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whatwekeep2010-06-21 11:53 pm
khemlab.livejournal.com) wrote in whatwekeep2010-06-21 11:53 pm
Fic: Controlled Violence, Ch. 20/30
Characters: (for this chapter) Hunter Parrish, Christian Kane, Liev Schreiber, Christian Bale
Rating: R
Warnings: Slavery, Profanity, Harsh violence / abuse
Word Count: 1,951
Previous Parts: Ch. 1: Liev's Provenance, Ch. 2: Liev v. Madsen, Ch. 3: Lord Bale's Gym, Ch. 4: The Charity Ward, Ch. 5: On Tour, Ch. 6: An Unwelcome Interruption, Ch. 7: Hunter's Provenance, Ch. 8: Home Sweet Home, Ch. 9: Training Begins, Ch. 10: A Fighter's Life, Ch. 11: Growing Up, Ch. 12: Music, Tattoos, and Women, Ch. 13: Liev Fights, Ch. 14: Done Talking, Ch. 15: A Born Boxer, Ch. 16: The Indigo Blues, Ch. 17: The Final Countdown, Ch. 18: The Lucky Ones, Ch. 19: Shall We Dance? Part 1
Summary: Fight! Fight! For purposes of this and the previous chapter, it will be useful to read![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
devilc's AKB stories for some background (and they are well worth reading, even if you skip my story entirely).
Author's Notes: Character photos for Lord Bale's household can be found here. Thanks topoisontaster for opening up this sandbox, to devilc for introducing me to it, and to fleurlb for some choice casting suggestions.
Midvale Arena, Present Day
Hunter bounced on the balls of his feet, working the heavy bag in the locker room at about half intensity, warming up before the fight. The officials had come in earlier to watch Liev taping up his hands, making sure they weren't doing anything against the rules. Their intrusion on his pre-fight was irritating but at the same time reassuring - at least he knew they were monitoring for fairness.
His head felt cool and nice. Liev had done a double-take when Hunter had walked into the fighters' kitchen two mornings ago with a practically shaved head, but if he had thoughts about it one way or another, he didn't say anything. Hunter wasn't sure what exactly had made him do it, but as soon as he saw himself in the mirror, he knew it was the right decision. A fighter was staring back at him.
During the three days before the fight, Liev severely limited Hunter's activities. No real sparring, no weight-lifting, just a light jog in the morning and a stretch in the afternoon. Nothing strenuous, he said, just enough to keep limber and ready. More than anything those three days, they'd talked. Talked through different combinations, miming the responses that were by now ingrained in his muscles. Talked about how to focus during the fight, how to ignore the roar of the crowd. How to psych out his opponent, who was evidently as inexperienced as Hunter himself. A little taller. A lot older.
Older potentially meant slower, Liev told him, but not always. He couldn't count on having quicker reflexes, but during the fight he'd be able to feel it out, figure out if his youth gave him an edge. Older also potentially meant stronger, but that didn't mean much. He might be able to hit harder, but that would mean he'd have to get through Hunter's defenses first, and Hunter had no intention of letting him. He knew the other guy's name, Chris, but he never thought of him as Chris, just thought of him as "him." Nameless, faceless, 5'10", 160 pounds. A fleshy object standing between Hunter and his first victory in the ring.
"Ten minutes, kid." Liev stepped into the small room where Hunter was doing his pre-fight workout. "You warm?"
"Yeah," Hunter grunted, kicking the bag harder.
"You ready?"
"Better believe it." Right, left, jab, jab, hook with his whole body weight behind it, twist of the hips sealing the deal.
"All right, c'mere, kid." Hunter paused in his routine, still bouncing on the balls of his feet, then stilled and turned to Liev. "Sit down, let me make sure everything's in order."
While he rubbed Hunter down, warming and relaxing his arms and legs, he kept up a constant stream of patter, "Don't forget to..." and "Make sure you look for..." and "Above all, kid..." but it fell on deaf ears. Hunter's mind just thrummed like a plucked guitar string. Briefly, he flashed back to when Liev had first felt him out like this, sitting on a cold, hard chair in the Commerce waiting room in just his underwear. He didn't even feel like the same person anymore. He felt strong, confident, determined. Not like the lackadaisical kid that had landed himself back on the auction block out of pure stupidity and recklessness.
Then Liev clamped Hunter's face between his hands, forcing his full attention. "All right, listen to me, kid. I want you to tell me one thing, just one thing. You got this?"
