Hello? GAH! (Dodges flying jelly)
WHAT DID THE JELLY EVER DO TO YOU! D:
Well I'M sorry for not being able to update! I've been super busy with school, Artist's Circle, choir, and I got muscle strain in my neck so I have to wear a neck brace D:
DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING.
Nigel watched, as two competitors stepped forward. There was one brunette, a tall boy of seventeen years. He held two police issue baton-like sticks aloft, as though he was going to fly at a single gun shot. According to the information on the big screen, the teen was from Afghanistan. However, Nigel still couldn't identify his specialty.
Facing him was a short and stocky American boy. He held no weapons, but his stance was strong, grounded yet ready to jump at the drop of a hat. He had the physique of a sixteen year old, and this proved true when Nigel looked at the big screen again.
The hat did drop. The Afghan boy moved, quicker than lightning, to strike his opponent. However, the American merely dodged the attack, jumping over his opponent and twisting his body simultaneously. He landed with a light "thump" before grabbing the other's stick. He finally had a weapon. They were evenly matched.
"So, I heard about your loss, Mister Paiman." the American said, a hint of evil in his tone. "Right before you came, you lost your mother... how sad. Looks like you'll not have a mother hug you if you win. Unless your father remarries?"
The boy had hit a nerve. Paiman twitched, though before he did anything major he controlled himself.
"How did you learn of this, Adamson?" he asked, trying to steady his voice. Adamson grinned, twirling the stick mockingly in his hand.
"I have my ways." he said. "Oh, such a sad thing to lose a mother. I haven't lost mine yet though. How did she die? Bombing? Suicide?"
Paiman froze. "It's none of your business!" he screamed, his control breaking. Adamson smirked.
"Ooh, looks like I struck a nerve!" he exclaimed, laughing maniacally. Paiman yelled and ran at his opponent.
Nigel, this time, froze. It was too much. He backed away, before, leaning to the nearest wall. His breathing labored; he remembered what had happened all those years ago...
Battala de Paz was open for adults then. For those who were sixteen to thirty years old. Nigel was one of the very first representatives for his country. Though, instead of swelling pride, he felt complete and utter remorse.
His father had just died a few days earlier. He had not been able to bid his son adieu when he left the airport. He had not been able to hug him when he left the house. He hadn't even said goodbye.
Nigel was left in a haze of depression. He couldn't speak to anyone properly, except maybe for a few stray "yeses" or "nos".
He was still depressed when it was his competition. His body acted, but his mind did not. Suddenly, his opponent started saying things. Horrible things.
"So how's your dad doing underground?" he asked tauntingly. Nigel froze.
"Wha-what do you know about that?" he exclaimed. The boy laughed at him.
"More than you think." the other replied. "How'd he die? Run over? Drunk driving? Kill himself? Honestly, you Brits are so—"
He never got to say what he was going to say. Nigel screamed like an animal and hurled himself at his opponent. With the boy down Nigel began to punch him, beat him, scratch his skin out. All for his dad.
"You bastard! What do you know about my father? Nothing! How could you say such things! Fuck you, you asshole!" he screamed, inflicting as much pain as he could on the sinner.
"Stop!" many of the staff said, trying to knock Nigel out. He kicked them all away, and was about to mutilate his opponent again when, quite suddenly, he felt two large arms wrap around his.
"Don't do this!" a girl screamed from the crowd. Nigel looked up and saw Paiman trying to mutilate the American boy. The girl who had screamed ran to the competitors and grabbed Paiman's arm he whipped around to attack, until he saw the face of his friends. Quite suddenly he calmed down and broke into tears.
"He withdraws." the girl said, hugging him and pulling him away. Nigel had to hold back tears of remorse as he remembered what happened next.
"Don't hurt him." said a calm voice. Nigel turned around to find a chubby German boy holding his arms down. Nigel screamed again, attacking the other boy next. The staff were about to separate them, when the fat boy told them to stop.
"He has to let it all go." he said, holding his arms out wide. Nigel took this opportunity to attack him, to strike at the German with every hit expressing remorse, sadness, despair, everything.
After a while, Nigel stopped. His breathing became heavy and he began to cry. He landed on his knees and broke down.
The German pulled him up, and announced that Nigel would withdraw. He pulled him away from the arena.
"Why did you do that?" Nigel asked. He eyed all the bruises, the cuts, everything.
"Because you were in need of it." he replied calmly. "Besides, I was trained to withstand pain."
"But I don't even know you." Nigel countered.
The German smiled. "I'm Franz Argentblum. Now that you know me, we can be friends."
Nigel felt as though he could never repay that German boy. No matter how irritating he was, Franz was, truly, his closest friend.
"You lost in thought?"
Nigel almost jumped. Right beside him was the girl he knew to be Rosa Bellarmin. Though everyone referred to her as Billie.
"No." Nigel said. He reconsidered. "Maybe. Yes."
"Well that's good." Billie said. Nigel cocked an eyebrow. She grinned.
"Better you have something in your brain than nothing at all." she said. Nigel smiled.
"Point taken."
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