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Rook Palmer

0 · 396 views · located in Crypt City

a character in “Apollo's Colosseum”, as played by TemplarWarden

Description



Rook Palmer
"I'm going to be the very best, like no one ever was."



|| Hall of Fame - The Script || Hero - Skillet || Get Up - Extreme Music || Centuries - Fall Out Boy ||




Image




Full Name: Rook Palmer
Arena Title: The Duke
Age: 26
Gender: Male

Team: Apollo
Class: Rookie Gladiator




Positive Traits:
Driven
Determined to be the best of the best, Rooks eyes are on the goal and his resolve is unshakable. He will be the very best, like no one ever was. If they knock him down he will just get up and keep going.
Confident
Rook is very aware of his capabilities, after all he spent his whole life preparing to be a duelist and didn't even sign up until he was sure he was ready. He doesn't doubt his capabilities and is comfortable with his decisions.
Honest
Open about himself, his opinions and honestly answers people when they question him. Sometime he even volunteers information in order to prevent misunderstandings. He feels that not doing so pushes people away, although the opposite is true when he shares a less appreciated opinion. In the end it means he general gets rid of people he can't stand.
Honourable
Rook runs by the rules, or at least the ones he sets out for himself. He fights without resorting to dirty tricks, although he isn't against getting rough. He won't kick, or more importantly kill, an opponent when they're down. In the midst of combat though he doesn't hold back, and isn't against killing in a fair fight. After all what is the glory in an underhanded victory.
Charismatic
Good looking, friendly and outgoing. Rook has unmistakable attraction about him that captures people's attention. Even if he was not racking up victories he would have a powerful following just for his presentation. After all that is a large part of what he enjoys about his matches, exalting his glory to the crowd.

Negative Traits:
Glory Seeker
He doesn't fight just to win, he fights for glory and attention. He is a performer and show off and sometimes doesn't take the quick and straightforward method to end his fight. He surrounds himself with fans when not in the arena. Despite the insincerity of the attention, he will settle for it.
Proud
Rook's achievements and capabilities mean a lot to him. He is proud of who he is and what he can do, should someone look down on him he will fight for his honour and pride and it is one of the few ways to aggravate him.
Ignorant
Due to his childhood idolisation of Cataclysm and the arena in general, Rook is blinded to the ethical shortfalls of the organisation and Apollo. Almost naive in a way, he is ignorant of the less than honest and honourable attitudes of those involved in this dark world.
Straightforward
Deceit and tact are not commonly used words int Rook's vocabulary. He doesn't mince words or concern himself with complicated solutions. The straight route to his goal is all he needs. To his detriment, since he can easily be outmaneuvered in many ways, outside of the arena at least. Inside, he often falls prey to the deceit and tricks of his foes and certainly is predictable.




Fears:
Failure - When he has built so much of his life out of pushing forward, to fail goes against everything he is
Being Alone - Having been an alone most of his life he is afraid of solitude, thus he surrounds himself with fans and fellows
Being Forgotten or Irrelevant - He aimss tobe the best of the best, to be famous. However the opposite also affects him. He fears being irrelevant and forgotten.

Likes:
Fighting || Teaching || Attention || Heights || Adrenaline || Yellow || Cheese || Mice || Family Interactions

Dislikes:
Being Alone || Dark || Pranks || Embarrasment || Uncertainty

Dreams/Goals
Success - Growing up watching Cataclysm and later Adelina in the ring gave the young Rook a goal to strive for. He is determined to be the best gladiator the arena has ever seen, better than those that came before.
Family - Rook has always desired a family, a wife and children, so that he could be the father he never had. Also, so he wouldn't be alone again.




ImageTattoos/Markings/Scars:
Orphanage barcode on back of the neck. Tattoos of three geometric shapes on left forearm. Tattoo on right bicep. Scar on right forearm. Geometrical style tattoo across shoulders and back. Scar on left brow. Scarring across knuckles.

Weight: 180

Height: 5'11"

Brief Appearance Description:
Good Looking

Carrying/Weapons/Equipment:
Powered Gauntlets - Charge gauntlets that conducted the suit's power, unleashing it in several forms. As a small deflector shield, a superheated sheath of energy around the glove or a regular channeling of high voltage electricity.
Reactive Body Armor - A state-of-the-art body suit, highly flexible and armored with reactive plates. The armor is capable of absorbing physical impact, cycling it into a temporary power boost.

Strength/Abilities/Talents: Stamina. Charismatic. Brawler. Resilient. MMA Fighter. Agility. Stubborn.

Weakness: Deception. Dirty Tactics. Overconfidence. Predictable




History: Orphan who has always idolised the arena fights, and the White Knight and his daughter in particular. Spent much of his life training in preparation to join, only doing so when he was sure he was ready. After his early successes he was snatched in a highly manipulative and unfavourable contract with Apollo in return for equipment and sponsorship. It is through this contract that he was subtly coerced into Team Apollo.

