Hi,
Hopefully you remember me. I'm Sakura.
This is another one shot where I'm attempting to deal with an angst version of Rudra, with a pinch of OmRu.
An accompanying shot to my earlier work, The parting of ways.
Can be read as an individual shot as well. This deals as a narration of a time when Omkara has left OM.
Unedited for now, be mindful of typos.
The darkness had become a habit. The bitterness it brought at tow a welcome addiction. It was a pit of night and shadows, where no one hoped for stars or prayed to angels of light. None of those things existed there. The creatures of darkness lurked around, wiggling their poisonous tongues, sirens trying to lure you into webs of deceit and ultimate destruction, fanged monsters trying to fend off on blood of the pure...but it was calm, it was constant; in destruction he had found his peace. That fight club was called Tartarus. Tartarus where sinners were trapped for life. Tartarus where there was no light. Tartarus where you were tried for your crimes. Tartarus where you were wasted away.
Beads of sweat glided down his temples, across his cheeks and down his throat. Taking a burning gulp of chilly air into his stinging ribcage, Rudra raised an arm to wipe away some sweat from his brow. His hair were sticky with dirt and sweat, laying plastered against his forehead. There was a bruise under his eye, and his bare upper body glistened with sweat. His eyes fell over the dark shapes crowded around the ring, their words failing to capture his attention. The men were jeering, rough voices crackling with laughter. Before he could complete a full circle around with his eyes, the fist of his opponent collided with his jaw once more.
He hardly felt any pain. The force of that blow only made him stumble a step backwards. Still standing on his feet, he shook his head, brushing his newly split lip nonchalantly with his thumb. That strike had drawn blood, he watched the red stain on his thumb and his gaze followed back to meet the eyes of his opponent. In times of yore, he would have screamed; not very much in pain, but to get attention. But the Rudra Singh Oberoi of present had no time for such antics. He simply titled his head and gave the man a lopsided grin, mocking his aggravated state, as if asking, this - is - the - best - you've - got? He wanted the man to cause some real damage, not the bruises and scratches he was rewarded with. Rudra was seeking pain. Pain that was far more intense than what the life had dealt him.
He bounced on his heels and assumed a defensive position, as another punch was thrown his way. No, this was not it. Completely avoiding the fist that was thrown at him, his arm circled around the neck of his opponent, locking his neck under his elbow, Rudra drew the man closer to him and tightening his hold, bent to whisper in his ear.
"Look at those people." He said in a low tone. He waited to make sure the man followed his gaze. "They are wondering if you're wearing bangles."
The man groaned, a series of curses falling from his lips. He tripped him and kicked him, making sure to bruise his ego further. The man easily bounced back to his feet, there was a raw fire behind his eyes now. But his gaze was curious, as he leapt at Rudra once more.
"What? You want to die?" He punched him in the gut and for a brief second air was knocked off his lungs. Rudra felt his eyes burn and his vision blurred for a moment. But in the next second, he smirked in disdain.
The man had no idea.
"Think you can manage that?" He asked lightly throwing a casual punch that connected with the man's eye.
He felt the pain as the man twisted his arm around, pushing him to the ground and kicked him for good measure. As always he would bounce back and wait for more blows, more pain, more punishment. Rudra knew the repeated thump he heard was a fist against his skin, he knew that the sting he felt was night air against the new cuts his opponent had opened up. He did not care, he did not fight back; for this was not the war he needed to fight. This was not the revenge he was after. The more battered his body became, the clearer his mind turned. This was the only way he could hurt the person he wanted.
His revenge, his battle. From the one who snatched his brother, he would snatch a son. He had decided it the very same day O walked out. He had decided it the very moment his brother refused to listen to him and stay back or let him join the exile. Rudra had made up his mind. This fire was set to burn the obstacles in his path right? Then he would let the same flames consume him.
His brothers; the thought of them ignited a fresh fire of agony. He let those flames burn his insides, his eyes and heart. There were no words that would justify how lonely he was detached from them. But that had to be done. If he had remained there, he would have been used as a weapon against them, in the battle that was approaching. If there was ever anything he hated more than living apart from them it was being the sword that could eventually cut them open. He would never let anyone do that; not to Shivay, never to Omkara.
He hated the world that bred children to be used as weapons on personal wars. But a weapon with a heart was bad, a weapon with a broken heart was the poisonous of them all. They had no idea what he could do, what he would do to those who dared to use him against his brothers. Rudra let the broken shreds of trust prick at his soul, the selfish ploys mix with his blood like venom. He continued to stay in that pit of snakes like O had asked him to, taking care of those who wanted to end everything...but he was not going to defend them against the storm that was approaching. He was going to bring that fortress of lies and deceit down from within. It was then he realized that he was the eye of the storm that had been brewing for decades. He was the center of all ploys. He was the ultimate trump card. No one would imagine what the knowledge did to him.
It was for him O was chased out. He was supposed to lock horns with Shivay some day in future. The dark side had chosen him as their champion. But Rudra was no puppet of anyone. It had always been his life his conditions. This was the ultimate sacrifice. The last piece of chess taken off the board. With him gone, the darkness would have no more weapons, no more pawns. It would be check and mate.
His knees buckled with pain and he hit the ground with a groan. The voices of the crowd were dimmed to a incoherent hum and the pain had momentarily blinded him. Finally after so many nights wasted in this illegal fight club, someone had managed to reach the level of causing real damage. This was it; what he had been waiting for.
Finish me off. He prayed silently, for I would go down fighting, rather than killing myself.
But no more blows came, the silence had fallen over the crowd. Someone gripped his elbows and pulled him up. Rudra stumbled again and a lean frame supported him, restoring his balance with a muscular arm.
"Rudra!" Someone tapped against his cheek, making sure not to touch the bluish taint now spreading across it. "Why are you doing this? Rudra? Rudra?"
He blinked his puffy eyes and the mess of colors rearranged themselves into a face. He blinked once more to be certain and then smiled slowly. His cut lip stinging as they stretched with the expression.
"I'm taking revenge," his words were hushed, almost a whisper laced with pain. "For breaking us apart, for turning us against each other. I'm going to ruin everything that ruined us."
"Rudra..." Omkara said bitterly, not knowing what he should say that would alter the path of his brother. Shivay should have been here, he would have known exactly what to say and when to say it. But Shivay was under too much pressure at the moment, and Rudra was slipping from their hold. It was their fault that they had left Rudra to fend for himself in that pit of vipers, too involved in their own battles.
"Yes..." Rudra muttered incoherently. "I was named after destroyer right?"
**
*Special mention to Nimmie (Banjaaran) who introduced me to the concept of illegal fight clubs through her SS One More Time (On Swaragini forum). I tried to keep my version different from hers, any similarities are coincidental.
Tartarus is the underworld prison, sort of an abyss in Greek Mythology.
Thanks for reading. Your views will be very much appreciated. Hopefully it was not a waste of time, in case it had been, I'm truly sorry about that.
Have a pleasant weekend!
Love,
Sakura
Cricket
Anupamaa
