A Book of One-Shots

Games - Ridgephos, Blood/Battle

Ship: Any ship involving Ridgedog

Type: Monologue / Possible Angst?

Imagine Ridgedog watching his partner compete in the Survival Games he hosts. Show his conflicted feelings as part of him loves the bloodshed but cannot stand to see his loved one hurt.

Bonus points if he cannot stand to watch any more and he calls it all off just before the death of his loved one. Later, he apologies to his loved one over and over, swearing it will never happen again, even though they both know it will.

A/N: A special thanks to the lovely Curls, who created a mix that I listened to while writing this, and also hanging out and helping me with this fic.

Another A/N: Finally finished, and it got a really weird ending that didn’t really follow the prompt, but that I had always kinda wanted to write. Hope you enjoy!

4801 words

“Welcome,” a smooth voice rung out over the arena. The contestants in the thick glass cages stood in silence as they mentally prepared themselves for the horrors they were to face. All of them had dealt with the games before, but this time was different for one of them.

“I - apologize,” there was hesitation, before the voice continued the speech. “-for the games. I don’t like this, either. I hope one day you’ll understand,” a sigh. “But I don’t expect you to forgive me.”

“Lying bastard,” Lalna muttered, kicking at the piston beneath him.

“Spews bullshit left and right,” Honeydew added.

Xephos stood quietly in the chamber, feeling tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. Ridge had told him the night before that the games were today. He had begged and pleaded for him to call it off - he didn’t need to hold the games. Ridgedog had lashed out then, yelling about how it was a flaw, the one flaw they had to live with, the insatiable thirst for battle, for bloodshed. So the Gods had devised the setup for Survival Games, and it worked so well that everyone was required to hold the games every so often. He explained that if they didn’t hold the games, he’d fall into insanity and potentially hurt them all. Permanently. No respawning to live another day.

Ridge had held him close that night, whispering how he was sorry, with Xephos consoling him as well as himself. But there was no way to do so, because no matter what either of them said, the games would still be held tomorrow. And Ridgedog would have to watch the man he loves die, or turn into a whole different person as he slaughters his friends.

Xephos furiously wiped away a stray tear, thinking of how no one could ever understand the reasoning for the games. Even if Ridgedog were to explain, they wouldn't understand. He reasoned that he probably wouldn't have accepted it, either, if he didn't know Ridge like he did now.

The grind of pistons echoed throughout the arena, and the contestants strained to see the giant countdown. A giant 10 appeared on the board. The grind of pistons again and it changed to a nine. The Yogs readied themselves for the bloodshed to come, the loss of friends and loved ones. Seven. People shuffled nervously in their cages, anxious to get out and race for the chests. Others glanced over their shoulders frequently as they tried to find a safe way to run. There were enough chests scattered throughout the map that the center chests weren’t entirely necessary. Four.

Ridgedog sighed as he heard the pistons grinding once more. The hologram before him showed the center of the arena, and the contestants waiting. The button next to him flashed incessantly, waiting for the countdown to finally reach zero. His eyes floated over each person, before finally landing on Xephos. His face was worried, his hands clenching and unclenching nervously. Those ice blue eyes he had grown to love were filled with fear and concern rather than their usual joy and wonder. A loud buzzing noise disturbed him, the glass box covering the button lifted automatically, enticing him to begin the games. Shutting his eyes, he took a deep breath and smashed the button.