(January '17) Prompt #2- "I want to break free"

[Kris]

January's 2nd prompt is "I want to break free"



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[ArtisticVicu]

The short chains on his ankles and wrists clattered loudly as he let out a battle cry. The audience screamed in excitement right along with his yell. He twirled his staff lazily as he surveyed those that were watching with narrowed eyes and a sneer on his face. He caught sight of the man that held the other end of his figurative leash and he forced his scowl into a neutral mask, dipping his head in feigned respect. The man bought it and gestured.

His next opponent rose from the ground.

He wanted to laugh, glancing once more at the man in control as if trying to gauge how much of this was a joke. Apparently it wasn't as the guard gave his opponents (plural, mind you) weapons. He cracked his neck and rolled his left shoulder. If they wanted to try and make this not a fair fight, they could continue trying if they wanted to. It was clear the ones before him were new to this whole battle arena deal and he was going to use that against them.

He flicked the release and the staff disconnected, becoming a long chain with two bars at either end that both had a set of three claws situated in a triangle formation. The audience went nuts and his opponents seemed hesitant. The one standing closest to him out of the three adjusted his grip on the hilt of his sword before glancing at the other two. They nodded and spread out, leaving the one with the sword standing alone. He kept is attention on the one before him as he tracked the other two's movements. The one before him seemed to take a breath before charging him.

He moved.

One end of his weapon snapped out and his opponent raised his sword. The chain wrapped around the blade and he pulled downward, rolling with the motion as he brought the other end around. His opponent followed the sword down, rolling out of the way of the other end of the weapon. The other two prepped weapons but did not advance. Yet.

"I'm not going to hurt you," his opponent ground out, blocking the return of the other end. "I want to break free, all three of us do, but we need your help."

"My help," he ground out as their fight became a sort of dance. "Yeah, the last time I was told that, I was nearly killed. I have two more fights left before I'm set free. Why would I risk that?"

His opponent frowned, slowing. He had to purposely miss just to not hit the stupid fool in the face. The weapon grazed the man's cheek, leaving behind a red cut that slowly oozed. His opponent barely flinched, determined. "Because your family is going to help from the other end."

This time his weapon went off course wildly and he had to jump away as the crowd booed. His gaze flickered to the man in charge and saw that the man was frowning. Yanking on the chain, he brought the far end back, swinging it around in an attempt to engage the other two. It worked. The one on the right cracked his whip and disappeared while the one on the left countered the end swung at him with his nunchucks. The crunch of gravel from his direct right was the only alert he needed. He ducked low and swiped out with his foot. He didn't touch anything but he knew his invisible opponent couldn't touch him. He brought the chain around, catching the whip as it lashed out. His invisible opponent became visible and he kicked out, catching the opponent in the chest and gaining the whip.

The audience screamed in celebration.

The one with the sword lunched at him and turned, eyes hard before he twisted his weapon around and brought it up at the last second as a staff, blocking the blade.

The screaming intensified.

He narrowed his eyes at his opponent, spitting out, "Leave my family out of this."

"They came to us!" his opponent snapped back. "They asked us to get you free so we are."

"But if you do it this way, I will forever be on the run."

His opponent's expression turned sad and the weight behind the sword slackened. He turned, the staff shoving the blade aside and nearly catching his opponent's chin. He brought his ankle around in an upwards sweep but his opponent put some distance between them. The large one with the nunchucks came at him instead.

He used the staff like a vaulting pole, throwing himself up and over the large opponent aiming at him. At the peak of his ark, he collapsed the staff back into the weighted chain and twisted. The end against the ground seemed to come alive, whipping around and smacking the large opponent in the gut, briefly neutralizing that specific opponent. As he landed, the one with the whip returned, trying to use the landing as a distraction, but he was already adjusting. His weapon came up around him, lashing out. The one with the whip skidded to a stop and was forced to back up when he sent a weighted end with claws extended at the opponent's face. The one with sword came up behind him.

He dug an elbow into the man's gut.

The sword nearly fell out of his opponent's suddenly lax grip and he took the opportunity presented to him. Yanking the sword out of his opponent's reach, he brought his leg around and shoved his knee into his opponent's side, sending the man flying away. The one with the whip tried to jump him from behind but he just kept the motion, using it to smack the weighted end without the claw into the whip wielding opponent's temple. The man crashed into the ground unconscious. The burly one lunched at him but he sidestepped, effectively bringing a knee up to catch the large one in the gut and then to bring an elbow down at the back of the man's skull. The brute dropped as dead weight to the ground.

