Blood Red Flag

5th Cycle/327th Hour/112 Hybrid-Era

We were coming  upon the end of the first half of play. The crowd surrounding the pit arena was on its feet, a cacophony of screaming and hooting, of yelling and chanting, the whole place filled with such passion it corrupted the air and overstimulated the senses. Both on and off of the field saw taunts, jest, and fists thrown and blood flying with ill-restraint. And the hovering eyebots were capturing and broadcasting every moment of it to local receivers and massive screens lining the arena.

My colorless eyes flicked to the time clock display projected by the eyebot trailing in front of me. Time was out, it was me or no one. I had the ball tucked underneath my arm, feet pounding below me, kicking up dirt and frost. Each taxed breath sent a huff of warmed air trailing behind me as I streamed across the field, ducking, dodging and bounding through obstacle and opposing players alike on my way toward the third tier on the opposing teams side of the field. All that stood in my way was a towering wall of ragged stone. I called out for an assist, holding my ground at the foot of the wall , brawling and maneuvering to create time until one of my teammates arrived.

“Toss me up!” I hollered out to a giant of a man. He looked like he had been through hell, blood giving detail to his otherwise bare face and bald head, though I couldn’t tell if it was more his or some one else’s. “Hangin’ in there?” He was moving a little slow. Or maybe he just seemed slow to me. Core forbid he didn’t have the strength left.

“Better’n’ever.” He jogged over, placing his hefty back against the wall, and crossing his hands so that he could leverage me higher. I nodded, ran at him full speed, and pushed off of her gnarly hands. The force he excreted sent my rocketing upward much faster than I had anticipated, a massive toothy grin stretching across my bruised face as I enjoyed a second and a half of pure upward momentum. Still not enough. I kicked off the wall and spotted the eyebot that was personally tracking me. I placed a single foot on it and pushed off for an extra few inches to reach the plateau above.

I began to clamber up, lifting my head above the ridge, just as a massive hand reached out and ceased me by the throat. He lifted me up. No air was getting to me through his vicious grip. The man reached out for the ball in my hand and in a snap reaction I threw my knee into his chin, reveling in the satisfying crack that followed. His grip loosened slightly and I followed up with my opposite leg straight to his groin. The great man toppled, releasing me, and we both fell to the ground on our knees. He was more fixated on his rattled jumblies while I was just trying to get my breath back. I stood, triumphant and grinning, just before looking up to a pair of heavy feet flying straight at me in a drop kick. The collision knocked the air out of me yet I still held onto the ball. I flew over the edge of the ridge and plummeted down the same tower I had just ascended, the inevitable impact scared the shit out of me, but I still held onto the ball.


Daily Prompt: Disagree

Word of the Day: eristic


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