@juneofdoom Prompt: "Stay down." | Rules | Unfair Fight | Dehumanisation
The command cracked through the arena louder than the crowd.
The boy on the sand didn't listen.
He pushed himself up on shaking arms, blood dripping from his nose onto the packed earth below. One eye had already swollen shut. His ribs screamed with every breath.
Across from him, his opponent sighed.
Not because he was tired.
The giant adjusted the iron gauntlet on his hand and rolled his shoulders. The chains around his wrists rattled. The crowd loved him. They always did.
They called him the Bull.
The boy didn't have a name anymore.
Contestants weren't allowed names.
Names made people sympathetic.
Instead, the announcer pointed at him and shouted, "Subject: Thirty-Seven refuses to yield!"
The audience roared with laughter.
The boy staggered upright.
His knees threatened to buckle.
The Bull looked toward the officials seated above the arena.
"Just end it," he called.
One of them waved a hand dismissively.
"Not until the crowd gets their money's worth."
The boy's stomach twisted.
Three years ago, he had been a naker's apprentice.
Two years ago, he had been a prisoner.
Now he was entertainment.
The Bull turned back to him.
The words were quiet enough that only the boy heard them.
The impact sent him flying.
Pain exploded through his chest.
He hit the ground hard enough to feel something crack.
The announcer sounded delighted.
The word hurt more than the broken rib.
The sand was warm beneath his cheek.
Part of him wanted to stay there.
Maybe if he didn't move, they'd think he was dead.
Maybe they'd finally leave him alone.
Then he heard a child laughing.
A little girl somewhere in the stands.
The chant rolled across the arena like thunder.
Not because they believe in him.
Not because they wanted him to win.
They just wanted more violence.
The officials leaned forward eagerly.
The boy slowly raised his head.
The chanting grew louder.
Something inside him snapped.
Something that had been bending for years.
He looked around the arena.
Not one of them saw a person.
The realisation settled over him with terrible clarity.
No matter how hard he fought.
No matter how much he bled.
No matter how much pain he endured.
They would never see him as human.
The Bull's expression softened.
For the first time all day, the giant sounded afraid.
For what would happen if he stood again?
The officials were watching.
The boy pushed himself upright.
The Bull closed his eyes briefly.
A defeated look crossed his face.
Then the officials smiled.
And suddenly the boy understood.
The fight had never been between him and the giant.
The giant was another prisoner.
Another thing forced to perform.
The real enemy sat above them.
The boy spat blood into the sand.
One of them rose from his seat.
The boy smiled for the first time in years.
And instead of charging the Bull...
He turned toward the viewing platform.
For the first time all afternoon, someone looked at him like he was a person.
Not because they respected him.
Because they were afraid.
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