The Wasteland Battle

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A gong sounds and then the door opens and I'm free to go. As soon as I step out of the metal crate, it disappears back down to the Chambers and Pit. My ears take in my surroundings, listening for any noise while my eyes drink up the sights of the barren Wasteland. To my right is the dried up Thunder Creek and Stormy Stream and to my left is one of the Rusted Iron mounds. My nose twitches as the wind changes direction. I turn and see a boy. I curl my lips into a snarl. "What a mistake you've just made. I am very angry." I growl and slowly creep forward. I feel the slightest bit of effort in making myself look truly angry. I'd rather be just about anywhere else than be fighting in the Wasteland battle. The boy draws a throwing knife and flicks his wrist. There's a blur, and the dagger glances off my shoulder armor. I don't blink and make a point to enunciate my long claws and sharp fangs. The boy doesn't seem fazed and fearlessly draws his sword from its sheath. "Care to dance?" He asks with a smile.

"Gladly." I reply softly, careful to keep half an eye and ear out for anyone else. Who knows if this is a trap? We circle each other and I stalk around the boy who looks at me from underneath his eyelashes with a smirk oozing across his face. Like a striking snake, the boy leaps at me. His sword slashes at my face but the boy's aim is off. The metal bites at my face and the warmth of blood spills down my cheek, but the cut is shallow. I snarl and swing a forepaw, my claws digging into the boy's leg. There's the crack of bone and a muffled cry of pain as the boy bites down on his fist. His leg is unrecognizable and he howls in agony. I sever his spine to end the pain.

I don't look back as I run off. I can't. If I did, I know I'll see all the blood, broken bones, and guts. All the damage I caused.

 There's only one place where most of the fighting takes place and where the ground is stained red; the Dozer Debris. After each Wasteland battle, the ground is a sloppy, muddy sea of blood and bodies. A few times I was almost up to my ankles in a bloody soup. The shell of a truck lies on the barren ground of the Wasteland arena. Around it, there's most of the Rusted Iron mounds. The metal beams provide excellent fighting points if you can get the high ground. I leap to the top of one of the Rusted Iron mounds. The rough edges dig into my paw pads but I ignore the pain and take in my surroundings. All around me there are fights going. Shouts of victory and pain explode into the air. Blood splatters all over the ground, causing the earth to run red and the fight has only just begun. The quiet only lasts a moment before some shouts, "Arrow! He's over there!" Some don't react and keep fighting but there's a large group that comes running my way. Death is written across their hard gazes. I exhale, frown, then relax and smile. "Oh, no. You found me." I say sarcastically and feign sighing in sadness.

"What? You didn't find that funny? Shucks, I'll have to work on that. Alright, I'm done with the sarcasm." I take a step forward, looking carefully at the sea of faces beneath me. I see Bear, Rhys, Shadow, and Night among them.

"Arrow, come down. We want to fight. We want our points. You come down or we come up, your choice." Rhys snarls the words.

"It's a simple choice, Arrow. Do what's right. You're standing on probably what's upwards of a million points. The rest of us have next to none. Only a few have a couple hundred. The leaderboard gets you lots of points and no one, except for you, stays up there long. Your choice." Bear's voice is flat but there's an edge of menace.

"Not my fault I happen to be able to fight." I murmur, my voice almost silent.

"What's that?" Rhys demands.

"Nothing, I was debating my options."

"I'm counting down from five. Five."

"Four."

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