I'mmmmm Baaaaaaccccckkkkk! You didn't think I'd be gone for that long, did you? I had some other stuff to do, which is unbelievably rare. This is a completely AU story where Sarah is a prisoner in Thailand who is forced to fight other people. This is kind of a mixture of the movie Valhalla Rising, which was an odd movie to say the least, and Chuck Versus the Phase Three because that episode was just pure awesomeness. And still have never used a beta which I feel is pretty amazing on my part. Enough gloating and on with this new story. It will be slightly heavy on violence and nudity.
I do not own Chuck.
The crimson red blood mixed with mud and sweat creates a blackened red mushy substance that drips from her clenched fists in front of her raggedy black tank top clad chest rising with each heave of breath that sucks into her lungs. Her forearms are draped with bandages that are so thickly wrapped; they act as padding that goes from her wrists to just below the crook of her elbows. She stares down over her fallen opponent with a completely stoic expression.
Her blonde hair is draped down to her lower back and clothed over her face lighting her murky face up in a yellowish shadow from the sun beaming down on her grimy hair. A lifeless body rests limply between her parted legs and shows no signs of life. What's left of her opponent's face is just a reddish, blackish mush that used to be a nose, two eyes, and a mouth. She slowly lets hands fall to her sides as she unclenches them and looks over to the right where a Thai man, dressed in a white business suit, is sitting in a chair and the surrounding arena engulfed by Thai people watching in awe. She looks around the small eight square foot arena with splintering grimy ten foot wooden walls that imprison her inside.
The crowd erupts with cheers as the hair parts from her eyes as she looks up to the bright blue sky as if she is looking up to god. "Congratulations," the Thai man says ominously as a grin gradually forms on his face. "The Blonde wins once again."
She looks back down at her dirty and grimy arms and sees the scars that run beneath her forearm wraps that are raveled around her knuckles as she sees the bloody goop drip off her knuckles. She continues to look down to her dirty blood and grime stained short mid-thigh black shorts that her long tan legs littered with scars are protruding from. Her bare feet inside the inch of mud along the ground complete her ensemble. Her breathing quickly calms to a restful level as she steps over the dead body between her feet.
"Get her in her cage," the Thai man orders.
Four guards step into the arena and cautiously approach her with assault rifles. "Put your hands out," one of the guards demands. She keeps her face expressionless under her long flowing blonde hair as she puts her wrists outward with her palms up. She feels cold rusty metal against her wrists as they place shackles around her wrists tightly clacking together followed by a metal collar that is chained to the shackles on her wrists. She lets her shackled hands fall to her waist as they prod her with the barrel of an assault rifle into her back. "Move!" She cannot do anything but listen to the order as they take her to a large cage.
They toss her into a large cage with thick wooden branches that reach over fifteen feet high and are over a foot deep into the earth. She already looked for any possible structural weaknesses when she was first thrown in nearly two years ago, but came up empty as this Thai man definitely doesn't want anyone to escape. They close and lock the cage quickly so she doesn't have a chance to escape. She stumbles a few feet and regains her balance. She looks around at the tired and beaten men and women inside the large cage. She can feel every pair of eyes on her, even the man who only has one eye after a very gruesome fight he was barely able to come out of alive. She sits down against the back of the cage and pulls her knees to her tank top clad chest. She stoically looks at all the people around her, noticing she is still the only American among them. Their stares finally fade off her as there isn't anything left to see. It has nothing to do with her wanting to fight and kill these people, but she is completely forced. She could give up and let the next fighter kill her and she has thought about it, many times, but she still has a sliver of hope that continues to flicker and keep her from completely giving up. She allows sleep to overcome her as there is nothing else she can do but wait.
She awakes to a scuffling noise and her eyes open to see a guard pulling one of the women out of the cage by her shirt, much to her protest. Her shirt tears slightly from the tussle, causing her breasts to fall out in the commotion. The Blonde watches as the guard drags the women forcibly away with a sick smile on his face. The Blonde knows the woman is about to be raped and possibly forced into doing sick things for that man or others. It's absolutely disgusting how these people treat women, but they don't have any souls; much like she doesn't think she has one either. The only reason why they don't try to rape her is because she is so deadly that they don't want to die trying to rape her.
The next time she wakes up, she opens up a single eyelid to see the same woman taken earlier tossed back into the cage. The woman quickly fixes her raggedy shirt to cover her dirty defiled chest and sits in the corner and sobs quietly. The Blonde knows that this happens almost weekly, so she knows there isn't anything she can do so she slowly lets her eyelid drop and she succumbs to sleep.
The Blonde wakes up and it is dark out. The other prisoners/fighters/slaves are slurping on their bowls of food or the sorry excuse of food they serve. "Dinner!" A Thai guard yells at her as he leaves a bowl and a cup of water on the opposite side of the cage. She eyes him skeptically, causing fear to rise in him. "Eat it!" He demands as he continues his walk, not able to hold his stare with those deadly sapphire eyes of the Blonde.