So begins...

Rook Palmer's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lelah Piaget Character Portrait: Rook Palmer Character Portrait: The White Knight Character Portrait: Beatrix Phoenix Character Portrait: Augustus Zephyr Character Portrait: Lucille Anthony Archer Character Portrait: Q Alterix Character Portrait: Knight of Apollo
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Chapter 1
The Day Before Dawn



The White Knight









Kadir Zinc stood as he studied with attention as he studied Lelah Piaget's every move, he had to, and he knew it. For practice put in today would reveal in the performance tomorrow. But Kadir would not be fond to call a slaughter, performance, no a performance is a show, and no matter how famed the matches were, Kadir would never be one to see death as a means of entertainment. And Kadir also would never take today's training light, especially in Lelah's perspective. Kadir was being difficult today, but that was only because he bore mountains of pressure against his shoulders, and he was not going to set her up for failure, because he knew what the prize was for a loser in Apollo's Colosseum, Adelina showed him that.

And Kadir cared about Lelah, though he really did just meet her the day before. But why? She of course reminded him heavily of his own daughter, so much hope, and the hunger for adrenaline inside of her. Kadir could tell Lelah wanted the rush and excitement of being a gladiator, it was the reason why she joined him. And Kadir just could not say no, though he found many flaws with her techniques, he knew she would continue with her life, Kadir just did not want to know how many matches it would take to finally end it, and he did not want that to happen for the young girl.

"No, that's going to get you killed, Lelah," Kadir instructed her. "You're form is too jumpy, and attacks, unpredictable to the point of insanity. It is good strike at your character's off-guard moments, but with moves that random you might be only hurting yourself. You need a more organized method of fighting, and... slow things down, you’re getting to ahead of yourself not executing critical hits." Kadir was working with her on close-combat, and so far he was winning, of course. He gave her his hand to pull her off the ground he knocked her to.

Kadir glanced at the clock against the wall of the room, he needed to make a phone call, Kadir was getting doubtful that she was coming. "Listen, Lelah, keep practicing I have to step out-- Here, I have someone you need to meet. I was going to introduce after practice, but here, he can help, he's good at that."

Kadir rushed to the target practicing room where he found Augustus Zephyr, "August, you remember the rookie I dueled yesterday, Lelah Piaget, also known as Skuld Well, she's in the team, and I want you train with her while I step out and make some contacts." Kadir now in a whisper, because Kadir didn't want Lelah to get offended, "Go easy on her, remember she's a rookie, not like you, and an amateur, to tell the truth." Kadir started to walk away but stopped, turning another to say one last thing, "Oh and, don't hurt her, I mean it, she has to be ready for tomorrow's match. Walk her through some of your moves, maybe. Just not a scratch."

Kadir dialed his phone for Lucy, she was the only teammate missing, he was afraid she was never going to show up until a "woosh" swept the streets and in she came and arrived in a heartbeat. She was not called, Lighting Lucy for no reason. "I was almost afraid you would never come," Kadir confessed, because really there was not much purpose for her to come to the gym other than to greet the other fellow teammates, because like the bot battler, they would not belong in a building for gladiators, but Kaidr knew if they were going to work like a team then they had to start by getting to know each other. "You wouldn't ever miss out on meeting some new friendly faces, would you?" Kadir spoke scarcastically, which was as rare thing he did, but it was true, and Lucy knew it, she was never the one to be sympathetic to others, she was selfish, and greedy. She would have not even joined the team if Kadir did not press her to feel as if she had a debt to repay him. But if we are going to work like a team, we have to be able to trust each other. United we rise, divided we fall. Are you willing to do that, Lucy?"





Beatrix Phoenix







Bullet after bullet Beatrix hammered through the dummies' skull. Beatrix was a legend in the making, and she knew it. Like all the other champions chosen by Apollo to competing in his little game, she was undefeated, but what made her special what that she never missed, her accuracy was golden, especially to a blind woman. Skills so perfected, she grew boredom from practice, and often abandoned it after the continuous streak of head shots became monotonous. She enclosed her guns into the hostlers strapped to her pants before marching over to the pull-up bar where she then concreted on her upper-body strength.

As she hoisted herself up the bar, constantly strengthening her arm muscles. She felt a roll of sweat form as she was working out, giving it all she got, as she fiercely stormed her body over the pole. She pushed harder and harder as she repeatedly thought of her sister Lily, and her power-hungry bastard of a step-father. Thinking of Bentley just formed a burning inferno within that never stopped to cease to surround her ever being. This, is what she assumed that caused all the grumpiness and fur inside of her, she let her mind wander into the dark and sufferable of her life. She was going to fight like hell before letting that man even lay a finger on that girl.

