DeathMatch

>You stood in the elevator, thinking over the past few days as you ascended this lavish tower.
>A few months ago, some rich explorer asshole named Howard Kreeley discovered some ancient staff that could grant wishes.
>And what did he wish for? World peace? An end to pain and death? Happiness for all?
>No. He instead wished that the staff was bound to him, and that he was invincible. And now, he made a game out of it for his own amusement.
>A series of one on one tournaments in which the participants would fight to the death, and the victor would be granted their wish. All televised live on pay-per-view as well, so the bloodlusting masses could get their rocks off.
>To sign up, all you had to do was give your name and your wish. After prescreening these, if your wish was deemed alright, you would be notified and given transportation to the competition grounds.
>You spent those months training, day in and day out. Thus, your technique was honed to a reasonable state, and your body to a decently muscular form.
>Signing up with the simple wish of getting your Doki, you quickly rose up the ranks of small time fighters.
>A stop sign through the face, a curbstomp against the pavement, a well timed headbutt took out the first three. You justified it to yourself by saying that they signed up for it; they knew what they were getting into.
>The next few fights were more difficult, with several close calls. You touched the bandage wrapped around your bicep. That gas mask guy with the demon-infested blade was dangerous; almost took your damn arm off.
>But, with your fiery spirit and sheer willpower, you managed to make it here. The final bout.
>Whoever won here would get the wish. Whoever lost here would be, well, dead.
>This elevator was taking you directly to your arena atop the skyscraper, where hundreds of bloodthirsty fans had come to watch two wishful dreamers beat each other to death.
>Overhead, you started to feel a breeze as open air cascaded onto you. Looking up, you saw starlight, as well as a few beams of spotlights shining into the night sky.
>The elevator made it to it's destination, and you were almost blinded by the flashing of cameras as you stood in the large wrestling ring.
>"And our second contender for the evening! Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for Anon Ymous!" A voice rang out from massive speakers.
>Looking around for the source of it, you spotted a man with a staff on a throne. That'd be Howard, then.
>"Now, before we get started on the match, let's take a moment to get to know our competitors!"
>A mic rose from the floor in front of you. You stepped up to it.
>"Now, let's hear those wishes! Tell the world what you're fighting for! We'll start with you, Anon!"
"Uh, hi. I'm fighting for... uh. My Doki!" You announce with a sense of gusto. It felt dorky, but right.
>Fuck it, you were here, weren't you? You'd earned the right to be dorky.
>"Your Doki! Excellent, excellent. Nothing like a man fighting for love, and that was quite a common wish!"
>It was? Huh. Well, maybe you didn't fight any of your brothers, you hoped.
>"And you! Competitor numero uno, let's hear what you're here for!" You look across the ring at the man, a large African American in a coat. A large, golden chain with "T" hanging off of it.
>"I got a name. Tyrone. And I'm fightin' for love too. My MC." He said, sneering at you.
>Your brain struggled to comprehend. If you were fighting this guy, who you thought was just a meme, then there's no chance that you made it through without killing a fellow Doki lover.
>"Well, look at that! Two men fighting for their loved ones! Such a touching story. But we didn't come here for that story, did we? We came here for blood!" The crowd roared as Howard yelled this out. "So without further ado... FIGHT!"
>Still reeling from the revelation, you almost took a full force punch as Tyrone dashed across the ring and lunged at you.
>Managing to dodge it in the nick of time, you got a moment to retreat as he regained his footing.
"Hold up, we can talk about this! You're after that guy from the game, right? No-legs?" You say, keeping your distance.
>"Yeah! But I don't wanna talk. I just want him!" He began to charge at you once more.
>Shit, your mind was going every which way. You didn't want to kill him, but you couldn't die, either. There had to be a way to deal with this.
>But right now, you had to worry about dealing with the two hundred and forty pounds of black muscle barreling at you.
>He threw the punch with his right before, so you kept that in mind and made your plan.
>Sure enough, he threw another right handed punch, and you dodged right while throwing out your leg.
>Sending the combatant tumbling to the ground, you threw yourself onto him with a flying elbow. You've just gotta incapacitate him. You don't have to kill him.
>You straddled his back, and tried to hold him down.
"Listen, there's gotta be a way we both win, here!"
>"Oh yeah? You got any fuckin' way to make that happen?"
>You were silent, trying to think. Suddenly, the behemoth underneath you rustled and rose to his feet, throwing you off his back.
>"That's what I thought. Listen, you bitch-ass." He threw off his coat with one hand, exposing himself. "You love yo Doki, right?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I do. Which is why-"
>He swung around at a high speed and clocked you in the chest, sending you flying toward the side of the ring.
>"Then start fuckin' fightin' like it. If you don't love her enough to fight for her, then lay down and die like a bitch." He stanced up, hands in front of his face.
>Fuck. There's no other option, is there?
>You struggle to your feet. That blow did some serious damage.
>You look around for any sort of advantage. The ring was mostly barren, except for... a baseball bat?
>Right to your side, the blunt instrument of baseballery must've been thrown in by a particularly ornery fan. That, or provided by the event's sponsor. You didn't really care at the moment.
>You lunged for it, and picked it up as Tyrone charged at you once more.
>Batting for the fences, your ultimate homerun swing connected with the bottom of the man's jaw.
>In that moment, there was a spray of blood, sweat, and woodchips as your weapon shattered from the blow that sent your target flipping through the air.
>Laying on the mat, the large black man began to struggle to his feet. Seizing the opportunity, you once again got on top of his back with the handle of your bat in hand.
>Were you really about to do this? There had to be another way.
>But this could be your only chance. If he got up, there's no telling what he would do.
>God damn it.
>You brought the handle of the bat underneath his chin, and pulled hard.
>Soon enough, the man stopped squirming, and you came to your senses. The crowd cheered and applauded you, their bloody gladiator.
>You stood up over the body, and regretted. Sure, he knew what he was getting into, but he was just like you.
>"Congratulations, Anon! You've won my little tournament!" A voice from behind you said, this one not filtered through a speaker.
>Clapping as he approached, Howard stood beside you.
>"So, one Doki coming up, yeah? That is what you wished for, right?" He said, nudging you.
>You thought. Was he giving you the opportunity to change your wish?
>If he was, should you? You rightfully won this, but the blood on your hands didn't quite sit well with you anymore.
>After a moment, you made your choice.

Take your prize: https://pastebin.com/CznbY41F
Wash your hands: https://pastebin.com/pw9JVEad