Insanity

Chapter 3- The Ticking Bomb

The heavy smell of sweat and expensive cologne filled Finn's nose as the crowd jostled him in their waves of rowdy excitement. Sharp jabs smacked him in the ribs as hard as a battering ram as he tried to make his way to the ledge of the pit to watch. He lost his breath multiple times; it fled him swiftly as they knocked him around. The loud noise made his ears ring, he was barely able to catch smidges of the sandy pit and the movement of the fighters below. He coughed as his slim body was tossed around through the heavy sound of their cheers. Although some cheered, others let out cries of outrage or remorse depending on who won; they were betting money; lots of money. Over thousands of dollars, he'd heard. Pandora was most likely off somewhere monitoring the fights to make sure nothing bad happened, apparently one of the fighters might get too carried away sometimes.

The lights eventually dimmed as he finally fell out of the horde, pushing his way forwards, gasping for some sort of fresh air.

The tunnel was hot and muggy, cold sweat drenching the back of her neck as she heaved out a long breath, heart racing with excitement. Time moved in slow motion, the sand stirring beneath her boots in a large wave as she shuffled restlessly, their cheers were evident way before she'd even made it out of the cavern to the arena. They stomped their feet and clapped their hands, rattling the walls around her as she straightened her bright red bowtie. They chanted her name in rapid succession of each other, she couldn't help but be overwhelmingly satisfied at the sound of them worshipping her. They were all grubby gutter rats that managed to live in higher places, their wants were grime ridden and stained with blood. They never had to lift a finger to get what they wanted, but this was one of the many nights of the year she got to watch them lose the thing they loved most, their money.

All their lives revolved around was money, they bought their sick and twisted way into this hollow hole in the underground to watch what they called scrapping. The murder of lower lifeforms, two little sewage covered ingrates tussling around; her whole body burned with hatred. The dark hole inside her swallowed all sympathy she had for them, if any at all as she strutted forwards, black ponytail swaying. The light was blinding, but it wasn't something she wasn't already used to, her eyes adjusted quickly. Her arms splayed in introduction, the announcer roared, "Here she is! The menace, the dazzling enchantress, Spade, the Ticking Time Bomb!"

Their cheers exploded into an uproar as she was unveiled like a prize for all their eyes to feast on. Little did they know, she reveled in their attention, drank it up like an addicting drug, the rush surging through her. Her heart pumping, the lights leering down at her, the cheers chanting her name. This was her time to shine, her time to be seen. She spun around, frilly sleeves dancing through the air as she glowed like an ethereal being, a wraith here to claim her prize. Eventually, the other door was pulled open, and a tall, burly man walked out. He was scarred and battered, but that didn't stop him from raising his head high. She smirked, a laugh issuing from her, low and menacing; it would be fun to break him. The assembly of vultures went quiet as he entered, no cheers were waiting for him, neither was a victory at the end of this battle.

"You here to finish me off, sweetheart?"

"Playing too many little games might get you hurt, princess." His voice sounded like that of a chain-smoker, low and gravelly; her burning gaze flicked over him, up and down, assessing him for whatever qualities she could find. She found zero as she stared at his body decorated in scraps, such a sad painting to look at, it could definitely use some red.

"Well, I've always been a fan of gambling." She purred, brushing stray strands of hair back from her face.

He growled under his breath, a heavy tension circling them as she locked gazes with him, in a mere instant he charged at her, an easy sidestep to the right was all it took to avoid him. Her movements were flawless, filled with sheer, nonchalant grace as he rounded on her again and again like a rabid dog hopelessly needing to strike. He shouted in rage, his eyes flickering with a spark of desperation, it made him sloppy, and just like all the others who'd come to face her. Due to his large stature and well-fed body, she could tell he had been the top guy in the cages down below. Every little wisp of a person they sent into the arena were all brimming with twisted anguish that made them desperate enough to walk right to their doom. They all ended their lives so pitifully, and the looks on their faces always made her smile, they were all fools to think they had any chance once they were sent into the pit. That included this one even more so, he might've been the boss down in the dungeons, fighting for whatever food they had, but up here it was much different.