And after Beatrix had worked out her body and skills, she decided it was time for a drink. Well, she always had a strong liking for all alcohol in general. She had already been training in Apollo's VIP training grounds, he reserved it entirely for his teammates. Funny how he referred to them as teammates, a team he had no part in other than to watch their, his opponents crumble in defeat. He could have had the White Knight dead by now if so really wished, but no Apollo wanted the cash to start flowing. There would be crowds wanting to see the returning legend fight, but who can blame them the White Knight has been missing for five years, and all of sudden he returned. But as for Beatrix she made her way to the lounge where she would find herself a seat at the bar.

As Beatrix was dumping another shot in, she sensed and heard footsteps entering the room. Beatrix was always very sensitive to people's footsteps, entirely because she was blind and that was one of the ways she could identify a person, it was Rook Palmer, she could tell, she already knew about the rook who was doing his best to rise in the ranks, for the glory and fame. But Beatrix hated how he was too cocky, too confident, and too proud. And she would be deeply angry with him if he lost the match tomorrow, she could not allow team White Knight to gain a single point. She could not allow them to win, Apollo would kill them, or worse, sell them into slavery. And Beatrix knew she had to be there for Lily. So noticing Rook was in the lounge rather did annoy her, believing that he should be practicing and not in the lounge where the main goal in a lounge is to relax.

But she remained silent knowing that she already has plenty of enemies and doesn’t need to create anymore, especially with her own teammates. Though she has heard of Rook, believe it or not, the rookie has raised some eyebrows, but he was not picked by Apollo for nothing. And Beatrix knows he looks to talk, he was a charismatic fellow, and she was more of a quiet girl. She just hoped he was not coming around to make a conversation or anything.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Rook Palmer Character Portrait: Beatrix Phoenix Character Portrait: Q Alterix Character Portrait: Knight of Apollo
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Rook Palmer


Steady reassured steps heralded Rook "The Duke" Palmer's passage through the corridors of Apollo's personal facilities. Although personal would be pushing the description. Until now they bore host to those gladiators, racers and bot battlers like himself that were lucky enough to have Apollo's sponsorship. Now, they were empty of all except the small team gathered together by Apollo. Rook didn't like it. He hated the overwhelming emptiness of the place and he tightened his hands into fists to keep them from shaking and fought off the desire to turn around, to head back the way he came. Back to the welcoming business of the world and whichever willing woman who would keep him company. The solitude was precisely the reason he had delayed his arrival in this place. It was also the reason why he was on his way towards the lounge in hopes that someone would be there. If not he would check the training fields, at the least he could distract himself with his training.

Of course beneath the temporary dread was the eagerness. When he was a boy, all he had dreamed of was taking to the arena. It had only been a year since he made his first appearance on the fields of death and here he was, requested by Apollo himself! To fight The White Knight, Cataclysm of all people! It was his dreams come true, he would show all of Crypt City that he was the best. Although, the fact he wouldn't in fact be facing off against the venerable warrior was a technicality, he was fighting against those hand picked by the man. Not to mention he would be fighting alongside some of the best of the current age; Beatrix Phoenix and even the mysterious Knight of Apollo. So beneath his near-phobia, he was practically giddy.

Stepping into the lounge he was both unnerved by the silence and reassured by the female form sitting at the bar. With a smile he approached, having already recognize the woman in question.

"Beatrix Pheonix, its a honour to meet you." He greeted, sincerely. His tone was honeyed and his smile was charming. It didn't quite occur to him the she couldn't see it or his proffered hand as he slipped into the seat next to her.

"Rook Palmer. I look forward to being on the same team as you. I've seen some of your fights, I may not be far better with my fists than with a gun but even I can recognize you're like a sharpshooting goddess." He was certainly laying the praise on thick, however he may tend to embellish but he was completely honest with his words.

"Its like something out of a dream. Being hand picked by Apollo to fight with you against Cataclysm and his team, of all people. I mean it was my dream but I didn't think it would happen in my rookie year. A little effort goes a long way I guess." He grinned smugly, after all he lived for this and he wasn't above indulging in a little satisfaction and pride. Even as he spoke he felt the earlier tension ease from his body. He didn't even need some alcohol to relax a little.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Rook Palmer Character Portrait: Beatrix Phoenix
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Beatrix Phoenix


"Beatrix Pheonix, its a honour to meet you."

Beatrix dreaded the moment Rook decided to conjure up a conversation. But by him saying it was an honor to meet her, to Beatrix that met that he has heard of her. Though, who hasn't? Or at least heard of her. And that was obviously so, thus he should know Beatrix is not fond of conversation. There are stories of Beatrix shooting the feet of men who spoke to her, even a rumor of Beatrix firing a bullet to a drunk's balls who made the big mistake of grabbing her shoulder, trying to get friendly.
And the other thing was that Beatrix hated fans believe it or not, she did not want the praise, the glory, no she could not care less. Just as long as Lily was safe, then Beatrix was happy, actually happy probably would not be a the correct word. Fine, Beatrix was fine.

