Legendary

Chapter One: Almost Dying For Fun and Profit

     Armor crashed against the metal wall with an earth-shaking smash, leaving streaks of vibrant green against the wall.

The crowd crammed into the towering stands roared, more than a thousand people crammed into any kind of seat-like place they could find in the improvised arena in the lowest levels of the city. Some were leaning out of windows of the decrepit apartments around the space, trying their best to scream their support of the competitors below over the noise of the others around them.

The armored figure fell to the muddy ground, his competitor looming over him, the flat cyan-blue visor that served as the massive fighter's face following his movement like a cat watching the mouse it was slowly torturing to death.

"And Wildfire has Graffiti down again! This is looking like a runaway match, folks!"

The announcer's booming voice was immediately met by a renewed roaring of approval from the crowd. The noise was nearly deafening even from where Rebecca was with her team, tucked beneath the stands where the team pits were, shielded from the carnage in the ring by thick concrete, watching the action on a massive viewscreen being shared by everyone in the pits.

The space was crowded and hot, thick with the smell of oil, metal, and human sweat. She was tucked near the back of the space with her team, all of them tense and silent while they watched their friend lying on the ground, silently praying he hadn't been knocked out.

Wildfire, the violently orange, quadrupedal fighter, kicked once at the mostly-still figure in front of him and Becca closed her eyes, resting her head on her folded hands, squeezing her eyes shut tight and trying to force down the nausea rising in her stomach.

"That kid didn't stand a chance," A large and oil-smeared man nearby snorted, "should've dropped out as soon as the clock started."

"They shouldn't 'ave matched fresh meat against Wildfire, s'all." Another chimed in.

"Hey, Graffiti ain't fresh meat. He's been here for a while now. He's just good old-fashioned stupid."

Becca tried to focus on keeping her breathing even, listening to the crowd and trying to hear the announcer.

"Clock's about to run out and it looks like Graffiti is down for the count!"

The crowd, satisfied with the fight, was beginning to quiet. But then, the cheers kicked up again.

Becca opened her eyes and looked up at the screen.

Wesley, one of her best friends, known in armor as Graffiti, was climbing back to his feet.

Wildfire backed up a couple of steps, watching while the crowd screamed their approval.

Graffiti turned to face his opponent, standing solid and defiant, and spread his arms wide. "Come and get me, big ugly!"

The other fighter charged forward without hesitation, and Graffiti leapt out of the way just in time to avoid being headbutted back against the wall.

Wildfire skidded into a turn that left him with his back to the wall, then kicked against the metal sheeting, sparks exploding from the point of impact, to launch himself forward again like a missile.

"And Graffiti dodges again! Looks like another game of cat and mouse!"

Graffiti hit the ground from his second dodge and began to roll up onto his feet, but the thick mud slowed him down and he only managed to get to his knees.

Wildfire swung his head sideways as he passed and smashed the smaller fighter into the air like a toy.

He hit the wall again with bone-crushing force, and landed on his side, struggling in a sloppy puddle of mud.