Micheal, in what was becoming an incredibly familiar scene, awoke in the first hall infirmary. His head ached and his body felt like it had seen better days, but it was a remarkable improvement to the state he had been in when he was up and about.
Still within the grips of grogginess Micheal saw the silhouette of Samantha at the foot of his bed and reached out to her to show her that he was alright. He knew how she could be when she thought he was in danger. “Hey Sam,” he wheezed with a dry throat. Maybe he should have reached for his water first.
“Sam?” The silhouette asked wryly. Micheal, for his part, immediately panicked at this revelation, as well as the familiarity of the voice. “I don't think I've ever been called that before,” she said with a chuckle. “And if it's all the same to you, I'd much rather you call me my name,” she finished.
“I'd much rather waking up inside a cesspit than with your company, and yet here I am. Life is full of tiny disappointments,” he said coldly. There was no reason for kindness to the girl that had literally caved in his skull only a day ago. Perhaps even hours, depending on how fast the healers were able to fix him.
“Well aren't you a feisty little thing,” she smiled. “But that's good. I wouldn't want my tournament partner to be dull, after all,” she said with some genuine amusement in her voice. Micheal felt like cutting the amusement right out of her, but decided better of it. Something like that would only send him from the infirmary to the graveyard. She had proved she had the means to do it whenever she wanted.
“So, I'm still your partner then, am I?” he asked as he sat up from his bed.
“Of course you are, you nert for brains. Why would I have bothered with all of that if you weren't?” she asked with a wry smile. Micheal was beginning to hate that smile of hers.
“Of course by 'all that' you mean the part where you caved in my briny skull,” he deadpanned.
“Exactly,” she smiled in what appeared to be a complete and genuine grin at Micheal. This, of course, drove him insane,
“Okay,” she laughed seeing the face he had made at her grin. “I'll throw you a bone, my dear little tournament partner,” Micheal was nervous what her idea of 'throwing a bone' was, given her last attempt at helping him understand had quite literally broken his skull like an egg.
“You might not think it, my dear, but up in the first hall, you're quite famous,” she began. Micheal certainly didn't doubt that. it was a rare case that someone was genuinely 'found' in the orphanage, and it was sure to draw attention. Rising to the first hall as a lost would always be a noteworthy event.
“That... Makes sense, I suppose,” he said slowly. He didn't like where this girl was going with this. She was practically leading him by the nose with her words and there wasn't a damn thing in all the briny blue he could do about it. Seeing her stare smugly at him with no recourse drove him insane, and he yearned for the day he'd be free of her analysing.
“Yes, it does make sense. In fact, it makes a great deal of sense; A lost - a very small lost, at that,” she grinned as she looked up up and down like a predator taking in its next meal, “Taking over the lower hall like it was nothing, with not a single lost fight in the last two years. Not even the lost before you could manage that, and you should remember how horrid he was,” she said with the first break in her otherwise stony facade.
Micheal did remember Richter. Richter had been the representative of the lower hall since Micheal turned 11, and he was an object of fear in his heart. Micheal had been the one to finally kill the bastard and it had remained the only murder to his name as of yet. He had been known for having a thing for killing lost boys. Especially the young ones. “Yeah I remember him,” he shivered. He remembered alright.
“Exactly. And even he hadn't been undefeated as the lower hall champion, even before you came along and took care of him,” she returned to her confidant smile then.
“And then, this undefeated champion decides to take on Aryth of all people. Not only that, but when this little lost get thrown like a doll down the stairs, he crawls back up,” she smiled in delight at the last sentence, and Micheal finally caught on to where this was headed. Realisation began to dawn on him as he took a look at the girl at the foot of his bed, finally seeing exactly how far her planning had run. It was almost funny, to be made to dance by a girl who could have simply killed him instead. It was very nearly flattering.
“You never needed anyone skilled, did you?” he asked hesitantly. The girl looked at him with fiendish eyes and said, “You're quite right.”
“I could get any one in this shit-hole of a place that could fight better than you, but what then? What happens when one of them gets taken out by a sneak attack, or loses his nerve when he see's someone get disemboweled for the first time? Those are time losses I can't afford if I'm going to make it to the Hedgeside tournament in one piece.”
And finally, the reason is made clear. She didn't need some coward who thought he was special just because he had hit early earth rank, she needed someone who knew what a fight was like. The first hall wasn't like the lower hall; there wasn't a need for fights to the death every day for the simple right to live. The orphans in the first hall, while their lives were certainly not easy by the standards of most, didn't know what it was really like to see struggle first hand.
Blood and death were companions as old and comfortable to Micheal as any. His closeness to death outstripped any friend he had ever made within the lower hall, Which was an easy enough feat, to be fair. They had all been killed, after all.
The girl, seeing the dawning realisation as to her selection choice, grinned at him once more with that annoying, knowing smile that he so desperately wanted to wipe off of her face. “So, you see why I chose you, then,” she said.
“I do,” he replied.