"Rook Palmer. I look forward to being on the same team as you. I've seen some of your fights, I may not be far better with my fists than with a gun but even I can recognize you're like a sharpshooting goddess."

Sharpshooting goddess? she thought to herself, trying to ignore him, not even give him the attention, but it was hard, especially with a guy that is trying to get her to notice him. However Beatrix was not sure what his goal was in all this, was he leading up to hit on her? Or was he just trying to make friends. There was one thing about Beatrix that everyone knew, Beatrix does not play nice. But one of her secrets, one of her wants, is to make a friend, but too many gladiators and just in general those who involve themselves with anything that has to do with Colosseum, have a big enough ego to make then to cocky and too sensitive to any of her criticism or cynicism. Besides, she knows she gets lonely, sometimes she fears without her sister, she would go insane, and she was probably right about that.

"Its like something out of a dream. Being hand picked by Apollo to fight with you against Cataclysm and his team, of all people. I mean it was my dream but I didn't think it would happen in my rookie year. A little effort goes a long way I guess."

Now he was bragging, well at least in Beatrix's mindset, that was how she was taking it. Well, she did not care, in fact she felt insult. What is he trying to make me feel jealous now? The kid is regret running his mouth when he has no teeth left. The entire time as he spoke, and found a seat beside her to sit, Beatrix wore a sour, grim expression against her face. Maybe if I'm mean enough to him, he will leave, most of them do. I don't need friends... I don't. she tried convincing herself, as she always did, but it was hard to do the same later when in solitude. But for now, she was looking to get rid of him, but its not like she is guaranteed he would leave.

"Little effort huh? If a little effort gets you hand picked by Apollo, then I guess anyone could be a rookie, anyone could fill your shoes. You're replaceable. Don't see why you have the guts to sit by a legend like me."

There, was that good enough? she thought, Maybe he will leave me alone now.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Rook Palmer Character Portrait: Beatrix Phoenix Character Portrait: Damian Stryke Character Portrait: Knight of Apollo
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Damian Stryke





Grease met steel as Damian slowly eased his calf forward. It still squeaked a slight but the movement felt smoother than before. He grabbed one of the smaller wrenches and tightened the bolt joining at the knee before trying again. He was more successful this time, able to walk with no noise and the tightness that flesh would have provided, only better. Now he could kick through walls and stomp on the toes of his enemies with no consequence. His arm, too, improved in dexterity so the morning tuneup was not in vain. His third arm, as usual, whirred with anticipation since it seemed to know that he would head to the training room soon.

As per usual Damian donned his metallic mask and some work out clothing before pressing a button on the remote. A buzzer went off and a a chimeric creature, part flesh and part cybernetic leaped out, ready to kill him until the Iron Inquisitor grabbed its throat. He hated large animals, couldn't stand them, but things such as these were alright. It was bears that scared him. Metal bent under pressure and though a laser similar to Damian's own went off, it didn't save the chimera. All parted up and it still couldn't utilize its intelligence.

He sighed as he let go of the beast, snapping for one of Wadsworth to clean up the animal while he headed for the gladitorial training room where Rook and Beatrix seemed to be conversing.

"Little effort huh? If a little effort gets you hand picked by Apollo, then I guess anyone could be a rookie, anyone could fill your shoes. You're replaceable. Don't see why you have the guts to sit by a legend like me."

"I wouldn't be so quick to judge, Phoenix," Damian piped in.

His voice came out modulated, but it failed to hide his noticeably foreign accent.

"If he's only putting in a little effort he has more potential than those have to work a bit harder."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Rook Palmer Character Portrait: Beatrix Phoenix Character Portrait: Damian Stryke
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Beatrix Phoenix


"I wouldn't be so quick to judge, Phoenix.If he's only putting in a little effort he has more potential than those have to work a bit harder."

The reason why Beatrix decided to snap at Rook in the first place, was because she wanted to drive him away. But then in comes the Iron Inquisitor, at least he helps add detail to Beatrix rude behavior by implying that she was being judgmental. However with what else he said, Beatrix did not appreciate the Inquisitor's support to the rookie. Thus this sparked her anger. "Potential? Just because he gives little effort to become a rookie, does not mean he has potential. It just means he's good enough to be only that. Imagine where he would be if he did put forth more effort; trading that cocky attitude with some actual training for once. But I guess you wouldn't understand, you're only a bot battler. You people don't actually sweat, just need to be smart enough to press a few buttons, blow junk up, clash metal to metal. At least when us gladiators fight we do it in person. We're not cowards hiding behind tons of metal mechs. "

And this was the reason why Beatrix was not the one to have conversations with, she never did well with others. She never understood why some even bother talking to her, understanding they will only get a plethora of offensive and feisty comments. Beatrix just wanted to be left alone to her drink, left alone to her own depressing thoughts of demise and destruction, left alone to sulk in her misery, wishing alcohol could wash it away. She lifted up another shot ducking it down her throat. No one has ever caught her drunk though, mainly because she knows at what point her somberness will wear out, and also because she drink enough to build a strong enough tolerance in her system.

