy it.
To Readers: This story is by three authors. Death's Soulmate (me), blackmonday, and Animation Emir. The prologue's by me, chapter 1 will be by blackmonday, and chapter 2 by Animation Emir. And the story will continue in that order. We all hope that you enjoy this story, which we all collaborated to write.
Blackmonday: Gack! I'm so late in putting this up! I kinda got in trouble... hehee... so I'm on probation. My apologies to Death's Soulmate, Animation Emir, and anyone else who's been waiting for this. Enjoy this most awesome work by the lovely Death's Soulmate.
Disclaimer: Codename: Kids Next Door belongs to Tom Warbuton and Cartoon Network. I'm making no profit on this work.
Prologue
The thumping of a heart.
The deep intake of breath.
Sweat dripping unto a newspapered floor.
A door not too far away opens.
Three figures walk in, one a balding brown haired man in an expensive blue suit.
The balding man smokes his cigar.
"It's time for another match D," the balding man said, "make sure to make Mr. Boss proud."
The blonde boy inside the cage looked up at his master (Mr. Boss) with emotionless blue eyes.
"Come D," one of Mr. Boss's henchmen said and opened the cage.
D walked out his head slightly hunched.
"Follow me," Mr. Boss said and walked out the room leaving the metal cage behind.
D obediently followed Mr. Boss.
D was ten years old and in Mr. Boss's possession since he was four. He was the ultimate fighting machine in the underworld business of both kid and teen death fighting and when it came to 'influencing' people to do business with his boss (meaning beating the crap out of them when they refused). He was docile when inactive but the removal of his collar or the sound of the striking of a special triangle his boss kept in his jacket, made him into a deadly fighter that could only be called off by the instrument being struck a second time, placing his collar back around his neck (which was hard to do when he was fighting) or the clapping of his boss's hand (but in the case of the clapping his collar had to put back on in a minute to keep him docile).
Soon they came to the entrance of an arena.
"D you have a match," Mr. Boss told him, "you verses sixteen year old seven hundred pound juggernaut KILL U," he told his fighter, "you're nothing unless you're fighting," he said sharply, "and even less if you lose," he whispered into D's ear.
D's eyes shrunk to slits.
Mr. Boss grinned. D was a prideful fighter. No matter how much he hated his owner. He'd never lose a match because that was all he knew to measure his worth.
Mr. Boss shoved D into the arena and metal bars automatically slid into place locking D in.
The ten year old looked around to see the familiar arena where he fought, mostly to the death. He had been undefeated for three years now. The small blonde with hair covering his eyes didn't intend for his streak to end now.
His opponent was a roaring seven-foot teenager wearing red medieval armour. The teenager had tufts of bleached blonde hair on his head, a fat yet muscular body, armour, sandals, and raging brown eyes. While D was sweating from recent self-training, his blonde hair looking stringy right now but a thick bowl cut when dry, wore a sleeveless white shirt and blue jeans with no shoes, and emotionless blue eyes.
In the arena seats were filled with adults of varying ages and occupations. No status was immune to illegal fighting. Boos and cheers were made for either side as those with bets urged their choices to rip the other's head off.
Mr. Boss sat at his appointed seat. He took out a golden triangle and waited.
"Tonight in our sixth match is brute against expertise," an announcer spoke, "the young D against the champion fighter KILL U!" he announced, "who will win, who will triumph?" he asked, "find out now in this match to the death!"
There was loud cheering signifying the beginning of the match.
KILL U roared and slammed his fist on the arena's floor. The effect of the blow caused D to fly into the air.
Mr. Boss hit the triangle.
D's eyes widened. A double flip had him back on the ground. His eyes filled with rage.
KILL U chuckled.
"Graceful like a ballerina huh?" KILL U scorned.
There was laughter in the crowd.
"I'll be the last graceful thing you ever see," D snarled softly.
There were gasps from the onlookers. D never spoke in public. Even Mr. Boss was shocked since D almost never spoke at all.