She was Admiral's right hand, his executioner, the mighty sword that struck all his enemies down, whether he said to do so or not. He charged at her again, like a snorting bull, as ugly as one too. She darted forwards, boldly meeting him head on, he seemed surprised, he was quite easy to read, his poker face was rather bad, she thought to herself. Spade would let him get a good hit or two in, make this fight a bit more interesting for them all, let doubt sprout like seeds in their hearts. His fist was like a train, and by that she meant it was damn heavy; she tilted herself just enough, so he hit her in the shoulder and nowhere else.

It was much more painful than she expected, it sent her spinning; her chest hit the floor hard, knocking the air out of her, the resounding thud of her against the ground sending fear through the crowd that had paid good money to see her win. Spade could feel their burning gaze, daring her to lose as her black hair pooled over her eyes, stringing out from her low ponytail. The ground shook under the man's footsteps, she let herself seem as if she was struggling to get up, but everyone who knew her knew better than to believe it was real. She was trying to catch her breath as he approached, it didn't take her long, and before he could even move, she slid onto her back and passed between his legs. She earned a resounding yelp of shock as she spun right back up onto her feet and kicked him down onto his knees.

It wasn't every day she got to toy with an adversary, but she loved the days she did. As he landed face first into the sand, spitting up crisp grains of white, she couldn't help but let that hysterical laugh run free. It tickled the back of her throat, climbing up and out like a monster from a cave. "You should see your face right now! Groveling at my feet, I guess I really am a princess."

His hand shot out, a roar of indignation spearing up from his throat as he spat a string of curses for all to hear. The crowd went quiet as she stepped back, swift as the wind; her boot came crashing down on his hand, the sharp point breaking through skin and a couple of bones in the soft shell of his hands. Humans, a flawed design, such brittle bones and soft skin, no matter the calluses. The thought of her losing her breath earlier made her scowl, giving the bitter reminder that she too, was human. He screamed, blood painting the white sand in crimson. His other hand reared up, grasping at her calf, his grip tight as grime stained her leggings. She instantly leered down at him when he did that, her eyes pooling with a blistering heat as she kicked him in the face again and again until he let go, "Get your filthy hands off me."

Her voice was cold and dark, no pity left as she began to stomp his face in, resounding blows that silenced the crowd even further as her heel peeled back skin and crushed his features in. He shrieked the whole time, and it was only music to her ears as she sank deeper into that pit of no return and let all go dark.

The tunnel was still as hot and muggy as ever as she returned back through it, red blood clinging to her legs and spattering her face, it was itchy, it always was, she frowned. Everyone in the locker room seemed to cower as she walked in, they always did, but she didn't mind, they were all imbeciles anyway. They did not deserve her attention, let alone her hatred. Strutting forward, stride unbroken and unfettered, she snatched up her towel and wiped at the smears of red clinging to her face. It was flaky and crumbled under the touch of the towel like ash. Hurried whispers were exchanged before a harsh female voice spoke up with heavy disdain, "You're disgusting."

"Mara." She addressed her with a cool tone, still not quite back from the place she fell into.

"You're a murderer; a dirty, filthy-"

Mara barely had time to finish her sentence, flinching as Spade flew towards her in the blink of an eye, a wraith on the wind. She wrapped her fingers around the young girl's auburn hair, twirling the silken strands between two fingers, "We're all murderers here little bird; you of all people should know that." An underlying threat coated her words, and as a sickening silence fell, all eyes on the two of them, the younger girl's face blanched, a sickly look forming as Spade cruelly smeared red on her face before walking away. She would eventually learn that no one is innocent, especially those who belong to the Underground, mere puppets attached to strings. Everyone here was a murderer, no matter how beloved by the crowd they were sent to please.