Rise Of The Scoundrel

0. The Box

On an uncomfortable metal chair, he sat,  knee bouncing ever-so-slightly as Kash watched the tenth fight of the day take place on the field below. He was high up, possibly on the seventh or eighth floor, and just like everyone else in their boxes, he had a perfect view when the Core competitor struck his hand into the Mender's chest cavity and tore out her heart.

Her small body stood weakly, arms lifted at her sides in mid-movement. Her body seemed frozen in time as her bloodshot eyes lost their light, and a river of blood spilled out at her feet. This was an injury not even a Mender could come back from. She crumbled to the ground, her head colliding with a sizable rock and splitting her temple open. Her last few seconds of consciousness were spent watching her heart gush blood, spilling between the fingers of her opponent's hand. The winner joyously jogged the perimeter of the arena before giving what Kash assumed was supposed to be a battle cry, squashing the organ under his boot. The Core continued waving to and pointing at other participants up in their boxes, most of which were eating up his charade.

A buzzer sounded from the speaker in the top corner of his box, and that was that. The shutters on the large window before him shut. Kash rubbed his hands over his face and sighed. His eyes burned when they closed, dry from his unblinking stare while the fight took place. He didn't enjoy watching such gruesome situations, but he couldn't afford not to watch. If he wanted to survive, he had to absorb as much information as he could about the arena and the quality of the other competitors. At least, that's what his mentor had told him.

Kash gazed at his reflection in the window and frowned. He looked too old for eighteen, many had told him that, but the face looking back at him was beyond that. It was worn, dark circles cupping his eyes which craved even just a moment of rest. Stubble was beginning to grow on his face, making him itchy. Kash had shaved the morning he left for the Trial, but it had been three days since then. The Capitol wanted clean-cut individuals but couldn't even provide him a razor. He had dawned the Trial gear afterward, brand new black combat boots with matching pants and shirt. 

"Good," he had thought. "Black hides blood well."

Kash stood from his seat and stretched, being sure to loosen all of his muscles and slapping his face to sharpen his senses, just in case he was next. His opponent could be anyone since they were chosen by a randomized system. Though, he was starting to wonder just how random it actually was. The two participants who had just fought were in the same village as Kash, and everyone there knew the two butted heads. No, it was more than that. They despised each other. The Core had been from the Capitol, the son of a high-ranked official, temporarily staying in the village while the Mender was a native of the village. Her family was poor, struggling daily to get by on very little. It was a relationship bound to bring about resentment and disdain.

When it came to Kash, the villagers had always viewed him as a prodigy. At a younger age, he thrived on the compliments and attention he got because of his natural talent. They said he would bring respect to the village, proving that they could be just as powerful and were just as crucial as the esteemed Capitol members above.

He walked over to the wall-mounted sink and took a drink from the faucet. The room, or box as he called it, was barren. A sink, cot, and toilet were all that were available to him other than the metal chair. There was a large ceiling-to-floor window that allowed him to view the arena during fights, but only then. The arena was encircled by a large building made up of more boxes, stacked with their large windows facing the center. The fighters always had an audience, but it wasn't just the other competitors that were watching.

Guards brought food and water at designated times, giving everyone a thirty-minute pause for lunch and dinner, as breakfast was held before the first battle of the day. Bedtime was strict, from ten at night to six in the morning. Such mundane routines being kept up even during this time of crisis made Kash feel sick.

Hurry up and finish your breakfast! You need the strength to rip that guy's head off his shoulders. Remember, nature tends to design structures that don't do very well against torsion, so be sure to really twist.

Kash stared at his reflection in the mirror, his brow was starting to gather sweat while his chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. It felt like the muscles in his shoulders he had just stretched were cramping, and his heart was beating forcefully against his chest. Kash whipped around and before he realized it, he was across the room grasping the door handle tightly. He wanted to run, to get as far away from this place as could. He didn't want his head ripped off.

Yet, he grit his teeth in pure frustration as he forced himself to release the handle. He was committed, there was no getting out. His last chance to drop out had already passed, and he had personal tasks to complete. Kash needed answers that could only be found in the Capitol, so he promised himself he'd reach the top, he had to, but when he looked at that door his gut told him to bash it open and high tail it.

Inhaling sharply, he held his breath for as long as possible. When he couldn't any longer he exhaled harshly, puffing his cheeks out, and allowed his feet to drag him back to his chair.

Tilting his head back and closing his eyes, a faint drop fell down his cheek. Inhaling the smell of his sterile room, he allowed the sound of the air conditioning unit to lull him into a false sense of peace and security. Air conditioning was a rare thing in his village, and the feeling was blissful. Kash allowed himself to have that moment, but nothing else. He laughed to himself, wondering what his village would say about him if they saw their talented representative in such a state. He unclenched his fists, leaving small bloody crescent moons in his palms. He had to bring himself back to reality before -

The buzzer sounded once again and everything brightened, the summer sun streaming into his box and revealing the arena once again. It was empty and tidied after the previous battle, all reset for the next one. Kash squared his shoulders and hardened his eyes once more, ready to take mental notes on the eleventh battle of the day.

A voice came from the small speaker this time, "Battle eleven will begin ten minutes after names have been drawn."

A moment went by, and Kash counted the seconds before it spoke again.

"Contestant one, Kash Ryker. Please proceed to gate A."