THE SOURCE

YOU HATED THIS WITH A BURNING PASSION.

You jolted out of your 'bed' in an instant and gasped loudly as you looked around frantically. Clutching your dirtied shirt, you tried to calm your breathing. You looked around your cell, trying to at least figure out what another one of your horrid dreams meant and why you still have them. All you've been having was nightmares during your time here.

You've been getting a lot of those types of dreams nonstop lately, maybe it was some type of warning. Lots of the nightmares were of you surrounded by nothing but death, crimson red always staining your hands for eternity, never to come off as a way to remind you of your failures. It

engulfed

you in a way. As if it were supposed to be comforting and not at all frightening.

It scared you.

Your muscles tensed and the shortness in your breath made you feel like your head was spinning. You clutched a fistful of your dirtied shirt, your knuckles turning white and your heart pounding inside your chest as if it was about to jump out.

How long have you been here? You don't remember. Death would be a better alternative. You wouldn't fight it. Not if it came or you brought it. The fear of death was killed earlier in your stay here. On the ship. A

Galra

ship. Your entire stay has been nothing but torment.

To say it's been hell would be an understatement. The scars littered upon your body were proof of your anguish and spoke for themselves. You burdened all the memories of the lacerations to electrocutions scars that danced like waves on top of your thin, but lean structure.

But you going to get out of here, even if you didn't know it yet. It was just a matter of when and how.

You looked around your cell for the thousandth time, taking in how dirty and plain it really was. You don't know how much time has passed since you were captured, Weeks? Months? Years? To be honest, you hadn't put too much time into thinking about earth, it'll only hurt you more.

You had been assigned to the Kerberos mission with Shiro, along with a man named Sam Holt and his son, Matt. You had seen only seen Matt a couple of times but have seen shiro more and more.

Before the cell situation, you both had only passed each other In the Gladiator pits, it was a miracle that you two weren't put up against each other during the fights that took place. The Champion and his Victor.

What a fitting name.

After some time, the Galra had thrown Shiro in your cell. He would mostly spend the time telling you about his plans to escape. It was honestly saddening to you. The poor man had lost his arm in one of his gladiator fights while you had lost half of your leg and your right hand. Sometimes you had to make sacrifices to survive, at least that's what your father had told you.

It has been so long since you had seen your father face to face — years since you've actually seen him, in fact.

"Be careful, I don't you or the mission to be endangered."

were his last words.

You sighed as you slumped down against the cold, hard, metal wall, trying to close your eyes to catch a few more minutes of sleep until you heard your cell door being opened. You look to your side to see Shiro be shoved inside your cell by a druid before the piece of metal walked away.

"Welcome back, soldier." You sat up from your laying position and saw him lean against the wall.

He lifted his head and scowled at the nickname, "You know I hate being called that." He said.

"Come on!" You whined, "it can't be worst than 'Champion.'"

"Whatever you say,

Victor.

"

You smiled sheepishly, grabbing his wrist in your hand as you kneeled down in front of him, trying to take a look at his face. A dry chuckle escaped your mouth as you looked him over, noticing some scratches on the side of his neck along with some splotches of yellow and green that would no doubt end up bruising.

"You gotta be more careful," you mumbled, tracing your slender fingers along his injuries, careful not to apply any type of pressure, "you'll end up dead if you continue like this."

"It's not like I have a choice," Shiro said, grimacing at the memory of seeing you in the arena, "anyways, what you do is much more dangerous than the fights I have."

Your brows furrowed at his sentence. Of course, you already know about what happens in the gladiator fights. Having been put against so many opponents with just so little time. Although you fight in the arena with Shiro, you don't fight as often as he does, you'll usually get taken by the druids (upon Haggar's orders) and be forced to be electrocuted.

When you were on earth, you would usually use makeup appliances to cover up any foreign marks and cover your ears with your hair and a beanie. But now, your pointed ears were a huge giveaway to your heritage, along with your pointed teeth, purple skin, glowing yellow eyes, and sharp nails.

"True, but I didn't lose an arm." You told him, your fingers ghosting over the metal that substituted for his right arm. "No, but you lost a leg and a hand." He pointed out, his eyes going from your face to your right leg that was made of the same material as him arm. He truly blamed himself for letting you fight.

He could've saved you like he did with Matt, he could've put himself out there first and fought in your place. But instead, he had to watch you as you fought the hideous monster with your leg already ripped off.

Shiro felt his stomach drop just remembering the fight, he remembered being chained up with guards beside him as he saw you kill your opponents. But more and more kept coming, they were releasing one fighter after another once you had finished one off, until they released the last one.

This type of alien was three times your size, what's worse was that haggar had fixed him to watch your fight in the front row, where he had a full view of your leg being ripped apart from you.

He could hear how loud you screamed, and how you had managed to sliced your opponent's eyes out with your nails.

"You alright there, champ?" Shiro jerked his head up and scowled, "seriously?"

You chuckled as you both moves to the side of the wall and waited in silence.

"You sure we're gonna pull this off?" You asked the man beside you, staring up at the ceiling above. Shiro hummed, placing a hand on your thigh reassuringly.

"I promise." A small heartfelt sigh escaped your lips.