Who: Anole When July 4th, Round 5 [Backdated] Where: Sand Arena What: Anole meets the top of the rope for him at this month's tournament Victor was exhausted after a full day of fighting, his feet felt heavy as he dragged his green pelt toward the Sand Arena. Round Two had been a nice break, but Round Three had nearly saw the end of him. The mutant he had found himself facing had the ability to grow spikes or bones or something out of his body, and the man had found no qualms in hurling them at Vic's head. The lizard had narrowly manage to avoid losing an eye, and currently had a raging headache thanks to one of those sharp objects having connected with his caraprace towards the end of the match. Vic had once again found himself a scared lizard, scurrying quickly along the arena wall, camouflaging himself as best he could as he attempted to close the distance between himself and the bone head. Anole had managed to spring out and get close enough for a good, solid blow to the back of his opponents head, but not before he had brought up a spike and slammed it hard against his caraprace. Vic felt like his brains had been rattled around a good bit, the spike surely would have pierced the skull of any normal person's, he had his caraprace to thank for his currently being alive.
Round Four had been easier, a fast-moving woman who had underestimated Anole's strategy. She had fully expected the man with the giant, dangerous looking arm to try and club her, she had not expected him to camouflage himself to the grown and lay flat. Vic had a moment of brilliant luck, able to tangle her legs as she whizzed fast him almost faster than his eyes could detect, and once she was on the ground it was an easy knock out with his powerhouse of an arm. He was learning just how handy that thing could be. The early victory had earned him a bit of down time to recover as the remaining matches finished. All too soon he was hauled out of the bench where he had made himself comfortable and taken to the Sand Arena for his next match.
Anole was tired, he was ready to be done with this day and he really hated this arena. He had hoped that the short time to recover and center himself would help him get his energy and enthusiasm back, but it had done just the opposite. He was ready to crawl back into bed and nurse the headache which was quickly building toward a migraine. Oh well, it was not his decision to make. He rolled his shoulders, stuck his glasses over his eyes to help cut down on the glare of the sun, and pulled the hood of his costume up over his head. Time to get this over with.
Booted feet sank into the familiar sand as Victor's eyes swept the arena, the roar of the crowd and the booming voice of the announcer only serving to irritate his pounding head further. He did his best to block it all out as he scanned for his opponent. A moment later, his heart sank.
The earth elemental he had knocked out a week or so ago stood before him. They were in the sand arena, and the man was in his element, and there was a gleeful look of one about to get revenge darkening his eyes. Vic swallowed hard and blended in with the sand up to his knees without fully realizing it. A blast of noise sounded, signaling the start of the match and Victor dropped down to all fours and let his body fully blend in with the sand. He began to quickly scramble toward the wall, so long as he was on the sand he was standing on a giant sifting bowl that his opponent controlled. He saw grains of sand rising around him out of the corner of his eye as he scurried for the wall, he springing at it, his camouflage falling away as he left the ground.
That was all the time the elementalist needed. Walls of sand suddenly wrapped around Anole's outstretched form, the bubble of earth engulfing him before his hands could connect with the wall. Terror clutched at his throat as he was cut off from the light, a moment later sand pressed intensely down on every inch of his body. He could not inhale, sand flooded his mouth and nose with every effort, the air was squeezed out of him at the same time by the crushing weight of the manipulated earth. He tried to cry out for help, to scream for mercy, to forfeit the match, but nothing seemed to get past the crushing darkness surrounding him.
The blackened tomb seemed to crush him for an eternity, cutting off his light, oxygen and his hope of living to see another day until it suddenly melted away. Victor rolled into the fetal position, gasping for air and coughing up mouth fulls of sand. Tears stung at his eyes as his body labored to reclaim the oxygen it had been too long denied. The fight was over, the victor cracked his knuckles as he towered over the crumpled lizard. Vic pried one eye open, the mutant suddenly seemed giant from Anole's position on the ground. Handlers appeared to urge the winner off to prepare him for his next fight, as Anole was unceremoniously hauled out of the arena. Green eyes closed as he let out a long, miserable moan. All he wanted was to get out of this costume, down an aspirin the size of a bus and curl up in Mason's inked arms. For now he just had to breath, he had not previously realized what a luxury breathing was.