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At Fault

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They hadn't won the game, but it had felt like it. The cheering, laughter, congratulations-- it was all for them. Everyone in Silver Castle was amazed, exhilarated. And they had lost to Dark by 22 points. The team rode that high, that excitement, for hours afterward, and for many of them, well into the night.

For Bull Armor, however, the high ended way too soon.

Was there even one?

Sure, he had been excited about the cheers, excited that the rest of his team was excited, but… No. They had lost. He had lost. That was nothing to celebrate.

Losing the game was understandable, it happened. There was no way they were going to win every game. But losing control like he had?

Bull Armor shook his head.

His team had gotten lucky this time. He hadn't hurt anyone, hadn't killed anyone, though it had been a close call. If not for Magnum Ace being there, Bull didn't even want to think of what he could have done. What he almost did.

Bull found himself reaching up towards his head, hands shakily finding his horns.

It was his fault they had lost.

He squeezed down, soft at first, just feeling.

It was his fault that he’d lost control.

A little harder now, Bull could feel an edge of pain spreading from where his fingers pressed.

It was his fault his team was in danger.

And harder, he could tell the metal would dent soon, but he needed this. The pain.

It was what he deserved.

He slid down the wall he was leaning against, out on the training field where he could be alone, settling on his aft with his knees to his chest.

His hands tightened their grip on his horns.

He loathed to even call them his own anymore.