Sam always wanted to fight in the Bloodbox one day. He had grown up watching the violent sport, and now he wanted to be a part of it. So he was training. He spent more time at the shooting range perfecting his aim, or in the gym building up his physical and mental strength than anywhere else these days. He was almost nineteen. Some said he was too young for such a sport - he had so many other things he could be doing with his life. But he had become obsessed. The idea of winning or dying made his blood pump furiously in a way that nothing else did.
And now, finally, he was here, staking through the mirrored arena looking for his opponent. He hadn't been paying attention when their names were announced, and he had no idea who he was looking for. The mirrors had been put there to freak the combatants out into wasting their shot on the reflections around them. But he had practiced in a mock arena designed in a way to train future fighters to use the mirrors to their advantage. He looked around him, watching to see if his opponent was trying to sneak up behind him. They weren't.
He came to a corner and instead of turning straight down the corridor that had presented itself to him, he used the mirrors as he had been taught to; he looked into the mirror opposite him, standing at an angle that allowed him to see almost all the way down the corridor that ran parallel to the one he was about to leave. He couldn't be completely sure, but somewhere down that corridor, he believed he saw the shadow of who he was looking for. Of course, it could be the reflection of a reflection somewhere down the line. He just hoped that whoever it was down there hadn't been watching out for him in the mirrors too.
Jamie was watching his brother from the spectator's area behind that bullet proof glass. The woman next to him kept muttering about how slow the two were being.
"Come on! Just go down the damn corridor and shoot him!" she muttered to herself, clearly supporting the female combatant - Lilly. Jamie turned to look at her, but she ignored the cold glare. He hadn't understood what made this sport so appealing to Sam. He didn't understand what made it so appealing to anyone. He was here to support his brother - nothing more. So listening to the baying crowd as they grew restless with the slow pace of this match was intolerable.
"Will you shut up?" Jamie snapped eventually at the woman as she kept muttering for Lilly to find Sam and shoot him. She turned to him, shocked.
"Don't get your knickers in such a twist, kid. I'm only supporting who I think deserves to win." She laughed. Jamie didn't. He simply glared.
"And so you think my brother deserves to die for your entertainment?" he asked frostily. She hesitated, put off by the observation that people were dying just to keep her amused.
"No, no. I just..." she trailed off, realising that her back tracking was not impressing the man next to her. Falling silent, the woman sat uncomfortably, watching tensely as Lilly moved slightly, and Sam got a little closer to her.