Notation: I was orionally going to write a long and possibly chaptered fic out of this, but I never got around to it. I wrote it several years ago when pokemon was just hitting the screens, and I've recently re-written it. If enough intrest follows, I may simply use this as a teaser and continue with the progress of the story, I don't know.
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Two young trainers met in the center of the ring, making short conversation as they shook hands, smiling, and waving to the cheering crowds in the raised seats all around the small battle arena. They likely traded names and wished each other luck as they parted and went to their podiums where they would be calling commands from.

Traik watched from the edge of the raised seats, very close to the wall that prevented bystanders from falling in, one hand on the rail, the other in his pocket. A soft smile on his lips, his eyes looking dead. He knew these kids were not going to find what they expected tonight. He wondered who had recruited them this time, considering one barely looked like he'd come out of his home town. He just shook his head, and started cheering with everyone else when the horn blared, marking the start of the event.

Overhead, the speakers blared with the voice of an unseen announcer. "Ladies and gentlemen, warriors and theives, welcome to the first match of the night, in which Trainer Harley,-"

Harley, the older boy of the two, rose his hand in a fist, which caused the crowd to roar. He wore bluejeans and a white T-shirt that said 'Aspiring Rocket' across the front. He had three pokeballs on his belt, and had an expression of extreme confidence around him.

"-Will be facing a new Trainer to the pokemon world, young Nemo!"

Nemo waved a little on his podium. Two pokeballs on his belt, peering around at the screaming, cheering, roaring people slightly above and all around him. Thick glasses and a shirt with a big picture of a comicbook superhero on it, and black jeans, added with scruffy shoes and a backwards baseball cap. A fashion he probably didn't understand.

"Trainers!" Called the unseen announcer, "This is a single pokemon battle only. No switching! Due to the limitations of the arena and the saftey of the crowd, Flying pokemon are excluded from the battle! Ready, set, THROW!"

There was a slight lapse in the cheering as each person almost seemed to be holding their breaths to see what the young, inexperinced children would deliver them today. Traik calmed himself as well and signaled to one of the walking vendors for a food item.

Nemo threw first, eager and trying to blend in and be impressive it seemed, "Mankey, Go!"

Harley looked at his opponents pokemon a moment and began laughing as he pulled a ball from his belt and threw it into the ring, "Scyther, I choose you!"

The crowds roared in approval, some of them stamping their feet, others calling to vendors. They knew the children would start off the fight just like they all had in the very beginning. They knew how it would eventually result, but they all loved it anyway. Traik munched on his hotdog, glancing down to the base of the podiums where two Pit Fiends were waiting. They wouldn't interfear the battle. They were just there for security and safety.

Harley was ruthless, using Double Team to a large extent along with Wing Attack, running virtual circles around the small Mankey, who almost continuiously ignored his trainers orders and kept trying to scratch at the wings, or glare around itself, as if trying to find the 'real' Scyther whenever Double Team was used. It was a faily sad state of affairs as the Mankey just didn't seem to be making any progress, and had barely even lain a single attack to the large insect.

Harley stood proud and tall, calling the commands, again and again, without variance, proud of being the cause for the cheering crouds. He was broken out of his dream however when a plastic cup half filled with some drink or another, hit him in the back of his head. He looked around, confused, and finally realized the crowds had begun to boo.

The announcer boomed over the speakers, "Folks, please refrain from interfearing with the trainers through physical objects. Don't worry, the action will be quite spiced up soon enough, Mankey looks to be on his last legs!"

Nemo cowered on his podium as his poor Mankey was savagly beaten, whereas Harley just looked downright confused, and glanced at the gates where they had entered the stadium, what seemed like only minutes before.

Mankey screamed on the floor as the Scyther had finally managed to actually slice off the tip of its tail. The smaller pokemon began to try and run away from the Scyther, running towards the podium, squealing at its trainer, and bleeding from sevral locations in its fur.

Nemo shook as he lifted his ball, pointing it at Mankey, "Mankey, Return!"

When nothing happened, He tried it several more times, his voice getting panicky and started screaming, "Return! Return!! MANKEY, RETURN!" to no avail. The Mankey and Nemo stared at eachother in horror for a moment. "Run, Mankey!"

During all this, Harley frowned, and looked up and around at the crowd, who'd begun to roar with glee again. Looking up at the faces of the bystanders, trying to figure it out. Something was terribly wrong. Shading his eyes, he tried to look past the lights and people, Wondering if there was something else up there that was causing the illigality of the flying pokemon.

