|Waster: Enter the Arena
Author: champayne17 PM
This first story tells about an individual whose life-long dream was to participate in the Quake arena, and what happens when he gets his chance. Rated T for violence and strong language.Rated: Fiction T - English - Adventure/Humor - Chapters: 2 - Words: 1,044 - Published: 05-30-09 - id: 5099460
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Footsteps echo throughout the hall as I sprint as fast as physics allow. Choking for breath, begging for air, fighting the will to stop, I forgot all my previous training. Well, that's what the arena does to you. Once you enter, you live on pure instinct and adrenaline. Trying to obey common sense will only get you killed.
I turn as sharp as possible on corners, almost running into the wall. I do not want to waste a single spare footstep, because it might save me later. Drowning out my footsteps are something best described as clonks and clangs. Tank Jr. is on my tail.
Tank Jr. is currently the best in our class, 'Trainee'. He is recovering from a series of losses that brought him down quite a few ranks. He was rising to the top of the tier as soon as I joined the arena. While he is at the top, I am at the bottom, with 0 wins and 2 losses. I have lost enough tournaments, and I'm close to moving up to the next round. However, losing will make me give up my reservations to the next hopeful in line for the tournament forever. I must get into the next round. I am tied for 3rd place out of 5th with Tank Jr. right now, but If Tank kills me, I'll be in 4th, and I'll not qualify for the next round.
Rocket Launcher getting heavy, I drop it and carry on with my trusty shotgun. I get to a room so clean and reflective, it hurts my eyes. Running almost blindly forward, I see a wall. Dead end. I'm truly fucked now. Tank Jr. comes in, battle ready with a BFG, while I'm a sitting duck with shotgun. Oh well, here goes nothing.
Oh shit! I'm out of ammo. I shouldn't have dropped the Rocket Launcher. I'm done for. Tank Jr. has me in his sight, and slowly, as if mockingly moves towards me. This is it, all my hopes and dreams beaten to death by a BFG.
Suddenly, I hear a slight groan, not one caused by living things, but a sort of construction strain. Tank Jr. notices it too, looking around. A hear a crack, and look down. It's the floor. Oh…SHIT!
The next thing I know is that I am hanging on to a piece of the floor that hasn't collapsed over a pit of lava. Who puts fucking lava under a building!? That's it. My breath is gone, my arms are half-dead, and my own blood is blinding my left eye. Tank Jr. was standing on the outskirts of the room where there is a more sturdy construction. He finds his BFG and cautiously moves toward me. Even my gauntlet is nowhere to be found. Well, smoke 'em if you got 'em.