Chapter Text
"Thank you friends. I will not falter again." Chrom's voice echoed out of the tiny speakers into the empty locker room. Eyes glossing over the on screen text, their owner blinked the words back into focus, then heaved a shuddering sigh; a failed attempt to expel the nerves wracking his body. Hands trembling, he attempted to rub away the fatigue from his eyes, to no avail.
"You know, if you have time to play that game again, you have time to get ready." Footsteps and a second voice chimed in before the original speaker revealed himself. "You shouldn't be wasting time Apollo, you have the biggest match of your career in front of you."
Tired, brown eyes peered up to look at a twin set of smiles, short black hair, and twin...everything. "The game calms me down." Sitting straight, Apollo addressed the twins. "Phos, Lux, to what do I owe the...pleasure? Shouldn't you two be at ringside?"
"And what? Miss the last moments of normalcy before you go out there and ascend to stardom? Not a chance in hell." Lux chirped. Pumping his fist, Lux struck a pose to get his point across. "After tonight, you won't be a mere man, but a burning legend."
Apollo flinched at the choice of words, which didn't go unnoticed to the other twin. "Besides, what kind of hypemen would we be if we didn't make sure our friend wasn't at 100 percent?" Phos' deep voice intoned. Clasping his hand on Apollo's shoulder, he continued. "You're better than all of us at putting on a show; it's not like you to get nervous. What's up?"
Another sigh from Apollo. "If this was a regular match, then I wouldn't be so...wound up, even with the spectators. It's just...who signed off on this stupid idea of a match?" At this, Apollo shrugged off Phos' hand and stood, distaste written on his face.
Phos and Lux shared a look. "Hey, it worked for MVP." A shrug from Lux. A withering glare from the two other room occupants made him shrink back, and try again. "What I mean to say is that this is the company's chance to be put on the map, and your chance to get scouted to the big leagues."
"That's better." Phos' glare lessened, before adding, "This is a grand opportunity. You put on a showing as good as your past matches and the spotlight will never leave you. Everything that you've been working for will be in arms reach."
"Yes, but an Inferno match?!" Apollo now resorted to pacing around the bench. "It's insane."
"Only the most insane of ideas could highlight your talent to the visiting bigwigs."
"They're talent scouters, Lux." Phos corrected.
"Whatever they want to call themselves. Look Apollo," grabbing Apollo out of his pacing, he forced him to take a seat, "This is all in your head. You're gonna go out there and put on a show so amazing that the Federation can't ignore us, can't ignore you. Do you know why?"
A raised eyebrow from Apollo. "Because I'm the best?"
A set of matching grins was his response, and Apollo could already feel heat rushing to his cheeks in embarrassment. "Because you're the Sunstone!" The twins cheered in unison.
"And no, the nickname isn't dying." Phos spoke, a bit too smugly. A defeated glance and a sunken stance was all Apollo could muster, before giving in. "Shake off the nerves and take center stage, my guy. We'll be at ringside watching your rise. Don't forget about us when you make it to the top, or you can forget about Thanksgiving."
"Empty threats aside," Lux cut in, "There's someone else who will be watching your rise. Your father is here."
This news almost bowled Apollo over. "Dad is here?!"
"I know right? Almost didn't show up, but Temi made her doe eyes at him and he couldn't say no."
Apollo's shock morphed into a confident grin. "She's still here to boo me?"
A nod from Phos. "Front row, right behind us, with a sign and everything."
With renewed energy, Apollo sprung from his seat, pouncing on the twins, slinging an arm around their shoulders. "MEN!" An enthusiastic shout, "Do you know what I'm feeling?"
"Enthusiasm?"
"Energetic?"
Splaying his hands towards the ceiling, Apollo belted out, "MOTIVATION!"
The infectious energy washed over the twins, as he passed his console to Lux and continued, "Time for me to wake up, I've got work to do!"
A resounding "Hell yeah!" could be heard down the halls.
The crowd's energy was electric, and Apollo could feel every muscle, every facet of himself draw in the energy. Standing backstage, waiting for his cue to walk out to the ring, Apollo drew a deep breath to contain his excitement.
'This is it. This is what I live for.' The lights, the sounds, the crowds, the cheers and jeers. All of it got Apollo's blood pumping and made him feel alive.
Tonight's main event was a simple one. Apollo would fight against a rising heel that needed a small push. Calling himself Prometheus, he claims to have stolen fire for humans, but the selfish and ungrateful nature of humanity forces him to take it for himself, and what better way to do it than to snuff out the fire of Apollo, "God of the Sun". The writers loved it, the wrestlers found it cheesy, and so long as it came with nonstop action, the crowd would eat it up.