Hunter nodded, barely able to breathe. This was it.
"I can't hear you nodding, kid. Look at me and tell me. You got this?"
"Yeah, yes. Yes. I've got this."
Liev smiled and affectionately shoved Hunter's shoulder. "Damn right, you do. Let's go."
***
Lord Bale had been conspicuously absent before the fight, but Hunter knew he would be in the crowd, placing his bets and watching Hunter's every move. He felt the scrutiny like an ever-present itch between his shoulder blades as soon as he stepped into the arena and heard the roar of the crowd.
***
The first round was a draw, according to Liev, so Hunter came out swinging in the second. His opponent wasn't slow, but he didn't move his feet like Hunter did. He moved solid to the ground, more like a wrestler than a striker. Hunter kept his lower and upper body in constant motion, misdirecting his intention sometimes by tilting his pelvis opposite of his true direction. He could tell he was keeping the other man guessing, and there he made a solid connection to the front of his opponent's jaw, then danced back before the other fighter could land one of his heavy punches.
They circled each other warily, Hunter feinting a strike or two before his opponent charged in fast. Hunter greeted him with a solid knee to the midsection, and the other fighter staggered sideways to the ropes. Hunter stalked in right after him, pressing his advantage, landing two body shots and a good jab to the jaw before the bell rang for the end of the second round.
***
"Good, kid, you're doing good." Liev shot water in his mouth and ran a towel over his face and head. "But you watch him, watch that right on him. Maybe you took that round...maybe...but that doesn't mean shit if he starts landing some hard strikes, you get me? Keep moving, keep light. Strike, move, and back off. Hear me? Strike, move, back off. That's how we're playing this." Hunter nodded, never breaking his line of sight with the man sitting in the opposite corner and spitting blood. "All right." Liev shoved his mouth guard back in. "Keep moving!"
***
There were only two people in the world, as far as Liev was concerned. His boy and the man he'd been pitted against. He watched the fighters, his mind jumping to the next move before even they knew what they had planned. Blow by blow, step by step, he saw every minute detail of the fight as if it was happening in slow motion. And so he saw it coming, a split second before Hunter would have realized his mistake. But that split second wasn't enough time for him to do any more than open his mouth to yell a warning that Hunter never heard.
His boy was out cold.
***
Chris stood in the center of the ring, in absolute shock. He'd done it, he really had. The kid was laid out flat, blinking in confusion as the referee tried to revive him. Then the bell rang and Damien practically tackled him from behind, yelling gleefully. He laughed himself, mostly out of surprise. God damn, maybe I could be a fighter, he thought hazily. Then he turned to make sure Hunter was actually okay - the kid was on his feet now, and Liev was checking him over, speaking in hushed tones.
The look Liev gave him over Hunter's shoulder was unreadable, but it wasn't good. Nothing he could do about that now though - by rights he shouldn't even know Liev. So Chris stepped toward the pair and put an arm around Hunter, pulling him in for a sweaty hug. "Hey. It's all right. You did good, kid," he said in Hunter's ear. "You did real good." Hunter clumsily returned the embrace, nodding against Chris's shoulder, mumbling something Chris couldn't make out. "Listen...you 'n me should meet up for a drink sometime, all right? My treat." Then Hunter was pulled away from him, ushered out of the ring and the arena by Liev and his entourage. Chris couldn't be sure in the press of the celebration, but it seemed to him like right before he was marched out of the arena, Hunter took one final look over his shoulder back at the ring. Back at Chris.
Chris smiled and let himself be lifted up on some random guy's shoulders, cheering and waving to the crowd.
***
Lord Bale was waiting when they got back to the locker room. Hunter took two steps toward his master and dropped to his knees, hanging his head in shame. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Michael standing off to the side, his hands clasped in front of him.
He didn't even know what had happened. One minute he was on his feet, the next he was flat on his back, struggling to open his eyes. He'd tried to ask Chris what had happened, but then Chris...asked him out? It...it was just nonsensical. Hunter couldn't piece it together, not while his brain still felt like it had been crushed under a pile of bricks.
He saw Lord Bale's polished shoes turn to the side and walk around him. The scuff of leather soles against the floor was the only sound in the small, dank room. When Bale finally spoke, it was in soft, venomous tones. "You talked me into this." He began pacing slowly. "The pride of ownership." Bale made a full circuit of the room, walking excruciatingly slowly. Ponderously. Hunter felt a sick panic begin to twist in his gut.