D bent his knees and sprung himself into the air. One hard kick into the neck sent KILL U crashing into the floor. Sinking nearly six feet.
An arm flew out and grabbed D. The sound of crushing bones could be heard and D cried out.
Count Spankalot, KILL U's owner, grinned maliciously.
Mr. Boss sweated profusely. He had bet a lot on D's win. So had many of his supporters. Flashes of business losses and increased casualties filled his mind.
D suddenly let out a loud cry. Then he slammed his head into KILL U's fingers.
KILL U cries out and lets D go.
Surprisingly though D held onto KILL U's fingers and climbed down to his arm.
Then he bit into KILL U's main vain and ripped it out.
KILL U's screams rang throughout the arena. Blood gushed everywhere.
D jumped into the whole and started beating KILL U to a pulp. KILL U's sobbing could be heard for miles. So could his screams as he begged for mercy.
D gave him none.
"I forfeit!" Count Spankalot screamed over the crowd.
All the spectators went silent. Mr. Boss and Count Spankalot were among the few absolutely cold-blooded businessmen in this field that never forfeited a match. Fighters under them had died brutally in death matches as a result. Now Count Spankalot was crying forfeit like D was beating him to death instead of KILL U.
"Does Mr. Boss comply?" the announcer asked.
"No," Mr. Boss refused.
Count Spankalot glared at him.
"But if I…" Mr. Boss started.
"Deal," Count Spankalot agreed.
This was even more shocking. Count Spankalot never dealed.
"I accept," Mr. Boss said, "call off the match," he said then hit the triangle.
D's beatings stopped. KILL U had long lost consciousness.
Count Spankalot used his telekinesis to lift the beaten bleeding KILL U.
Most the crowd gasped at KILL U's current condition. With exceptions that included Mr. Boss.
"Winner, D," the announcer declared.
Cheers were heard from those who supported and bet on D.
Count Spankalot silently left with his critically injured fighter.
After several minutes Mr. Boss walked down to collect D.
"You won," Mr. Boss said.
D didn't answer, his eyes glued in the direction where Count Spankalot had left with his own fighter KILL U.
Mr. Boss noticed.
"Caring owners get dead fighters," Mr. Boss whispered in D's ear.
D who never saw otherwise mentally agreed.
-----
It was 2pm at Sector V where Nigel Uno, operative Numbuh 1 of Kids Next Door, was giving his team their newest mission.
"It will be hard," Nigel admitted, "but we have to free these kids being used as fighters," he said seriously, "most never even see beyond adolescence," he continued, "and by teen years," he said sadly, "they're beyond allowance of retrieval," he concluded.
"Numbuh 5 thinks that crazy," Abigail spoke, "the teens won't help them," she pointed out, "the organizers of these fights have Father on their payroll!" she cried incredulously.
"We still have to follow orders," Hoagie spoke, "no matter what we think personally," he continued, "teens are our enemies," he reminded them.
"Here there," Tony Frederick operative Numbuh 4 agreed, "every last one of them should be blown sky high," he said his green eyes blazing.
Kuki silently listened. She always felt safe around her fellow operatives. Except when the usually kindhearted weapon maker expert Numbuh 4 went on a tirade about adults and teenagers. His words passed suggestion of bloodbaths. He promoted it. Any talk about teens and adults usually transformed the kind brown haired, green eyed, freckle faced ten-year old into someone verbally vicious. This scared the kind non-violent Kuki Sanban.
"Sorry Kuki," Numbuh 4 apologized upon seeing her looking so upset.
Kuki smiled and nodded.
"So when do we go in?" Numbuh 5 asked.
"In three days," Numbuh 1 told her, "so everyone rest up, train, and prepare."
His fellow agents nodded.
"What about that fighter D?" Kuki asked, "you said he was one of the riskiest to free," she added.
"Yes but we have to," Numbuh 1 said, "he's Mr. Boss's main fighter," he continued, "and at the rate he uses D," he said, "probably his only truly capable one."
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