He turned his gaze onto the remaining opponent, their sword still in his hand. He arched an eyebrow at them, pointing the tip of the blade at its master. "I will free myself. And I won't let you get in the way of that."

[m139]

I Want to Break Free - An Epilogue to 2015's December Story (First Part Here (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=77779&p=2683978&viewfull=1#post2683978))

I walk alone, alone on this lonely path. The trees are bare, and the wind that blows over the walls is bitterly cold. But I can feel them. And the sensation is quite welcomed. Still, I pull my legs up on the stone bench, and lean against an old apple tree. For an instant, in my mind, an image flashes of what this tree will be like in the spring. But that image of life quickly fades, as the tree reminds me that then, as well as now, its harsh bark will dig into my skin.

Nevertheless, I continue to lean on it, and, after hugging my coat to myself just a little bit tighter, I close my eyes, and let myself remember.

Two years. It has been since I opened that hatch. Many thing have changed since then, but some things never do. Some things never do...

For instance, I cannot help but remember them, especially on this night. I can't help but think of all the people I once knew. And not just those from my home underground- after all, they were not the only ones that died... My adoptive family when I came out. The family whom I had actually been born to. Countless others who tried to find out the secret to this place after it was opened.

It is still a secret, after all. No one really knows what happened down there besides my reports. No one knows who did it, or who to blame. Sure, there are all sorts of conspiracy reports, and I suppose a bit of truth is hidden in them, but I suspect that if anyone found out the full truth, or even got to close to it, they would die. It is, after all, kind of easy when there are little machines in everyone's body.

And as for me? Have I tried to find out what happened, all those years ago? No. But, it is my opinion that they are still watching me, studying me, even now. I don't think my mind will ever truly be free of what happened two years ago.

Two years. So much is different, and so much the same.

I remember one of my first fears, after it was opened again. I feared they would try to find me. I still feared that whoever I knew would be killed, just as they had done throughout so much of my life. But so far, nothing. Of course, that might be the fact that I purposely don't have friends- and I have not had any at all, not since they took away my brother even before the hatch was opened.

I open my eyes, get up and continue walking.

I don't want them to take anything else away from me, but, more importantly, I don't want them to take anything away from other people. My mind flashes back to that little girl at the park, the one who gave me a flower. The one who opened my heart again. I smile, despite my solitude. Sometimes to love... means to let go. Even if one desperately wants to hold on so tight, so tight.

I clutch the folded paper in my hand- somehow I must have taken it out of my pocket- and clutch it to my heart. Sometimes... Love means letting go even when you don't want to. When it is the hardest thing to do ever.

Ah, how I love him. And I think he loves me, too. But I cannot let him close, cannot let him close- it will only hurt him in the long run. And I cannot- I cannot bear to think of his eyes- his eyes which had teared up when I told him that I had no interest- I cannot think of those eyes cold and distant. The thought of him dead scares me. So much scares me.

I've learned to love again, to love fully, deeply. But I have also learned to hide my love, and to let no one love me too much in return. How can I go any farther? How can I risk it, when I know what happened to all those in my life before?

I think of my brother, the one who was part of the farmhouse family that adopted me when I first came to the surface. I think of how he told me, after I told him about that hatch, that he did not care if he died. "Sister," he had said, "I love you more than anything, and what you have before you is a choice I would never want to make. But whatever you do, I love you. And, if I am not around then to support you, then let me be with you now." And then, he had hugged me. I can still feel his arms now, though he is long gone.

It is the note for him that I carry now. A note for him, telling him of all that has happened this past year. Of all my pains, my sufferings, and even my minor joys- Oh, God, how I wish I could still talk to him. Or, really, how I wish I could talk to anyone, to tell them all I really feel, what I really think...

I reach the graves. Here was my mother, my father, and my brother. I passed by my mother's and father's grave, leaving a small bunch of flowers on each. I passed by the empty spot, where I might be lucky enough to be buried if my wishes were actually kept, then I stopped at my brother's grave.

I dropped to my knees, and began to cry as I placed another bunch of flowers. "Oh, brother," I cried, in anguish, "If only I could talk to you now!"

My thoughts inside my head rushed from here to there, around all that had happened, as it always did on these nights when I visited those whom I had lost. The note in my hand became soaked with tears, and soon ripped apart. But I didn't care- it was not as if he could read it anyways, and I certainly did not want them to read it- no certainly not them.

I wanted them gone from my life. Totally and completely gone. But they were not. And likely, they would never be.

I sobbed, my head now resting in between my legs. "I want to break free," I mumbled through the tears, "I want to break free..."