Ten-Faced

Chapter 5 – The Seventh Face – Fighter

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear I don't own any of it; I'm just in it for the Romerica ;)

Warning: MPD/DID!Lovi, male x male pairings, harsh language, and AU.

So excited you guys are liking the story so far! Everyone who guessed along the lines of anger/rage/revenge was right, as Fighter incorporates all of that. I was really looking forward to writing this chapter ever since writing about the soccer team asshats. Hopefully you'll be happy with the way Lovi returns the favor.

A few people have asked, so here's a list of all the identified Faces so far: 1 – Lovi, 2 – Shy, 3 - Charisma, 4 - ?, 5 - ?, 6 - ?, 7 – Fighter, 8 - ?, 9 – Sweet, 10 - ?

oOo

Lovino was in a foul mood. The kind that could only be cleared by revenge, making someone miserable, gratuitous amounts of violence, or all of the above. He'd been pissed ever since Alfred told him the reason why his old teammates made his life a living hell while he played alongside them. The bastards were jealous of him, of all things. This led him to his current solution - intentionally walking past the soccer field after school.

Antonio, who had just finished varsity practice waved to him cheerfully. The Spaniard had always been on the team a year ahead of him in school and encouraged him to play. He'd even helped Lovino practice before he tried out in order to help him make the team. But even he was oblivious to how shitty Lovi's team had treated him. Lovino surprised him by taking him up on his offer to practice passing the ball around for a bit, while the junior-varsity team started gathering for their practice.

"You still haven't lost your touch, amigo!" laughed Antonio as they passed back and forth. "It's too bad you don't still play!"

Lovino only smirked as they continued kicking the ball back and forth. They soon started playing the Add-A-Trick game that Antonio taught him as kids. The older boy started by sweeping his foot across the ball and passing to Lovino. The younger boy swept his foot across the ball just as Antonio had done, then brought it behind him where he switched feet and kicked it back from the inside of his foot. Antonio smiled as he imitated all of the previous actions, adding a new trick at the end before passing the soccer ball back. He had missed this. The Spaniard wracked his brain to try to remember their highest score…42 or something like that.

Eventually, the JV coach, Lovi's former coach, saw him and called him over.

"It's been awhile, Vargas," he nodded gruffly.

"Coach," the brunette nodded in reply. Fighter was having a difficult time keeping his temper in check, now that he was surrounded by so many of his former enemies (most of which were giving him dirty looks). He didn't really care for the coach one way or another. The man never favored him over the others, but he never stopped the others from terrorizing him on and off the field either. Fighter fantasized about breaking every bone in his body to see if he would notice that. It helped.

"Listen, Vargas," he began, a little reluctantly. "I'm short a few team members this practice because of exams…you want to fill in for the day?"

"Sure," Lovino shrugged. "But I don't have my gear."

Antonio was all too happy to quickly lend him his own.

The Spaniard gleefully ran over to the bleachers while Lovino suited up. The Italian pretended to watch where Antonio took off to, noticing Alfred in the stands instead. The American was working on some homework before his own practice, but glanced down when he felt a pair of eyes on him. He saw Lovi and waved, wondering why he was there.

Lovino returned the wave as cheerfully as he could manage and then turned to his ex-teammates, a malicious glint in his eye. The split-second the whistle blew, he began showing them why you never piss off an Italian.

With Fighter in control, he quickly and efficiently decimated his team in an instant. He stole the ball with ease (taunting the others just loud enough for them to hear, but not the coach or crowd), dodged and weaved around the defenders, and scored more points in 15 minutes than most players did an entire game. It didn't matter what position he played, or what formation was thrown at him, Lovino continued his reign of ass-kicking. Despite being National champs, the team functioned like slugs around the fiery Italian. This ended up gaining and keeping Alfred's attention. Algebra could wait.

Lovino could feel Alfred's eyes on him and grinned wildly. That only made him work harder. By this point, the brunette was racing around the field so fast; he seemed to be a blur.

"W-What the hell?!" wheezed an exasperated forward after the ninth time Lovino stole the ball from him. The little punk made it look so effortless too. Every time he tried to steal from Lovino, he ended up on the ground. The stockier boy had given up trying to take the ball from the Italian after he tried sliding into him and Lovino spun away at the last second, passing the ball off to a teammate with the back of his foot and making the senior student look like an idiot.

"Don't worry, I used to play like that too…when I was five fucking years old," Fighter smirked, pretending to think. "Oh, wait. Even then I played better than you. I guess you just suck."

"Dammit, Vargas!" the team captain hissed. "I'll make you permanently shut up, myself!"

"You can try, dumbshit," Lovino sneered at him. This Face had no fear of his former tormenter. The fact that Captain Miller was the leader of the Anti-Lovi faction since the brunette first joined the team only made him a bigger target.

When the captain had the ball, no power on earth could save him from the vengeance-seeking Italian. He never made it past Lovino, he was never able to stop Lovino, and the previous bully victim blocked every single shot or pass Miller made. Fighter was an army of one.

