The Blood of a Warrior

As the rusted metal door to my cell opened, a smile played at my lips.

I had been waiting all day for this.

I slunk slowly out, examining my new partner.

He wouldn't last long; I was amazed he had made it as far as to be put against me, the champion. Scrawny, lanky, hardly any meat on his bones, and even less muscle. The exact opposite of me.

He must have been lucky; fighting against enough weaklings and newbies pulled off the streets to be placed with me.

The Champion.

The Dragon.

One of the helpers approached me, cautious. He only got close enough to slip a blade into my hand before he bolted for the door that would lead to the balcony above, where he would sit and watch with the Ringmaster, as we called him.

Another helper had given one to my partner, and he held it awkwardly. I, on the other hand, held my razor-edged knife firmly. You dropped it and you could be dead, though I had plenty of times, yet still one out by strength.

But he was not me - he did not have my strength, the ability to rip a man's arm clean out of the socket. I had only done that once, but I could still do it. Snapping bones was a simple task, and I had won out many a time by shattering a their arm so the marrow leaked out into the bloodstream, killing them.

I might do that this time, or just slash my knife across his throat, or some major artery. I figured he would at least know enough to protect his neck, but there were others he wouldn't know about. The armpit, even the innner thigh. That would either bleed him out, or he's gonna have to adopt, if he ever gets out of here.

But that was very unlikely. I had been born here, and not one person had escaped during the 24 years of my life.

I froze as the Ringmaster introduced each of us, first my opponent, whose name was apparently Joshua, and then me.

The Champion.

The Dragon.

I watched, waiting for him to drop the white handkerchief, signaling the fight to begin.

His hand released, letting the pale cloth flutter to the ground.

I was upon Joshua before it was even halfway to the floor.

Lunging forward, I drove my blade through his arm, and darting back away before he had time to register the pain.

This one I would play with. Watch his life slowly drain from his eyes.

Whee.

The crowd, mostly gang members, loved it, roaring their approval. Watching me dart in, slice, and dart back out before they could react.

A snarling smile lept to my face as I heard him cry out.

He dropped his knife, and fell to his knees.

I frowned.

Well this was no fun. I was just getting started.

I growled and strode forward, hauling him to his feet and gave him back his blade before  leaping back out of range. I wanted this to last. The crowd wanted this to last. He looked at me, horrified, and just to make him even more scared, I smiled.

He jumped, and I lunged, gliding the edge of my knife across his chest, from the left shoulder to right hip.

His hand must have jerked from the pain, or he had faster reflexes than I thought, for I felt his blade sink into my thigh.

Wincing, I lept back. It wasn't very deep, not bleeding too heavily, and the pain was just a dull throb. I had grown used to most pain years ago, so I ignored it.

Now Joshua was gasping for breath, and again he dropped his knife.

I sighed. He just wouldn't learn, would he? Might as well end this now.

I walked forward, casually. His head shot up, and his eyes widened. Trying to scramble back, he fell, and resorted to crawling. I snarled, growing tired of his foolishness. Hauling him to his feet,  I brought him to eye level with me. I had to lift him off the ground to do it, he was nowhere close to my seven feet, six inches. Some genetic mutation had graced me with my height, and it was very useful in this arena I had been born into.

I looked him deep in his green, terror-filled eyes. I cocked my head to the side, and smiled. A psychotic, snarling smile. His eyes widened even more, if possible. He tried to scream, but I drove my blade into his stomach, cutting him off. I stabbed him again and again. As the blood began to pour from his mouth, thick, red, and reeking of rotting copper, I dropped him and stepped back. The crowd roared even louder, and the Ringmaster raised his hand to quiet them.

He said the words I had heard so many times, I could recite them by heart.

"We have our winner! The Undefeated Champion! The Boar's Child! THE DRAGON!"