Sugar, We're Going Down Swinging

Chapter 1

10 Years Later
-3rd person POV-
The crowd was cheering so loud that Patrick's ears were ringing. Or maybe they were ringing from the few hits his opponent—a man who went by the name of Gonzales—had landed. Unfortunately for Gonzales, being hit only made Patrick angrier. It was anger that drove him, a fierce rage at his lot in life. Maybe that's why he was so good at what he did. Maybe that's why his fans referred to him as the American Psycho.

Patrick looked his opponent in the eye, and was glad to see the fear that lurked within. Gonzales had heard of Patrick Stump, the American Psycho, and how he moved like a whirlwind once his rage blinded him. He thought Patrick was holding back, otherwise he would've been on the ground by now.

In the arena, the crowd roared Patrick's name. "Finish him!" they screamed.

Patrick looked over Gonzales for an opening, somewhere he could strike like a snake over and over. As Patrick and the other fighter circled each other, an opening presented itself. Gonzales was bringing his guard up too high, leaving his left rib cage wide open. Patrick smiled before using his right fist to repeatedly tag Gonzales in the unguarded area.

With his other hand, Patrick locked onto his opponent and refused to let him go as he landed three more rib strikes. Not hard enough to break, but enough to wind him. Pete and his Uncle Bill had taught him that. If you broke a man's bones, you'd be disqualified from the match. This was different from wrestling. Boxing was a deadly, painful dance. You had to study the other person's moves in order to make your next one.

Two more strikes before the ref pulled Patrick and Gonzales apart. "Fight clean, boys," the ref said before signaling them to continue.

Gonzales wasn't fast, and he wasn't incredibly strong. Putting him against Patrick had been a sacrifice. Someone must really hate Gonzales. Patrick smiled sweetly at the ref before catching Gonzales with a right hook under his jaw. It proved to be a fatal blow that sent Gonzales crashing to the ground. Blood poured from his lip. Patrick guessed his fist must've caught on Gonzales's lip, because the mouth guard prevented Gonzales from biting his own lip. The ref began the count-down.

10... Gonzales's team was screaming at him in Spanish, urging him to move.

9... The commentators knew it was a lost cause.

8... A dark-haired woman with impossibly red lips rushed to the side of the ring, yelling Gonzales's name. Eventually, she was pulled away.

7... For a moment, it seemed like Gonzales was trying to get back up.

6... Gonzales was just too weak. He fell back down in defeat.

5... The crowd roared Patrick's name.

4... "American Psycho! American Psycho!"

3... Gonzales looked up at the ceiling, refusing to move.

2... Patrick let a smirk touch his lips, the smirk of one who knows he's victorious.

1... "Patrick Stump, the American Psycho, is the winner!"

The ref grabbed one of Patrick's hands and hauled it up in the usual winner's stance. Patrick stood there, soaking it all in. He wasn't vain, and he didn't always expect to win. But he reveled in a nice fight.

He dimly became aware of the fact that his right eye was swollen shut. How had he not noticed before? His team rushed up to him before anyone else could. Patrick spit his mouth guard into a bucket, and then swirled some water around in his mouth before spitting that as well.

Pete's face came into view. "You did great, Pat. Nice, clean fight," he said.

The word's sounded far away. Patrick wondered if his ears had been damaged severely. "I can't hear correctly," he said.

Pete nodded. "We'll get you to an exam room soon, buddy."

Andy helped Patrick put on his gold and red robe that bore the image of a black American flag on the back. Joe wiped his face down gently with a cool rag.

An interviewer's microphone was shoved into his face. "Tell us, Patrick," the man was saying, "How does it feel to be champ of another match?"

"It's not all about that for me," Patrick answered, though the world was blurring in and out of focus, "I just like fighting."

The interviewer looked a bit dissatisfied with Patrick's answer as he said, "Well, folks, you heard it right from the American Psycho himself. I'm Jason Starr, your sports reporter at WEET 3, signing off from here at the Mega Sports Stadium." The camera man clicked off the camera, and both he and Jason Starr walked off without another word.

"Alright, make some room! Make some room!" Joe yelled at the oncoming crowd.

Andy strode before them, cutting a wide path with his ominous presence. Pete put one arm around Patrick's waist and allowed Patrick to use his body for support as they walked back to the dressing rooms. People reached out to touch Patrick. He was an icon. Everyone either wanted to kiss him, kill him, or be him.

A/N: Hoped you liked the first chapter. Of course, there will be more. This is my first Fall Out Boy fanfic, and I'll be adding in songs from American Beauty/ American Psycho as well as others from FOB. By the way, there was a little Hunger Games reference at the end. Did you catch it? 😉