"I... Won?"

You thought to yourself. Standing alone in the arena while watching your opponent laying flat and unconscious on the ground. The silence in the arena was so loud, making you glance at your blood-soaked hands. Your eyes widening up in horror, slowly drowning into your thoughts about how you almost killed the poor guy because of a sudden rush of adrenaline. That was now slowly beginning to fade, leaving only the painful weight of your own bruises.

But you were quickly snapped out of your trance when a few began to clap their hands. Clearly impressed, followed by other and more many people beginning to applaud. You looked at the audience with a confused and dizzy look, your eyes almost automatically glancing up at the V.I.P seats, seeing your father: Macaque, and owner of the arena, watching you with a proud smirk and a darkened gaze. Also applauding along the audience... You and your father never had a really strong relationship, mostly because he was a "busy" business man.

You hated the thought of violence... But you've never seen your father look so proud of you.

And so. You raised your arms into the air, claiming your victory while the audience roared in excitement. You felt, so, so guilty. But now, you were a champion. Finally being seen by your father after so many attempts. And yet, you couldn't help but feel hollow... For the such things you'd force yourself to do only to receive a pat on the shoulder.

As the ref announced a break. You got off the arena and went to your private change room, before you could close the door. Your father blocked the door and walked in, closing the door behind him before wrapping a hand around your shoulder. His sharp golden eyes— no. They have not softened. But at the least bothered to look at you, a proud smirk etched on his lips.

"Well, well, well! If it isn't my champion. You did great there, kid."

Are you thinking that proud look in him is gonna last long? Nah... At seeing your potential, he was sure you'd be a great money-maker tool.