"Pride," Bale repeated. "Liev." His footsteps stopped right behind Hunter. Right in front of Liev. "Let me ask you a question. Do you think I feel proud right now?" His voice was a low, threatening hiss. "Is this pride I feel swelling inside me?"
The air in the room was so thick it was a struggle just to keep breathing. It was all wrong, and Hunter dry-heaved, tasting the bile on his tongue as he struggled for control, tried to force himself to be still.
"No, I mean, no he didn't win, but he did good, made a good showing..." Liev didn't even sound like Liev. He sounded small. He sounded scared.
"Shut the FUCK up!" Hunter heard a sickening slap as flesh hit flesh, and he began to shake. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, he was supposed to win, they were supposed to celebrate, Liev wasn't supposed to be taking a beating on his behalf. "Did I ask you to fucking TALK? Do you think I need your OPINION now, you fucking imbecile? What I need from you is one simple thing. One simple, easy, moronic task is all I ask of you. That you train this...this...sad excuse for a second-hand slave how to KEEP HIS FUCKING CHIN TUCKED. Now I ask you - is that so hard? Or is it that this piece of shit you dragged home is too thick-headed to comprehend even the most BASIC OF FIGHTING TECHNIQUES? Well? Which is it, Liev, can you fucking answer me that?"
"He's not..."
"SHUT UP!" Bale was screaming now, and as he continued his rant his words were punctuated with fleshy, solid noises as he kicked and punched Liev. "You have got to be the most worthless...pathetic...soft-headed... idiotic...excuse...why do I even bother...do you have any idea how much money I just lost betting on this...this..."
At some point, Hunter had turned around and raised his head, helplessly watching Liev take it all, not even lifting his hands in self defense. Bale backhanded Liev, then punched him in the midsection, causing Hunter to wince involuntarily. When Liev doubled over, Bale shoved him against the wall, forced him back to a standing position, then held his head in place as he punched him, once, twice, three times right in the face. Blood was flowing freely from Liev's nose and the side of his mouth before Bale shoved him aside and turned his attention to Hunter.
The first kick caught Hunter right up under the chin, blessedly knocking him out for the second time that night.
Aftermath
Rating: R
Warnings: Slavery, Profanity, Harsh violence / abuse
Word Count: 1,951
Previous Parts: Ch. 1: Liev's Provenance, Ch. 2: Liev v. Madsen, Ch. 3: Lord Bale's Gym, Ch. 4: The Charity Ward, Ch. 5: On Tour, Ch. 6: An Unwelcome Interruption, Ch. 7: Hunter's Provenance, Ch. 8: Home Sweet Home, Ch. 9: Training Begins, Ch. 10: A Fighter's Life, Ch. 11: Growing Up, Ch. 12: Music, Tattoos, and Women, Ch. 13: Liev Fights, Ch. 14: Done Talking, Ch. 15: A Born Boxer, Ch. 16: The Indigo Blues, Ch. 17: The Final Countdown, Ch. 18: The Lucky Ones, Ch. 19: Shall We Dance? Part 1
Summary: Fight! Fight! For purposes of this and the previous chapter, it will be useful to read
devilc's AKB stories for some background (and they are well worth reading, even if you skip my story entirely). Author's Notes: Character photos for Lord Bale's household can be found here. Thanks to
poisontaster for opening up this sandbox, to devilc for introducing me to it, and to fleurlb for some choice casting suggestions.Hunter bounced on the balls of his feet, working the heavy bag in the locker room at about half intensity, warming up before the fight. The officials had come in earlier to watch Liev taping up his hands, making sure they weren't doing anything against the rules. Their intrusion on his pre-fight was irritating but at the same time reassuring - at least he knew they were monitoring for fairness.
His head felt cool and nice. Liev had done a double-take when Hunter had walked into the fighters' kitchen two mornings ago with a practically shaved head, but if he had thoughts about it one way or another, he didn't say anything. Hunter wasn't sure what exactly had made him do it, but as soon as he saw himself in the mirror, he knew it was the right decision. A fighter was staring back at him.
