Chapter 3, Part 2

A student of the future faces overwhelming odds during a life-threatening tournament.

As soon as I stepped out the door, I ran smack into a solid surface. I backed away and craned my neck upwards, seeing what I had run into. It was a boy... A man, scowling down at me. He was at least a full foot taller than me, weighed twice as much as I did, and looked like he hated my guts.

 

“I saw the Warden giving you a private lesson, Jade.” He spat my name, which called my attention to the fact that our names were stitched into our uniforms. Two equally buff young men behind him chuckled.

 

Wrongly, I scoffed. “Seriously? You three are such a cliché. I wouldn't be at all surprised to find out you were just planted here by the government to ruffle some people's feathers.” I turned and began to walk away, though he caught my shoulder, the hurt one, and I fought the pain off of my face as I was forced to turn around and look at him.

 

“Teacher's pet.” He murmured in gravelly bass tones. “You yourself are a cliché. You think you worked the hardest to get here, but you didn't. You think you deserve the special attention you're getting from the Warden, but you don't.” Stoker, as his nametag read, pointedly gazed up and down at my body. Tenderly, as if to stroke a butterfly's wings, he caressed the side of my face in his saucepan-sized hand. “We all know he wants you for other reasons, cutie.”

 

His goonies snickered. I scowled, heat coming to the side of my face as he pulled his hand away. What hurt me the most is that what he said was probably the truth. Say something else, I dare you. To my pleasure, he accepted my private dare.

 

“Don't bother denying it. We all know tha-AAAARRRGGGHHHH!” I took off running, massaging my hand. I had just driven the heel of my palm into his nose, and though I broke his nose, his nose hurt my hand. I heard heavy footfall behind me, the sound of three people chasing me, and I turned sharply down a corner. Just as I hoped, Stoker and his goonies split up, his goonies chasing directly after me as their leader took what he thought to be a shortcut. Clichés all over the place. I hoisted my nimble 120-lbs frame onto a shelving unit, and as soon as Stoker ran past me, I clumsily jumped onto his back and quickly locked his neck into a perfect Rear Naked Choke.

 

Just to drive him nuts, I whispered into his ear as he struggled to get me off of him. It would only take twenty seconds before he passed out, and that was all I needed. A minute of the Rear Naked Choke would kill him, but I was no murderer. “Easy, big guy.” I whispered, and cranked on his neck by pulling on his torso with my legs. He fell over, landing on me, but he was still struggling, and I still had the superior position. “Just a few more seconds, then nighty-night for you.” I whispered hoarsely: “DON'T MESS WITH ME AGAIN.” Almost as if to be affectionate, I tenderly nuzzled his ear, feeling the fight draining from him. Five more seconds. “Next time, I will not hesitate to kill you.”

 

He was done, and his limp frame collapsed onto my body. It would be a couple more seconds before his goonies caught up to us, so I struggled out from beneath him, wrapped my arms around his chest, and picked his upper body up, so that the first thing the other boys would see would be me being merciful to their leader. I already felt guilty for throwing him unconscious, but I wiped the guilt from my face as the other two came around the corner, panting. They stopped dead in their tracks when they saw Stoker in my arms.

 

“Oh my God, she killed him!”

 

I gave a wry bark of laughter. “No, I didn't. Take him back, he'll be awake within a few minutes.” I handed his limp body to his two friends. “Take good care of him, seriously. Don't let him get into fights like this again, or he might bite off more than he can chew.” I had to stand on my toes, but I reached up and patted their hair like good guard dogs. “The second I see him or you two messing with anybody else, I will hurt you.” It was a bluff: I can't recognize faces. The uniforms made it impossible for me to recognize anybody, at least for the next couple of weeks. I wouldn't know them bullying anybody from some innocent kids playfighting. I smiled sweetly, purposefully making my voice more high-pitched, feminine, innocent. “Good luck in the tournament today.”

Author's Note

This is an old work of mine, written when I was fifteen, inspired by a dream that I had. I discovered the work recently and liked it, so I have decided to revisit it. I will likely do a lot of editing and may add on to the story, or I may scrap it entirely. I would love constructive criticism over every aspect that could be improved.