Spawn Of A Mad-Man

Return Of The Champion

20/3/2047

This old home of Wing held many memories.

It was here they felt completely accepted.

It was here their desires for power, and pain, and blood was worshipped.

And now they have returned.

Wandering into the building made of simple, undecorated walls, everything felt more normal than things had felt in a very long time.

They kept their hood up, shrouding their well remembered face in darkness, as they moseyed through the crowd approaching a well dressed man with a clipboard in his scarred hand.

"I'd like a fight." They uttered, trying to keep their identity hidden.

"Well the next beginners fight is tomorrow, this night is reserved for the champion." The man barely looked up.

"I would like to challenge the champion." Wing uttered.

The man merely sniggered.

Now getting irritated, they knew they only had one way of getting in.

"I am not a beginner." The man sniggered again. "Look at me!"
They pulled their hood down as the man looked up.

"No fucking way, you're back! You've got next round mate." The excitement on the man's face was a strange sight.

Now confident that they will be able to fight, they entered the preparation room.

Upon entering, their mind was flooded with images of their past, how they'd slice their skin in this same room.

Lately they had control over these urges, they had distracted themself with purpose, but now like a force pulling them in, they couldn't stop.

Pulling up their sleeves and brandishing a blade, they cut over and over again.

Within moments their arm was utterly wrecked, and the last fight had ended.

They could hear the intercom screeching out, "THE CHAMPION!" it held the 'N' for longer making that irritating high pitched squeel.

They sat confused for a moment, not sure if it was referring to them or not, but the intercom spoke again, to cue them in.

"AND NOW! THE RETURN OF THE UNBEATEN! THE PREVIOUS TRUE CHAMPION!" Again it continued to hold the 'N' hurting their ears.

Despite the pain, they wandered to the arena.

It was octagonal, and its walls were made of steel wire, as though it had been made of scraps.

Each vertex was created from wood, splintering and wrecked.

The crowd was cheering louder than they had remembered.

They had missed the love that people had seemed to feel for them.

To this crowd, this was a show and Wing was the lead, or, at least, they will be soon enough.

Now they stood facing their opponent.

He was of average size, decently muscly, his arms were covered in tattoos as if his arms were a mural of sorts.

The most prominent of which, was a snake, green and angry, that wrapped itself around his wrist, forearm and shoulder.

"So you're my replacement?" They said, mockingly.

The man merely grunted, clearly eager to fight instead of chat.

Stood there, waiting, they realised they had forgotten the key detail that they loved most.