During the three days before the fight, Liev severely limited Hunter's activities. No real sparring, no weight-lifting, just a light jog in the morning and a stretch in the afternoon. Nothing strenuous, he said, just enough to keep limber and ready. More than anything those three days, they'd talked. Talked through different combinations, miming the responses that were by now ingrained in his muscles. Talked about how to focus during the fight, how to ignore the roar of the crowd. How to psych out his opponent, who was evidently as inexperienced as Hunter himself. A little taller. A lot older.
Older potentially meant slower, Liev told him, but not always. He couldn't count on having quicker reflexes, but during the fight he'd be able to feel it out, figure out if his youth gave him an edge. Older also potentially meant stronger, but that didn't mean much. He might be able to hit harder, but that would mean he'd have to get through Hunter's defenses first, and Hunter had no intention of letting him. He knew the other guy's name, Chris, but he never thought of him as Chris, just thought of him as "him." Nameless, faceless, 5'10", 160 pounds. A fleshy object standing between Hunter and his first victory in the ring.
"Ten minutes, kid." Liev stepped into the small room where Hunter was doing his pre-fight workout. "You warm?"
"Yeah," Hunter grunted, kicking the bag harder.
"You ready?"
"Better believe it." Right, left, jab, jab, hook with his whole body weight behind it, twist of the hips sealing the deal.
"All right, c'mere, kid." Hunter paused in his routine, still bouncing on the balls of his feet, then stilled and turned to Liev. "Sit down, let me make sure everything's in order."
While he rubbed Hunter down, warming and relaxing his arms and legs, he kept up a constant stream of patter, "Don't forget to..." and "Make sure you look for..." and "Above all, kid..." but it fell on deaf ears. Hunter's mind just thrummed like a plucked guitar string. Briefly, he flashed back to when Liev had first felt him out like this, sitting on a cold, hard chair in the Commerce waiting room in just his underwear. He didn't even feel like the same person anymore. He felt strong, confident, determined. Not like the lackadaisical kid that had landed himself back on the auction block out of pure stupidity and recklessness.
Then Liev clamped Hunter's face between his hands, forcing his full attention. "All right, listen to me, kid. I want you to tell me one thing, just one thing. You got this?"
Hunter nodded, barely able to breathe. This was it.
"I can't hear you nodding, kid. Look at me and tell me. You got this?"
"Yeah, yes. Yes. I've got this."
Liev smiled and affectionately shoved Hunter's shoulder. "Damn right, you do. Let's go."
***
Lord Bale had been conspicuously absent before the fight, but Hunter knew he would be in the crowd, placing his bets and watching Hunter's every move. He felt the scrutiny like an ever-present itch between his shoulder blades as soon as he stepped into the arena and heard the roar of the crowd.
***
The first round was a draw, according to Liev, so Hunter came out swinging in the second. His opponent wasn't slow, but he didn't move his feet like Hunter did. He moved solid to the ground, more like a wrestler than a striker. Hunter kept his lower and upper body in constant motion, misdirecting his intention sometimes by tilting his pelvis opposite of his true direction. He could tell he was keeping the other man guessing, and there he made a solid connection to the front of his opponent's jaw, then danced back before the other fighter could land one of his heavy punches.
They circled each other warily, Hunter feinting a strike or two before his opponent charged in fast. Hunter greeted him with a solid knee to the midsection, and the other fighter staggered sideways to the ropes. Hunter stalked in right after him, pressing his advantage, landing two body shots and a good jab to the jaw before the bell rang for the end of the second round.
***
"Good, kid, you're doing good." Liev shot water in his mouth and ran a towel over his face and head. "But you watch him, watch that right on him. Maybe you took that round...maybe...but that doesn't mean shit if he starts landing some hard strikes, you get me? Keep moving, keep light. Strike, move, and back off. Hear me? Strike, move, back off. That's how we're playing this." Hunter nodded, never breaking his line of sight with the man sitting in the opposite corner and spitting blood. "All right." Liev shoved his mouth guard back in. "Keep moving!"
***
There were only two people in the world, as far as Liev was concerned. His boy and the man he'd been pitted against. He watched the fighters, his mind jumping to the next move before even they knew what they had planned. Blow by blow, step by step, he saw every minute detail of the fight as if it was happening in slow motion. And so he saw it coming, a split second before Hunter would have realized his mistake. But that split second wasn't enough time for him to do any more than open his mouth to yell a warning that Hunter never heard.
His boy was out cold.
