|Die Another Day
Author: Cosmic Castaway PM
When Kirk is shanghaied into the dark world of arena fighting, the crew has to find a way to locate him and rescue him before he meets his final match.Rated: Fiction T - English - Drama/Hurt/Comfort - J. Kirk - Chapters: 3 - Words: 5,734 - Reviews: 23 - Favs: 11 - Follows: 35 - Updated: 04-15-10 - Published: 03-02-10 - id: 5787826
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: Hello everybody. I have to admit this right off the bat. I never thought I'd be writing a Star Trek fanfic. Yes, this would be the first crucial ST fanfic. I've been a scifi fan all my life but never a ST fan. Then the movie came out and well it did what it was suppose to do, grab those who never were into the shows and movies. I cannot WAIT for the sequel for my DVD has pretty much screamed out in mercy after watching religiously. So after reading some great fanfic on this site I thought I'd try my hand in it. I do hope you like this story, and honestly few times I've thought about getting a beta reader because I'm just going on some things I've read about the show. So hopefully I don't mess up to badly.
Warnings: Nothing to bad, but there will be some blood and some cussing so easily offended then maybe this wouldn't be the ideal story for you.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I promise to put the characters back the way I found them…then again they might be a bit tad messed up. Who knows with the evil world of fanfiction.
Year: This takes place quite some time after the movie. Maybe up to quite a few months even say a year. So the crew is pretty much a tight group, but like any true crew they have their moments.
Pain. That's all James T. Kirk knew from the moment his eyes focused around him until the sweet world of unconsciousness grasped him and offered him sweet surrender in its warm dark nothingness. Days were becoming nights, nights becoming weeks. There was no telling how long he'd been there. Time had become something of the past. Then again, it was kind of hard to keep track when you were confined to a cell.
How he wished, with every fiber in his body, that he could close his eyes, wake up, and find himself home. Funny, how quickly a ship can become your residence and the crew members can develop into your family. Dysfunctional and a bit chaotic at times. But what family isn't? But the one question that dwelled in Jim's mind was, did they think of him? Had they given up or were they still relentlessly looking for him?
Despair then soon followed that line of thinking. He was never going to get out of this personal hell. How could his crew ever find him when he himself couldn't tell you where he was. He was a lost soul on a road destined to travel alone. How could he find a way to escape? The only way out were by two methods: either creating a brilliant escape plan or fatality itself. There was a part of him that wanted nothing more than to welcome death with open arms and embrace it like it was an old friend.
He knew no matter how much he wanted to give in, there was a part of him that just couldn't lay down and die. An internal instinct, an animal inside that screamed at Kirk to endure, to not give in, to continue his day to day fight to survive.
His tired eyes began to close again when the sound of his cell door brought him to full alert. The door was being opened from the outside and within a few seconds his captors, his tormentors, stepped inside.
It had become somewhat a routine, something he sadly had gotten used to. They would show up, undo the chains that held him to the floor, and he'd spring into action like a wild creature. He'd start kicking, punching, screaming hell and even bite down a few times before, just to try and get the advantage. He was trying to do anything to get away. But, like always, they subdued him and dragged him out of the door. For once he'd like to have made it out of his cell before they were able to detain him again. They were always a step ahead of him; it was as though they knew what he was going to do before he did it. They had practice in dealing with hostile and uncooperative prisoners.
Today was different though. For the first time Jim was too tired and to beaten to fight back. There was a part of him that felt like they had truly won. He was broken and crushed and really, when it boiled down to it, he just didn't care anymore.
He listened as the manacles fall and hit the cement floor that was his prison cell. Quickly, without the slightest hesitation, just in case he lashed out, new restraints were placed on his wrists. These were alwyas placed on him when they wanted to move him to another location. Couldn't have him getting away from their clutches, now could they?
Rough hands grabbed his shoulders and, with the sound of whooshing air he was on his feet, for about a second. His legs buckled under him and his body crumpled to the ground. He just didn't have the energy. Not more than a few seconds had passed before they hauled him back up, but this time instead of trying to place him on his feet, they supported him. Kirk's feet were now dragging as they began moving. It always crossed his mind just as they left his cell that this would probably be the last time he saw it. Would this be the day someone got the better of him? Then again it was only a matter of time. As weak as he was, it was a miracle he had lasted this long.
The arena was screaming for blood and James T. Kirk wondered who's life essence would be spilled today. Probably his. Then again it could be some poor sucker who got shanghaied just like him or worse, it could be some trained professional killer. If it was the second, Jim was going to be in big trouble.
He had been more dazed then he originally thought for he hadn't even notice they were at the door that led to death. A weapon was forced into his hands, his restraints released from his wrists, and, with a shove, he was forced into the sports ground. It took everything in him not to crumble to the floor, dropping his weapon on the way.
Jim glanced around trying to spot his opponent, his forced enemy of the day. The blade in his hand was gripped comfortably. It was an old sword from the old Gladiator days that he had read long ago in some history lesson. Swinging it a few times, to get the feel of it, he looked at the other door. It didn't take long before the opposite entrance slid open and somebody in a blue shirt walked out.
No, he realized suddenly, it was a Federation uniform. The closer the person got details began to form and Kirk then began laughing. It wasn't the laugh you have over a cold beer and somebody did or said something funny. It was a tired ironic wild laugh. It would figure that the person approaching him was the only person who could beat him, who could deliver the final blow without batting a single eye and never losing any sleep over it. It was the only one who Kirk originally believed was out to get him from the beginning when they first met, half human, half Vulcan and his first officer. Spock.
(Love to hear what you think)