They had been given the simple instruction of choosing a partner that they trust the most before entering the tournament. It was a requirement that every one on the island participate, but even if that hadn't been the case Jake would have entered willingly. A good scrum was always something the kid was up for. Which is exactly what the tournament promised.
"Are you ready to get the trousers beaten off of you, Strider?"
Of course Jake partnered with Dirk too. There wasn't a man on this rock that he trusted more with his life than him. Plus he wanted an excuse to actually wrestle with his best bro without that blasted robot as a go-between. Metal to the jaw hurts alright.
As per the usual, Dirk looked upon the coming game with caution. He didn't trust anything that came from any sort of large corporation, let alone one that constantly pit it's players against one another, but backing out wasn't an option here. It never was and there was no way that he was going to let Jake wander in to this mess without him right there to keep an eye on him. Of course, he just stood loosely, confident and relaxed to most untrained eyes.
"The fact that you can even say that must mean that I have not yet schooled you enough in the way of the Strider. Get ready to lose, English."
"On the contrary-! I've scuffled with that confangled machine of yours enough to know that I stand on the high grounds when pitted against you!" He's bluffing-ohhh is he bluffing but you can't blame a guy for being hopeful. More than anything Jake didn't want Dirk to pull any punches, not like the brobot did when set on 'novice'.
They were led into the arena quickly, given the weapons they came to the island with, and told to stand in the center and wait to start. Back to back, Jake could feel his heart racing, his ears pounding, and his palms itching at the hammers of his pistols. He wasn't going to shoot Dirk, hell no, but he had a trained enough eye to where he could shoot at the ground to startle him.
Which is exactly what happened the moment the buzzer signaled the start of their match and he put enough space between them.
"Are those the things you tell yourself before you go to sleep at night? Maybe after this I'll rehash the conversation of how each thing that I make is a little bit of me. If you can handle it, that is." Dirk is entirely confident in his abilities to hold his own against Jake, but that didn't mean he was going to go in blind. He knew that Jake was strong which meant that this would be an actual scuffle and he was banking on it being at least a little distracting.
He ignored the gnawing feeling that something really wasn't right, that this place felt way too much like the colosseums of old. He stood straight, surveying the arena to look for places he could use for cover if need be, potential exits. Of course he didn't find any of the latter. That would be too simple. He was so close to Jake he could hear his erratic breathing. His own rush of adrenaline matched his friend's, but he wasn't sure if it was for the same reason.
The second the buzzer went off, Dirk was moving. He spun away, dodging a blast aimed at his foot and kicking up the dirt that Jake loosened. He didn't expect Jake to actually aim at his person and he was correct. He flipped his sword and dashed in, swinging with the blunt edge. It wouldn't cut, but it would certainly hurt and still had the very likely potential of breaking bone.
He'd tasted so much dirt in his lifetime the only real problem it presented was that it blinded him. Jake held his arms close to his chest, coughing as quietly as he could as he darted out of the dust. He couldn't hope to hear Dirk either, because enough years of shooting various guns without any sort of protection for his ears has killed his ability to stop any attempts his buddy would make at sneaking up on him.
To say the least he didn't stand a chance against dodging that swinging sword but he held his ground. There is so much mangrit between these two it couldn't possibly be measured.
Jake coughs once, spins on the ball of his foot and uses his momentum to swing his weight and elbow the other. If Dirk dodged (as expected) Jake would continue his efforts to keep their parameters limited, if he could get a clean hit at his bro he stood a chance of knocking him down. Ever closer to the goal of pinning him!
Ever oblivious to the lack of cheering from the risers or the displeased looks coming from the audience. Someone out there knew what was about to happen, but it certainly wasn't Jake. There wasn't an announcer like expected of normal wrestling matches though, this was a detail Jake noticed. As well as a large clock with a minute countdown getting ever closer to the end.
As long as the dirt's intended purpose was successful, Dirk could care less about how bad it tasted. He slipped into the cloud and silently moved across the ground. The difference between he and Jake was that he had stealth. Jake was far too gungho and aggressive in ways that left him wide open. While it was a fault, it was his unpredictability that also made him a threat.
He wasn't surprised when he felt the firm connection of his sword against flesh and he knew from many observed battles between Jake and his own programed AI that Jake was quick to recover, but he didn't expect that much speed. He barely flinched at the metal pressing against his flesh. When Jake spun, so did Dirk, moving with the motion of Jake's elbow rather than against it. He swung his sword backwards. It was an awkward angle so he knew it wouldn't be very effective but it might aid in giving him the space he needed to pull off a more effective maneuver against Jake's over-exuberant attacks.
