Chapter Text
His natural instincts immediately clouded his mind, the bleeding wounds and bruising marks became nothing more than fuel for the fire. Every detail around him grew foggy, a large half-orc man covered in tattoo markings turned to the man he had seen in his nightmares time and time again, that fucking hobgoblin. It's been years since he's been able to remember the name of that damned creature and frankly, he couldn't care less. All he knew was this fucker needed to die. He needed to run. To escape from this life trapped in the confids of a metal box with nothing to keep him company but the humming of an engine and the constant pulling of his power into the cursed machinery. Gideon pulled his weakened body up from the ground, far thinner than a large man such as himself should probably be, yet he nonetheless managed to catch the creature by surprise with a quick punch to the jaw. He could hear the muscles snapping from the bone, yet he knew his bloodlust wouldn’t be satisfied with just a single blow. The creature reared back, putting his hands up in a display of weakness, the perfect opportunity for him to end it. He continued punching at the form long after his victim hit the floor, pounding him into the ground below, rips cracking under the pressure of his fists. An uproarious sound hit his eardrums, stirring his paranoia. There were more coming.
However, looking out into the world the image of the metal box faded, leaving him in a different kind of cage. One linked together by chain to create a square that surrounded him. One where humanoids of all races gathered around to cheer on his violence. The glowing torches along the wall being the only source of light that ringed out in the large darkened space now filled by gathering crowds all around him. He looked down at his victim, the half orc was still breathing. Good. His boss would be pissed if he had killed yet another man in the ring. Everyone here was profitable afterall, no matter how shitty they fought. As if on cue, a tall tiefling man entered the cage, forcing Gideon to display his victory towards the crowds before quickly rushing him away from the spotlight. His clawed grip gave the indicator that the man wasn’t too pleased with Gideon’s performance that night.
The crowd grew more feral the closer he came to them, some clearly pissed off at the match not going in their favor while others desperately hoping to cling on the fiery man. Gideon hated every one of them. Eventually, the tiefling had succeeded in escorting him to a backstage room. The door was blocked off by two men that even the genasi would have a hard time fighting off yet with a simple wave of his hand the men backed away and allowed for their entry. The room was simple enough, a makeshift office that reeked of booze and smoke in which two chairs connected to a desk. Gideon sighed, he knew this routine all too well and took a seat to the ricky chair closest to the doorway.
The tiefling glared at him for a moment, using the time they had to grab himself a drink from a shelf above his chair, careful to lock the cabinet back into place after having retrieved two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. As he sat, Gideon could practically peer into the man’s soul through his dark, red eyes. His skin is practically the same color as Gideon’s yet replaced Gideon’s fiery beard and hair into a tamed, black ponytail and two large horns adorned in golden rings.
“Quite the round there Coal, surprised you didn't manage to kill ‘em” the tiefling said as he poured himself a drink in a tone that struggled to remain calm.
“The fucker was asking for it, shouldnt ‘ve been so gods damned cocky bout it.”
“And yet the man still lives and breaths and you still couldn’t follow one simple task”
Gideon slammed his hands on the desk, the desk creaking loudly in response. “What’d you want me to do Cascius, huh? Fucking sit there and take a beatin’.” He didn't want to deal with this right now. Why the man couldn’t just give him the money and let him drink himself to the next night, was beyond him.
“You were supposed to take the dive, Coal. That’s what those fuckers paid for and they’re all pissed cause you couldn’t take one fall for the team” The tiefling raised the glass to his lips practically making a show of enjoying the fancy, forbidden liquor. “You trying to end up back in the ditch I found you in, kid?”
“No.”
“That’s what I thought. Now get your shit together, you got another match two days from now and I better not have to drag you outta an alleyway again.” The second glass taunted Gideon, he knew the trick all too well from the tiefling. The glass was for him only on the good days, the days he behaved himself. Only then could he receive a taste of luxury he knew he would never be able to afford. The rest of the time it simply sat there, a painful reminder that even after escaping his imprisonment, he only found himself stuck on another leash.
Lost in thought, it took the genasi a second to recognize the waving of the Cascius' hand attempting to dismiss him from his office.
