Priar had never known meant what it really meant to be in a fight. He'd of course fought before in the orphanage. You'd either steal or fight to keep what you had. Once, he'd found out his "partner" had a 3rd party to their secret meetups: a boyfriend. The guy pulled a knife on Priar, but luckily the cops came before something bad could happen. Another, sparked when he'd stolen money from his roommate. He was thrown onto the stoney pavement that same night, forcing him back to the shelter like a stray dog. The one thing those fights had in common: a breakpad. Someone on the outside to stop them from going too far. Cops, friends, teachers, but at Bramblewood there was no such thing. The role an instructor played in those situations was to pick up the broken bones and staple them back together.
Priar pumped his legs the way he was taught, sprinting to the end of the hall. Having been on the football team for a short time, he'd felt confident in his ability to escape his aggressor- only, this was not a game.
Malcolm prepared himself, giving Priar a small window of a head start before bounding towards him faster than Priar could recognise the distance. He felt a rough hand wrap around the side of his waist, as Malcolm turned himself in a battering ram, sending Priar slamming to the floor. Malcolm, in the same way he took Jolie's arm, pulled Priar's right hand into his chest, trapping Priar in Malcolm's favorite hold: the armbar. Priar knew what was to come next but nothing could've prepared him for the pain. It was as if his bone was being tested repeatedly, a small tug out of place, then another going farther. At any moment he could break the bone fully, but Malcolm had liked to play with his food. He pulled on Priar's arm further, before they'd both heard sickening pop from Priar's shoulder.
He didn't want to be in this school. He felt it was unfair to be suffering this pain for something he'd never agreed to. He wished so badly to return to his house on the hill. He'd wanted to see the only woman he could call his mother. To taste her cooking and help her wash the dishes afterwards. It all felt like a fleeting dream he'd grown too attached too.
At the end of each dream there is the realization it was all a fantasy. His dad turned a sweet thought sour. If he were to go back home, he'd have to deal with the backlash that came with it. The insults and the complaints. There was nothing for him there, he'd never see his "family" again if he left. Either bite the bullet and restart his life from nothing, or spend the next year with the good, the bad, and the ugly.
Malcolm hummed a small tune while pulling apart bone. "Your little girlfriend put up much more of a fight, you know." his grip tightened on Priar's wrist, "I don't like you very much, Priar." he said. He'd hunted down his name. "But your act of heroism has inspired me." he smiled. "When I'm finished with you, I'll go and pay Jolie a visit and make sure she gets what's coming to her."
Priar thought of Jolie's pained breaths as she tried hopelessly to escape Malcolm's snare. The expression she'd made knowing what could happen- it was her worst fear. Although she was much stronger than Priar, she was still a girl. A girl that cared. A girl that loved. She'd lived a life just like anyone else outside of that school. Perhaps she'd dreamed of a future full of love, but this boy, no older than Priar was, took someone so beautiful and tried to mangle her, all for his amusement.
Priar's rage rapidly rose to the surface. Malcolm would only torment her more if no one would be there to keep him in check. He didn't care what happened. Nobody would hurt her again and he'd make sure of it.
Priar, like an animal caught in a trap, thrashed violently, doing anything he could to get free of the hold. Moving only made it worse, but what other choice did he have? Break or be broken, and he could not live with himself if trash like this got Jolie.
He gritted his teeth, twisting his body around, stretching his injured shoulder past a length he was comfortable with and propped himself up to his knees. He lifted Malcolm's feet off the ground for only a second. That moment breaking the tension on his elbow. Priar was going to slam Malcolm into the ground, breaking his back in two.
Malcolm, in surprise, quickly released his grip on Priar, rolling onto his back and pushing himself off the ground to stand. His long hair drooped behind him as a bead of sweat fell from his forehead.
Priar took the opportunity and rushed Malcolm, bashing him into the wall. Wood splintered off into an explosion as Malcolm stumbled to his feet, the pair leaving behind a crater in the once decadent hall.
With a rageful roar, Priar reared back a heavy fist and sent it hurling into Malcolm's face, foam coating the corner of his mouth. As bone made contact with soft flesh. Malcolm's jaw moved out of place, a mixture of spit, sweat, and blood flung out and onto the wall behind him. Malcolm had been stunned, but Priar could hardly stand, he could've ran, never to be heard or seen again, but he didn't think of that. He wasn't thinking at all. All the anger that'd been stewing within him since he'd first left home all spewed out in a reckless mess. This was his defiance, his way of fighting back. No one could take him away from it.