It was as he spun that he finally got a good look at the audience. While this place wreaked of a ground that had soaked up many a man's blood, these people weren't reacting the way one would while watching a fight. That means that the two of them weren't delivering something that they wanted. Blood. They wanted blood. His eyes flicked from the crowd, to the clock that was ticking down, and back to Jake and his heart dropped clean into his stomach.
If there was ever a time where he wanted to be wrong in his entire life, now was that time. He tilted his torso in such a way to make an opening for Jake to attack. He wouldn't dodge this one. He needed to see how the crowd reacted and he hoped Jake would take the bait and see it as a mistake on his friend's part rather than a set up.
It was like he was a pinata. Jake took the blow to his back with a wince. Like Dirk expected it didn't do as much damage as the first strike, and it gave Jake the chance to exploit the opening that was left for him. He pocketed his barettas, balled his fists, wound back, and threw the best punch he could muster directly onto the speedsters torso.
Jake would never pull punches on Dirk. Dirk deserved an honest fight and the both of them knew it was only for the sport that they would beat on each other like they had been. Given the chance he'd continue this onslaught of punch after punch, ultimately leading to his goal of throwing Dirk down and pinning him on the ground. Three seconds was all he needed and then the match would be over. Right?
Well the clock kept ticking and the fight kept going, but the silence of the audience never changed. Jake was far too absorbed in their scuffle to note this. Even if Dirk went down, they wouldn't cheer. Even if he was pinned, they wouldn't stand. The only sounds the two boys would be privy to, would be the pumping of their own blood and the echo of someone biting their lip too close to a microphone over the loud speakers.
A gasp escaped him as Jake's fist connected with his bared torso. Had this been any other circumstance he would have given Jake the battle that he deserved, that he wanted, but he couldn't do it. Not this time. That didn't stop the pain from dancing along his ribs. He could feel bruise already forming under the skin. He deflected some of the force from the rest of the jabs, accepting the pain in hopes that it would save them somehow.
The silence of the crowd that followed each punch weighed on him heavier than any wound ever would. He let Jake knock his sword out of his hand, but made sure that it didn't get kicked too far away. He just might need it in the very near future. Between the pressure of Jake's punches against his chest and his weight against his abdomen it made it difficult to breathe. He snatched Jake's hand clean out of the air, fingers wrapping around his wrist in a vicegrip that would likely bruise, and tugged him down. His free hand found its way to Jake's throat and he strained the muscles in his hand to make it look like he was gripping tightly without actually doing so. Surely the crowd's reaction to what seemed like a choking grip would give him the answer he needed.
He used his body to guard their faces from the crowd, hands shielding from the ever-unchanging scrutiny of the crowd around them. They needed to do something and they needed to do something fast. He didn't want to think about what would happen if the clock hit zero. As soon as Jake was close enough to hear him, he whispered.
"I think I figured out what they want us to do to each other."
It was too easy. Years of dealing with the hell that robot had put him through and now that he gets to fight the real deal, this is what happens? Jake scowled as he came to realize that Dirk was letting him attack. A rage flared up in his throat, wondering what on earth must have made Dirk do this-fortunately he got his answer quick.
He didn't even see Strider's hand move until he felt it pinch his wrist into a unusable state. For a moment that fire lit again within emerald eyes, ready for the strife when Dirk threw his hand around the others neck and failed to choke him. Jake kept quiet though, he knew something must have been up for Dirk to be reacting like this, "What the devil are you-"
He twisted his pinched wrist against the muscle of Dirk's thumb, throwing the others hand off and taking the chance to grab him by the scruff of his shirt and throwing another punch with the arm that hadn't been pinned, aimed directly for the blond mans jaw. Like it or not, Jake wasn't going to give Dirk the chance to try and explain his observations. Not because he didn't understand, but because he knew what the other was getting at and he wasn't going to give Dirk the opportunity to make himself a target.
Not when that clock was ticking down, minutes away from the zero mark.
"-doing?! Quit stalling and fight me already!!" He yelled, kicking the blade back to Dirk's side and pulling a single pistol from where he had stashed it earlier.
