THE ARENA

A 50 by 50 feet white-tiled area surrounded by steel ground for ten more feet of distance. For thirty feet around that were stands with seats for spectators to watch the match. However, the arena had a glass ceiling showing the dark-red sun in the sky because of it being mid-afternoon at 6:15 PM. And so, the first match would begin..

Slamfist VS Centurion

The Centurion walked slowly and calmly into the arena, he looked down and saw the designated corner and across the way was his opponents. The fans both screamed in admiration and booed in hatred. It was a reception he was well accustomed to from his short lived career as a professional wrestler. But it wasn't those skills he'd be dependent on today, it was his years of Olympic level grecko-roman wrestling and more so, the extensive combat training he'd learned in the Marine Corps. special forces.

Who ever this 'Slamfist' was had yet to make his entrance in to the squared circle. Marcus had heard some belligerent Australian accent hollering his name a short time ago and he assumed this was his intended victim.

The Centurion bent down and felt the smooth surface of the tile below his feet, this was not a good platform for combat. Dirt was preferable and the next best would be a canvass pad, seeing neither were an option, he stripped off his flat bottomed scandals and tossed them off out of the ring. He wonder how the other contestants would fair with traction on this surface and what role it would play in the outcomes of battles.

Marcus took a deep breath and focused himself, these weren't sports entertainment athletes he was facing, they were the real deal and he was never more ready in his life. With no weigh-ins or a chance to size his opponent up, he'd just have to rely on his natural abilities and think on the spot. Not the first time he'd been place in such a situation and definitely wouldn't be the last. He pulled his gladius and began to stretch, working his huge form back and forth, stretching his corded muscles. His eyes locked on the opponents entrance. He had no idea if there would be any kind of prefight announcement or not, but he was going to be ready, that was for sure.

Slamfist walked down the hallway leading to the arena. He stopped just before the door, small bounces and smacks to his own face and head to pump himself up. He was ready for this. A kick to the doors and they flew open. A quick roll of his head and he made off for the ring. He was used to the roar of the crowd by now, years of playing professional football had conditioned him to the cheers and boos. As he climbed up the last few stairs he fianlly eyed his opponent. He was big, one of the biggest guys he'd seen in a long time, but Slam still towered over him, a foot in height at least. But he knew better than to expect someone to match his height or size now. And brawling with Pain taught him better then to assume that meant he would outpower him. Judging from the man's attire and stance, he knew what he was doing here, probably a great deal more in fightning arts than Slam himself. But Slam knew how to handle himself in the ring. "You ready to take on the Brawlin' Aussie, mate?" With this Slam slid his left foot back and fell into a style vaguely reminescent of an ameteur wrestler.

The Centurion saw the beast come in, he was bigger than any Prowrestler he'd ever faced. In fact the man was very close to a giant. But if there was one thing Roman Gods were good at it was taking down Titans. Marcus smiled his snarl grin, it showed only teeth through the facade of his helmet. Yes this man was big, but chances were that he didn't know half of the skills Marcus had learned through his career. But the truth was that there was only one way to find out, and that was engaging the brute.

Marcus knew better than to head on attack the slightly larger man, so as the crowd lept to their feet, Marcus strode in at a half jog. His sword was back, above his head, while the alien's sword was down in front to parry. He gave a quick nod of the head, to acknowledge his opponent, and then went in for his first exploratory strike. He leaped up into the air and shot the sword out in a downward strike pointed at the bigger man's neck.

In truth though, it was a ruse, which his opponent would find out if they were to try and block or grab at the lingering arm. The true strike would come from underneath and catch his opponent under the jaw line. Preferably peeling that menacing looking face mask away and some of the meat with it. Regardless it neither were a commited strike, they were feelers, looking to gauge his opponents speed and tactical abilities. The idea being to keep his distance and not get caught with the big man's first flurries.

