The Games - A YouTuber Fanfic

The Games Part Twelve

(DISCLAIMER: THIS PART CONTAINS SCENES OF VIOLENCE AND STRONG LANGUAGE. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.)

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Phil fought back the urge to panic as he stared at Ben. His first instinct was to run, but in a cave that was impossible. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dan’s hand slide across the floor and encircle around his bowie knife.

“Okay Ben.” Dan started, his voice surprisingly calm. “Let Phil and I exit the cave and face you like men, alright? We won’t attack you and you won’t attack us until we’re all standing and ready to defend ourselves. Deal?” Already Dan was getting to his knees, poising himself in a runners starting position. Ben stood pondering the offer for a minute, absentmindedly twirling the scythe in his hand. Phil watched the blade spin around and around as they patiently waited for a response.

“Okay then.” Ben replied finally. “Either way you’re going to die. I guess the least I could do is let you decide how.” He swept his hand outward, signaling it was okay for the boys to exit the cave. Dan went first, leaving Phil to awkwardly scramble out after him. Dan bolted forward and stood at the entrance, guarding it to insure Phil a safe exit. Phil stood up clumsily next to Dan and faced down Ben, swallowing his nervousness in large gulps. Ben was already injured, blood dripping from the wounds in his side and leg. They didn’t have a plan. Ben had found them before they even had time to start discussing it, but he felt hopeful after seeing that Ben was already weakened. Phil glanced quickly over at Dan for any sign of what his friend was thinking, but his face gave nothing away.

“So who wants to die first?” Ben asked looking from one boy to the other. Phil noticed the scythe was caked with dried blood and he hoped his wouldn’t be next.

It was now or never, Dan thought. He wished with every fiber of his being that it hadn’t come down to the three of them. He gave a last look to Phil before stepping forward, raising his bowie knife up in front of him. “I do.” Dan stated flatly.

“Dan, no!” Phil shouted from behind, taking a few steps forward. He tried to grab Dan’s arm but he shook him off.

“Shut up, Phil! I owe you one remember? Just get back!” Dan shouted in reply, gripping the handle of his blade tighter.

“Aww, that’s cute. The boyfriends are arguing over who gets to die first.” Ben said sweetly, mocking them.

“Shut up!” Dan yelled at Ben, his face growing hot in anger. “The only one who’s dying here today is you!”

Ben turned to face Dan and laughed, taking a few steps closer. “Oh yeah? Too bad I don’t care about any of that. Enough of this shit!” He twisted and flung himself at Phil who stood motionless and unprepared against the attack. Dan leapt forward at the same time, catching Ben in the ribs with his knife. For the first time, Ben cried out and took a few steps backwards to assess the damage. Both of his sides were now steadily leaking blood and the gash in his leg was making it difficult to remain upright. The little bastard got me worse than I thought, he pondered bitterly. The muscle in his wounded thigh was stiffening, making each step he took more and more difficult to bear. He gritted his teeth against the increasing pain and snarled in Phil’s direction, readying himself to strike out again. Phil had backed himself up against the cave in fear. His brain wasn’t processing the scene fast enough and he fumbled through his pockets for his knife. His fingers locked around it and he pulled it out, pressing the release mechanism at the same time. The blade sprang out still soaked in Mitchell’s blood.

“Ah, so I see you’ve done this before.” Ben said looking from the blade back to Phil’s face. Dan stood by waiting for Ben to make a move. He advanced on Phil, turning at the last second to land a blow to the side of Dan’s face. Dan hit the ground, landing painfully on his side, tearing open his scabbed knee in the process. Ben rounded on Phil and swung his scythe out low. At the same time Phil jabbed his hand outward burying the blade above Ben’s chest, narrowly missing the self-destruct mechanism. It lodged there; handle protruding outward, as the scythe connected with Phil’s leg separating it below the knee. Phil went down hard on his back as Dan scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could, the side of his face stinging and hot.