He saw the anger spark in Jake's eyes before the other even had the chance to speak. He wanted more than anything to be able to give Jake the fight he wanted and for the two of them to come out of this, hands clasped on each other's shoulder, tired, bruised, bleeding, but alive. That wouldn't happen. Not today and he was starting to get the sinking suspicion that Jake knew that.
A bruised rib he could deal with. A dislocated jaw was another story. He had to break his grip on Jake's neck to block the punch. His forearm took the brunt of the damage. Fuck. He was doing this on purpose. He couldn't bite back the growl that rumbled low in his chest. His fingers found that familiar hilt quickly, out of reflex, but he didn't use it to swing. Instead he pushed his forearm against Jake's chest and attempted to buck up his hips to throw Jake off.
"Are you fucking stupid or is this just how blind you normally are?" He spat. Maybe if he got Jake angry enough he would lose his cool, but that was a really big stretch.
The one advantage Jake had over Dirk was his strength, and that buck wasn't enough to get him off of the other. He knew he'd have to keep them in close contact if his plan was going to work. A sword would need room to do any serious damage and as it was Jake knew Dirk wasn't going to use that weapon that way regardless. This protected him from being caught.
In favor of using the hand holding Dirk's shirt to throw another punch into the others side, Jake released his grip on the stretching article of clothing. When his neck was released his maneuverability improved greatly, it would be a waste to not use the opportunity. So he tried for a few more punches and a particularly violent pistol whip, making a large show of his actions and ultimately using his wide and sporadic movements to afford Dirk the space to back away if he so chose to.
Jake's scowl would stay firm as he listened to the verbal instigation however. "We're here to fight and time is ticking away!" Three minutes and counting... this was not looking good. Jake didn't have more than a few hits on him and unless Dirk started bleeding they were both in trouble.
He swore quietly under his breath. Stuck under Jake like this he was at a severe disadvantage. One thing he never considered himself to be was a quitter and this would not be any different. Despite how fast his brain calculated the options, the plans, the opportunities, he couldn't think of a way out of this that didn't involve one or both of them meeting a rather cruel demise.
He didn't bother blocking the punches. Instead he tried to return with quick jabs to the more sensitive areas on Jake's body. It was a lot more difficult to do with his sword in his clenched fist but one hand was all he really needed right now. He continued to use the arm with the sword in it to try and push Jake's chest back. It was the pistol whip that got him. Clean on the side of the head, his vision when bright and, for a moment, his limbs went weak. He tried to blink away the lights as pain split his skull.
He wasn't entirely sure how it happened, his flight reflex must have kicked in for the moment he was prone, but he felt his arm swing up in an attempt to connect the butt of his sword with Jake's skull. He pushed back to pull himself out from under Jake and stumbled to his feet, spitting the blood that had filled his mouth.
"Is that all you can really think about? It's really how you run isn't it? Fighting is all you ever think about." He scoffed and smirked through blood-stained teeth, "It's pathetic." It was now that he was grateful for his shades. He might have looked a little desperate otherwise. There were three minutes left to plan how to get Jake out of this. Himself was a second priority now.
These were possibilities Jake had already considered when he realized what was happening in the ring. They were what fueled his actions now and it really only was a matter of minutes till Dirk figured out exactly what his plan was.
Jake coughed harshly at the well placed jabs that went into the softer parts of his abdomen, feeling the pain shoot up his sides. His endurance held through only till he felt the sword hilt collide with the lower end of his jaw, causing Jake to bite the edge of his tongue and spill a considerable amount of blood from his mouth. With the taste of copper in his mouth and his chin throbbing, Jake found himself loose and unable to keep Dirk from slipping out of his grip.
He panted heavily through the gurgling sounds of his still spilling blood. Shitty wound, stupid mistake, he should have expected that to happen. "Shut the hell up Strider!" Jake shouted, stealing himself a glance to the clock again. Two minutes and the audience was only now showing an interest in their performance. Something was going to happen if he didn't end this soon and that chewing sound over the loudspeaker was really grating at his nerves.
Jake pointed his pistol at the ground before Dirk's feet and shot a few rounds to force the other back. "You know by Merlins beard that isn't true!!" He voice broke with the volume it reached as he shouted over the firing rounds.
So it really was blood these bastards wanted, wasn't it? He watched out of the corners of his eyes as the audience slowly moved forward, leaning towards the battle now. Some still looked terribly bored. He scoffed almost silently and moved his focus back to Jake. His head was pounding and his body ached. If he didn't act soon all of this would be over in a way that he didn't want it to end. His brain wouldn't stop hiccuping over both of them not making it out alive, but dammit he couldn't lose Jake.
