A loud gong resonated in the air between the screams and cries of the arena-goers. Somewhere, amidst all that cheering was a crazed old lady, her criminal son, and his gangster lackeys all shouting the same name.
Anwar. Anwar. Anwar!"ALLLLRIGHT," a beefy woman in a stained smock roared above the noise into her Cabbage corp. brand microphone. She stood on a balcony pedestal, a groaning pig above the mass of squealing piglets looking for blood all around her. "Another one ready to get chopped!"
She waved one arm to the young boy in the opposite corner, "Still standing in the Dragon corner! The cutie with a feisty bite--THE LETHAL LIMA BEAN!!!" She turned her head and muttered under her breath, "Can't believe he's still kicking."
"And THEN," she swooped her hand to the other side of the arena, "in the Tiger corner, the sexy newcomer-- who I say can come visit me in
my corner, hrr hrrr-- the EXOTIC WONDER OF THE EAST, ANWARRRR!!!"
The ripped, tan man flashed a seductive grin and his private cheering section went wild. He heard quite a few swoons from the crowd, as well (and not all from women).
"You got this, boss!" The old lady's son yelled.
"Get him black 'n blue!" One of his henchmen cried.
"Show him yer the king!" Another shouted.
"EAT HIS INTESTINES!" The creepy one screamed.
...How had he picked up those guys again?
"Ma!" The old woman's son had shouted as she entered their rundown shack, "There ya are! We was lookin' everywhere for--"
The man's throat caught and he squeaked in terror as a familiar, dark-skinned, robed figure also walked in.
"Ah, back here again," Anwar purred with a wary, yet dangerously amused look around. "You have redecorated. A few more holes in the walls than before." He curled his nose, "Also a few more dead rats?"
There was deadly silence in the room.
Anwar smirked, an aura of danger rising off of him. His plan had been to intimidate them into submission if they got unruly, but... that seemed to be quite unnecessary...
Before Anwar could even utter a threat, the whole of the gang flung themselves onto the ground in submission before him. Their heads pressed deep into the floor and he even heard a few sniffles! Were... were those real tears!? Mareer-mor, he couldn't handle tears.
"PLEASE..." They cried in unison, "PLEASE FORGIVE US!!!"
Anwar blinked, totally at a loss. Angry thugs? He could handle that. Suspicious thugs looking for revenge? Easy, easy. But repentant men seeking forgiveness? How was he supposed to handle that?!
They turned their heads up at him expectantly, tears in their watery eyes that looked ready to shatter with just a word.
"I... uh," Anwar grunted stiffly, giving a flustered nod of forgiveness. He almost preferred fighting them to this.
The crowd was swelling with impatience, and Anwar knew what everyone wanted to see. This young boy they had him paired against looked barely out of adolescence. Small, light frame with worried, unsure eyes. He was a noble, too. Anwar could tell. An air seemed to surround him that Anwar knew all too well--that feeling of disconnect with the outside world. But... there was something in his eyes that he just... felt. Like his eyes were older than him.
Anwar chuckled at that thought. How poetic. He really was becoming more like the old man.
The rounded lady announcer was still shouting above. "You know the rules, boys!" She pointed to the large wooden sign dangling above the arena. The words were written in blood red, and a hand print was smeared along the side.
"Only one rule!!!" She shrieked with maddened excitement, "DON'T. MAKE. A. MESS!!"
With a loud crash of the gong, she jumped into the air, "BEGIN!"
Anwar wasted no time in rushing forward with a crack. The crowd may want to see blood, but Anwar had no intention of spilling any of this boy's. That said, he also had no desire to lose.
In the blink of an eye, Anwar was nose-to-nose with the boy, his blades pulled back ready to strike.
"Care to play a game,
saher?" He whispered darkly into the boy's ear.
Maybe this would be a fun fight after all.