Heart Of Gold ( A Midas x Reader Fortnite Fanfiction)

Chapter 10- The Fight

Backing away, you stifle tears of terror as a crowd started to form around you and TNTina.

"Aww..." sneers TNTina, noticing your eyes welling up. "Is diddums wanting her teddy-weddy? Does she want mummy to come and kiss her better?" She laughs cruelly, and bared her teeth. "Put your box down. Give it to Sammy," she orders, nodding to a surly boy at the front of the circle, who nodsand reached out with his hands. "He'll look after it for you."

Reluctantly, you handed your box to 'Sammy', who grabs it roughly, and pushes you away. "You're gonna get your face smashed in, homeless girl," he smirks, grinding his meaty fist into his palm. "Don't worry. I'm sure she'll go easy on you," he adds,  seeing your worried face.

You back away in horror, back into the circle, where TNTina is busy cracking her knuckles and stretching. "Alright, squirt," she nods. "Here's the rules. It's pretty simple. The first one to go down loses." She grinned evilly. "But that don't mean I'll stop pounding your face in."

"You're real mature, you are," you sneer, feeling a burst of confidence explode within you. "First time a new kid hurts your big, manly pride, and you pound their face in to defend your poor, hurt ego." You see her smile twitch, and you know that you're getting to her. "I know you're gonna win. You know you're gonna win. Cause I'm new here. I don't know shit about fighting."

You hold out your hands in a surrender. "So come on then. Here I am. Beat up the new kid who can't defend themselves. That ain't a win. That's just fucking cowardice," you spit the last words at her and she flinches, her smile slipping off her face. Confused, she stares round at the crowd for support, but they're all just looking at her, staring at her, waiting for her to say something, waiting for her to to lose it.

But she doesn't. She drops her guard, and shrugs. "Suppose you're right, little squirt," she agreed, taking off her padded gloves and chucking them across the floor. "Don't wanna get blood on the carpet anyways," She gets in your face. "But just you think next time you get all cocky," she sneers, and waves her hand, indicating that the show is over. Muttering, the students disassemble, and walk off, some to lessons, other to do whatever. Sammy stays, looking at you with an unreadable face expression. Then he drops your box with a hiss and spits at your feet. He saunters off, hands in his pocket. You look around, but TNTina is gone, wiped away with the crowd.

I'll never get to unpack my stuff at this point , you think bitterly, and start a brisk walk to your bedroom. No one wants to give you any directions. It seems like you've only been here five seconds, and yet you're already the most hated person, both among agents and students. Sighing, you walk a bit longer, starting to give up hope, but there your bedroom door is, right at the end of the corridor. Looking at your keycard, you take a deep breath, and swipe it. With a click, the handle flashes green and clicks to indicate that it's open. Walking in, you instantly drop your box on the floor as your mouth drops open for what must be the one hundredth time today.

The room that you've just entered is bigger than your whole house and your garden put together. The carpet is so plush and deep that you immediately shed your shoes at the door and walk in barefoot, luxuriating in the way that your feet sank into that softness. You have a king-sized bed, covered in feather duvets and set with so many pillows that you swear a person could get lost in them all and never be seen again. Drowning in so much luxury, you reach an overload point where the rest of the accommodations started swimming together. The jetted marble bathtub. The plasma-screen TV. The basket of chocolate and other snacks. When the announcements comes over your intercom for your first briefing, you had to practically drag yourself from the room. You could probably have the spent the rest of the week lounging in there and been perfectly content.

But first. Uniform.

Hanging on a hangar on your walk in wardrobe was the most awesome uniform you had ever seen. Your outfit sported black halter neck crop top, a leather jacket, soft as butter, with tight, stretchy leather black trousers that clings to every part of your skin, emphasising your shapely calf. Black shades, black leather gloves, and beautiful heeled lace up shoes. Admiring yourself in the mirror, you shake your head in disbelief, pressing your hand to the glass. Was this really you? The girl that, a week and a half ago or so, was slapped around by her dad? And now, look at you. You look...well, stunning. You look like a spy.