He flicked his sword out and rolled his stiff shoulder. He gave Jake the moment to recover from the blood dripping from his mouth. Must've pierced his tongue with his teeth. He would heal, "What's that? Did I hit a sensitive nerve?" He started moving forward but his body forced him to stop at the barrage of bullets.
It would have been so simple to just step forward into them, but the only thing they really would have done would shatter through the bone in his shins and he would be stuck there, helpless. Something about Jake's tone struck him and he tried pushing forward despite the bullets.
"Jake don't you fucking do it!" He couldn't keep the tinge of panic from his voice.
Jake kept his pistol trained at the ground before Dirk as he reached to his belt, pulling out his other gun. The clip was still mostly full. It might not have been immediately visible, but he was shaking. Palms sweating as he raised the second gun. The clock was down to one minute and there some unpleasant growling noises now sounding over the loudspeaker.
"Heros don't let their compatriots make sacrifices on their behalf...." He swallowed harshly. The taste of blood was still thick in his mouth and had already dripped down his neck to his shirt. Staining the white fabric. The teen was unable to put to words to the endless thoughts racing through his head. There were too many things that could and should be said, with far too little time to do so. Like those tragic endings to some of his more favored films. This wasn't a movie though, this was real life. This was his best friend's life at risk if he didn't act.
It wasn't fair to either of them, he knew that. It was even selfish of him to be doing this in front of Dirk. One should never weigh a lifes value and rate it with its deserving of continuing life, but that was exactly what Jake did. He couldn't stand to lose the best friend he had, and he knew Dirk was capable of greater things than pacifying his friends wants of scrums, skulls, and adventure. It wasn't fair but that didn't stop him. There were very few people Jake had in his life and by golly he was going to protect them if it was the last thing he did.
Jake steadied his arm and fired a well placed bullet at the base of Dirk's blade to knock it out of his hand. The last few seconds tick away as Jake tries his best to give one of his famous smiles. If Dirk spoke his words didn't reach Jake. His ears pounded as he lifted the lesser used pistol and rested it point blank against his temple.
"You really should close your eyes buddy..." Spoken as if he could see right through those impossible shades. They were shitty last words, but he couldn't afford a reputable speech to convince Dirk this was the right decision. No. All he could do was hope, for a result that left his best friend alive.
With that, he pulled the trigger to the well used gun, closing the match, summoning the roars of the previously apathetic audience, and ending his life.
He could hear his blood rushing in his ears again only this time it wasn't because of adrenaline. He had to get to Jake. This couldn't happen. This wasn't happening. He was not about to lose someone just because he couldn't think of a way out of a simple fucking death match. He shouldn't have hit him that hard. He should have stayed close because at least then he could have grabbed him, stopped him. Anything.
"Bullshit! Heroes don't blow their fucking brains out all over the fucking floor!" He didn't like how his voice cracked. He didn't like this place or how the people watching leaned forward in anticipation as they wondered who would brutally slaughter who. His grip tightened on his sword. If he did it first then-
No. Jake thought of that. He was smarter than he led on. He let the blade fall and finally just pushed himself through the lessened spray of bullets. By some miracle none actually pierced the skin, just skimmed by. It stung but it didn't matter. None of it mattered. It couldn't, not if Jake didn't make it through this. What worth was he if he couldn't save one of his own goddamn friends? How was he supposed to save a world if he couldn't save one person?
"No! Jake don-" His words were cut off by the final shot. He stumbled as he watched what should be inside his skull burst out and all over the ground. He scrambled to catch him, as if that would help. He couldn't breathe past the lump that formed in his throat. He pulled Jake's corpse into his arms and shook him.
"Jake! God no please...Jake." He knew it was no use but he couldn't help it. He wiped desperately at the blood and matter clumped at the bullet wound but nothing he did made it any better. Nothing he could do would change what just happened. He didn't realize how much he was shaking as he desperate searched for a pulse or how the tears had already started to spill down his dirt and blood encrusted cheeks.
"Jake." He croaked, blood covered hand smoothing his unruly hair back, "Jake." The sound from the audience washed over him like a stifling blanket as he held Jake to him, "You stupid, self-centered asshole." He didn't even hear the men coming to take the body, to remove him from the arena so they could start the next match, "Come back."