Priar pulled back his uninjured arm to deliver another devastating blow, but his aggressor acted faster.
Malcolm gripped the back of Priar's head with both hands and slammed his face onto his knee. Priar saw a flash of white, before reeling back, a burning hot sensation trickling down his chin.
Malcolm chuckled to himself, "You know what? For a common cockroach, not bad." he admired, spitting out blood.
"Shut the hell up!" Priar ran at him again, arching back another heavy hook.
Malcolm clocked him in the jaw with a jab, the pain in his teeth reverberating through his skull. Malcolm flashed a bloody grin that said "go on, I know you've got more in you".
Priar once again stabilized himself, catching Malcolm's frustrating confidence. He ran after him, wanting nothing more than to make him swallow that grin.
Malcolm slipped to the side, allowing Priar to close the distance for him, then delivered a strong right hook to the side of Priar's temple, sending him to the floor in an instant.
Priar, shaken, looked up to his enemy- unwilling to give up. He gritted his teeth, pushing himself off the ground with his knuckles. He'd wanted so badly to put that piece of garbage into a coma, but he couldn't find the strength to rise.
"Is that it?" Malcolm complained. He crouched down to Priar's level, "Well, I guess you're more than meets the eyes." Malcolm took a moment, thinking to himself. A heavy sigh brushed against the back of Priar's neck. "What am I going to do with you hm?" he grabbed Priar by hair, picking his head up off the floor.
Eyepatch who'd been watching the fight from afar, chimed in. "We could just let him go back to his hall?"
Malcolm inspected what all he'd done to Priar like an artist would admire their own work. "No, I don't think that's appropriate. When a mutt bites its master, it must be punished; otherwise how will it know any better?"
Eyepatch relented. He knew his word was no good when it came to Malcolm, but he didn't think it'd hurt to try.
Priar's vision faded before hearing the sharp clacking of heels along the floor before his eyes laid to rest.
Headmaster Daliah itched the back of her neck looking at the list of failures this year. Her office was not as extravagant as the rest of the school. The smell of cigarette smoke stuck to the wallpaper, which was often accompanied by a large clutter of paperwork taller than her at times. Daliah was not by any means lazy, but she was only one person in a situation much dire than she'd cared to admit.
With a sigh she let a file fall from her hand and drift to the floor. Her hands found solace at the warmth of her shoulders, before moving onto the next page in the stack. It was a report from the front line. Signed by Marshal Meyers himself, a man that far outranked her, someone she'd only heard of in legends.
She sat up in her chair as her eyes raced across each word.
If this works then maybe there's hope in the fight afterall. I don't know who it is that will receive this letter but I am writing to you with the intention of sharing what I've discovered on this latest expedition.
I am Marshal Meyers, Lieutenant colonel of the 1st battalion and I've sent my soldiers to die. Around a month now, 1,343 men and women under my command were sent to eliminate the greatest threat this world had seen. Now, I am the last one left. The enemy's methods were unlike any I'd witnessed, one man alone could tear apart tens of my troops before finally succumbing to their wounds. Their armor absorbed our bullets at first, but after some time it wore enough for us to penetrate. That wasn't the only problem we faced, even after their armor overheated, they possessed an enhanced physical ability. In the case of Corporal Ryan Taylor, 1 threat had gotten close enough to engage in CQC. All I managed to recover were his tags. I still have them all with me- The ones I could collect at least.
We'd speculated they'd created a steroid of some kind to enhance their physical ability, but upon autopsy provided by Lieutenant Larson Lefraun, he'd found their muscle density to be several times stronger than the average soldier. May god rest his soul.
Daliah's grip tightened on the paper, a tear forming at the corner of her eye.
I pray that our findings could help in the fight and I am sorry that I cannot be there to witness this frozen hellhole, burnt to the ground. I advise that you do not send over a rescue team. I doubt I could make it back even if there was a response. God bless you all.
prosperity to mankind.
Daliah set the report down, staring blankly at her desk. The first platoon was gone. She'd never get to bury her husband and what's worse there were no signs of this war ever coming to an end.
SCREE the radio at her side screeched to life, snapping her back to reality. She wiped her eyes dry. "Headmaster, there's a fight in A hall, requesting your assistance" Click Daliah unclipped the radio from her hip and held it to her mouth
"I'm on the way"