The Blonde walks over to the bowl and cup and looks down at them. The bowl has some kind of yellowish curry broth with possible pieces of some kind of meat in it while the cup has some kind of greenish swamp water that is swimming with bacteria. She picks both up and walks over to her designated spot in the back of the cage. She takes a sip of the broth inside the bowl and squeezes her eyes and purses her lips at the horrific taste that washes over her palette. She steels herself and continues to sip on it, using the water to rid her mouth of the bad taste every once in a while. After she finishes with both, she leaves them to her side. The only good positive aspect of the disgusting meals they serve is that it doesn't really cause bowel movements so she only has to evacuate them every few days in that sorry excuse of a bathroom; a petty corner of the cell that everyone so nicely designated as the toilet. She glances across everyone one last time before going back to sleep.
The next time she wakes up, the sun is high and shining; burning her sensitive eyes. She can feel the rays as they make direct contact with her scarred skin. A guard is yelling at her while aiming a rifle at her, "time to fight!" Two guards are behind him with their guns aimed at her. The front guard grabs the chain connecting her shackles and pulls her to her feet harshly. The shackles pull on her bandaged wrists and chaff the back of her neck, leaving a reddening rash over her dirty skin.
They lead her out of the cage and back into the arena. As she steps into the muddy squared arena, the first thing she notices is her last opponent is gone. There is still a remnant of his blood soaked into the mud her toes are seeping into. A rifle pokes her in the back as she hears, "Hold still!" They carefully remove the shackles from her wrists and neck and the guards retreat hastily with their guns still pointed at her.
She looks around as the crowd gathers around the arena again; cheering, rooting, and holding money out. The Thai man is in the chair again; raised above everyone else as if he is some kind of king or leader. She eyes all of them when a man is tossed into the small ring. The man stands up after regaining his composure and studies the blonde with a raised eyebrow.
She studies him and deduces that he is American and doesn't look like much of a fighter. He is thin with straight brunette hair. He is wearing cargo pants and a cargo vest. He looks like the typical American tourist; all he needs is the ridiculous Safari hat. "Fight!" The Thai man demands. Her fists impulsively clench as she studies her opponent. She would have to guess he was a photographer or journalist by his fearful mannerisms.
"Wait, what?" The man asks stricken with fear as he looks around like he is lost. "I'm, I'm just a reporter!" Same difference, the Blonde thinks of what she guessed he was.
"I said fight!" The Thai man demands as the anger rises in his voice. The blonde watches her opponent carefully. "Fight or I kill you both!" The Blonde hears the guns clicking of all the guards as they point their rifles at her and the reporter. The Blonde crooks her head and her neck makes a resounding crack. It isn't that she wants to fight this defenseless American, but she doesn't want to die so she will do what she has to, to survive; not too different from her previous profession.
"Please!" The reporter begs with all his life. "I didn't do anything wrong! You can't do this!" His voice stops immediately as the Blonde lunges forward with a powerful jumping kick to the reporter's jaw. The reporter sinks into the mud in immense pain as the Blonde climbs on top of him and launches punch after punch into the reporter's face.
As each subsequent punch dents into the man's face, blood sprays out and across her expressionless face. The screaming quickly fades after only the third punch. Even after she hears the sickening crack of his nose fracturing, her expression doesn't falter. Her hands are quickly becoming drenched with the man's tears and blood until the Thai man finally speaks up.
"Enough!" The Thai man booms loudly. The Blonde stops and climbs off the barely breathing man below her. She steps to the side and eyes him carefully. His bloodied eyes are both closed and seeping with blood as blood gurgles out of his mouth uncontrollably flowing down the sides of his mouth. "Take her back to the cage!" Once again, four guards enter the ring with their guns aimed at her. They shackle her and toss her back into the cage. She sits in her usual spot in the back of the cage and looks around at all the stares. Again, they fade off her and she decides to get some more sleep as there is nothing to do.
Her eyes shoot open when she hears a commotion outside of the cage. She eyes the unfamiliar Thai man being forced into the cage. He pushes back as he yells at them. One of the guards hits him in the stomach with the butt of his rifle and the man crumples over holding his stomach in pain. They lock the cage back up and the man slowly looks around as the initial pain wears away. "Where am I?" He asks worriedly.
"Hell," the one-eyed fighter laughs maniacally.
"Seriously!" The new prisoner demands angrily.
"It really is hell," one of the women slaves speaks up quietly as if she is scared to talk. "They're gonna make you fight for your life with no hope of getting out of here."
"That's bullshit!" The new prisoner spats.
"Nope, she's been here for almost two years now," the woman points to the Blonde.
"You're American?" The new prisoner asks curiously as he sees the blonde hair parting just enough to see a single blue eye watching him intently.
"Yes she is," the woman slave answers for the Blonde.
"Does she not talk?"
"I've never heard her speak a single word," the woman shrugs.
"What's your deal?" The man cautiously approaches the Blonde.
"That's not a good idea," the woman warns.
"She isn't exactly friendly."