"Besides Inquisitor, I believe if anyone has heard of my name they know pretty well I don't affiliate myself with fans. Nor with the praises they bring to me. If I'm the best thing you have ever seen, great, now leave me alone. At least give me a peace of mind if I'm so amazing as they say I am." Self-loving was one thing Beatrix was not however, she did whatever she could to win, she never did it for the glory, fame, or even to be notified as a legend, though she tried to seem that way earlier. Beatrix did not care about any of that, all that mattered to her was survival of both her and her sister.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Rook Palmer Character Portrait: Beatrix Phoenix Character Portrait: Damian Stryke
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Rook Palmer


"Don't see why you have the guts to sit by a legend like me."

Rook's hackles rose at her comments. That wasn't what he was attempting to imply that at all. He was about to respond when the twisted modulated voice interrupted him. He gazed at the metal man warily. He didn't know much about the Inquisitor, partly because of his fighting in the bot battle circle and partly due to the fact no one has officially gotten beneath the mask. However, despite the being's support and her own dismissal of his efforts, Palmer couldn't help but silently agree with Pheonix.

He couldn't say he respected the bot battlers in the same way he respected gladiators or even racers. Neither did he care for those that overly augment themselves. Sure it was a thing but in his mind it took the skill out of combat and much of the value. When he succeeded. He wanted it to be through his own toils, his own flesh and blood.

"Look." Rook said with a frown. "I meant that there are plenty of people who don't even put in a little effort. I am not one of them." He glared at Pheonix, but eventually turned away to look at the augmented form of Stryke. Leaning back against the bar. Figuring that she wouldn't be able to see the expression. "I've worked hard to get where I am. I am not going to stop. I am fighting to win this."

He threw a good smirk at the blind sharp shooter. "I know I'm good and what you think isn't going to convince me otherwise. I would think you ought to be the one to trade in your attitude." He told he bluntly. He wasn't a vindictive man, but she questioned his capabilities, she looked down on him. He wasn't going to let that slide. "Bitching and tossing around insults isn't going to get you any friends and despite what you may think, trying to put us down doesn't make you any better. You step into the arena alone. Its all you and nothing to do with us. Heck, its better to have people on your side when you step out."

His voice grew a little wistful for the last sentence. He perhaps had let a bit more of his own desires slip into his words. That was part of the reason he went out there, searching for the attention, for the glory. He didn't imagine Beatrix had the same wish, although she didn't seem to be the kind of person to have many friends with her attitude.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Rook Palmer Character Portrait: The White Knight Character Portrait: IMIT-8 Character Portrait: Beatrix Phoenix Character Portrait: Damian Stryke Character Portrait: Lucille Anthony Archer
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Damian Stryke





At that point Palmer came back in with another comment defending himself, but it didn't stop Damian from catching Phoenix's comment about bot battles. Not everyone respected bot battles or the races due to the fact that they were performed by machine, but he strongly disagreed. How was it different than two brutes beating each other with stones? They all had the same goal, but simply different objectives. If they knew how much his body needed to train and endure, to actually use his augments in combat they might be more understanding but likely still pricks. Bot battling didn't consist of lowly button mashers. They suited up for the sake of pushing beyond human limits.

"Brave you may be, but you don't seem to know anything about my craft nor my circumstances," he sighed as his third arm reached to help him rub a temple, "but we aren't here to talk about me. We're here because we're all part of the same team."

"Bitching and tossing around insults isn't going to get you any friends and despite what you may think, trying to put us down doesn't make you any better. You step into the arena alone. Its all you and nothing to do with us. Heck, its better to have people on your side."

No matter what Phoenix wasn't up to talking, even if to pretend that she enjoyed the company of others and he wasn't going to make her talk. Palmer, at least, agreed with him about having a good team environment. His expression remained unchanged, but he retracted his arm.





Lucille "Lucy" Archer





At this robot had a sense of humor. She hadn't expected him to be human in his speech but the creativity (so to speak) in forming new words meant that he had some form of adaptability. He would do well on the battlefield, even if his opponent was human on the inside.

"Always am," she answered, "we don't have a fancy hanger here like Apollo's crew but I've managed pretty well. I even retooled my old motorbike to the racer cycle I have now."

She picked up a wrench before turning to The White Knight.

"So where are the others?" she asked, "are two gladiators still training or wee you planning on having only me and the robot meet?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lelah Piaget Character Portrait: Ericka Wilson Character Portrait: Rook Palmer Character Portrait: The White Knight Character Portrait: Beatrix Phoenix Character Portrait: Augustus Zephyr Character Portrait: Damian Stryke Character Portrait: Lucille Anthony Archer
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The White Knight




"So where are the others? Are two gladiators still training or wee you planning on having only me and the robot meet?"