A simple storyline...until the Federation took interest in the company's talent. Suddenly, none of the performances could be good or average, they had to be spectacular and memorable. Falls count anywhere, no holds barred, TLC. The night ended with an Inferno match, which met vehement protest from every performer, some managers, and even the creative directors seemed to balk at the idea, and yet, the match was greenlit. The idea of setting the opponent on fire to end the match is barbaric and gruesome, like feeding Christians to the lions in the Colosseum, yet Lux was right. As it turns out, if it's in the name of entertainment, the crowd loves watching a man get set on fire. Once the Inferno match was set in stone, the outcome of the match was changed. Now, he was supposed to take the fall, only to return later and spark a feud that would run for a few more matches. High risk, but if everything went as planned, it would be one hell of a reward.
Apollo closed his eyes and took another breath to cool himself down. 'None of that mattered anymore.' Refocusing, he heard the crowd growing more energetic, filling his chest with pride and zeal. 'Dad, watch closely. I'll prove you wrong and ascend to new heights. Get ready for a show that you'll never forget. I can't be stopped!' Apollo paused his train of thought to hear the crowd going wild; calling for him, chanting the name they gave him as the most passionate wrestler around.
'Because I'm the Sunstone.'
'This is a literal hell.' Sweat dripped off of Apollo and onto the ring mat. Brushing his brown locks out of his eyes, he shot a glance to his opponent. Prometheus looked like he wasn't faring any better. Sweat pouring off of the man, he was struggling to stand and breathing heavily. The heat in the air made you question if memories like water or moisture ever existed, and with the flames just a foot away from ringside, the longer the match went on, the more the fighters risked suffocating.
Prometheus lunged at Apollo, aiming for a spear. A sidestep from Apollo gave him the opening to launch a kick to Prometheus' chest. Doubling over in pain, Apollo took advantage and grabbed Prometheus in a front facelock, before diving backwards, pulling his target with him. The move resulted in Apollo landing on his back and Prometheus face planting on the ring mat, punctuated by a geyser of flames rising up six feet in height.
"A DDT!" The commentators at ringside bombastically announced, and the crowd erupted into cheers, none of which was heard by the two wrestlers. Even after landing the move, Apollo has earned no reprieve. Splayed out on the ring mat, Apollo forced himself to move. 'A literal hell,' he thought to himself as he struggled to stand. It may be a challenge to breathe, but Apollo has a job to do. 'The fire rises...every minute...and that was twelve. Time...to end this.'
Rising to his feet, Apollo made his way to the rising Prometheus, lifting him upright, before levying a swift chop to his chest. A slight stagger accompanied his step back, before Prometheus countered with a jab to Apollo's midsection. Chop. Jab. Chop. Jab. Each hit was accompanied by the unheard cheers of the crowd. The flames erupted once again, signaling the thirteenth minute of the match, and the fighters shared a look. It was time to end this infernal nightmare.
Taking the lead, Prometheus landed jab after jab on Apollo's chest in quick succession, forcing him to take steps back, then running and bouncing off the ropes, attempting a lariat, only to meet a boot to his chest, courtesy of Apollo. Back crashing on the mat, Prometheus laid prone and motionless. Grabbing his arms and pulling him over his shoulders in a fireman's carry, Apollo tapped twice near Prometheus' neck, the predetermined signal to end the match, and stepped towards the ropes, heat rising with each step.
Two steps away, the body slung over Apollo's shoulders sprung to life and began struggling as if his life depended on it. Unable to keep his grip, Apollo could do nothing as Prometheus slipped out of his carry, spun him around, and levied a vicious headbutt to Apollo. Not allowing him a moment to recover, Prometheus latched on to Apollo's arm and pulled him away from the ropes, but instead of letting him run towards the other end of the ring, with his back against the ropes, Prometheus pulled Apollo into a bear hug. With all the might he could muster, Prometheus pulled upwards and leaned back onto the ropes, performing a modified Northern Lights Suplex. In one swift motion, Apollo was pulled off the mat, into the air, and launched towards the flames. All Apollo could do was brace himself, as he sailed into a wall of fire.
Agony would be underselling the pain that Apollo was experiencing. Even with the flame retardant bodysuit, and his body hosed down with a flame repellant spray, Apollo could still feel the heat on his body, the flames lick every inch of his skin, attack his every pore. Apollo couldn't move, couldn't breathe. His body laid prone on the mat, outside of the ring, and every second felt like an eternity. His hearing was going in and out, catching snippets of alarmed shouting.
"What...not work..."
"Don't kn...test...WORK"
"CALL...CY! HELP!"
