Colosseum - Round 1, Group A - Jak Mar vs Dante

[Simon]

Just gonna turn time forward a bit to end this quick, don't mind me.

As the cheers finally began to die down, the other matches drawing to their respective conclusions, only Dante remained standing in his battle. The green-haired eco warrior was caught kneeling, sporting a profile spattered with blue bruises and red splotched of blood (not all his own, even). He attempted to get up one more time, pressing both hands to his raised knee in hopes of getting the proper leverage; the effort was quickly shut down with a round kick, Dante's ankle meeting Jak's shoulder harshly.

The elfin-looking man was barreled to the ground again, rolling and crumpling into a pile with the dust of the beaten earth clouding him. Dante shook out his reddened knuckles, failing to disperse the profuse stinging sensation of open wounds upon them. Jak, however, couldn't get up, his stamina failing him despite how hard he seemed to try.

"I think you've had enough-" the nephilim croaked up, then cleared his throat painfully. Swallowing a hunk of his own spit and blood help to wet his throat, but not his burning airway. With a bit more clarity this time, he continued, "Just give it up. I don't want to have to kill you."

Jak forced himself to look up, folding himself onto his side to at least view more than Dante's boots. It was almost strange, now, hearing the red-coat speak with such serious overtones. Perhaps that's what made the nephilim's words seem so much more genuine, that he broke his devil-may-care character to say them. The act resonated with Jak in a way, loathe as he was to admit it. He didn't want to die, and he didn't want to kill, either. Yet, the crowd would not be so compliant, he figured.

Finally reclaiming enough composure to speak a full sentence, the eco warrior cashed in on his patience and replied, skeptically, "I though you said death was cheap."

"Doesn't make it any more right," Dante promptly responded, took a breath, and responded again, "Or any less painful." Through clenched teeth, Jak let out a breath in some form of complacence.

"Just- make it quick..."

The "dynamite kid" squeezed his eyes closed, expectant to have his title and his life taken way in one fell swoop. Moments passed, turning into long seconds. The dull roar of the crowd erupted into a different tone, and some point later Jak realized it was the same disapproval of their inactivity. He dared to crack an eye open, and saw a half-gloved, bloodied hand reaching out for his own.

Silently, against his other judgements, Jak complied. Their crimson life pooled between their grip, and Dante said, "You did good, really. No hard feelings." The clasp of their hands tightened for a moment, shaking in both exhaustion and sportsmanship, and then it fell loose.

Finally feeling it was over, Jak willingly let unconsciousness claim him. The crowd burst out again, but the only one awake in their battle was Dante, and he was tuning them out. So began his painful plod toward the nearest portal out of the arena, which happened to be the side of the Kingdom. The gate opened, medics rushing out to reclaim both fighters and rush them to the infirmary.

"Good fight."