It's the Final Countdown...

Norman nodded in agreement. Battles were simply attacks and blocks. He hoped for something different, something exciting, that shifted from the boring tradition. Staggering backwards at Leda's next hit, one that seemed like it be fatal, Norman swung his stake up in a feeble attempt to block it. Regaining his footing, he leaned forward and slashed his knife at her. "Even if it takes forever... I will die trying." Norman was edging towards making it out of the Arena alive. "If I could change how this would turn out, I would," he muttered. He wanted to get back home now, regardless.

The only thing Norman understood from Leda was friends. The mention of friends made his anger bubble inside once again. "Yea, ya know, friends are nice. Until you have to kill them for some fucking game," he snorted out. Bringing his stake in front of him, Norman attempted to block off Leda's attack. Glaring at her, Norman laughed. "Ya know something? I don't think I'm going to have a hard time killing you. I barely knew you. I have to get home, and you are the last thing standing in my way," Norman said, popping his neck. "I'm sorry not sorry, Leda. It's been a party knowing you." As if to put emphasis on the party, Norman slashed at Leda with his knife, making this more of a Red Party.

Hunching over, Norman gripped around his gut. Staring at the ground, Norman coughed, blood coming out onto his chin. Looking up at Leda, his eyes both pleaded kill me and let me kill you at the same time. Forcing himself to stand straight, he continued looking at Leda. "Nice shot, sweetheart," he muttered. Raising his stake to fend off her next attack, Norman hoped his reflexes weren't too slow. Stopping momentarily, Norman took a breath, staring at the ground. A fresh growl erupted in his throat, weaker than any prior. Swinging forward, Norman lunged his knife towards Leda. "I hope you had the time of your life," he said weakly.

Feeling his knife sink into Leda's leg, Norman looked up and smiled. Standing, Norman saw her incoming stake and swung out to connect hers with his. "You don't need to bother. I don't need to be. I'll keep slipping farther," he muttered, a sadistic smile returning to his lips, though this time covered in blood. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Don't like a pet name?" he cooed. Swinging his knife back into Leda, he cooed once more. "One good turn deserves my dying, you know?"

Norman chuckled as Leda's stake slid by him without a scratch. He still felt all the pain in his body, but her failed attack was quite laughable. In all honesty, thought, Norman was growing old with the repeated actions. Someone needed to die, and Norman planned on it being Leda. He listened to her words, and pondered them. "You know, it could always be you who dies, sweetheart," he said, matter-of-factually. Swinging forward with his knife as Leda said fuck him, Norman chuckled. "Ah, that's a shame dear. You have to die, so you can't quite fuck me," he said with a wink.