"Wow, Lucy, it seems so unlike you to be wanting to meet others," the White Knight spoke sarcastically. "But if you are so excited, then I see I must. Follow me." Kadir led Lucy inside of the gym, and walked his way to Lelah and August. Kadir knew it was about time to give Lelah a break, even if it would be a small one, but he was curtained that she truly wished and yearned for one.

He walked in to see the two, "Hello, I have another member of the team, you may recognize her. You can just call her Lucy." Kadir was happy to see his team was going pretty smoothly, but perhaps he was very optimistic, it had not even been an hour, and he believed things were turning up good. Well, that is probably better than always looking on the downside of things.



Beatrix Phoenix



"I know I'm good and what you think isn't going to convince me otherwise. I would think you ought to be the one to trade in your attitude."

Beatrix had only shrugged, only feeling bad due to the fact that her comments did not drive him away, but instead cause more commotion by dragging the Inquisitor bickering. She dumped shot in, trying to enjoy her drink, trying to focus on herself rather than the conversation with Rook, though she did continue to pull herself back in, not holding back on those snappish comments.

She heard Rook continue to say, "Bitching and tossing around insults isn't going to get you any friends and despite what you may think, trying to put us down doesn't make you any better. You step into the arena alone. Its all you and nothing to do with us. Heck, its better to have people on your side."

And then the Inquisitor, "Brave you may be, but you don't seem to know anything about my craft nor my circumstances, but we aren't here to talk about me. We're here because we're all part of the same team."

They both spoke of this so-called "teamwork", Beatrix had a distaste for it. No, she could not trust anyone, she could not even trust her own mother, why should she trust this strangers? For all she knows, they could be traitors, or she may only be paranoid, stubborn, and arrogant to only hold concern and care to her own beliefs, ideas, and assumptions.

"Team? Working together?" she questioned. "Have you forgotten who you work for? If you care about camaraderie you should sign up for the White Knight's team, I think he needs a waterboy. But actually, too bad, we're owned by Apollo, greedy vulgarian, if his team loses..." Beatrix paused, she didn't want to think of it, because she knew exactly what would happen, and she would not be the only person suffering from the defeat. And she was not going to allow Bentley to sell Lily into slavery, but she also knew she would not have any chance nor time to save her in they were not victors. So in fact, they were working as a team, but Beatrix was too stubborn to face the facts.

"Look, we are technically a team, but don't think we are friends. Since when this city, this world, crawl itself out of hell." Beatrix got quieter, "No, I'm still figuring out why I'm still burning, why anyone would deserve a life like this." Beatrix drank her last and walked her way out of the lounge, "You know what, I'm out." Of course she did not mean she was out of the team or any crazy nonsense like that, but that she was leaving the lounge, where Beatrix attempted to storm into the training room, but with reckless emotions, trying to make an escape from the lounge, and being blind, Beatrix clashed in and bumped into none other than Ericka Wilson, Godhand.

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Character Portrait: Ericka Wilson Character Portrait: Rook Palmer Character Portrait: Beatrix Phoenix Character Portrait: Damian Stryke
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Ericka "Godhand" Wilson





Ericka flexed her fingers within her heavy gauntlets, going through the routine checks to ensure they were working properly, of course Ericka herself saw little real point to it, after all they were specifically designed to be able to crush virtually anything there was little potential for malfunction but she nonetheless went through it each time, after all it would kill her fun if her almost singular source of offense were to fail. Once satisfied, she slammed them together hard, just once, enjoying the satisfying sound of metal pounding into metal.

Now ready, she turned and left the lockers and made her way out near the lounge, she didn't actually have real training scheduled today, but her "manager" that sold her services to Apollo made sure she knew to wear her gauntlets as often as possible. Their sheer weight for one, its important she is always used to it, and that she feels as natural as possible with them on to increase her ability with them.

Just as she turned a corner, someone ran right into her, almost on instinct she was ready to act on her innate aggression and cocked her arm back to take a swing, only to see it was her so called teammate Beatrix. She actually hesitated a second before lowering her raised fist, glaring down at the shorter woman in a way that would make most normal people flee in terror. "Watch where you're going brat, if you don't want me to pop you're head open" she snapped angrily, keeping her fists clenched and waiting for further provocation to give her good reason to smash her and let off some steam.

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Character Portrait: Ericka Wilson Character Portrait: Rook Palmer Character Portrait: Beatrix Phoenix Character Portrait: Damian Stryke
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Beatrix Phoenix


Beatrix watched as Ericka rose her fist up, now Beatrix was face to face with an expert gladiator, someone better at fighting than her, but was she scared? Was she going to watch what she would say, or do? No, of course not, it was Beatrix, she was far too headstrong to her own ways to think of the smartest option. So the second she watched Ericka lift her mechanic fist upwards, Beatrix resorted to her own instinct, her guns. But funny thing, during the moment, she somehow brought her mind to think of Damian and Rook, perhaps it was because they were indeed kind, even friendly to her, but now when she is met with cantankerous, she feels regret for her own ill-mannered attitude.