"She doesn't have to be. As long as she serves my need," he grins suggestively as his hands move to his belt. The man looks over her long tan legs, trying to gawk at her lithe toned body; possibly trying to peek down her pant leg. The Blonde's single exposed eye darts to his face and studies him carefully.
"You're asking to be killed. She's the best fighter here."
"That's crap. She's just some pitiful American slut who's ready for a good fuck," the man says smugly as he steps closer to the Blonde and unzips his pants; now only three feet away from the Blonde.
"It's your funeral," the one-eyed fighter laughs as the man slowly approaches the Blonde. His hand reaches for her knee. He stares into the single eye of the Blonde as it gives him a death stare that causes shivers down his back. He shakes it off and places his hand on her knee.
"I'm not gonna hurt you," he says in a soft voice to egg her into believing him as his fingers make contact with her thigh. Her leg instantly kicks out, hyperextending his left leg; tearing all three ligaments at the same time. The man screams in pain as he falls to the ground and holds his knee. The Blonde's other leg guillotine's down on his neck but she stops it millimeters from breaking his trachea and suffocating him to death.
"We lost another one!" The one-eyed fighter informs the guards with a loud laugh. The Blonde retracts her legs back to her chest while the man retreats fearfully letting his dangling leg drag along the ground. The Blonde watches one last time before falling back asleep.
"Wake up!" She wakes to a gun hitting her across the face. It digs into her skin as it forces her head to twist. She looks up at the guard expressionless as he grabs the chain and pulls her to her feet; chaffing her neck once again. "We have a challenge for you," the guard laughs as he drags her out of the cage and into the arena where her opponent is waiting.
Her feet hit the muddy, dirty, bloody, filth of the ground. Her opponent is not wearing a shirt and she can tell he is chiseled and toned. He looks like he can hold his own in a fight with the few scars on his body and seems fairly confident in himself. The shackle around her neck is removed along with the wrist shackles. She eyes her opponent up and down; trying to learn everything she can about him before having to fight him.
"Fight!" The Thai man that sits atop the chair yells. The Blonde's opponent instantly attacks with a high kick. She ducks under it and tackles him to the ground and elbows him in the face. He kicks her off of him and they both set up in a standing pose. She narrows her eyes as she studies her opponent for any blaring weaknesses.
The man attacks again with a punch towards her face. She dodges it and kicks him in the stomach. He lurches back from the force, but holds onto her leg. He tosses her by her leg into the wall. She grunts as she hits the wooden planks hard and the numerous splinters pierce her skin around her scapulae, but she quickly recovers and tilts her head just in time to dodge a punch that cracks into the plank centimeters from her head.
She takes advantage of his hand next to her head by kneeing him in the stomach. She follows the knee with a back kick that pushes her opponent to the opposite side of the ring. He quickly regains his composure and starts throwing punches. She blocks each one using her hands and forearm pads as she slowly gets backed into a corner.
The opponent tries to take advantage of her cornered position by trying a knee. She blocks it with both hands and pushes herself up. She uses her bare feet against the planks as a springboard; the splinters of the plank slice into her skin but she barely feels it now. She flies forward with all her momentum and knees her opponent in the face. He falls heavily on his back, his head splashing into the mud and his hands grabbing handfuls of mud. She quickly comes down with a knee to his face, but he rolls out causing her knee to hit mud and sweat.
The man, now covered in mud and grime, throws the mud at her and she rotates her upper body with her forearm as a shield to block the mud. Specks of mud hit her lips and seeps into her mouth along with hitting her forehead. She's not going to fall for that trick ever again. She will always have that emasculating scar just above her lip and to the left of her nose because of that cheap shot move. The mud has a disgusting taste that would make any normal person evacuate their stomachs through their mouths, but she lives on this now and doesn't even cringe.
Anger fills in her because of the cheap shoddy tactic of throwing mud and her vision starts turning red. She flings the mud off her forearm and goes on the offensive. She throws a flurry of punches that her opponent just can't block. He falls to his knees after the last punch hammers him in the stomach and knocks him into the planks behind him. The splinters all pierce his skin as he slides down to his knees. She takes a step back and launches a powerful roundhouse kick to the man's jaw. As the strike hits, his jaw makes a sickening crack as it comes off its hinges and blood sprays from his mouth across the wall to her left. Her opponent falls to the ground in defeat; his face drowning in mud.
"Well done," the Thai man claps. "That was one of the top fighters and you squashed him like a bug. Maybe you deserve some kind of reward. How 'bout the royal treatment?" The Blonde stands there emotionless as she looks at the man through the parting of her ever growing hair and her vision gradually clears back to normal. She would never want to admit it, but that is exactly what she fights for: the royal treatment; a real meal and a bath. It is a rare offer she has only gotten a few times in her two years of fighting.
If you haven't figured it out, the Blonde is Sarah. Chuck will be in this story too so don't give up too soon. There's just gonna be some Sarah badassery first and it is pretty dark at the moment. I hope this appeals to you as I feel it is something different from most stories on the fanfic website.
As this is quite gruesome and there will be some nudity, if you want me to write some warnings, let me know in a review.