The First Round. Pt1

I watch as our opponents enter our section of the arena. There were two of them. 

The first, a man just as large as John. He had had tanned skin, brown hair, brown eyes, and a particular tattoo on his neck. He looked quite striking. I wouldn't be surprised if he had many suitors. His body was well toned, and he carried himself prestigiously. He was at-most a few years older than me. He had some kind of graceful aura. His posture was straight, and he walked every little bit like a noble. Who was he?

Next to him stood a scrawny little man. No, not even a man. He looked more like a child. He was much smaller than myself, cuts and bruises scarred his face, arms, and feet. He probably had a ruff time. If I had to guess, he was probably from some sort of slum, and attempted to rob the wrong person resulting in hi ending up here.

Unlike us, the crowds didn't applaud for them. They were too focused on a fight happening elsewhere. I look up at the large screen above. It shows an intense fist fight occurring between 2 individuals. 2 giants were brawling it out somewhere in this arena, their blood staining the sections concrete floors as they continued to beat eachother senselessly. I watch as one of them, a man with very dark skin, huge muscles, and a ripped body absolutely slobbers the other, hitting his chin, knocking the man out cold. I continue watching him, beat the man's unconscious body, over and over again. It was disgusting, It was barbaric, yet the crowd absolutely loved it.

"Kill! Kill! Kill"

Their chants continue, watching the fight with great interest.

My eyes however, shift toward the glass ceiling above. Many figures stand there, their faces too distant to make out. They have the best view in the whole arena. They could see every fight at the same time, yet only like a bird, far and distant.

I know that although I couldn't make them out, they could most definitely see us clearly with their advanced vision. It wouldn't surprise me if they took some sort of drug, undergone surgery, or even just trained their eyesight to perfection.

Shifting my eyes back towards my opponents, it seemed like our scuffle would start soon as we all continued making our way toward the center of our little section of the arena. It was separated into many little corners and boxes, all divided by some sort of dark, tinted hard glasslike material. It was hard to see through, yet I could definitely make a few things out. 

"Achilles, why don't you take the bigger one?"

I look at John with a hint of amusement.

"You are much bigger than me, wouldn't it be wiser for you to take him, and for me to take on the little slum rat?"

He stares at our opponents, watching them, studying them.

"That marking" he says, pointing toward the tattoo on the man's neck.

"That mean's he's one of the many sons of senator Drakus. I don't know why or how he got here, but he is most certainly useless... In fact, i'm much more worried about the little scalawag. He seems unpredictable and looks like he knows how to kill a man."

I take another glance at our opponents who were now less than a few meters away. I begin to see cracks in their persona's. The senator's son now walks with much more caution. I see sweat beginning to form, while his muscles tense. He's much like me. Neither of us have much experience, and I could tell from the look in his eyes.

Neither of us have actually ever killed a man. 

The individual on the right was a much different story. On the surface, he may have walked awkwardly with uneven strides and unsteady steps, yet the act was a little... too perfect. There was a pattern in his steps. His eyes don't look down, but stare directly into mine. He doesn't falter when he sees our size or our strength. He doesn't even glance at his teammate. He was clearly the bigger threat.

"Is it okay for us to kill a senators son?" I ask him, a little confused.

"Of course. Senator Drakus has so many, theres no way he'll even notice that one is missing. Plus, how would he know that we were the ones who killed him?" he asked, chuckling.

"Do you have a problem with the senator?" I ask, raising my guard, waiting for our opponents to enter striking distance. 

"No, but most of his son's hold positions in the army. They are all spoiled and undeserving bums, taking important positions away from soldiers who actually deserve them. I hate them for that. If anything, i'm doing the republic a service by getting rid of this one."

The space between the four of us becomes incredibly close. One more step, and they'd be in striking distance. I take a deep breathe, ready to see what this guy is made of. I look him up and down again. John said he was spoiled, yet he's still huge. Did he get those muscles through surgery or has he actually trained them? I feel a little jealous. I need to get stronger.

"Ill take the big one, you handle him." the scrawny slum rat says, pointing at me.

Is that it? Their communication sucks...

The senator's son merely nods, his gaze fixed on me. Guess they don't really like to talk.

I put the thoughts behind me and watch as he takes another step.

Then it happens. 

I lunge forward, my fist hitting his face. He stumbles a little, seemingly surprised.

I follow up with another punch, yet he shifts his head avoiding it.

He counters with a punch of his own, hitting my chin hard. Watching me stumble back, he dives for my legs, trying to bring me down. 

It's futile. 

I sprawl, avoiding the take down. He tries to get back up, yet I don't let him. I grab his head, attempting to keep it still as I smash it against my knee.

I feel his hot blood as I continue to smash his face in. I feel the cartilage in his nose snap, disfiguring his once beautiful face.

He eventually manages to break free, rolling on the concrete, clutching his face. 

It was clear.

He had some sort of training, yet had never been in a real fight.