The Fallen Kings [M]

[Sasuke Uchiha]

“He was my brother.”

The moment Scripper’s mangled body hit the blood stained sand, Allanon’s mind came alive with vivid scenes from the past. Memories of a life in Coruscant; warm family meals, the burial of parents who died too soon, abuse at the various orphanages, getting arrested, getting banished, and the many villainous acts that caused it all flooded Allanon’s psyche. His only solace was that he was never alone. Through it all, and under the names Allan and Scott back then, Scripper and Allanon had always been there for each other; together. That was all over now.

“Did you say something champ?” a man who was garbed in cloaks adorned with Diablo’s crest and holding a clip board questioned the undefeated gladiator.

They racked up quite the rap sheet in Coruscant him and Scott, most lawmen would say they were pieces of shit, and they wouldn’t argue much against it. They’d done some pretty heinous things to people, they knew it, so neither of them were too surprised when the bounty came with the extra incentive to banish. Thing was, Scott was really only ever dastardly to outsiders. When their life of crime finally caught up with them, Scott actually sacrificed himself so Allanon could get away. He threw himself in front of the banishment. It didn’t much matter, as Allanon didn’t make it too far before he too was sent to the Underverse, but that was just the kind of man Scripper was to Allanon.   

“He was my big brother.” Allanon voiced the words, barely audible to even himself. Everything surreal, he was still in shock from the loss of his only loved one. Lost in thought, Allanon's mind was a buzz with questions. Did he know? Does it fucking matter? He killed him. 

“I can’t hear you.” The coliseum official stated, expressing concern. “Are you saying something, Allanon?” 

“I want him next!”  The champion blurted out suddenly, at an octane high enough as to draw the attention of everyone in the sky box, garnering far more than he had intended.

“Pardon?” the official stammered, clearly confused by the sudden outburst.

“Goldie.” Allanon said after clearing his throat and lowering his voice to normal, “Make it happen.”

‘Love to oblige, because I, for one, love your work,” the official began, who genuinely looked displeased he had to refute such a successful gladiator, “but unfortunately, you’re next match is already scheduled with a...” he paused as he flipped through papers pinned to his clip board,  “An Argento. Apparently he’s a paladin who’s been here before, so it should be a good showing.” The staff person seemed pleased with this.

“I don’t care about that,” Allanon spat, his rage beginning to boil, “I want the false king. Do your job, mark it on your little clip board, and make it so.”  

“You forget yourself Allanon and to whom you serve.” Said the official as he shuffled his hands from under his cloak and revealed a twisted length of timber with runes inscribed upon it. “You’re entertaining and you win, that’s why we allow you privilege.” as he spoke he indicated to their being in the sky box and to Allanon's permitted 'Shoutcasting'. He then gave a wave of his wand, summoning a painful brand of Diablo’s crest to sear and singe into Allanon’s skin, “Your list of redeeming qualities end there. Our lord has little use for you outside of that, heed your next words closely champion, they could be your last.”

“Add him.” Allanon snarled through gritted teeth, refusing to voice his agony.

“Excuse me?” the warlock gawked.

“Whatever you have booked for me,” Allanon gave the official a menacing glare before taking his leave, “add Gilgamesh to it!”