Slash

Victory isn't always so sweet.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, I present to you our sword fighting duo, Ace and Slash!”

The crowd erupted into cheers as lights flashed. Ace remained still as the platform he stood on rose slowly up and stopped level with the floor. Across the arena, a black silhouette did the same. A light splashed across his face for a moment, and Ace saw his opponent’s grim and determined expression.

Slash was not the real name of his opponent, and Ace was not his own name. Ace and Slash were stage names, but even more so they were roles. “Ace” and “Slash” were never both the same people fight after fight. But he’d been Ace only once before.

He’d thought, prayed actually, that they’d forgotten him. He thought he’d made himself disappear after that first time. He moved away, changed his name, closed off anything that could be traced back to him. He hadn’t expected to be let go free, but they must have realized that without any legal proof, there was absolutely nothing he could do but disappear.

“Let me remind you once again ladies and gentlemen, this is only an act designed to look real for your entertainment! All blood and injury is fake, and these are actors!”

Ace scoffed, but he really wanted to laugh. Fake? That was a lie. There was a reason the roles never had the same two people in more than one fight. It wasn’t just a simple sword fight.

But he’d heard this wasn’t Slash’s first duel. Apparently, this Slash had some serious skill with a sword, and that worried Ace. He survived once, but only just barely. Luck had been on his side. But this time, he wasn’t sure he could make it. Against an opponent like this, who’d won somewhere between three and seven rounds (no one ever seemed to remember exactly how many), Ace didn’t know how long he’d last.

From across the arena, Slash raised  his sword and pointed it at him.

Ace narrowed his eyes, gripping his own sword tightly.

“Fighters, are you ready?”

But one thing was certain. No matter how confident he may not be, he wasn’t going down without giving all he had.

“Fight!”

A gunshot rang out, signaling the start of the fight. Slash wasted no time and immediately started running across the arena towards him. He was fast, a lot faster than Ace.

Ace took a deep breath to ready himself, and then he sprinted towards Slash, his sword at the ready.

He had no idea what to expect, but when their swords collided with a loud metallic clang, they hit with such force that his muscles locked up as pin-and-needle-like pain shot up his arms. He grunted, clenching his teeth as he tried to regain feeling.

The impact had apparently no effect on Slash, who pulled his sword back and wound up for another strike. Ace swung clumsily with mostly still numb arms, hoping to swipe his stomach at the least. Slash danced to the side, just out of his reach, and rammed the hilt of his sword into Ace's side. The air rushed from his lungs in a painful gasp, tears pricking his eyes. He clutched his abdomen with his left hand, dropping to one knee as stars burst in his vision. He desperately tried to refill his lungs with air, but with every inhale came an explosion of pain in his side. Most likely a broken rib, which was a horrible start to the fight.

"Are you going to get up?" Slash's voice was smooth and deep, soft like velvet, with just a hint of some kind of lilting accent. Ace staggered to his feet, using his sword as a cane to steady himself. He turned to face Slash behind him, breathing rapid, shallow breaths.

'He broke my rib with one hit.' Ace thought. 'No wonder he's some kind of champ...' His heart fluttering rapidly, Ace grunted in reply, "Yeah."

"They said to make it a show. They always do." Slash stated. "If it weren't for that rule, you would be dead at this moment."

Ace gave a half-chuckle, his mouth quirking up in a strange little smile. "...I know." He agreed.

While his easy compliance was not exactly what he knew his opponent was expecting, he did notice it threw Slash off a bit. "Do you believe you have any chance of winning?" He asked.

"Realistically?" Ace replied. "Nah. Not even a tiny chance. I've been here before, but only once. They let me go, but honestly the only reason I won was sheer luck."

That grabbed Slash's attention. "They let you go? Why?"

He attempted a shrug, failed, and simply shook his head instead. "Dunno. They never said. Not that it mattered much; a place like this changes you. It's not that simple to just slide back into society."

Slash was unresponsive, but as long as it gave Ace a minute to gasp in a little more air, he didn't care. The crowd was still roaring, but they were growing impatient. It worried Ace some, but not as much as making sure his lungs could still function on small gasps of air.

After a few moments that seemed like hours, Slash quietly said, "They crowd is restless."

Ace only nodded in reply, trying to save his breath.

"...I've got a plan for a show to knock them breathless. Follow my lead." And before Ace even had time to tell him his figure of speech was not funny, Slash was charging him once again.

He muttered a curse and threw his sword up, but Slash hooked his own sword beneath Ace's and knocked it away with the flick of his wrist. It landed in the soft ground a few feet away, hilt buried in and blade pointing up. With a devastated cry and a brief flashing of his life before his eyes, Ace turned to retrieve it, Slash close on his heels.

'What kind of plan is this?' Ace thought, the crowd cheering Slash's name. 'Knock 'em breathless my a*s, he just wants to win! Well, he's gonna have to try a little harder than that!'

His lungs were burning by the time he'd neared his sword. But he knew that if he stopped to pry it from the ground, Slash would have a clear, clean shot at his neck. So instead, he tried something a little different.

He stopped less than a foot away from it and then hit the ground, pressing himself flat. Slash didn't react fast enough and he tripped over Ace, sending him pinwheeling as he lost his balance and fell directly on the sharp point of the sword. It ripped through his chest with a sickening crunch and a splash of blood.

The crowd exploded into cheers and Ace's ears were ringing as the Ringmaster declared him winner. Disbelief coursed through him.

He hadn't expected to win.

But then the lights and the sounds and the elation were gone as he was pulled from center stage to the back, where the rest of the performers lived. And the disbelief turned more to a slight terror as they locked him in a large, dark cage with only a few bandages around his chest. And as he sat there, still in pain, still afraid, still with some red on his dirty hands, he realized something.

In the end, he was not the winner. There was no letting him go this time. He was to participate until he couldn't any longer.

In the end, Slash was the real winner.