C-7 has always yearned for excitement in her life, for as long as she could remember she had always been the best or at least close to the best, the only person she could never topple being C-18.
C-7 was a well built woman, she has a good figure with an average height among the C class, her life in blindspot has not been easy of course so there are some scars here and there, the most noticeable one being down the middle of her chest all the way down to her belly button.
She had gotten it after combat training against some of Blindspot's guards. Her brown reddish hair was cut short, with her brownish skin being quite clean compared to others, she quite doted on her skin, even with limited resources for skin care, in Blinspot.
She likes to wear a black elastic top, with matching low rise underwear, She also wears black arm sleeves that extend from her wrists to just below her shoulders, one of the more unique options out of the clothing they give out here.
C-7 spent most of her time looking over the group that had formed around her. They used her name to bully weaker subjects, throwing around her reputation like a weapon, she never stopped them. It never bothered her, in truth, she enjoyed it, sometimes some handsome ones would entertain her in a private room in her freetime, but Blindspot did not stop those activities between subjects.
Watching the squabbles from above gave her the feeling of a queen or an empress looking down on her subjects, like ants vying for her attention.
The weak one's always trying to show off too quickly.
The loud grinding of metal doors sliding open pulled her from her deep thoughts. The trial chamber lights flickered crimson across her skin as the line of C-Class inmates slowly began moving forward again, the smell of blood and rust flooded the air.
C-7 rolled her shoulders with a grin, black sleeves tightening against her arms.
Finally,
Something interesting.
Her eyes drifted toward the figures ahead of her before stopping on one person in particular.
C-18.
The only one she had never managed to surpass, today C-7 must
beat her.
-
C-7 dropped the subject she had just killed, her hands were bruised and her face was covered in blood , but despite her bruising she didn't feel a thing, her heart pumping, her face flushed with excitement, she has killed four so far and now there are only sixteen left.
Some had dominated in this trial from the start, it was mainly the strongest of the bunch, killing crazily dispatching the person nearest to them.
Others had spent the trial running, desperately surviving one second at a time until stronger subjects cornered them.
A pair of footsteps slapped hard and strong against the bloodied floor.
C-7 slowly lifted her gaze.
It was another lamb coming for her to slaughter.
He was tall, broad shoulders, one eye swollen nearly shut. His breathing was uneven, chest trembling from exhaustion, but he still raised his fists, kind of handsome, if this was not a fight C-7 would surely let him join her in bed, but it was not time to think about that.
It was the same look that many people had when they came to her.
Desperation.
The kind that made people dangerous because they had nothing left to lose.
The boy rushed forward with a scream, his voice was raspy, probably lost his voice from screaming all the time, His rugged boots stomping against the hard floor. His movements were sloppy from fatigue but fast and strong enough to still kill her if she got careless.
His muscles bulged and then his right fist shot toward her face.
C-7 leaned slightly left.
The punch barely grazed her falling past her cheek.
Before his arm could retract she stepped in close, her foot pressing hard against the floor steadying herself, as she drove her forehead straight into his nose.
Crunch.
The impact exploded blood across both their faces.
The boy stumbled backward screaming, hands reaching toward his shattered nose, it being completely collapsed.
C-7 didn't give him time to breathe, not even a second as she lunged forward.
Her left hand grabbed the back of his skull while her right slammed repeatedly into his stomach, C-7 grinning from ear to ear while doing so.
One.
Two.
Three.
Each blow hit harder than the previous one, and she felt her fingers tear through muscles and penetrate his rib cage as it started to break. The boy coughed up blood and saliva, as he almost fell to his knees.
He tried swinging downward trying to stop C-7 from doing anymore damage to his ribs.
C-7 twisted her torso.
The fist barely brushed her ribs.
Her elbow immediately crashed downward onto his forearm.
Crack, it broke.
The arm bent the wrong way..
C-7 grinned, her heartbeat thundered harder, she lost herself a little.
But the boy was still trying, and he took this chance.
Even with one arm ruined he slammed his shoulder into her chest, tackling her backward across the slick floor. Both of them crashed hard against the ground, among blood, bones cracking and
smearing beneath them.
The boy scrambled on top of her desperately, fingers grasping toward her throat, tring to end her.
C-7 caught his wrist with both hands.
Muscles tightened across her arms.
The veins in her neck bulged as the boy struggled inches apart, trembling from exertion.
The boy pushed downward with a panicked roar.
C-7's smile widened.
Then suddenly she relaxed one arm.
His body lurched forward from the sudden imbalance.
That instant was enough.
She slammed her knee upward directly into his ribs.
Crack.
The boy's ribs collapsed inward, the force of him falling and her bringer her knee completely breaking them.
The boy coughed violently.
C-7 rolled sideways, reversing their positions instantly, now she straddled his chest.
And finally it was over.
Bang.
Her fist smashed into his mouth.
Teeth scattered across the floor.
Bang.
His head snapped sideways.
Bang.
Blood exploded from his ruined lips.
The boy weakly raised his remaining good arm.
C-7 caught it midair.
Then slowly
deliberately
She bent it backward.
The subject screamed.
She kept bending.
Ligaments tore first.
Then came the snap.
His scream became a choking cry.
C-7 grabbed his jaw with blood slick hands, forcing his face back toward her.
"Come on" she whispered breathlessly, eyes wide with excitement.
"Keep fighting, you can do more."
The boy swung weakly with his broken arm out of pure instinct.
C-7 suddenly drove both thumbs into his eyes.
The scream that came out was full of pain.
His entire body convulsed, thrashing violently beneath her.
She pushed harder.
