Author's Note: This chapter did not come easily (again, action is not my strong point). I think the fight scene may not be quite long enough. And too angsty. Yes, I said angsty. And it may not be believable in the least (if so please tell me). And it's tropey. And probably somewhat OOC. But it's done. So I'm posting it. Constructive criticism deeply appreciated. (it's also unbetaed)
Disclaimer: I own nothing. NBC and Warner Brothers own it. You can't get blood from a turnip. Please don't sue. I won't hurt them. Much.
"Welcome New Vegas! You know why you're here. We knew him before as Jimmy King, but we all know there's no rest for the wicked. And they don't come any wickeder than General Sebastian Monroe! Founder of the Monroe Republic, butcher, dictator…petty thief. Oh, how the mighty have fallen!" Gould shouted from his stand at one end of the fighting ring.
The crowd roared their approval at Monroe's unfortunate change in circumstances as Gould continued.
"His opponents are young Connor Bennett and the lovely…" he trailed off, looking at Charlie expectantly.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Monroe shaking his head, but she didn't care. She hoped Gould realized that one way or another, either by Monroe's hand or Miles's, he was a dead man.
"Charlotte Matheson," she answered icily. Gould's eyes widened in surprise and, if Charlotte wasn't mistaken, even a hint of fear. But he covered it well and went on with his spiel.
"…the lovely Charlotte Matheson," he finished, crowd around him exclaiming at the name that was almost as universally hated as Monroe . "Ladies and gentlemen, it's a fight to the death. Who will be the last man, or woman, standing? Who's rooting for these two kids?" he asked, and the cheering reached a deafening level. "May the best man or woman win!"
Out of nowhere, Monroe made the first move. Charlie dove to the side as he rushed Connor, swinging the sword overhand to meet Connor's with a clash that caused sparks to fly. They slashed at each other viciously several times, swords ringing when they met. Connor swung wildly at Monroe's head; he dodged the blow easily and kicked out at Connor, knocking him backward. Charlie swung the bat at him but he was ready for her and countered easily. It was obvious neither of them was a match for him. She wondered how long it would be before Gould was on to them and simply killed them all outright.
"You've got to do better than that, kid," Monroe said to Connor as they and Connor circled each other. "You want Charlie to die?"
Connor narrowed his eyes at his father, then glanced at Charlie.
"Jesus, I really am an idiot," he said. "You want her. That's what made you so mad."
"You don't know what you're talking about," Monroe said. "That little whore has been a pain in my ass ever since I met her. I should have killed her in Philadelphia when I had the chance."
Enraged, Connor charged Monroe with a series of powerful blows. Clash, clash, swish. The last was aimed for his head, which Monroe ducked again. This time he countered with a sideways swipe aimed at Connor's chest which grazed him, slicing through his shirt and drawing blood. Connor grabbed his father's arm, pulled him forward and kneed him in the chest. Unphased, Monroe grabbed him by the neck and headbutted him. Connor stumbled back, dazed. Charlie jumped in between them and swung again at Monroe to give Connor time to recover, but Monroe simply grabbed the bat, jerked it forward and threw her to the ground behind him.
"Stay out of the way, Charlotte," he barked at her.
The look in his eyes frightened her. She'd seen people taken by blood lust before, reacting to the rhythm and rush of the heat of battle. He advanced on Connor with a cold smile.
"You're gonna let a girl fight for you?" he taunted.
"I don't think I'm the one she's fighting for," Connor said with a rueful smile, as he backed away, sword held at the ready. "She's not stupid. She could have just let you die."
Monroe went on the attack, furiously striking at Connor again and again. Connor parried blow for blow until he forced Monroe to leave an opening and caught him on the outside of the thigh, leaving a long gash that bled freely.
"She probably should have let you die," Connor continued. "She'd be better off." He was panting now, and on the defensive.
"Do you think I don't know that?" Monroe said. He too, seemed to be short of breath, but he continued to rain blows at Connor, driving him backward.
"You'll just break her," Connor said finally, struggling now simply to block each strike before it landed.
Monroe laughed darkly. "I already did."