“I take it that was also the reason you broke my briny fucking skull,” he said with a forced calmness.
“I said you were famous, and fame has a way of exaggerating things. I needed to know if what I was getting was a story, or an advantage. I made sure not to kill you, at least,” she said as if it would make the situation all better, which given the inferno that was his chest, had done very little in the way of improving his perception of her.
“And it looks like you were satisfied,” he sighed. “I'm not just a story, by the looks of things,”
“indeed you aren't and indeed I am. I haven't ever seen someone that kept walking after their brain was pushed in, and yet here you are, alive and well after doing just that,' another smile appeared on her face, this one even more vicious than the rest as she imagined the scene once more, remembering it.
“You see, all of the strong idiots in the first hall wouldn't have been enough. This tournament is for every hall. That include the second and third,” she began. “It also means that I don't need someone who's strong. I need someone who's tough, and that is absolutely you,” she said with her familiar predatory grin.
“And with that in mind, we need to discuss exactly how this relationship is going to work,” she said.
“I had thought you would have had something in mind given how prepared you've been these past few hours,” he replied with a little smugness. It was nice to see the girl not knowing every little detail about every little thing. It felt like he had finally found the hole in her defenses.
“I had some ideas, but I figured it would be for the best if I were to hear from you as well,”
There goes that thought.
“Well if you really are certain about use being partners then I need to get something out of the way immediately. I'm not abandoning Sam. No matter what,” he stated firmly, looking in her eyes and daring her to say something about it. This was the one thing Micheal wouldn't be backing down on. Even if he were to die, Sam needed to be found if they were going to stick together through this briny life of theirs. And they would be sticking together. No matter what got in their way.
“Oh, you don't need to worry about that at all. I already let the people down in the office know that you are participating on both of our teams,” she said, beaming a smile of pure joy down at him. Micheal was only slightly shocked at the news, and would have been more surprised if something like that hadn't been the case. He never had any choice in the matter at all. He had been dancing in her hands since this whole thing began.
“Fine. As long as that's understood and you know that i'll be training with Samantha as well, anything will work with me,” he said in a defeated voice that sounded nothing like his own. That still felt like an accurate reaction given the way he had been so thoroughly beaten down by this girls mere whim. It was slightly terrifying, if anything. All it had taken was her threatening his friend and he had practically jumped at the idea of letting her be in charge of him. He supposed that was just the price of their friendship.
“Great,” she said coyly. “How does training after class three days a week sound?” She asked with confidence, as if it were a sure thing. “Fine with me,” he agreed because it pretty much was a sure thing when dealing with the girl. “Then I'll see you tomorrow, Micheal the nameless. I'm Dawn, by the way,” she said as she turned to leave.
Her late introduction seemed rather apt, as she turned away. She had come like a raging fire and had left nothing but ashes in her wake. Plans, desires, all of it crumbled to dust just as soon as she had come in and made her demands. It was fitting that she had left with that same unpredictability.
As Dawn walked away without saying another word, Micheal collapsed back on the bed to nurse both his wounded pride and his wounded... wounds. He had thought he was well above pride at this point in his life. Being an orphan - a lost orphan, he figured pride would have been sucked out of him after the beatings and humiliation that was his daily life.
That was something of a lie. Most of the lost were as prideful as any chosen. Instead of losing their pride they embraced it and shielded it. Feeding ones ego was simply a matter of beating anyone that was below you to near-death.
Micheal had thought he, at least, was above pride. The humiliation he felt at being played by the girl told him other wise. He had taken so many beatings that he thought he couldn't be hurt anymore, but he wasn't willing to let Samantha be hurt. No matter what happened to him he could take it, but he would never let Samantha be subject to the same. Not if he could help it.
He decided to simply pray while he rested in the meantime. He had taken to rubbing the space of his missing finger when he prayed, treating it like a focusing ritual. thinking of power and strength, he imagined growing, and he was slowly filled with the power of the elder Gods.
He felt his apostle thrum with power as it hummed inside of himself, eagerly lapping up at the shadow of the Gods, his apostle sucked greedily at the teat of his progress and distributed it to the rest of his body. His muscles grew stronger and his focus increased, both by metrics so incredibly small as to be not worth mentioning, but it was happening. Slowly.
He was still weak. Incredibly weak for a chosen, but as he sat in that lotus position rubbing at a missing finger, he felt his weakness leave him just as it had every other time he prayed. He was growing, and he would continue until he could grow no more.
......
After finishing his prayers, Micheal left for the lower hall to meet up with Samantha. He had been meeting up with her with some regularity after their unexpected reunion in the first hall, and things had been going well. recently she had finally become the representative of the entire lower hall, matching Micheal's old position. He had noticed some of the bruises she was developing thanks to the never ending fighting, and he remembered his own ascent to the apex of the lower hall. A violent and brutal rise filled with his hurt and sadness. It was a time he hated to remember. He could only hope Samantha's rise was better.
