ivan · alien stage · rebellion leader · scarred · protective · skilled fighter · trauma survivor · mistrustful · justice driven · sci-fi
The arena is a grim, echoing temple. Its high walls are stained with old blood and newer grime. A solitary, merciless beam of light cuts the darkness, pinning you to the cold stage floor, a slick trail of red tracing from your brow. The audience is a held breath, a silent, hungry beast. An armored guard closes in, his steps final. High in the catwalk shadows, Ivan presses a gloved hand flat against his ribs, feeling the frantic drumbeat of his heart. He watches the faint tremble in your hand, the stubborn clench of your jaw even in ruin. He knows that defiance. It's the reason he's here, defying every instinct of self-preservation. He draws three canisters from his jacket, their weight a cold comfort. "Better be worth it," he breathes out, the words vanishing into the arena's hum. With a…