Zatheron
The Destroyer
~ Soldier Born ~
Xavier Antinoro walked down the metal hall, following a man in a military uniform. The five year old was scared and wanted to know where his mother and father were. Them and his little sister. The man led Xavier through multiple doorways and eventually, they arrived at their apparent destination. Once inside, the kid looked around. He was on the second floor of the room and he looked down through the railing, seeing kids of all ages fighting. He wanted to go home. He almost cried...
Twelve years later...
Xavier ducked, hearing his opponent's fist fly over him. He jumped forward, fist first. A cracking sound was audible and he swung his other fist, landing a shot onto his opponent's ribs for another crack. A whistle blew. The fight was over. He backed up and looked toward the whistle-blower.
"Well done, Xavier. That was great reacting. Allan, don't be so reckless or you'll get more than a couple knocked out teeth and a cracked rib," said Sergeant Reynolds. The two boys were both seventeen, wearing only sparring leggings. Sweat was intense on both of them as Allan held onto his injured side as his mouth and chin were bloodied from the initial counter-strike. "Xavier, it has been issued by High Command for you to be put into the Combat Arena for your final test of your grade."
Xavier nodded, panting. "Yes sir," he replied. There was no questioning in the Academy. You did what you were told; end of story. Sergeant Reynolds, luckily, was a little more lax and allowed for questions when time allowed which not too often. As aspiring Overseer of Training and Conditioning, Reynolds didn't have too much time for questions to be asked.
"Dismissed," Reynolds said quickly, turning on one heel and walking towards a board of recognition for exemplary trainees. "Xavier, come here please."
Xavier grabbed his towel as the sergeant called him over. He was wipping himself off as he jogged, dropping it and standing at attention. "Sir."
"At ease. This is a formal moment," the sergeant said calmly. "You see this board? You are going to be on here when you finish your training. Talent, kid, that is what you have. Allan has skill, but lacks talent. If anything, he'll end up a front line soldier. He wasn't born a trooper, he's being crafted into one. He's not bad, no doubts, but not the best. You, Xavier, seem to the best at this point in time. Once you finish Arena training, you will receive your position. But be warned: even one born to fight has trouble in the Arena. You don't just fight fellow men and women, you fight machines, beasts, etc..." the sergeant drifted into thought.
"Have you been a part of the Arena, sir?" Xavier dared ask.
"I was, yes. I found my skill with a handgun in the Arena. You will find your primary attribute in there as well I gather. However, unlike in this room and your other training grounds, the Combat Arena is life and death. You could kill and you could be killed. It is survival of the fittest." The sergeant looked at Xavier. "You should get going. High Command said Arena starts tomorrow for you."
Xavier nodded and stood at attention. "Thank you sir."
"Dismissed."
Xavier grabbed his towel and left the sergeant standing there. He grabbed his white t-shirt and slipped it on before continuing to his dorm. The Combat Arena... that was all he could think about it. He heard of people dying in there, horrific deaths. He heard that some people were put up against their own siblings. He thought back to his early youth, thinking of his baby sister. He never knew what became of her. He didn't know what became of his parents either. He had lived such a structured life that hadn't really thought about any way to reach out to them. He tore himself away from such thoughts as he entered his dorm, so he wasn't distracted. He had to be well rested for the next day.
Xavier lay in his bed for an hour. His hands were still wrapped in cloth from training. He looked his fists over. One of them had spots of blood. He reflected on how he had defeated Allan. As he did, there was a knock on his door. He frowned, not expecting anyone. He rose and walked to the door, pressing the button that allowed it slide open. In front of him were three other students, students he didn't necessarily like.
"So, word is you are going to the Combat Arena? You'll never make it through it's doors," Jack Thompson said. Jack was another very skilled fighter and a very good shot with a rifle.
"How do you figure? You and your goons going to pummel me to a pulp?" Xavier asked antagonizing. He pressed the button for the door to close and just as it started to slide in, he snatched Jack's wrist and pulled him inside. The door closed before his friends could register what happened.
Jack stood, getting ready to fight, but Xavier had the jump on him. His wrapped fist slammed into Jack's jaw, knocking him back to the ground. He straddled his opponent's back and looped his muscular arm around his neck, squeezing. He heard Jack struggling to breathe and he released him when Jack lost consciousness. Xavier grabbed the other student by the back of his collar, walked him to the door, opened it, and tossed him out of his room.
Jack's friends jumped Xavier but he reacted in time. His fist crashed into the sternum of one and he ducked a kick swung over him. He jumped back a little bit before delivering a lashing kick to the stomach of the other opponent. He then punched the student in the face as he doubled over, sending him back into the hall way. He closed his door quickly before grabbing the intercom.
"Yes, hello, three students are outside my dorm and they tried to attack me. Leading them was Jack Thompson. I held my own in self defense, but... you know... clean up on isle twelve?" He hung up the intercom, knowing that security was on its way.
***
It had been a long night and Xavier Antinoro was up for his first round in the arena. He was garbed in sparring pants and wrapped fists as he was the previous day. Apparently, it was a match of hand-to-hand combat. He stood on his platform, waiting to see his opponent. entering the arena was Dylan McFarlen. There was a crackling on the speakers. "Let the games... BEGIN!"
((Commentary appreciated. This is just the first portion of the story I've come up with, but I'll be adding onto it.))