While Harley was lost in his thoughts, Scyther swung his blades again, trying to take Mankey's feet out from under him. The furry beast jumped with almost perfect timing, one of his legs getting another slice into its flesh. Finally, Mankey just seemed to lose it. Scyther next preformed Wing Attack, going with the former pattern it had been commanded into.

Mankey got hit pretty bad, and at this point, it looked like it was sure to faint. And yet, when the wings came up again, to fold up and back, Mankey grabbed on with both its hands, and rode up with it. It screamed with fury and pain, kicking its legs out to go right through the wings of the Scyther, who was now thrashing about, reaching back with it's blades as far as it could, trying to smack the annoyance away.

The Mankey tore at the membrane, and quickly moved up to the base, and its shoulders, crawling hand over hand, clamping down hard to prevent being thrown off. Once there, its tail curling tight around one of Scyther's shoulders, and jerked into a long and steady stream of Fury Swipes, beating at the shell mercelessly with its tiny fists.

Scyther did what it could, trying various excecutions of moves that it had been taught, but simply couldn't seem to shake the creature, and screamed in pain as it heard, as well as felt, the shelling on its skull beginning to crackle and break from blow after blow after blow.

Harley's attentin was caught from the crowds by the insects screamed and gasped at the resulting turn around of Mankey and Nemo's panic and pains. "Scyther, Return!" He screamed out of habit, his ball held out and waiting. His eyes widening in horror as his ball too failed.

The roar of the croud was tremendous, almost deafening. Most people screaming some primal rage or glee, others shouting words of encouragement or curses. It didn't matter. It all unified into one great noise, and music to Traik's ears. He finished his hotdog as his dead, expressionless eyes continued to watch the portrayal of terror. And the idle wonderment of which trainer would wet himself first.

The roar was soon joined by the screams of both trainers, and their helplessness, as their hands were suddenly bound to the podiums by cuffs, and their legs entangled in chains and straps, the latter half the work of the Pit Fiends. They wouldn't be released until the fight had ended.

In the center, amid the horror and the screams for blood, the two pokemon fought erraticly, seeming to be lost in a world all their own, something neither of them had quite experinced in the wilds. A true battle for survival. Scyther turning its blades inwards and outwards until it was visibly in pain, doing its best to wound the Mankey, succeeding several times, but by then it was too late. Mankey had broken through the shell at last and was tearing away peices of the exoskeleton madly, like a little kid trying to peel a deviled egg. It's hands becoming stained with the ichor within, soon forgetting the shell and pulling out lumps of fleash, sending Scyther into a spasaming heap on the floor. Even as Mankey's strength weakened from bloodloss and exustion, it still pulled as much apart, making absloutly sure that this Scyther would never fight again, that it was dead for sure.

Traik began to clap politely, slow and quiet, even though the crowd drowned him out. A twisted smile spreading over his face and a glimmer of something dark in his eyes. He agreed with the crowd, it was a fairly nice show. Indeed more decent than the usual flat out brawls that children usually fell in to.

The Pit Fiends released the youths, Harley fighting back, trying to wound them and excape, screaming his lungs out, as he was carted away, to the cells elsewhere in the complex. Nemo had made a mess in his pants, but the Fiends didnt mind, as they'd done it hundred of times before. They dragged him out to the center to stand by the copse, and the winning pokemon, still panting and soaked in buggy ichor and its own blood.

The announcer screamed over the speakers once more. "Congradulations, Trainer Nemo, on your glorious victory! The crowds love you're style and finesse! You can return your pokemon now! Welcome to the world of the Blood Bowl! Feinds, Clear the arena, the next match is waiting!"

Traik slipped away as the clean up followed and Nemo was taken off to the same place as Harley. He mused over wheather either of them would survive the truama of their first Blood Bowl battle. They were given two days to recover. If they were still screaming, they were usually shot and discarded. If they had their minds assembled about them, they were given the choice of participating again, or being allowed to go home, if they promised never to tell anyone of the activity. Very few who went home lived more than a few days. Some commited suicide, while others couldn't handle the preassure and told someone. They were usually found dead in their beds that night. Blood Bowl was kept very secret.

Traik checked the program to see who was playing next and placed his bets, thinking about what would happen after the fights were over today.