Rise From the Ashes (Sequal to On the Wrong Side)(BBS)

Chapter 4

Song is Champion by Fall Out Boy.

Third-Person POV-

The BBS reluctantly stepped into the ring one by one, looking helplessly at their boyfriends on the outside, who looked between their leader and their boyfriends worriedly. Evan stepped in before Brock, purposely stomping on his foot as he went by. Brock showed no reaction, staring at Evan coldly as he went by. A small, involuntary shiver went up Evan's back, and he mumbled something about Brock being an asshole before he went to the other side, where his team was. They all scowled at him, knowing that Evan was the reason for all of their current problems. Well, everyone but Brian, who was staring at Brock as he took off his sweatshirt. A blush spread over Brian's pale cheeks as he watched Brock's shirt ride up and his muscles flex as he pulled the sweatshirt off with a flourish. Brock wore a black t-shirt under his sweatshirt with the words Ice Ice Baby written in pale blue with a small ice cube below it printed on his chest. Brock looked up and met Brian's eyes. Despite everything that had happened, Brock still loved Brian, just as much as he had the day he left. Brain felt the same way, although the two didn't know that. Suddenly, Evan's voice cut through their eye contact, making both of them turn away.

"C'mon, lover boy. Get your head in the game and out of his ass."

Brian grumbled curse words under his breath as he joined the clump of his friends, glaring at Evan, who stood in front of them all.

"Pull yourselves together, idiots. They're the enemy, and Brock is just one man. We can take him, just like we did a year ago."

"But what if we don't want to?! A year ago we didn't know who they were! They're our boyfriends, or were before you had to be a dumbass!" Brian spat harshly, glaring at Evan with a burning hatred in his eyes. Brian had always blamed Evan for the fact that Brock had to leave him.

"Well, suck it up, pussies! We gotta-"

"Are we doing this or what?! Honestly, it's like you guys don't even want to get out of here. Too scared, Evan?" Brock called out from the opposite end of the cage, but instead of having a cocky smile like Evan would have had, he had a solemn look on his face. He didn't want to fight them. Even after everything, they were still his friends, and he still didn't want to hurt anyone, period.

Evan just scoffed and turned around, readying himself in a fighting stance. The others did too, although they didn't look very threatening, or like they actually knew how to stand in a fighting stance. Brock and everyone outside the cage could see that they had only ever fought with their powers, relying on those to protect them instead of actually being able to fight hand-to-hand.

Brock quickly assessed them, standing in a loose fighting stance, arms out, but in more of a defensive look instead of an offensive one. He looked at the people he hadn't seen in a year. Lui, who would still just rely on his brute strength to batter people into submission. Marcel, who only tried to trip people up and tie them with his vines and never moved, concentrating too much on said vines. Tyler, who used one big form, the tiger one, 99% of the time when a smaller, more agile shape would work better. Jon, who mostly just tried to trap people in the water and didn't use it to help him move around or anything. The other John, who mostly tried to blind people instead of using his vapor as cover for himself or his teammates. Brian, who barely seemed to actually engage in the fight, mostly just lobbing random objects in that caused harm instead of making something he can actually use for himself in close quarter combat. And Evan, whose ego's only limit was how high he could fly, which made it easy to get him to let his guard down.

All of that ran through Brock's head before Evan suddenly shot forward, aiming to knock Brock off of his feet. Brock spun on instinct, feeling the wind blow past him as Evan shot by. He threw up an ice wall in front of him as Tyler lunged at him, shifting into his tiger form. The fight soon dissolved into an organized form of chaos.