"Don't forget what happens if you misstep." Eren clenched his teeth, grimacing at the man's hot breath on his neck. How could he forget when they kept reminding him at every turn? "Put on a good show."
Out of all the things Eren expected to hear, that wasn't one of them.
"Good show…?" he asked, unable to help himself.
Eren didn't receive an answer, didn't even get to finish his query, before he was shoved forward with enough force that he fell to his hands and knees.
It took a moment for him to orient himself after climbing to his feet. He was in a ring, walled in by cobbled stone and illuminated by torches, bolted in place and, from the looks of it, too high to be reached under normal circumstances.
Not that he thought it would do him much good to get his hands on one of them, not unless he had a keen interest in burning himself, which he didn't.
The ground beneath him consisted of packed dirt. In certain places around him, it had been kicked up by some sort of disturbance.
Armin would probably have a word for what this thing was, but Eren had no idea.
Maybe if he had spent more time listening to Armin's stories, he would have some idea of what he was in for.
He spun around but the barred gate he had been shoved through slammed shut. There would be no going back out that way.
Eren climbed to his feet. His palms stung where he had caught himself and he brushed them off against his shirt.
When he raised his eyes to the top of the walls, they were encased in shadows. He couldn't make anything out, but somehow he knew that there were people up there watching him.
He clenched his teeth, hands rolling into fists at his sides.
"Ladies and gentlemen," a voice boomed across the chamber, coming from above and startling Eren, "introducing our newest participant… the Titan!"
Participant? The Titan?
What the fuck?
What was this?
The was an endless number of profanities he wanted to scream at them, these faceless somebodies.
He didn't get the chance to because, just then, there came a rumbling from behind him, grinding of metal on stone, and he turned, instantly on guard, to face this new threat.
A broad-shouldered figure had entered the ring. Eren took a moment to size him up. He was large, at least a head taller than Eren was and twice as thick.
The cheer died down when he cracked his knuckles, rolling his neck with a sharply audible pop.
Eren tensed.
So this was a fight that they wanted? He could give them a fight.
"So you gave me a little boy to fight?" the man called, addressing the still unseen crowd of spectators. "Is this an insult?" He pumped his arms in the air to the sounds of a resumed applause. "I'll crush his head."
He was cocky. He wasn't paying attention to Eren.
That was already something working in Eren's favor.
Before he could turn his attention away from the crowd's adulation, before he could so much as lower his arms, Eren charged him like a bull, head lowered and arms outstretched.
A split second two late, the man saw him from the corner of his eye and pivoted on the balls of his feet to intercept. Eren slammed into him, arms wrapping around Scourge's body the way Annie had taught him.
Even so, slamming into the Scourge was like hitting a brick wall. Eren saw stars and the impact must have rattled his brain or something, but he grit his teeth and pushed forward.
Scourge staggered backwards and, for a moment, Eren felt weightless.
It was working.
He could beat him.
He could win.
And then the man brought both fists down hard on the back of Eren's head.
His jaw clacked together. He felt something crack, followed by a stabbing pain up his jawline.
Had something just broken? He tasted blood.
They both hit the ground, but Eren was too stunned from the blow to take advantage of his momentary victory.
"Gonna have to try harder than that one, little titan boy."
Scourge shoved him off and to the side, regaining his feet before Eren could even think about regaining his.
Before he could recover, the man slammed his knee up, smashing Eren in the gut.
Eren choked, dropping to his knees and gasping for breath.
"Maybe next time," Eren barely heard him over the rush of blood in his ears, "they won't insult me by giving me a child and calling him a titan."
He swung his fist, connecting with the side of Eren's temple and knocking him to the ground.
There was a ringing in his ears.
Distantly, Eren realized that this wasn't how it was supposed to go. He wasn't supposed to lose. He had to win.
For Armin's sake.
Put on a good show.
So this was what he had meant.
And he was failing.
What would that mean for Armin?
That thought ratcheted his panic up a notch and he struggled to rise to his feet.
It wasn't just his pride at stake here.
It was Armin.
"Do you see that?" The so called Scourge had turned his back on him, raising his fists to the crowd. "Do you see? The Titan is no match!"
The crowd roared with him.
How many people were watching this damn thing? Didn't they have anything better to do?
Eren wiped the blood from his chin with the back of his hand, standing shakily.
Black spots were dancing in front of him. The world was fading in and out of focus.
The volume increased.
The crowd had seen him, but Scourge still hadn't and that was what was important.
"Turn back around, you freak," he growled.
He swayed, tried to take a step forward-
-and then he dropped.
Somewhere, above the roar of the crowd, he thought he heard Armin's frantic voice calling his name.
"You're going to have to try better than that if you want us to uphold our end of the deal."
The door had swung shut with a heavy clang, but the man hadn't left.
He leaned casually against the bars, a lazy smile dragging across his face.
Eren hadn't been chained up again.
Where was the point in restraining someone if you didn't think they could fight back?
They didn't understand- or possibly they didn't know about- the advanced healing that came with being a titan.
He could lunge across, possibly before the man would have any chance to react, maybe even gouge one of his eyes, make him regret ever laying a hand on Armin.
His fingers curled down by his sides.
Acting out for real was only going to get Armin hurt, even if fantasizing about it surely wouldn't.
Slowly, reluctantly, he flattened his hands against his sides and breathed deep.
"Mr. Innocencio paid a lot of money for you."
"Fuck you," he ground out. "I don't care."
"Would you like an incentive to do better?" he asked. "It would be simple enough to provide you with one."
There was just enough light for Eren to make out the man's sly smile when he raised his head at the threat.
Bastard.
He kept his mouth shut. He didn't trust himself enough to open it. Not when Armin would be the one paying for it if he said something wrong.
"I asked a question. Or are your brains too addled from that pounding to think up a proper answer?"
Eren unclenched his jaw.
"No," he said, voice low.
Armin felt sick to his stomach, sitting wedged between Weasel and one other person.
He wasn't bound, but Weasel maintained a painfully tight grip on his wrist. Eventually, Weasel must have found it tiresome because the grip became lax, but he never released him.
What did they think he was going to do? Did they think he was going to make a run for it the moment they left him an opportunity? Did they think taking a hand off of him for one moment counted as an opportunity?
It wasn't entirely a bad thought. If Armin had thought he could make it, maybe he would have run.
Running would rid them of their one advantage over Eren: a hostage. But it wasn't an idea worth thinking about because there was no way he would be able to get away.
That was only if he could manage to get away- Armin wasn't convinced that he could and, if he couldn't, then it was right back at square one.
It didn't matter though.
Even if he could, Armin wasn't running, not after what he had just seen.
"That's what this all is?" he asked, horrified. "Just some game?"
Eren was humanity's last chance against the titans and these criminals had put everything at risk because of some underground fight club?
Some people were starting to glance their way.
They distracted Armin for a moment and then he felt Weasel's hand on the back of his neck, dragging his head down so that they were entirely face to face.
He grinned, wide and smarmy.
"Stop talking," he said, not once dropping the smile, "right now. Or I might just forget myself and do something I'm sure I won't regret."
As he spoke, his hand reached up, caressing along Armin's jawline, up the side of his face.
Armin's flesh prickled, but when he moved to pull away, Weasel gripped his jaw and held him in place.
Armin swallowed thickly, struggling not to break eye contact, unclear on what exactly he was trying to prove by doing so. His heart was racing along in his chest.
Finally, Weasel released him without saying anything further and Armin turned his head away, forcing himself to inhale slowly.