By the time the men got to him the fight had left him. He stood without much cause and retrieved his sword, but when the men made to take Jake he put the blade to their throats. The audience fell silent in anticipation, "Don't. Touch him." He slid in and knelt down, taking Jakes lifeless body in his arms. If anyone was going to give him a send off, it was him, not the bastards that orchestrated his demise. Of course, they would come later and take Jake by force, but not until Dirk had cleaned him up and prayed to every single god that ever existed that when they next saw each other again he wouldn't turn into some sobbing school girl and that Jake would be okay and maybe not even remember what happened.
Regardless of what gods Dirk had prayed to, it wouldn't bear any results till nearly a week later. Jake's body went through the early stages of decomposition, but after rigor mortis passed it began to slowly heal.
The island boy wasn't the type to think far enough past the 'killing' part of his last moments. He didn't know that his body would revive and expected to have his remains burned, much like he had to do with his grandmother when she was impaled. Inside Jake's own subconscious though, it was entirely possible that he knew everything would be okay after he offed himself. To what extent he understood that feeling was up to debate.
The first signal that something was off should have been the incredible throbbing in his head, the second being the delirium following in suit when he tried to roll over, but this was Jake-ever aware of his surroundings-English. It wasn't till his hand knocked something that he even opened his eyes (still unaware of his revival) thinking he was simply back in his room after a rough scrum with the bro-bot. Everything was blurred and he was (slowly) groping around the bed he was laying in to find his glasses.
The week had been a long one, one with even less sleep than he usually had. It was a week spent researching and collecting information on the likelihood of Jake's resuscitation. Everyone reassured him that everyone came back here, that the moderators of this bloody game wouldn't let their precious pieces be done away with so easily, but as time passed he started to believe those words less and less.
Each day he would clean Jake's body, keep it as preserved as he possibly could, but nothing could stop the growing doubt in the back of his mind. The body would continue to decompose in his bedroom. It was a health hazard. He needed to dispose of it if it got any worse. A couple of times he almost did but he couldn't bring himself to do it. 'Just one more day' he would say to himself. That was three days ago. He couldn't bring himself to burn the only person whoever truly believed in him. If he were in that bed, would Jake do the same?
He tried not to think too much on such things and continued to take care of Jake as if he were still alive. Finally his body was starting to give way and he found himself dozing longer than intended. It wasn't until Jake's hand fell into his lap that Dirk sprung to alertness. His sword was half-way out of his sylladex when he realized what was happening. He mumbled a quick rhyme to put it back before putting Jake's glasses in his hand and sitting back down in the chair next to his own bed.
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"Are you ready to get the trousers beaten off of you, Strider?"
Of course Jake partnered with Dirk too. There wasn't a man on this rock that he trusted more with his life than him. Plus he wanted an excuse to actually wrestle with his best bro without that blasted robot as a go-between. Metal to the jaw hurts alright.
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"The fact that you can even say that must mean that I have not yet schooled you enough in the way of the Strider. Get ready to lose, English."
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They were led into the arena quickly, given the weapons they came to the island with, and told to stand in the center and wait to start. Back to back, Jake could feel his heart racing, his ears pounding, and his palms itching at the hammers of his pistols. He wasn't going to shoot Dirk, hell no, but he had a trained enough eye to where he could shoot at the ground to startle him.
Which is exactly what happened the moment the buzzer signaled the start of their match and he put enough space between them.
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He ignored the gnawing feeling that something really wasn't right, that this place felt way too much like the colosseums of old. He stood straight, surveying the arena to look for places he could use for cover if need be, potential exits. Of course he didn't find any of the latter. That would be too simple. He was so close to Jake he could hear his erratic breathing. His own rush of adrenaline matched his friend's, but he wasn't sure if it was for the same reason.
The second the buzzer went off, Dirk was moving. He spun away, dodging a blast aimed at his foot and kicking up the dirt that Jake loosened. He didn't expect Jake to actually aim at his person and he was correct. He flipped his sword and dashed in, swinging with the blunt edge. It wouldn't cut, but it would certainly hurt and still had the very likely potential of breaking bone.
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To say the least he didn't stand a chance against dodging that swinging sword but he held his ground. There is so much mangrit between these two it couldn't possibly be measured.