Slam nodded back to his opponent and watched him leap in to the air. Slam wasn't looking to reveal his weapon this early but it looked needed, seeing as he'd met quite a few magical blades in his time. With a clash of his fists the were covered entirely in metal, nearly doubling his reach. Rather than try and grab at the man, Slam put up a large shield in the form of his right hand, bracing it with his left arm.

(Unless I missed something about your abilities...which I may have, My sword cuts throught metal with ease. meaning your fist may stop the alien blade but not my ancient sword.)

Centurion watched as the seemingly unrealistic like defense became apparent. He bounced back with the momentum and came in for his second strike. This time he came in fast and used a spinning move. His first strike with the alien blade, came high again at his opponents face, knowing now the size of the things shielding capability. His other hand dipped down lower than the behemoth's hand could guard and was aimed to slice in as deep as Marcus's strength could muster, which was considerable. The blow would have halved three normal men.

((The arm and glove are each a specific and particularly strong osmium alloy covered in a fine layer of synthesized diamond, so I doubt he's cutting through them.))
Slam deflected the first blow with his right hand again, scraping his massive glove's fingers against the blade the second blade was parried by the more proportional metal gauntlet. As the second blade made contact with his metallic extension(lol), Slam rushed forward, attempting to shoulder charge his opponent.

The larger man's speed was as impressive as Marcus's own. The charge came and slammed into the Centurion's chest armour buckling it immediately. The backward momentum was exactly what Marcus was waiting for. This man was bigger, stronger, and atleast as fast as himself, but he was obviously lacking the elite training of a professional fighter. Otherwise he would have known that the best art of combat to counteract all of these variables was Ju-Jitsu. An experienced larger more powerful man would have never charged a trained fighter.It was an art specifically designed to deal with facing larger stronger opponents.

As Marcus felt the powerful slam, he went limp, letting the larger man feel unobstructed. With a quick hop of footing he swung around back of the charging bull and slipped a rear naked choke in. His legs wrapped like vices around Slam's solar plexus and squeezed upward, forcing the air from his chest cavity. His arms found a half nelson hold around the beasts neck. As Marcus arched backward the giant would have no choice but to keel backward and submit to the tightening grip. Leverage was the key, although an opponent may be larger and stronger standing up, in this position he was no more than a turtle turned upside down.

Slam fell backwards, feeling the grip on him tightening. So this guy IS really fucking strong, Slam thought to himself as he struggled more and more to breathe. He needed to stand back up, to get this guy off of him, something, sitting here was doing nothing. Slam clashed his knuckles together, causing the metallic covering to return to their normal state, rings electronically linked to bracers on each arm. The size of the appendages wouldn't allow him to gain a fingerhold on the man to try and pry free, and that was the most important thing to do now. Pawing at the hands that were so tightly wrapped around him and swinging back at the Centurion was all he could manage for now as he worked his feet to a better position to gain leverage.

Centurion felt the cold hard grip of the man-monster snatch ahold of his arm that was being utilized as a simple lever around his opponents neck. It was a natural reaction, one he'd experienced every time he'd ever employed this maneuver. It was, in fact, exactly what you wanted your opponent to do, concentrate on the vice around the neck, and not the real problem which was the leverage advantage created by posing ones entire body strength around just the upper half of your opponent. Once he felt that the move really sunk in.

Marcus focused all his strength and arched his back, this took all leverage out the victim's legs, making it impossible to stand or do anything but struggle. He squeezed tighter and tighter with his legs, forcing what little oxygen left in the lungs of his struggling victim had. The swords still held in hand found holds in meat to further lock it in, It was only a matter of time.

Slam's hand had found the grip he needed. With all of his might he pulled on the other man's arm. It was a slow process, but Slam was overpowering his opponent. The blood flow was quick back to his head, adrenaline had his heart racing at this point. In one last effort he ripped the man's grip away from his throat. He moved his left arm up and blocked further attempts to put him in another sleeper hold, his right arm came crashing down on his attacker's locked ankles, breaking the grip they had on him there. Rolling forward to escape further grapples, Slam turned to face his opponent. After a short chuckle Slam spoke, rather enthusiastically "This is gonna be good mate."

