Radioactive

Part 8: Not a One

     Author's note- This isn't my best chapter, but I wanted to get it up ASAP. I want to start a regular schedule with writing this story. I'm going to try to write once a week or at least give warnings before long times without writing. I hope this story doesn't get repetitive :(. Well, happy reading, and tell me your complaints and ideas in the comments! WARNING: EXTREME VIOLENCE AND GORE IN THIS CHAPTER.  RATED R FOR VIOLENCE.

      I'm watching the first fight. I hope my fight comes up soon, because the earlier the fight is, the more "boring" it is. A boring fight would equal an easy to win and painless fight for me. It would probably be a fight between me and a One. For some reason, I have this feeling that I'm not  going to get any easy fights. If not the leader of the Tattoo, I'm completely sure the doctors would be relieved if I died.  Even without biased feelings, the Tattoo still don't mind seeing a Five die.

      I tighten my fists around the bars of the cage. If only I was strong enough to effect it. There's no way that any of us Fives would be.  These bars are made extremely strong, and it's rumored that every year when the surviving Fives are moved to the biggest Pit in the region, the cage is rebuilt and redesigned with the strongest material the Tattoo can get ahold of by the best builders in the region.

     All of the effort is unnecessary. I've seen new Threes scream and tug on those bars for hours without leaving a single dent or scratch. I pull my hand away and look at the bars. As I expected, the bars don't have a mark on them.

     I'm just standing here, leaning my head on the bars as I watch the fight. I wish I was you, I think at the Five that's easily fighting off a weak Two.

     At some point I couldn't watch anymore, and now I'm staring towards the door where the two children, Nixie and her friend, were dragged. I wonder when they will come out, and if I will even be able to tell it's them. 

     The Five leaves the fight with her pink and yellow eyes filled with a dark cheerfulness. She's covered in blood, but she doesn't have a single scratch on her.

     She struts in, proclaiming about how she doesn't have a single scratch on her, "Not a scratch, and I made sure we won't see her again," she brags.

     My stomach is turning and I want to do to her what she did to that poor Two. All she had to do was kill her. She could have allowed the Two to become a One. It was sheer cruelty and sadistic pleasure that led to what happened.

     The Two was on the ground, pinkish-purple eyes squeezed tightly closed and feet curled up to her chest, wheezing and cringing. The Five had an easy kill, but she chose to kill her as horribly as she could.

     She pulled the Two's legs and arms away from her torso., slicing long scratches along their length. Then, she sliced into the Two's torso. She gasped and the Five slowly pulled on and broke each and every rib until she reached the heart.

     "Please,"  the Two choked out, "No!"

     Blood was drenching the ground, and the Five knew she would be dead soon. She quickly slashed her veins, and I turned away before she sliced her arteries and cut the heart to pieces. She was dead and now had no chance to be a One.

    The Five is now sitting in the corner, pleased with herself and her destruction.

    The Five without a name is chosen to fight next. She's up against a One, it's obvious by the look of the thing. It drags itself out there, and I feel like I've seen it before. Maybe I saw its loss as a Two. It-she- looks up, and her purple and silver eyes narrow. The nameless Five sniffs and after a few seconds just gapes at it. It swings sluggishly at her, and she steps away several seconds before the arm even comes near where she was. It's acting weird, even for a One. It's movements are slow and jerky, and its eyes have no emotion at all. 

     "Meet Patches," chuckles a Five. I grimace at the name because it's perfect for it. The entire body looks like several patches of skin stitched together.  This is not one person, but pieces of several. I'm curious if the heart even belongs to this body. It's a wonder the thing isn't falling apart.

    The Nameless Five walks over and cuts its head off, staining the wall with more blood. No one makes a noise of approval, because this was an even more pathetic fight than the first one. It was simply getting rid of a corpse, not an actual struggle. 

     "Why do they even try with those Ones?" I ask as the Tattoo drag the corpse out of the Pit.

     "They think there will be more of us in them," a Five smirks.

     "What do you mean?" I ask.

     "They want to find more unique Fives, to make the fights more interesting. It's totally random, so it's pointless to even try that," he replies.

     The Nameless Five is led in and the door whines shut. She stares at her bloody claws and hastily wipes them off, looking sick.

      "What's wrong? You just won an easy fight!" I ask, realizing that I'd kill for a fight like that.

      "That wasn't a One," she says, watching the corpse disappear through the door to the Infirmary.

       "What? That certainly wasn't a Two," I scoff. 

       "It was dead before I touched it. When I cut its head off, the blood was cold," she shudders.

       "Why would they use a dead One? That's just useless," I insist. There's no way they would do that. If Ones are powerless before they die again, what would be the point in bringing them back again?