Rising Moon (MxM) Book 1

Chapter 5. The Gauntlet

Clang, the sound of the large lunchroom door echoes down the staircase. An eerie darkness carrying a sense of chill as if he's coming to meet his maker-- the one in hell.

Grabbing onto the cold, rusty, paint-chipped railing, he runs his hand down cautiously as he walks. The feeling makes him feel alive. Soon to be a part of something big, dangerous, and worth it. They informed Crescent to enter this door to compete in The Gauntlet.

The first thing on his list-- to at least sign up. Running late because of classes, but he faked being sick so the teacher let him see the nurse. Skipping on that, accompanied by Ahni, they descend into a dark staircase, what smells like an old, molded basement.

The small specs of light at the bottom step clarifies someone's down there waiting. He could hear paper tearing and a male's voice humming a taunting tune. Would Hell be this welcoming? The clinking of Ahni's shoes alerts the male that someone's approaching, so he leans over the booth and gives a slow wave.

"You're late," He calls to the two. "However, spots are still open so, you can sign up here."

Ahni taps Crescent on the arm, leaning into him with a concerned look. This setup is sending chills down his spine. It's suddenly hot though the whirring of the air conditioner told otherwise. Why is it overwhelming? The fact that there's no turning back from this. He still couldn't somehow convince Crescent to leave, right?

"I'm not fighting, Cres?"

Crescent scoffs at how little his younger brother allowed himself to sound. When Ahni didn't want to do things, he'd often cowardly back down and mumble to Crescent. Of course. Like he'd dare put Ahni in something so reckless. This wasn't his battle to fight. Crescent walks up to the booth; no greeting left his lips, but a simple,

"One, please."

The male looks between the two brothers, trying to figure out who's the participant. From the sizes, the way they looked, and the expression they gave off, he hands the ticket to Ahni.

"You're tenth. One of our participants decided he didn't want to show. Sign here." The male behind the booth spoke. An impassive expression, stained with scars and old battle wounds. He looks like he shares his own gauntlet story at some point. Now, just a desk clerk?

Crescent bit down on his bottom lip, offended by the older students' actions. Though Crescent's the one to speak, Ahni again receives the spotlight. He understands that his brother is taller and looks slightly more intimidating. He reaches over to take the ticket from Ahni, who unwillingly grabs the object and gave a little sigh.

"I'm going to act like I have composure, but don't push me. My brother is just here for support."

Crescent matter-of-factly corrects the male with a vexed tone. His eyebrows ruffle a bit, eyes rolling off to one side. Being a constant dynamite, which words could light his fuse, Crescent often finds offense in even the smallest disrespectful actions. Simple misunderstandings are not tolerated.

The male in the booth is left baffled as his eyes widen in shock. Not wanting to make matters worse, he extends the clipboard to Crescent without a word. Once signed, the male points at the door beside them, clearing his throat of awkwardness.

"Enter, walk straight. Give the gatekeeper your name and number. He will let you in. After that, keep walking. You will see a large door on your right. Preparation room-- stay put till they call your number. You..."

The male's gaze shifts onto Ahni. "... little... brother, stay in the seating area to the left of the preparation room. Sit away from the gang leaders."

Crescent nods and then wastes no time going through the heavy metal doors. The bar's cold, a sign that no one had touched it. The room he enters is bright, forcing his eyes to squint as he tries to concentrate on the path before him.