“I ain’t going nowhere without my fucking earnings,” he growled, standing tall in an attempt to give a show of his power. An attempt that was soon overshadowed by the two guards encasing themselves around the tiefling.
“Your little trick out there hurt our fucking business. You know how much I owe to these high end fuckers now that their top guy got fucked over by a starving fool? You put on a good performance next show and I’ll think about allowing a bit of coin your way, how bout that?”
He wanted so badly to use that golden chain around the man’s neck to choke the life out of him. To watch those eyes grow pale and that body to become completely still and cold. At this moment, he didn't even care if that meant a beating of his life and the end of the only job he could uphold. It’d be worth it. Worth it to watch that smug smile drop from his lips. To gulp down that top shelf whiskey for just a second to show that Gideon Coal wasn’t anyone’s plaything. That he was free and that being free meant no one was ever going to chain him down again. Yet he forced himself to restrain.
Just a bit longer, just deal with it until the hobgoblins think you up and died and instead focus their energy on catching another sorry kid. Until they get bored of the chase. When the protection of Cascius and his group of assholes is no longer needed and you can finally get enough coin to leave this shithole town and all the people in it.
His montra was becoming redundant but in this moment it allowed for him to walk away from the man that held him in the palm of his hand. It was better than before. He was free. And no matter how bad his fists ached or how much his stomach growled he refused to allow the hobgoblins to catch him once again. He’d rather die. At least in this imprisonment, he had booze.
Crawling his way upstairs into his living quarters he was greeted with the same sorry excuse for a bedroom he had for a few weeks now. The stone that made up the walls was old and crooked, cracks peeking out from every corner of the room and an indent from where Gideon had gotten particularly upset with his newest employment and broke his hand. The furniture inside wasn’t much better. When he had first arrived they hadn't even lended him a bed, just a concrete room and a threat to kick him onto the streets right into the hands of the hobgoblins if he dared to not play nice. Eventually, he was able to gather a broken mattress and stuff some straw as a sort of filling. The only other thing in the room was a corner filled with clothes, supplies and tools. Makeshift shelves holding up gages, screwdrivers and other trinkets he had managed to scrounge around for. As much as he hated to admit, the place was the closest thing to feeling like a home he’s had in years and simply the thought of that pushed up some emotions he’d prefer not to linger on.
The genasi reached towards one of the makeshift shelves, there held a single bottle of moonshine. Sparing a look around he realized it was the last bottle he had left from his stash. He remembered this particular bottle. Was only able to get it cause some drunk threw it over to him after a match, told him it was a thanks for the earnings he won on a bet. The stuff was complete shit, tasting more of pure oil than any sort of actual alcohol but it’d have to do. After the shitshow that was today, he deserved a bit of a pick me up.
Grabbing the bottle, Gideon walked over to his “bed” firmly placing his weight upon it and hoping it, once again, didn't flatten out or burst. He placed his head against the wall, drinking up straight from the bottle, savoring that rancid taste. His manacles still firmly attached to his wrist, the chains seemingly growing heavier with each sip. He’d managed to engineer a way to allow them to slip on and off yet they rarely weren’t worn. Even in matches Cascius allowed him to keep the chains so long as he didnt heat them up or use them as any sort of weapon. Even an underground fighting ring had to have rules he supposed.
Looking down at himself, he did allow a bit of a smile to creep in. He was gaining muscle. Hardly a lot (the lack of being able to keep up with constant meals stopped that from being a possibility) and it wouldn’t be noticeable to many outside parties yet the genasi still wore it with pride. He was growing stronger. Maybe one day he’d get strong enough to take on every gods damned hobgoblin in all of Avantris. Maybe he’d stop getting beaten to a pulp every fight with little to protect himself besides his raw anger. Maybe he’d finally be able to truly find freedom, to know if the world was as beautiful as he remembered it being in childhood all those years ago.
He drank to that thought, blood from his cut lip mixing with the liquid to form a strange taste of iron and pure moonshine. Slowly, he found himself inching his body closer to the mattress, allowing himself to finally lie down and let the liquor take him to what he’d hope to be a dreamless sleep.