"...SON!"
Apollo struggled to piece the sentences together in the midst of the pain. Hot. He was awash in a sea of suffering. Hot. The strength to flail and panic had left him, and with the adrenaline of the match fading away, there was nothing left to do as it was replaced with exhaustion. Hot. The bodysuit was slowly eroding away from the assault by the fire. Hot. Apollo couldn't muster the strength to open his eyes, but doubted he could have, even if he did. Hot. 'This can't be how it ends. This can't be how I die. Body, MOVE!' No matter how loud his internal voice got; no matter how much he willed it, Apollo was pinned down by the exhaustion and burning alive.
'It's too hot.'
"APOLLO!" A clear, grief-stricken cry cut through the haze of torment. All at once, Apollo felt the pain, heat, and fatigue lift from his body. Opening his eyes, he was greeted by darkness surrounding him. Jumping to his feet, he felt his skin and patted down his body only to feel no pain; his body cool to the touch. Stretching out his senses, he was alarmed to not sense anything at all. No sounds, no scents, nothing, except for a slight tugging at his mind. That tug became a pull as he pinpointed the direction it was coming from. Without thinking, Apollo broke into a run, an almost primal instinct compelling him to move in that direction. Something hooked Apollo's arm, and without a second thought, he took a step and forced his arm forward. He had stopped running, and the moment he realized it, he was falling. Falling through the void, every survival instinct in his body screaming at max volume, but Apollo could do nothing, but fall through the endless void.
A grunt and an irritated sigh escaped a pair of lips. She wasn’t supposed to be alone today, but of course Stahl had overeaten again, and with the captain and lieutenant running their own patrol closer to the border, her only other option for armed company would have been the meathead. Once Vaike started mouthing off about being needed, and owing him a favor, a good fist to the head reminded him who he was talking to, and from there on, her pride took over, not accepting anyone’s offers, despite her earlier grumblings.
'Stupid Vaike. Who the hell does he think I am? Ugh, would kill for some company though,’ Only half a day’s ride from Ylisstol, and boredom has already taken hold. It’s for good reason that patrols are done in groups, and it’s not just protection or teambuilding. ‘I’d even settle for prissy Maribelle at this point.’
Huffing about her situation wouldn’t do her any good, she was a knight of Ylisse, who will one day surpass the legends of The Bull and The Panther. Sitting a little straighter in her saddle, she refocused her efforts. The village was only a short ways away, and there she can check in with the local guards and send a messenger bird back. If she’s swift and thorough enough, she might even catch up with the captain, and have some sort of company.
Sully smelled that something was wrong before she saw it. Her sense of smell may not be as good as Stahl's, but she could definitely tell the distinct smell of ashes and something burning. Pulling her steed to a halt, she took a look at her surroundings. The field she was on was a vast expanse of green, with a path marked in the dirt as a trade route between the village and the capital. The forest are closer to the village, but nowhere in the immediate vicinity of the knight. Sully's gaze drifted to the scattered trees on the path. Few and far in between, the trees were scattered in a way that there wouldn't be much cover for bandits to set up an ambush, in either direction.
Sully could see nothing that would cause concern, but her nose told her otherwise. Urging her partner forward, Sully scanned the plains for anything that seemed out of place. 'Tree, grass, plains, smoking tree, tree, grass, wait, what?' Sully's eyes swiveled back to the smoking tree. There was something dark atop the branches of the tree, covered by the foliage, and emitting smoke. Sully crinkled her nose. The closer she got, the stronger the smell of ash and smoke became.
Fearing the tree might combust, Sully decided that it was time to act. Guiding her steed to the tree, she waited for a beat, before commanding a kick from the beast at the tree. The tree rattled violently when it was bucked, but stayed in place. The object in said tree did not afford the same luxury. Lance in hand, Sully dismounted after hearing the object crash onto the ground. Her caution turned into shock when the fallen ashen object started moving and groaning.
"What hit me?" Pained muttering escaped the lips of the person on the ground. Sitting up, he tried to gingerly shake the cobwebs and confusion from his head.
"The ground did. Well, you hit the ground. Better question is, what burned you? You smell like a chimney." Sully answered, before holding her hand out. "Need some help?"
Sully didn't expect much when it came to the smoldering stranger, but him looking up, the curiosity on his face melting away into fear, then swiftly backpedaling away from her, the back of his head colliding with the tree, and slumping forward was pretty high on her list of unexpected actions.
"Hey. Hey! Are you okay?" Jabbing the stranger with the blunt end of her lance got no response from him. He was out cold. Concern crossed Sully's face, before turning to her horse, almost expecting an answer.
"What now?"