"Watch where you're going brat, if you don't want me to pop you're head open"

Insulted was only one word that describe the million feelings of hate she had for this woman. Watch?! she shouted angrily in her head. This punk is going to look into my blind eyes and tell me to watch where I am going! Beatrix's face went from misery to a twisted sourness. It was another thing that Ericka called Beatrix a brat, Beatrix knew she was anything but a brat, Beatrix was a slave, not spoiled. Ericka thought she was the only one, sure her step-father may be rich, but he was rich enough to enslave her and still get away with it. But she lowered her gun, seeming that she was fearful of Ericka, "Godhand? I'm so sorry I didn't know it was you. You know I would like to see things from your point of view, but I can't seem to get head that far up my ass."

And within a blink of a eye Beatrix snapped, and with her cunning finesse she struck her gun against Ericka's jaw, pistol whipping her and breaking her nose. Did Beatrix regret that decision. Nope. But was she going to feel pain after it? You bet ya.

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Character Portrait: Ericka Wilson Character Portrait: Rook Palmer Character Portrait: Beatrix Phoenix Character Portrait: Damian Stryke
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Beatrix Phoenix


"So the little bitch wants to die? Fine by me."

Was this woman crazy, kill Beatrix Phoenix? Did she find Beatrix replaceable? Beatrix not only saw her as a sadistic lunatic, but a fool. Well, she was not a comedian that was for sure, if she was implied killing Beatrix, she was dead serious. But Beatrix was not going to lie down after she had been slammed against the wall. But she the rush, it was just like being in the arena, actually though it seemed to be, in reality it really was not. Because Beatrix knew she could not kill Ericka, what would Apollo do if she murdered his expert gladiator, sure he probably had lists of expert gladiators, but because she is his expert gladiator tis very moment means she was picked out of hundreds of different candidates. If Beatrix did kill Ericka, Beatrix may be put to death herself.

"Now tell me brat, what should i break first? maybe your legs? no no... they'll come later, how about I crush those vocal cords of yours? Then no one will ever find you until i'm long done grinding your carcass into the ground, or maybe I should take you by those legs of yours and tear you right in half? I'm sure that'll get some nice screams..."

As Ericka was talking Beatrix did not waste the time to conjure a comeback, though that would be rather easy for her, but Beatrix started to kick wildly at her, Ericka clutching Beatrix arm off the ground, lifting her body up high to crash her down knee snapping apart her spine. The pain at that moment excruciating, it chilled her to hear the cracking of her own spine, but the spine cracking was not the only sound heard, no Beatrix had no other reaction to the action than to scream in the agony.

At this moment Beatrix knew nothing but that she was going to indeed die, she wondered after death will there still be darkness the type darkness in her vision that she had always lived with and dwelled in? But her heroes, Damian and Rook, or so she presumed it was their footsteps, because the lounge was right by them, rushed in to prevent the slaughter that once awaited Beatrix.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lelah Piaget Character Portrait: Ericka Wilson Character Portrait: Rook Palmer Character Portrait: The White Knight Character Portrait: Beatrix Phoenix Character Portrait: Damian Stryke Character Portrait: Lucille Anthony Archer
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Damian Stryke





"Look, we are technically a team, but don't think we are friends. Since when this city, this world, crawl itself out of hell. No, I'm still figuring out why I'm still burning, why anyone would deserve a life like this."

The last part came out much more quietly, so quiet that Damian wouldn't have been able to catch it if his hearing hadn't been enhanced. He could, in fact, help that he felt a pang of sympathy for the angry woman by reminding himself that she was a capable adult who could make decisions for herself.

"Teamwork and camaraderie are entirely separate. We are asking that you be professional toward your fellow teammates," he said, "I understand your pain, but if you hate Apollo so much you can take your own advice. He is, as you say, 'a greedy vulgarian'."

As he continued speaking however, he noticed the redhead walked away....only to bump into the Godhand. Ericka Wilson was not one to be trifled with. Outside of her devastating strength she possessed a blood lust that operated outside the bounds of teamwork and sensibility. Though Phoenix was irritating, Wilson stood on an entirely different plane. He feared Wilson, but not nearly as much as he wanted to study her.

"Godhand? I'm so sorry I didn't know it was you. You know I would like to see things from your point of view, but I can't seem to get head that far up my ass."

Phoenix was as dumb as she was stupid.

"Both of you stop!" he yelled, waving his rod and firing a bolt of electricity near the two women, "animosity or not we are here to fight the White Knight not each other."

His third arm popped out and began whirring, ready to laser off either one of the two.

"I will not miss again so think very clearly about whether or not you want to continue your match."





