#pitfighting

The Dragon stood in her small cell. 

Her feet were locked up in inch-thick chains. Her hands were bound with reinforced handcuffs. She wore a strong steel muzzle that she had no hope of breaking through.

Uncomfortably, the Dragon shifted on her feet. Not too long until they’d let her down now.

The Dragon had been in this cell, in those chains, for about 33 years.

She was the champion of the Bloodrush Vendetta Ring. She had won THOUSANDS of fights. She had killed. She had maimed. She had been maimed herself.

And through all of it, she had been a slave.

Never once ever being allowed outside to play and frolic. Never once had she been able to eat anything besides dry, crumbly, tasteless MREs.

Dragon’s whole life was the arena, her training, and this cell. There was only a sad, pathetic definition of play in her mind, and it involved yelling people hurling sharp things at her.

Her tired, dulled eyes flicked to stare at the wall, and once again, Dragon allowed herself to be lost in her thoughts. It was here, in these semi-awake dreams, that her subconscious mind was undeniable.

Deeply, she yearned for something more, beyond her black cell, beyond her chafing cuffs. She longed for more than endless fighting, every day, the same dry, tasteless stuff she was made to eat for sustenance.

The Dragon stood awhile, lost in her dreaming.

The Dragon was CONFUSED. Confused confused confused.

For her entire life, the only thing that had ever gone in her mouth like this, were the bar-shaped dissolving things. When Dragon ate them, they brought a little bit of sensation to her mouth.

Now… apparently… they… came in different shapes here? And different sizes, than she was used to?

She looked down at her plate again. Were they really… meant to be eaten?

“Come on, you can do it,” her Handler encouraged.

With a reluctant sniff, the Dragon picked up the brown bar, and took the teeniest of bites out of it.

Flavor.

Goodness.

Little grittiness—like eating arena sand, but… better. Solid-er. The Dragon cried, happy tears racing down, as she savored this wonder, it was like nothing she had ever had!

The only thing Jill felt was sadness, when she gazed upon one of the world’s top pit fighters, crying with joy at what was probably her first time tasting bread.

It was so easy to tell. The fighter’s eyes were closed in sheer bliss, as she pulled more off the bread. She sighed with happiness, slowly rolling it around in her mouth in absolute contentment.

Jill couldn’t help but smile, when the Dragon hungrily pulled off three, four, five more pieces of bread, and savoring each one. The big fighter was still crying huge, happy tears.

Gently, Jill leaned forwards. “You like that, don’t you?”

The fighter immediately snapped to attention. Scared eyes met hers.

And then, slowly, the fighter nodded.

Jill clapped her hands in glee. “I knew it! Now, you finish eating up that bread.”

A task which the Dragon was delighted to fulfill to completion, but when she started licking the plate for crumbs, Jill decided to stop her. The sight of another human gleefully licking up the scraps of real dinner was just too much for her.

“Hey…” the fighter continued licking, not hearing Jill.

“Hey.” The second time, the fighter snapped to attention. She was mostly bleary with happiness, but her eyes still shone fear.

Jill gave her her most convincing smile. “Try the soup.”

Hesitantly, the fighter looked at the soup. Curiosity shone in her gaze.

Slowly, she began to lower her head.

“Not like that,” Jill blurted, startling the fighter. The Dragon looked up at her with wide eyes.

“Like this.” Jill dipped her spoon into the food and drank slowly from it. “See?”

The fighter tentatively watched her.

And then, slowly—darting her eyes up to see she was getting it right—the Dragon picked up her spoon, dipped it into the soup, and slowly took a sip.

More, even BETTER flavor!! Whatever this “soup” was tasted SO GOOD IT FELT LIKE I’M DYING!!

I hastily took a second, then a third, swig from the spoon. My eyes closed in pleasure. A smile crossed my face. I ate and ate and ate that soup until it was all gone, and I had to resist the urge to lick my bowl clean. Apparently my Handler didn’t like that, though I was unsure why. Leaning back, I allowed myself to close my eyes, my happiness flowing like being upside-down in a fight. Oh, it was glorious… kill me here. Kill me here, so that I’d NEVER have to go back.

“You liked that, didn’t you?”

Before I could stop myself, I was bobbing my head up and down.

My Handler smiled—not that I could see her through the tears. “You’re not a very dangerous fighter, are you? More like a big pussy cat.”

At this, I narrowed my eyes. Oho, she thought I wasn’t dangerous?

A soft growl escaped from my throat. I could show her dangerous.

My Handler immediately flinched. “Uh, okay, got it. You’re dangerous. You’re, um, pretty. And you’re the most vicious, deadly fighter of them all!”

I preened, pride rushing through me. Finally someone got it right.

The Dragon dreamed. For her, the dreaming went on and on and on until—

CLICK. CLICK. CLACK-CLACK-CLANK.

Her wrist restraints clicked, and he muzzle came off from the wall. With a sigh of relief, Dragon quickly laid down, resting her head on her shackled wrists.

Finally.

Her shackles—something she thought of as completely normal—had an unlock timer. They’d give her room to sit, then to stand. Dragon knew the schedule well enough to follow it by now.

Over the course of the next few hours, Dragon laid in her cell in silence, lost within the comforts of her own brain.

It was only when no Handlers came to feed her, that Dragon started to realize something was off. So, she twisted. She listened. She strained against her shackles.

And she looked, constantly, for any possible change.

After a while, soft, faint noises began to catch Dragon’s attention. Slowly, she lifted her head towards the sound.

It was a few of the younger fighters, she realized. Some of the odd ones. Some of the ones who she’d fought, and beaten, over and over again. One of the ones who… didn’t… have a home here yet?

These fighters weren’t given shackles and food and their own home. The Dragon guessed they still had to work at it?