Jake coughs once, spins on the ball of his foot and uses his momentum to swing his weight and elbow the other. If Dirk dodged (as expected) Jake would continue his efforts to keep their parameters limited, if he could get a clean hit at his bro he stood a chance of knocking him down. Ever closer to the goal of pinning him!
Ever oblivious to the lack of cheering from the risers or the displeased looks coming from the audience. Someone out there knew what was about to happen, but it certainly wasn't Jake. There wasn't an announcer like expected of normal wrestling matches though, this was a detail Jake noticed. As well as a large clock with a minute countdown getting ever closer to the end.
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He wasn't surprised when he felt the firm connection of his sword against flesh and he knew from many observed battles between Jake and his own programed AI that Jake was quick to recover, but he didn't expect that much speed. He barely flinched at the metal pressing against his flesh. When Jake spun, so did Dirk, moving with the motion of Jake's elbow rather than against it. He swung his sword backwards. It was an awkward angle so he knew it wouldn't be very effective but it might aid in giving him the space he needed to pull off a more effective maneuver against Jake's over-exuberant attacks.
It was as he spun that he finally got a good look at the audience. While this place wreaked of a ground that had soaked up many a man's blood, these people weren't reacting the way one would while watching a fight. That means that the two of them weren't delivering something that they wanted. Blood. They wanted blood. His eyes flicked from the crowd, to the clock that was ticking down, and back to Jake and his heart dropped clean into his stomach.
If there was ever a time where he wanted to be wrong in his entire life, now was that time. He tilted his torso in such a way to make an opening for Jake to attack. He wouldn't dodge this one. He needed to see how the crowd reacted and he hoped Jake would take the bait and see it as a mistake on his friend's part rather than a set up.
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Jake would never pull punches on Dirk. Dirk deserved an honest fight and the both of them knew it was only for the sport that they would beat on each other like they had been. Given the chance he'd continue this onslaught of punch after punch, ultimately leading to his goal of throwing Dirk down and pinning him on the ground. Three seconds was all he needed and then the match would be over. Right?
Well the clock kept ticking and the fight kept going, but the silence of the audience never changed. Jake was far too absorbed in their scuffle to note this. Even if Dirk went down, they wouldn't cheer. Even if he was pinned, they wouldn't stand. The only sounds the two boys would be privy to, would be the pumping of their own blood and the echo of someone biting their lip too close to a microphone over the loud speakers.
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The silence of the crowd that followed each punch weighed on him heavier than any wound ever would. He let Jake knock his sword out of his hand, but made sure that it didn't get kicked too far away. He just might need it in the very near future. Between the pressure of Jake's punches against his chest and his weight against his abdomen it made it difficult to breathe. He snatched Jake's hand clean out of the air, fingers wrapping around his wrist in a vicegrip that would likely bruise, and tugged him down. His free hand found its way to Jake's throat and he strained the muscles in his hand to make it look like he was gripping tightly without actually doing so. Surely the crowd's reaction to what seemed like a choking grip would give him the answer he needed.
He used his body to guard their faces from the crowd, hands shielding from the ever-unchanging scrutiny of the crowd around them. They needed to do something and they needed to do something fast. He didn't want to think about what would happen if the clock hit zero. As soon as Jake was close enough to hear him, he whispered.
"I think I figured out what they want us to do to each other."
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He didn't even see Strider's hand move until he felt it pinch his wrist into a unusable state. For a moment that fire lit again within emerald eyes, ready for the strife when Dirk threw his hand around the others neck and failed to choke him. Jake kept quiet though, he knew something must have been up for Dirk to be reacting like this, "What the devil are you-"
He twisted his pinched wrist against the muscle of Dirk's thumb, throwing the others hand off and taking the chance to grab him by the scruff of his shirt and throwing another punch with the arm that hadn't been pinned, aimed directly for the blond mans jaw. Like it or not, Jake wasn't going to give Dirk the chance to try and explain his observations. Not because he didn't understand, but because he knew what the other was getting at and he wasn't going to give Dirk the opportunity to make himself a target.
Not when that clock was ticking down, minutes away from the zero mark.
"-doing?! Quit stalling and fight me already!!" He yelled, kicking the blade back to Dirk's side and pulling a single pistol from where he had stashed it earlier.
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A bruised rib he could deal with. A dislocated jaw was another story. He had to break his grip on Jake's neck to block the punch. His forearm took the brunt of the damage. Fuck. He was doing this on purpose. He couldn't bite back the growl that rumbled low in his chest. His fingers found that familiar hilt quickly, out of reflex, but he didn't use it to swing. Instead he pushed his forearm against Jake's chest and attempted to buck up his hips to throw Jake off.
