Cipher Code {complete}

Chapter Twenty Eight: A Golden Defeat •EDITED•

"Don't toy with me, Gideon." The minister wiped the cut on his cheek with the back of his gloved hand. He didn't feel the pain but seeing the blood made him wince.

He looked down at his shirt and frowned. All that remained of it were a few pieces short of inexistent. All that was left of it were shredded strips of cloth that clung to the oozing cuts that crisscrossed his chest. The rest of the shirt was scattered across the arena.

Corey gingerly peeled off the the remains of his bloodied shirt from his torso and tossed them to the ground.

"Very funny." Seeing Gideon's cruel smile, he couldn't bring himself to remember why he had agreed to this arrangement in the first place. It was obvious that the General only cared about humiliating him.

He knew that the air from the attack from before had been designed to cushion his fall and at the same time shred his clothes into oblivion. He had no doubt that he would have been left as naked as he the day he was born if he hadn't managed to dodge the physical manifestations of that swing.

Corey's expression soured and he fixed a glare on Gideon. "Aren't you going to attack?"

"Would you survive it?"

"Funny." The twenty-eight year old frowned and considered the best way to deal with the situation he had trapped himself in.

More than anything he wished Dawn would get back soon. She was the only one capable of mediating between him and Gideon. Despite the general despising them both he still preferred the professor to Corey.

"Kathryn, get me a new shirt please." Corey spoke to his bracelet and kept his eyes trained on Gideon.

"What type-color. . .?" She stopped herself after realizing the redundancy of the question. The encoded breakdown of a dark red shirt wormed it's way into her software and she would have frowned if she could. It was common knowledge that the minister was permitted to wear nothing but the colors of North's flag-and always the darker shades.

Red was most suited to such a bloody affair.

"Thank you." Corey arranged his cuffs and collar. He sounded truly grateful this time and Kathryn let out a hum of approval.

"Priscilla just informed me that Lords Estell and Maudlin have arrived," the bracelet glowed briefly as the computer mulled over the message she had received. "Would you like to forfeit the match?"

Unconsciously Corey's eyes left the General and focused on the room above the arena-directly on top of him. He was sure that they were watching him too-expecting him to fail. They were not his friends and they felt too big to be his subjects.

He disliked people like them with a burning passion.

"Minister." Kathryn's panicked warning reminded him that he was still in a fight; that danger was still present; that he could die if Gideon felt in the mood to get serious.

Corey moved instinctively and shuffled a bit to the side, it shouldn't have been enough to make a difference but it did-neither of them were taking this seriously enough.

He watched a blade of air snip at his hair and collide into the remaining wall behind him. The black locks fell, the wall crumbled, and one more point was added to Gideon's column. . . the crowd cried for blood.

Blood. More of the warm sticky substance dripped down Corey's right cheek. He wasn't sure how long he could keep dodging, or how many more hits like that he could take.

He imagined Dawn rebuking him for getting out of bed after only three days of rest-and starting a fight immediately afterwards-but he had to.

What sort of minister would he portraying himself to be? Weak? Cowardly?