Finally exiting from the ornate door of the first hall and moving into the central chamber, Micheal made his way into the oppressive stone of the lower hall. Cold that could gnaw into the bones on a sleepless nights struck him, and a rancid smell of human blood and death filled his nose. Pungent and reeking of death, Micheal finally felt a little at home in the orphanages dorms. He didn't miss the absolute horror that was the lower hall, but there were parts of it that he absolutely did miss.
The familiarity was one thing. He had grown up there in all of its horror, and for all of that terribleness, there was also fondness to it.
He reached out his fist and struck the door in front of him twice.
thump.
The sound of Samantha falling out of bed and onto the stone floor was absolutely the second part. He missed hanging out with his best friend every day. As much as he liked the first hall and as much as he liked visiting Samantha, he had still limited his visits. He very well may have chosen to go back to living in the lower hall for that and that alone if he hadn't.
Loud plodding footsteps shook him out of his thoughts as the door in front of him was swung open to reveal an angry and half naked Samantha right in front of him.
In only her underthings and wielding a pipe, she managed to illicit a surprisingly terrifying figure. The dried blood at the end of the pipe certainly helped sell this image.
“Oh! Micheal, it's you,” she said, relieved. “Thank the Gods. I was not ready for a fight in my underwear today,”
Micheal grinned at the thought of his friend running about in panties and a bra, bashing people's head in with a pole, and silently admitted to himself that it was hilarious. While he doubted that she actually cared about getting in a fight in her underwear, it was still hilarious to think about her getting annoyed at getting blood on her bra.
“Care to share what's so funny there, Mr. Giggles,” She said, annoyed. Ah crap.
“Nothing at all, Ms Samantha sir!”
Samantha chortled and Micheal spread his face into a grin as Samantha finally led him into her room.
“So, I figured it was about time we got to the specifics,” he stated bluntly.
“Specifics about the tournament, I'm assuming, despite the fact that you actively chose to not clarify that for my own good,” she deadpanned while looking at him, while at the same time trying not to fall over as she got one leg into her pants.
“Exactly,” he replied in monotone, hoping to annoy her a little.
“And would you mind telling me exactly you mean by the 'specifics',” she asked. She didn't seem to be annoyed though, which was undoubtedly a shame.
“Well for one, we need a training schedule that takes up at most six days a week,”
“why only six? since when were you busy three days a week,” she asked with a genuine curiosity that was only slightly undercut by her muffled voice as she put on her shirt.
“That was another part of the specifics,” he sighed. “Another orphan in the first hall seems to have decided that we're going to be partners, so i'll need to train with her for the tournament as well,” he said as he winced in anticipation.
“WHAT!?!”
.......
A few minutes and some much needed explanations out of the way, Samantha looked at Micheal with a mix of pity and remorse.
“I'll miss you, Micheal. When she finally ends up killing you,” she said wisely, staring into his eyes deeply.
“I'm not gonna die, Sam!” He shouted, causing Samantha to fall into a fit of laughter. “I know but you should have seen yourself! You were so prepared for me to say something super wise and then boom! it was great and I stand by it,” she said quickly.
Micheal stared at his friends reaction before he finally broke and joined in on the laughter, both of them giggling like little kids over something that was incredibly unfunny warmed his heart like nothing else. “Thoughts of my death aside, what do you think?” He asked.
“What do I think? I think that it'll be fine,” she said casually. “You said it yourself, we still have six days a week for ourselves, and it's not like the tournament's tomorrow. Not only that, but I finally trained up enough to start some sparring and practice. We can finally tain for real,” she said excitedly.
Ever since Micheal had told her his plan she had trained like crazy in order to spar with him. At first he had simply thought he would train her, getting her up to speed in order to fight some of the weaker teams alongside him, but once he thought about it, it was a good idea. A better showing would mean she was more likely to be chosen by the Gods. Even a lesser God would be enough for them. It would mean that they could grow together, and finally stop being the world's trash can.
“Ok, but this is still a big deal,” he began. “I'm fighting on two teams, I might eventually have to fight you if we end up in the finals on both of my teams,”
“I know that, Mike. But what can we do about it? You're stuck on her team either way, so we might as well accept it. We'll just have to make do with six days. It's still enough,” she spoke adamantly, which admittedly reassured Micheal. He had been worried how she would take it. Not that he thought she would get angry at him for betraying her. More so he had worried she would go and find dawn and pick a fight with Dawn. A fight that Micheal didn't think Samantha would win.
“Fine with me, then,” he sighed. “Training nine days a week for the next eight weeks will be fun enough for me,” said with arrogant pride. Internally he cringed at the pain the next eight weeks would be bringing and begged to whatever power being lurked down below that it wouldn't hurt too much.
“Then let's not sit here wasting time like a bunch of sea cucumbers, let's go and train!” she shouted eagerly. Micheal redoubled his efforts at prayer to the dark ones. Perhaps they would take pity on his poor wayward soul.