Wet popping sounds echoed between her fingers.
The boy thrashed blindly, heels kicking uselessly against the bloodied floor until C-7 grabbed the back of his skull and smashed it repeatedly against the metal beneath him.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
By the fourth impact the back of his head split open.
The body twitched weakly.
Then stopped.
Silence.
C-7 remained crouched over him breathing heavily, blood dripping down her arms onto the corpse beneath her.
Her grin slowly returned.
Only fifteen left.
-
A certain old man with no arms sat leisurely at a viewing place among many white robed researchers.
The old man stroked his chin. "That one is quite brutal, quite different from her usual demeanor."
Clarisse hurriedly came up to the old man to inform him, holding a glass of blood red wine for him to drink out of.
"This one was taken from a certain clan in the territory of the Lovetree Empire, they're known for being a particularly savage bunch when fighting." Clarisse sighed.
"We took lots casualties to take her away but our expectations for her were not met, making us put her in C class."
The old man subtly shifted his eyes away from C-7.
"HohoHo, which one's out of this batch do you think will live?"
Clarisse became lost in thought.
"...That's a hard one, well not really, I mean it's hard to choose for the third person, because obviously C-18 and C-7 will live."
Clarisse started slowly fidgeting, refilling the glass, and began to nervously speak.
"Sir Garmund, why did the Headmaster order this, If I may get to know?"
The old man grinned.
"You mean the deathmatch to move up? Well...he hasn't been very happy with sector 15's results, ever since the A class all got wiped out, so he wanted to cut off the weaker ones, let's say he might consider a purge of the entire sector, if this continues."
Clarisse shivered, chills running down her spine.
"So..., sir, who will be the third person to pass."
The old man turned his head towards a corner, towards C-21 where he was digging through the corpses.
"That one seems interesting, his eyes remind me of a snake's".
-
After C-7 slowly came back to her senses, the euphoria of another kill subsided, she looked around counting
"One, two, three, four...five? I guess this is ending soon", she grumbled, her voice tinged with a little bit of regret.
C-7 Looked at the ones that were left, of Course C-18 her freckled face wasn't even close to looking tired, probably she didn't engage much. Then she looked over at C-6. This guy was a giant so she wasn't surprised at all, he didn't actually engage much and most were afraid of this guy.
"That's expected...who else?"
What C-7 was most surprised about was the next two, they were currently fighting each other not far from her, one was C-21 the other was C-8.
These guys are both losers, kind of sad they lived till the end among all the other choices.
A splatter was hard and then a large thump as C-8's head fell to the ground. C-21 had decapitated C-8 with a strike from what looked like an axe or a club chipped, shaped from bone.
C-7 silently judged C-21's appearance, honestly C-21 was quite handsome, He had an average build, was lean, with wild black but barely crimson hair, he was kind of pale. C-7 especially liked his strange but beautiful snake-like hooded pink eyes . The pink eyes had probably come from one of the experiments that they did on subjects that they found had no potential, luckily he had survived.
These were all good for C-7 but what she did not like was his strange personality and weird living habits. C-7 had once approached him with the intent, of course the obvious, but he had coldly rejected without giving even a second glance, instead he asked if she wanted to rob him and went to protect his weird stash of things he picks up.
C-7 moved quickly, before C-21 could recover from his shock, she quickly ran up and kicked him in the abdomen.
C-21 wheezed violently, curling slightly as he hit the floor, wet gasp escaping his throat while his hands clutched his abdomen. The taste of iron filling his mouth.
His makeshift weapon clattered across the ground and spun away into the blood stained floor.
C-7 slowly walked toward him without hurry.
The others just looked on waiting for this to be over. Her sharp eyes stayed fixed on the boy sprawled beneath her feet scrunching up in pain.
Pathetic…and yet he kept ending up where fewer people were dying.
That was the first thing that came to her mind.
For someone who constantly skulked around listening to conversations and hoarding garbage like a rat, he was weak. Weaker than she expected.
Yet looking down at him now, she couldn't help noticing it again.
C-21 really was handsome.
His black hair with those faint crimson streaks stuck messily to his pale face from sweat. Those strange pink snake-like eyes twitched with panic while trying to focus on her. Even curled on the floor coughing like he was dying, he still looked oddly refined compared to the other filthy subjects in this place.
The researchers really did ruin good specimens in strange ways.
C-7 crouched slightly, grabbing C-21 by the hair and forcing his head upward, forcing him to look into her eyes.
"Look at you." she muttered coldly. "Always acting creepy, sneaking around, eavesdropping, collecting trash..."
C-21 looked at her wincing.
"I-I wasn't..."
"You weren't what?" she interrupted. "Spying, Listening,You think people don't notice?"
C-21's breathing trembled violently. He looked past her shoulder toward the rest of the chamber, only for the cold gazes to return on him.
He looked back at her back into her eyes, his pupils shook.
C-7 noticed immediately.
Her lips curled slightly in amusement.
"Oh..." she said softly. "You're scared."
C-21 swallowed hard, making his voice come out rough and desperate.
"Please..."
C-7 stared silently for a moment.
The paranoid little scavenger who always avoided everyone was begging now.
It was almost disappointing.
"I can help you," C-21 said after looking at her for a while, panic slowly leaking into his voice. "I notice things. I can tell you their weaknesses."
C-7 tilted her head.
Useful?
He really thought logic could save him here?
C-7 tightened her grip.
"You know," she said quietly, "I used to wonder why you always looked at people like you were studying them."
C-21 stayed silent.
"But now I get it." Her pink eyes narrowed slightly. "You're terrified of everyone here."
C-21 just continued looking up at her.