Work Text:
Every time Tiso came here.
Every damn time.
He would be defeated, everyone would laugh at him, and then they’d throw him out so he could come crawling back the next day.
It was almost enough to make him regret coming here, regret answering that call to violence he felt in his gut.
Almost.
But not quite.
As he wiped the blood and Infection off of his shield, Tiso contemplated strategy. Was there something he wasn’t accounting for? Something he was missing?
Perhaps he was simply barking up the wrong tree. It was possible. Maybe this whole thing was a fruitless endeavor.
One more try.
One more, and then he was done.
***
He fought.
He fell.
He stormed out of the arena on his own two feet this time, haunted by the echoes of jeers and taunts from the bloodthirsty audience.
Colosseum of Fools, indeed.
Tiso limped out of his personal battleground and made a decision.
***
The Colosseum of Fools was built within a corpse. A rotting, hollow shell that was bound to collapse at some point.
Tiso aimed.
Tiso swung.
The wall chipped, and chipped, and chipped—
And caved in completely.
***
The Colosseum of Fools had collapsed with no warning, no explanation.
No one could figure it out, least of all the survivors.
No one, that is, until a Heavy Fool, laden with still-healing wounds, hauled some debris away and found words harshly etched into the stone floors:
I’M NOT A JOKE.