[ WP ] The pain of second place

You spin the trident in one hand and the net in the other, watching as the other eleven fiddle with their weapons in nervous anticipation. Even before training you knew how to handle a weapon, but now there was no fairness. No bravery. No anything except survival. The crowd yelled as you and your enemies were still and silent, waiting for someone else to move first, die first. And so they did. One foolishly charged you without being fully committed, and you speared him in the neck. Another sees the trident stuck and also charges you, but you miss and net him, dislodging your spear and ending him as well. Blood everywhere and people cheering. Six down, five to go. 
 
 Adrenaline pumping, heart beating out of your chest. The crowd favorite, the biggest with the sword as tall as you laughs as he walks toward you. Adrenaline gone, and so is your bladder control. After parrying a few that may have given you a smooth shave otherwise, you think'fuck it' and decide a one-in-a-hundred chance dive and stab is worth a shot. It's your only shot. He lurched off balance and your trident catches the back of his knee and he falls to the ground in agony. Surveying the field you see two others battling each other and another advancing. A quick stab through the head takes care of the biggest man, your confidence back through the roof. Fuck these guys, you're the boss here. You throw the trident at him when he gets within 10 feet, and stick him in the chest. He had no idea it was coming, and it worked beautifully. Just the last guy left. 
 
 He has the same swagger you do. This arena is n't big enough for the both of you. You know it, the crowd knows it, and the governor knows it. Winner goes to Rome to try and win their freedom. How about that, you're almost free after this guy? A nice feint here, a thrust there, test the waters with this guy. He stays on the defensive; he's seen you use that bad boy to take down those four guys. And then it all goes away in an instant. A throwing knife, right to the shoulder. Trident drops and when you look back up he's already rolling past you, his sword slicing the back of your knees. It takes you two hours to fall. The crowd must have incredible voices to yell this long, and the governor a lot of patience to wait. The man grabs your hair and holds you up by it, waiting for the call. The governor claps as he stands, then motions to the crowd for silence. They were on your side. They loved me. You were supposed to win. What kind of world gets you so close but does this, ruining your life because of one sneaky fucking trick. A small smile appears on his face as his thumb goes down, and the last thing you feel is slight pressure across your neck.