***
Chris stood in the center of the ring, in absolute shock. He'd done it, he really had. The kid was laid out flat, blinking in confusion as the referee tried to revive him. Then the bell rang and Damien practically tackled him from behind, yelling gleefully. He laughed himself, mostly out of surprise. God damn, maybe I could be a fighter, he thought hazily. Then he turned to make sure Hunter was actually okay - the kid was on his feet now, and Liev was checking him over, speaking in hushed tones.
The look Liev gave him over Hunter's shoulder was unreadable, but it wasn't good. Nothing he could do about that now though - by rights he shouldn't even know Liev. So Chris stepped toward the pair and put an arm around Hunter, pulling him in for a sweaty hug. "Hey. It's all right. You did good, kid," he said in Hunter's ear. "You did real good." Hunter clumsily returned the embrace, nodding against Chris's shoulder, mumbling something Chris couldn't make out. "Listen...you 'n me should meet up for a drink sometime, all right? My treat." Then Hunter was pulled away from him, ushered out of the ring and the arena by Liev and his entourage. Chris couldn't be sure in the press of the celebration, but it seemed to him like right before he was marched out of the arena, Hunter took one final look over his shoulder back at the ring. Back at Chris.
Chris smiled and let himself be lifted up on some random guy's shoulders, cheering and waving to the crowd.
***
Lord Bale was waiting when they got back to the locker room. Hunter took two steps toward his master and dropped to his knees, hanging his head in shame. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Michael standing off to the side, his hands clasped in front of him.
He didn't even know what had happened. One minute he was on his feet, the next he was flat on his back, struggling to open his eyes. He'd tried to ask Chris what had happened, but then Chris...asked him out? It...it was just nonsensical. Hunter couldn't piece it together, not while his brain still felt like it had been crushed under a pile of bricks.
He saw Lord Bale's polished shoes turn to the side and walk around him. The scuff of leather soles against the floor was the only sound in the small, dank room. When Bale finally spoke, it was in soft, venomous tones. "You talked me into this." He began pacing slowly. "The pride of ownership." Bale made a full circuit of the room, walking excruciatingly slowly. Ponderously. Hunter felt a sick panic begin to twist in his gut.
"Pride," Bale repeated. "Liev." His footsteps stopped right behind Hunter. Right in front of Liev. "Let me ask you a question. Do you think I feel proud right now?" His voice was a low, threatening hiss. "Is this pride I feel swelling inside me?"
The air in the room was so thick it was a struggle just to keep breathing. It was all wrong, and Hunter dry-heaved, tasting the bile on his tongue as he struggled for control, tried to force himself to be still.
"No, I mean, no he didn't win, but he did good, made a good showing..." Liev didn't even sound like Liev. He sounded small. He sounded scared.
"Shut the FUCK up!" Hunter heard a sickening slap as flesh hit flesh, and he began to shake. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, he was supposed to win, they were supposed to celebrate, Liev wasn't supposed to be taking a beating on his behalf. "Did I ask you to fucking TALK? Do you think I need your OPINION now, you fucking imbecile? What I need from you is one simple thing. One simple, easy, moronic task is all I ask of you. That you train this...this...sad excuse for a second-hand slave how to KEEP HIS FUCKING CHIN TUCKED. Now I ask you - is that so hard? Or is it that this piece of shit you dragged home is too thick-headed to comprehend even the most BASIC OF FIGHTING TECHNIQUES? Well? Which is it, Liev, can you fucking answer me that?"
"He's not..."
"SHUT UP!" Bale was screaming now, and as he continued his rant his words were punctuated with fleshy, solid noises as he kicked and punched Liev. "You have got to be the most worthless...pathetic...soft-headed... idiotic...excuse...why do I even bother...do you have any idea how much money I just lost betting on this...this..."
At some point, Hunter had turned around and raised his head, helplessly watching Liev take it all, not even lifting his hands in self defense. Bale backhanded Liev, then punched him in the midsection, causing Hunter to wince involuntarily. When Liev doubled over, Bale shoved him against the wall, forced him back to a standing position, then held his head in place as he punched him, once, twice, three times right in the face. Blood was flowing freely from Liev's nose and the side of his mouth before Bale shoved him aside and turned his attention to Hunter.
The first kick caught Hunter right up under the chin, blessedly knocking him out for the second time that night.
no subject
Bale's rage is truely a fearsome thing and you capture it very very well.
no subject
Bale's rage is truely a fearsome thing and you capture it very very well.
Thank you.