Tevun-Krus #45 - SportPunk

Legend - A Short Story by @krazydiamond

"It wasn't supposed to be like this. Isn't that what they all say? The superfluous they. Fuck 'em. I lived my life how I wanted, I did what I wanted. If not for a bunch of whiny bitches, I would have gone done in infamy, but that's the breaks, man. They threw me on the stand, the modern martyr, and yeah, I was guilty. Who cares? Amirite? But I might have sank into obscurity if not for the moronic Cheeto sinking the ship. It is interesting to see what people do when things go to shit.

The first they did was riot, I mean out and out urban warfare. Kinda glad I was in a nine by nine cell for that one. See they went after the money first. Tired of being impoverished by the man. Thing is, you can't win little speckies, even with the ship sinking, the rich get the fancy lifeboats first. They might have captured a few pawns, but they couldn't touch the big wigs. Lotta blood, lotta whining. The big wigs took over. I could have been one of them, dammit, but they weren't returning my calls once I was on the other side of the fence. Assholes, every one of them. Still, they didn't see me coming, didn't expect me to find the new outlet.

They started the games to keep the unwashed masses quiet. Shove a screen in front of them and shut them up. But it was harder than they thought to distract the poor schmucks from how screwed over they were, so the games got nastier, more violent, descending into total brutality, where the winner was the one with the loosest morals. You bet your ass I excelled in the games, I am the coldest son of a bitch on the course, and don't you forget it.

Can't you hear them calling my name now? Just a couple more minutes before they open the gate. A few new contenders on the field but I am the reigning champ and I ain't going down without a fight. I am a legend, and I will write my name in the history books, one way or another. But I still pay tribute to what got me here, I pay it in the name they are screaming out, chanting in sadistic glee. Can you hear it? Listen when they open the doors, and remember what I told you."

He turns as the gate squeals open, adjusting the ties and buckles on his scavenged battle gear. It's baffling, really, how such a scrawny looking white boy managed to stay top dog for so long, but it is true what he said. He is the coldest son of a bitch on the course. But then, he's always had a talent for assholery. The chanting can be heard now, echoing through the antechamber as he squares his shoulders and struts into the arena.

"Pharmabro, Pharmabro, Pharmabro!"

Hopefully this time, someone will smash the smirk off that jack off's face.