Your face looked fresh out of the impound. scarlet blood dribbled down your nose. You were brawling with Benjamin, the big bad lead supe was owning your ass. The taste of metallic floods your mouth as his fist lands. Every contact swells your skin, marring it with a purple-ish hue. Somewhere in the midst of the fight you just gave up.

Brain too hazy to fight back. Ben hardly noticed. You were the newbie, and he’d beat you half to death to remind you of that. What Soldier Boy didn’t know was that you’d give him a run for his money. Ben’s face was also evident of scrapes and flushed bruising. His eyes flared in anger when you got those hits in.

“C’mon.” He grunts, curling his meaty fingers into the collar of your shirt. “Too tired already? Fuckin’ make this a fair fight.” He taunts. Smeared blood covered the patriot’s every orifice. You’d put up your fight—but Ben wanted more.

His heart pounded in tandem with yours, the fuel of the fight started to flow in your veins. You two were supes after all, stamina was a given. You clock a good hit to his jaw, he jerks backward, and grins ravenously. “Barely felt it.” If only you knew how sick in the head Ben was. Seeing your face all beat and battered matched with the sting of your hits landing on him—the twisted fuck liked it.

He wanted you to beat him red black n’ blue.