He aimed another blow overhead but Connor caught his wrist and knocked the sword out of Monroe's grip with his own. Undeterred, Monroe punched him twice in the ribs, knocking the wind out of him. When Connor let go of his wrist, he drew back and aimed a powerful punch at his jaw, sending him to the ground. He stepped on Connor's sword arm, preparing to take the weapon for himself.
"Get away from him!" Charlie screeched, terrified he might forget himself and go too far. She swung the bat with all her might, catching Monroe across the back several times before he managed to stumble away. Charlie glanced down at Connor. He was breathing but appeared to be unconscious. She swapped the bat to her right hand and picked up his sword with her left. Meanwhile, Monroe managed to stagger over to his own sword and pick it up, turning around to face her.
"God damn you, Charlotte," Monroe said. "You couldn't just follow instructions, could you?"
Charlie retorted, "I don't take orders from you, Monroe."
She swung the sword at him as hard as she could and he countered with an upsweep of his, jarring her arms all the way to her shoulders.
"You don't get to tell anybody anything," she said, recalling the day in the empty pool he told her to watch her mouth.
Swish toward his abdomen. Clang. Backhand block. Charlie's arms were beginning to ache from the vibrations and the weight of the sword itself.
"And if you won't put yourself out of your misery, I"ll be happy to do it for you." She had to raise her voice to be heard over the crowd, now.
Swish toward the shoulder. A sliding block that didn't hurt her arms so much, but made a lot of sparks.
"For my mother. Because I had to grow up without her," Charlie said coldly.
Swish. Clang. His reaction times seemed to be slowing. She knocked at his sword with the bat and managed to graze him with her own sword, slashing his sword arm.
"For my father. Because you sicced that monster on him."
Swish. Clang. Each time he blocked, his sword dipped lower.
"For Danny, who never hurt anybody." Monroe flinched visibly at that one.
Swish toward the head. He ducked, caught her sword with his, twisted his wrist and sent hers flying. She swapped the bat back to her left hand again.
"You're forgetting the most important one, Charlotte." Monroe called to her.
"What? Who?" she said, thrown. He was responsible for so much more, but those were the ones she held him accountable for to her, personally.
Swish toward his knee. Downward sweep, just managing to knock the blow to the side. The curare was taking effect; it was almost time.
"For yourself, because you don't actually hate me for the rest of it anymore. And that's the worst part of all."
With a keening cry of rage, Charlie smashed the bat into his sword arm, and suddenly the sword was dangling from his fingers. She hit it with the bat and it went flying out of his reach, sliding under one of the cables out of the ring. She swung again, hitting him in the ribcage. His breath whooshed out and he wrapped his uninjured arm around his midsection protectively. One more swing landed another strike, this time at the back of his thigh and he went down on his knees, looking up at her, dazed with pain, blood loss, and regret.
"Do it now, Charlie," he rasped. "Kill me if you have to. Don't hesitate, sweetheart, or he'll shoot you."
Her vision blurred, and Charlie realized she was crying. The spectators were roaring their approval, chanting "Kill him! Kill him!" Monroe's mouth was still moving but she couldn't hear what he was saying. She lowered the bat and took a step forward, just to hear, but his expression changed to one of rage and fear as he looked over her shoulder. She turned to see that Gould was watching her intently, tapping the pistol against his arm. He smiled and nodded at her. Charlie turned back to Monroe.
"Do it, you crazy bitch! I don't want to watch you die!" he shouted. "Hit me!"
Tears flowing freely now, Charlie lifted the club and slammed it into Monroe's head, praying she hadn't put enough force in the blow to actually kill him. He toppled over in a heap and she looked on, stunned, as he expelled one long, slow, painful breath and was still. Charlie dropped the bat and stumbled over to him, where she fell to her knees and placed her ear against his chest. After a moment, a hand crept over her shoulder and squeezed gently.
"Charlie, is he still…." Connor trailed off, unable to finish the question.
Charlie shook her head, not intending to answer yes or no, but just to forestall the question. She honestly didn't know the answer. The cheering of the crowd was so loud, she couldn't hear anything else, couldn't tell if Monroe was still breathing or not. Connor sat beside her and wrapped his arm around her, while she covered her face with her hands and wept.