(why are all the "the"'s colored gold?)

The Centurion jumped back to his feet and stepped back. His opponent was very strong, probably stronger that Marcus himself, but Marcus was no joke. His ankle actually ached from the blow Slam had delivered.

He squared off again, still not saying a word to the untrained brute. There was and old saying; 'skill will beat brute strength time and time again.' and this was exactly what their last encounter had proved. Slamfist had reacted like any untrained fighter would and it showed his inexperience in gleaming light. The quipped remark was proof of just this. Slamfist knew he was out matched. Marcus knew that Slam was stronger, but only marginally so, but The Centurion's fighting skills far out weighed Slamfists though, and since this was a fight, that would be the deciding factor.

Marcus started to circle around again, he wasn't about to start repeating moves, even an untrained fighter can pick up on a pattern, and this monster wasn't some one you wanted to slip up around. Slamfists fists might be coated in some impenetrable alloy, but Marcus guessed his upper arms weren't. He charged in and made like he was going for another strike at Slam's face with the weaker alien blade, knowing full well that he'd pop the big fist up to guard the shot. But instead of striking at Slam's free hand side, Marcus side stepped and aimed his attack at the same guarding arm but higher up on the bicep with his ancient Gladuis. The blade was more than capable of cutting completely through, especially with Marcus's full amount of power behind it.

((It was because I searched for THE ARENA. All instances of "the" and "arena" were highlighted in gold.))
Slam clapped his massive hands together, a loud roaring boom and a wave of concussive energy flying forward to keep the Centurion away. It always worked in the past, in fact Slam had toppled building by clapping his hands together. It became apparent quite quickly the Slam needed to keep his opponent at bay. Whilst not being a match for him close up, Slam bet he could beat him if he stayed at a short distance, far enough away from any grapple the Centurion might attempt. A mighty stomp on the arena floor knocked a tile loose, perfect for throwing at his opponent. Slam lurched down, scooping the tile up. With all of his might he threw the tile at the Centurion, if his football days had tought him anything it was how to throw.

As the Centurion went in for this attack it was ignored, Slamfist clapped his still ordinary sized hands together and created a sonic boom. The concussion hit Marcus in the chest and knocked him across the ring. It would have knocked an ordinary man out of the arena but Marcus's feet dragged and kept him in the ring. He had no idea if there were any ring-out DQ's but he wasn't about to find out. This did give him an idea though.

Just as Marcus recovered from the thunderclap, he came up to find one of the tiles from the floor screaming right as his head. He tried to pull a sword up to block it but the move was too unexpected. The tile struck full force and destroyed Marcus's cohort helmet. It's force knocked his head back and dazed him for a second.

This was what Marcus wanted his opponent to believe, It wasn't even entirely untrue, the tile hurt like hell, but in truth it was just another ruse. Marcus's bet was that even though the larger man seemed to not want to come in too close, the opportunity of seeing a dazed opponent would be too much to pass up. And if the behemoth came in close, it would be then that Marcus made his move.

Slamfist figured the attack would work, it was quick and effective, being used in less than a second each time it was performed. He had taken on villains, such as Ferrum who could control metal, all without activating his unique brand of weaponry. The thunderclap was one of his more well known moves, being performed with and without aid many times in the past, especially against foes that wielded electricity and shorted out his arms. Slam didn't want to reactivate his weapons at this point anyway, figuring his dexterity was his only hope at this point in dodging future attacks. But they were also very effective and he could just as easily keep the man at bay with them. Deciding to go forward with his previous plan, Slam knocked another tile loose and threw it at his opponent, dazed or not he was still standing which meant bad things if Slam got near. Following shortly after the second tile Slam bullrushed at the Centurion, if he was faking he wouldn't risk another hit from a tile. Iif he wasn't there was plenty of pain coming his way to get him out of the fight.