Teenage super powered gladiatorial combat. Truly, the stuff of nightmares. Take two people with excruciatingly powerful abilities, fill them with a blood lust unlike any other, make them answer only to one man, and have that man give them the order to kill each other. Whoever is left alive gets to move onto the next round. Whoever keeps killing becomes the Champion.
Static was a champion of the Dark Side Club.
The only problem was, he fought the control with every ounce of his being. They'd made him kill, but he'd fought back, even managed to avoid killing a few times. So, they kept him in one of two places; either in the ring, fighting, or locked away where he couldn't hurt them.
His arms were bleeding from the shakles that dug into his wrists, and his neck was chaffed from the control collar around it. Speakers on either side of his head constantly pumped the anti-life equation into his brain, assisted by amble doses of 'interrogation aids' administered through the collar. He couldn't move his legs from the weight of his chains (rubber coated, just in case he had a moment of proper lucidity), and his back throbbed from the lashes, yet another 'submission advocate'.
The sad part was, this wasn't just a nightmare. This had been reality. And he'd had it easier than some... Eddie had been literally ripped apart to turn him into an animal. For most, just the drugs were enough, but some of them had required extra training; their wills had been too strong. The desire to kill too buried under the idea of heroics.
But none had struggled more than Static, fighting day and night, no sleep, no reason left, but never truly giving in. The few times he had, he'd always snapped out of it, but not before another corpse was added to the piles. They considered him too dangerous to even consider tossing in the ring anymore. Too likely to snap back, try and escape. They just couldn't get him to submit. To kill. They had even gone as far as to turn his cell into the temporary corpse disposal center to try and break him. And why not? Nothing else had worked.
They figured he was just that much of a good guy, but of course, that was wrong. He'd had given in a long time ago, if it wasn't for his powers. They were keeping him from caving, but even they wouldn't hold out much longer.
no subject
Static was a champion of the Dark Side Club.
The only problem was, he fought the control with every ounce of his being. They'd made him kill, but he'd fought back, even managed to avoid killing a few times. So, they kept him in one of two places; either in the ring, fighting, or locked away where he couldn't hurt them.
His arms were bleeding from the shakles that dug into his wrists, and his neck was chaffed from the control collar around it. Speakers on either side of his head constantly pumped the anti-life equation into his brain, assisted by amble doses of 'interrogation aids' administered through the collar. He couldn't move his legs from the weight of his chains (rubber coated, just in case he had a moment of proper lucidity), and his back throbbed from the lashes, yet another 'submission advocate'.
The sad part was, this wasn't just a nightmare. This had been reality. And he'd had it easier than some... Eddie had been literally ripped apart to turn him into an animal. For most, just the drugs were enough, but some of them had required extra training; their wills had been too strong. The desire to kill too buried under the idea of heroics.
But none had struggled more than Static, fighting day and night, no sleep, no reason left, but never truly giving in. The few times he had, he'd always snapped out of it, but not before another corpse was added to the piles. They considered him too dangerous to even consider tossing in the ring anymore. Too likely to snap back, try and escape. They just couldn't get him to submit. To kill. They had even gone as far as to turn his cell into the temporary corpse disposal center to try and break him. And why not? Nothing else had worked.
They figured he was just that much of a good guy, but of course, that was wrong. He'd had given in a long time ago, if it wasn't for his powers. They were keeping him from caving, but even they wouldn't hold out much longer.