"Are you fucking stupid or is this just how blind you normally are?" He spat. Maybe if he got Jake angry enough he would lose his cool, but that was a really big stretch.
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In favor of using the hand holding Dirk's shirt to throw another punch into the others side, Jake released his grip on the stretching article of clothing. When his neck was released his maneuverability improved greatly, it would be a waste to not use the opportunity. So he tried for a few more punches and a particularly violent pistol whip, making a large show of his actions and ultimately using his wide and sporadic movements to afford Dirk the space to back away if he so chose to.
Jake's scowl would stay firm as he listened to the verbal instigation however. "We're here to fight and time is ticking away!" Three minutes and counting... this was not looking good. Jake didn't have more than a few hits on him and unless Dirk started bleeding they were both in trouble.
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He didn't bother blocking the punches. Instead he tried to return with quick jabs to the more sensitive areas on Jake's body. It was a lot more difficult to do with his sword in his clenched fist but one hand was all he really needed right now. He continued to use the arm with the sword in it to try and push Jake's chest back. It was the pistol whip that got him. Clean on the side of the head, his vision when bright and, for a moment, his limbs went weak. He tried to blink away the lights as pain split his skull.
He wasn't entirely sure how it happened, his flight reflex must have kicked in for the moment he was prone, but he felt his arm swing up in an attempt to connect the butt of his sword with Jake's skull. He pushed back to pull himself out from under Jake and stumbled to his feet, spitting the blood that had filled his mouth.
"Is that all you can really think about? It's really how you run isn't it? Fighting is all you ever think about." He scoffed and smirked through blood-stained teeth, "It's pathetic." It was now that he was grateful for his shades. He might have looked a little desperate otherwise. There were three minutes left to plan how to get Jake out of this. Himself was a second priority now.
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Jake coughed harshly at the well placed jabs that went into the softer parts of his abdomen, feeling the pain shoot up his sides. His endurance held through only till he felt the sword hilt collide with the lower end of his jaw, causing Jake to bite the edge of his tongue and spill a considerable amount of blood from his mouth. With the taste of copper in his mouth and his chin throbbing, Jake found himself loose and unable to keep Dirk from slipping out of his grip.
He panted heavily through the gurgling sounds of his still spilling blood. Shitty wound, stupid mistake, he should have expected that to happen. "Shut the hell up Strider!" Jake shouted, stealing himself a glance to the clock again. Two minutes and the audience was only now showing an interest in their performance. Something was going to happen if he didn't end this soon and that chewing sound over the loudspeaker was really grating at his nerves.
Jake pointed his pistol at the ground before Dirk's feet and shot a few rounds to force the other back. "You know by Merlins beard that isn't true!!" He voice broke with the volume it reached as he shouted over the firing rounds.
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He flicked his sword out and rolled his stiff shoulder. He gave Jake the moment to recover from the blood dripping from his mouth. Must've pierced his tongue with his teeth. He would heal, "What's that? Did I hit a sensitive nerve?" He started moving forward but his body forced him to stop at the barrage of bullets.
It would have been so simple to just step forward into them, but the only thing they really would have done would shatter through the bone in his shins and he would be stuck there, helpless. Something about Jake's tone struck him and he tried pushing forward despite the bullets.
"Jake don't you fucking do it!" He couldn't keep the tinge of panic from his voice.
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"Heros don't let their compatriots make sacrifices on their behalf...." He swallowed harshly. The taste of blood was still thick in his mouth and had already dripped down his neck to his shirt. Staining the white fabric. The teen was unable to put to words to the endless thoughts racing through his head. There were too many things that could and should be said, with far too little time to do so. Like those tragic endings to some of his more favored films. This wasn't a movie though, this was real life. This was his best friend's life at risk if he didn't act.
It wasn't fair to either of them, he knew that. It was even selfish of him to be doing this in front of Dirk. One should never weigh a lifes value and rate it with its deserving of continuing life, but that was exactly what Jake did. He couldn't stand to lose the best friend he had, and he knew Dirk was capable of greater things than pacifying his friends wants of scrums, skulls, and adventure. It wasn't fair but that didn't stop him. There were very few people Jake had in his life and by golly he was going to protect them if it was the last thing he did.