So skilled was he; that Lovino was able to score several times from halfway across the field. This was fine with the opposing goalie, as Lovi's last close-range shot had actually ripped a hole in the net. The goalie shuddered to think what that amount of force would have done to him had he tried to block it. He started subconsciously missing any of Lovino's shots out of fear. Even the coach had dropped his clipboard in shock. Was this really the same kid who quit because of a few relatively harmless hazing pranks?

From the stands, Alfred and Antonio began to cheer for Lovi, as he destroyed his former tormenters. Before long, they were joined by the other students who were amazed by Lovino's big return to the soccer field. It really didn't help the rest of the team's morale when people started taking pictures and videos on their phones of the World Academy Soccer Massacre.

"Holy crap!" the blonde exclaimed, blue eyes wide as he tried to keep up with Lovi's fancy footwork. "It's almost like he's dancing! He could do commercials!"

"He's just messing with them now," Antonio chuckled, knowingly.

"Amaaaaaazing!" several other stray fans exclaimed. The charming Spaniard was quick to lean in and explain how he taught Lovi everything he knows.

Meanwhile on the field, Fighter dribbled the ball around himself as the captain charged him. Lovino dodged him completely while kicking the ball high above him. Miller was distracted enough by the action that his eyes followed the ball and were off Lovino for a fraction of a second…which was all the brunette needed to knock him over and regain control over the ball and complete yet another goal. People were starting to lose track of how many that was now. Alfred and Antonio had got several people to join them in shouting 'Gooooooooooal' to see who could hold it the longest every time Lovino scored.

"Captain, you're supposed to play on the dirt, not eat it," Lovino pretended to offer him a hand. It was the least he could do after tripping the bigger boy and nearly catching his leg with his cleats.

"The fuck is your problem, Vargas?!" he growled, swatting his hand away. "You could have hurt me!"

"Is that against the rules?" the brunette's face twisted into an arrogant smile. "You did the same to me just before I left the team…"

As the end of practice drew near, the team captain looked like he was about to murder something. He couldn't understand how little Lovino was running circles around him and making his team look bad. The guy hadn't even played on a team since he quit two years ago! He shouldn't be this good! It was impossible! He fumed as Lovino shot him a cocky grin after his most recent goal.

He knew he was trying to provoke him. It was working.

No matter how focused the other players were, they still had other distractions on their mind. Those tiny bits of information floated around in their brains, preventing 100% concentration. Whether it be family, grades, homework, friends, or girlfriend/boyfriend, it was on their mind. The Fighter in Lovino only cared about two things – battle (soccer, in this case) and Alfred. When he combined winning the battle to make Alfred happy, he was unstoppable.

The coach was blown away. His ex-team was pissed. It was a good victory for Lovi, but far from complete.

oOo

Lovino decided to stick around after soccer/justice was over to watch Alfred's football practice. He'd be lying if he said he didn't even glance at the soccer team as most of them all but dragged themselves off the field looking miserable. Lovino returned the borrowed soccer gear to his friend, smirk on his face as the last of the battered soccer players passed him.

Antonio chose to hang out as well, talking the brunette's ear off about how proud of him he was. It was getting lat today, but tomorrow they could go out to eat to celebrate with the others. The Spaniard told Lovino to call him whenever he wanted to practice on the weekends or afterschool.

"It'll be just like the old days!" he grinned and opened his eyes curiously.

Lovino had been nodding at him while he was talking, but his attention was elsewhere. Antonio's childhood friend had this…look in his eye as he watched the football players run. The Spaniard didn't know how to describe it exactly. It looked almost…animalistic. As though Lovino was a hungry lion eying up some tasty antelope to devour. Antonio wasn't sure who his precious little tomate was watching so intently, but he felt bad for him. It looked like Lovi was going to maul someone any second now.

The licking his lips part didn't help any either.

oOo

Later that night, Fighter found himself messing around on the laptop in his room. He found a video of today's practice that had gotten several dozen hits on YouTube. His ex-teammates wouldn't be too happy when they saw themselves humiliated on the internet. Lovino skimmed over the comments section and felt a smile curl upwards on his lips

Serves the bastards right.

After he was done watching the video for the 23rd time or so, he checked email. A new email from his old soccer couch appeared. Lovino curiously clicked on it to open it.

Apparently, JV Captain Miller, star player, and leader of the Anti-Lovi Soccer Faction was injured. Boo-frickin'-hoo. The idiot twisted his ankle leaving school by slipping down some stairs courtesy of a puddle. Coach practically begged Lovino to rejoin the team to fill in for the captain while he recovered. Fighter mulled this over for a moment. If he was on the team, he'd be able to see Alfred more often between practices.

What could he do, but accept?

oOo

A/N – Another day, another Face. I was glad Lovi got a little revenge in this chapter. Sorry that's what the entire chapter was about, though. Next time more stuff will happen, I just didn't want to cram it all together here.

The captain, Derek Miller, wasn't based on anyone in particular. I just came up with two random/common names because calling him 'captain' over and over got annoying after awhile. To be honest, I really didn't want to give a name to the douche (because keeping him nameless made me hate him slightly less), but referenced him enough in the chapter that I had to.

Any guesses for the next Face?

-Rajikka

Translations:

Fratello – Brother (It.)

Bastardos – Bastards (It.)

Tomate – Tomato (Sp.)