M.B.C.R: Love the prompts. Be the prompts. Though... this one is okay if you don't like it. It's sad and it made me upset.
"Person A and Person B are the only two left in the survival games, and only one can win."
I changed it slightly but it still works. And I also blame this on my Father for providing me with the idea of 'shock collars and gladiator rings' and the whole thing that happens with the ring. I changed what he said from it being a timed them, to a a guy pressing a button for shits and gigs 'cause this place SUCKS.
Society always had that blood itch that would claw at the dark of their minds, screaming for bloodshed and destruction. The people from each planet wanted a means to prove that their citizens were better than the others, and what better way that with death and bloodshed?
Prisoners, people with nothing to lose, slaves, and those rare ones falling under superiors orders found themselves in the Pit. The Pit was a grand space station in the middle of the Reflia quadrant where aliens and humans from around the Universe would gather and scream in their native languages for the death of another.
Sage found it all so stupid and barbaric.
The mechanics of his mechanical arm whirled as it cycled into its cooling faze. His fists clenching and unclenching, he knew who he was fighting against today. The crowd knew who he was fighting against today. The person that he was fighting didn't know though, and he hopped it'll stay that way.
Fox and he had joined the Pit's line-up under different circumstances. Fox was ex-military fighting for his way out of his contract that was sold to the Pit. And Sage had a debt to pay off for is new arm and leg—he nothing to really loose.
His friends and family already thought that he was dead, and hopefully they wouldn't watch him die here.
He couldn't kill Fox; he couldn't.
He wouldn't.
The shock collar was strapped into place and Sage knew that this was it. This would be how he met his end. Dying in front of the trillions of people most likely watching and screaming for the very blood coursing through his body. For the first time in awhile, Sage felt like he was going to vomit before entering the stage.
The lifted squealed, pulling him upwards into the arena where Fox already stood in the middle of. A nasty sneer pulling at his lips as he bared his teeth; this was always how he looked as he waited for a challenge. In between the sheets or in the training yard... it was always the same. And all Sage wanted to do was run a hand through the man's hair and press one last kiss against his lips.
The shock collar around Fox's throat lit up with a charge; his punishment was already starting. Fox's empty of colour eyes squinted in pain, everything else remaining relatively the same. They always liked to give Fox extra shocks, it made him extremely aggravated and that led to a bloody match.
Sage would know he helped apply the ointment onto the blind man's neck after a fight; he helped him clean the blood from his face and hair.
"Welcome to tonight's match!" so many different languages fluttered out over the stadium. The metal arena under both of their feet surging to life, and Sage hated the arena the most. It was the worst thing about the whole damn place. The square fighting arena was detachable in sections, sections that would fall at random until only a little area would remain in the center. And Sage liked to not think what was under the platform waiting to collect the new victim.
"We have a special show for you today," Fox was listening to the announcement too. Special was a word you never wanted to hear in this place. It could mean new weapons or one person having an advantage over the other... or in this case you were fighting your lover. "Our special Pit couple is finally having their promised battle!" the announcer laughed.
The crowd cheered.
If there was one thing that the Pit loved more than death, it was tearing lovers apart in the arena.
Fox's colourless eyes widen, mouth forming the word "no" over and over again. His head shaking and fists clenching, and Sage could see the collar flick on again.
"It's alright Fox," Sage smiles sadly even though he knows the man can't see it. He took the three steps remaining between them to press his hand against Fox's jaw. "You're going to go back to Earth just like I promised," and he did promise that years ago. When they first entered into the lust filled relationship that had started it all—that one night that both set down their walls and explained the shitty circumstances that found them in this situation.
The buzzer sounded nearly drowning out what Fox said next, "don't you dare go easy on me."
And Sage smiled that genuine smile of his, laughing ever the slightest at the tick in Fox's jaw as the man ground his teeth together. "I wouldn't think of it," Sage choked out before jumping out of range of Fox's gauntlets as he swiped forwards.
The orange haired man chased after him, punching forwards only for Sage to catch one of them and kicking his dominate leg out from under him. The battle went like that for awhile; trading sparring blows against each other. The arena's floor falling around them no matter how many hits they exchanged. The shocks of the collars only being up'ed if they paused for a little longer than a breath.
The fight was approaching the three minute marker (so said the timer on the large tele-screen) and the crowd wanted someone to die—to die right now.
Sage's breath caught in his throat when he felt Fox's weapon cut through the tendon of his right knee—the one that was still fleshy and human. Sage's mechanical arm flung out, knocking the other man away and across the stage. Fox went tumbling; sliding to a stop just passed center stage.
The tattooed man collapsed, gripping at the cut. Those gauntlets nearly took his damn leg off, shit, he groaned out in pain pulling his hand away from the damaged area. The floor under him dropped an inch, sending his heart up into his mouth. "Sage," Fox's voice cut through the panic and Sage looked up at the man still laying where he fell.
Sage had so much shit that he wanted to say but none of it would fit just right. So he settled with the thing that the two of them would say to the other right before a match, "live you son of a bitch." He could see the tears that finally broke out of those never changing eyes, could hear the broken sob that wretched itself through Fox's mouth as he heard the platform give way.
"Don't tell me how to live my life," Fox's reply followed him to his death and Sage couldn't help but crack one final grin at the stupidity of it all.