Jake steadied his arm and fired a well placed bullet at the base of Dirk's blade to knock it out of his hand. The last few seconds tick away as Jake tries his best to give one of his famous smiles. If Dirk spoke his words didn't reach Jake. His ears pounded as he lifted the lesser used pistol and rested it point blank against his temple.
"You really should close your eyes buddy..." Spoken as if he could see right through those impossible shades. They were shitty last words, but he couldn't afford a reputable speech to convince Dirk this was the right decision. No. All he could do was hope, for a result that left his best friend alive.
With that, he pulled the trigger to the well used gun, closing the match, summoning the roars of the previously apathetic audience, and ending his life.
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"Bullshit! Heroes don't blow their fucking brains out all over the fucking floor!" He didn't like how his voice cracked. He didn't like this place or how the people watching leaned forward in anticipation as they wondered who would brutally slaughter who. His grip tightened on his sword. If he did it first then-
No. Jake thought of that. He was smarter than he led on. He let the blade fall and finally just pushed himself through the lessened spray of bullets. By some miracle none actually pierced the skin, just skimmed by. It stung but it didn't matter. None of it mattered. It couldn't, not if Jake didn't make it through this. What worth was he if he couldn't save one of his own goddamn friends? How was he supposed to save a world if he couldn't save one person?
"No! Jake don-" His words were cut off by the final shot. He stumbled as he watched what should be inside his skull burst out and all over the ground. He scrambled to catch him, as if that would help. He couldn't breathe past the lump that formed in his throat. He pulled Jake's corpse into his arms and shook him.
"Jake! God no please...Jake." He knew it was no use but he couldn't help it. He wiped desperately at the blood and matter clumped at the bullet wound but nothing he did made it any better. Nothing he could do would change what just happened. He didn't realize how much he was shaking as he desperate searched for a pulse or how the tears had already started to spill down his dirt and blood encrusted cheeks.
"Jake." He croaked, blood covered hand smoothing his unruly hair back, "Jake." The sound from the audience washed over him like a stifling blanket as he held Jake to him, "You stupid, self-centered asshole." He didn't even hear the men coming to take the body, to remove him from the arena so they could start the next match, "Come back."
By the time the men got to him the fight had left him. He stood without much cause and retrieved his sword, but when the men made to take Jake he put the blade to their throats. The audience fell silent in anticipation, "Don't. Touch him." He slid in and knelt down, taking Jakes lifeless body in his arms. If anyone was going to give him a send off, it was him, not the bastards that orchestrated his demise. Of course, they would come later and take Jake by force, but not until Dirk had cleaned him up and prayed to every single god that ever existed that when they next saw each other again he wouldn't turn into some sobbing school girl and that Jake would be okay and maybe not even remember what happened.
Or that he wouldn't punch his fucking lights out.
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The island boy wasn't the type to think far enough past the 'killing' part of his last moments. He didn't know that his body would revive and expected to have his remains burned, much like he had to do with his grandmother when she was impaled. Inside Jake's own subconscious though, it was entirely possible that he knew everything would be okay after he offed himself. To what extent he understood that feeling was up to debate.
The first signal that something was off should have been the incredible throbbing in his head, the second being the delirium following in suit when he tried to roll over, but this was Jake-ever aware of his surroundings-English. It wasn't till his hand knocked something that he even opened his eyes (still unaware of his revival) thinking he was simply back in his room after a rough scrum with the bro-bot. Everything was blurred and he was (slowly) groping around the bed he was laying in to find his glasses.
"Blasted...where the devil did they go..."
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Each day he would clean Jake's body, keep it as preserved as he possibly could, but nothing could stop the growing doubt in the back of his mind. The body would continue to decompose in his bedroom. It was a health hazard. He needed to dispose of it if it got any worse. A couple of times he almost did but he couldn't bring himself to do it. 'Just one more day' he would say to himself. That was three days ago. He couldn't bring himself to burn the only person whoever truly believed in him. If he were in that bed, would Jake do the same?
He tried not to think too much on such things and continued to take care of Jake as if he were still alive. Finally his body was starting to give way and he found himself dozing longer than intended. It wasn't until Jake's hand fell into his lap that Dirk sprung to alertness. His sword was half-way out of his sylladex when he realized what was happening. He mumbled a quick rhyme to put it back before putting Jake's glasses in his hand and sitting back down in the chair next to his own bed.