Lucille "Lucy" Archer





"It's good to know who else I'm forced to depend on," she smirked as they reached the person known as "Lelah Piaget."

Her appearance was as unconventional as her fighting style was reported to be. She had tattoos, shaved sides, and piercings littering her face. Quite distinguishable compared to some of the other gladiators she'd known her time. Lucy didn't expect much professionalism or normal wear but she couldn't believe that those piercings wouldn't be pulled out during a fight. Well, assuming that Lelah's opponents could even get that close to her.

"Racer," she answered.

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Character Portrait: Ericka Wilson Character Portrait: Rook Palmer Character Portrait: Beatrix Phoenix Character Portrait: Damian Stryke
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Rook Palmer


"You know what, I'm out."

Rook sighed as Beatrix culminated her tantrum with storming from the room. He wished he could've step back and clarify what he meant. Although he couldn't quite understand what this woman was doing fighting in the coliseum when she seemed so dissatisfied with the deal. Glancing towards the Iron Inquisitor he found himself reassessing the man, seemingly they did not think too differently.

A sound brought him back to where Pheonix had been about to leave the room. He caught a sight that chilled him. Her. Godhand. He wasn't afraid of her skills, although he is very, very aware of what those were. Its simply her nature that unnerves him, he utter willingness to cause pain and death. While Cataclysm was the standard he aspired to, Godhand was the one he aspired to beat, completely. He view her as his anthesis. She was the other side of his coin. Close combat fighters, he despised that fact that he was similar to her in so many ways.

He snapped out of his seat, body tense and ready to step in. Even though she seemed to care little for him, Rook was firmly on Pheonix's side in this conflict. He eyed Wilson's armor encased hands though, knowing that he was hardly in any state to go toe to toe with the brutish fighter. Admittedly even if he had his armor he doubted it would protect him from the sheer force of the woman's fists. It was fortunate that was yet another way he was similar yet different. While she favoured brute force, he tended towards finesse and speed. One hit could undoubtedly pulverise his internal organs, if she didn't hold back merely to cause him pain. She did need to hit him first however.

He was thankful when Damian provided enough encouragement to cause Erika to back off. The other woman's scream of pain had him nearly rushing towards Wilson regardless. Scowling darkly at the woman as she casually sauntered past Rook Palmer swiftly moving next to the injured gladiator.

"Shit." He hissed, her eyes were unfocused and drifting closed with the pain. He had no first aid training, other than a basic layman's knowledge of how to deal with injuries. Something this extreme he was unequipped to deal with. "Hang in there Beatrix, we got you."

He glanced up at Damian "We're going to need a stretcher, or a medic team. I don't think it'll be safe to move her any other way." He said curtly, before turning to try and sooth Beatrix some more. Somewhere there was a niggling thought in the back of his mind that were she not in pain, she would be royally pissed at him for that.

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Character Portrait: Ericka Wilson Character Portrait: Rook Palmer Character Portrait: Beatrix Phoenix Character Portrait: Damian Stryke
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Beatrix Phoenix


Beatrix could not concrete on anything at the moment, she felt her body being penetrated from the spine with electrifying pain. In fact, she was in shock, shallow breaths, cold sweats, vigorous shaking. She was terrified, like her heart would pound out of her chest, she was in complete darkness, as she always was but now she could not even tell if she was alive or dead. She heard voices, but she could not put any into focus, it was so unclear to her.

But why did her lips feel so... wet? And taste so... bitter. That was when it finally clicked- I'm vomiting blood. No, how could one person with a single move damage what Beatrix thought of herself a legend so fast, so quickly. Beatrix knew this would be the last time she ever did something without thinking, because she knew even after she would be supposedly healed that her step-father would surely be vexed by Beatrix's behavior, if she had given Ericka the beat down, then that would be a different story, however Beatrix was the one with a life-threating injury. And Ericka walks off being feared, Beatrix being pathetically defeated.

She was crying, she soon sensed that, though it happened immediately after Ericka snapped her spine. But Beatrix was sure of the tears, she felt the wetness of the drops pouring from her eyes and rolling down her cheeks. She didn't want this, no, if Beatrix was in healthy physical state to which she could at least stand, she would probably do something stupid anyways, but with this experience, she most likely learned her lesson. Beatrix just had hoped she would live to prove it.

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Character Portrait: Rook Palmer Character Portrait: Beatrix Phoenix Character Portrait: Damian Stryke
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Damian Stryke





His blast was enough to deter Wilson from making any further moves, which was good news for now. Although she still shot a threat off at Damian, he wasn't too concerned about all the terrible things she'd likely do to him if he repeated the same feat. Well frankly, he wasn't too concerned about Phoenix either, but that had more to do with the fact that she'd already gotten her comeuppance. Retribution, as it were, for spouting her mouth and acting like the dumb animal that she was.

"Hang in there Beatrix, we got you."

You have her.

"We're going to need a stretcher, or a medic team. I don't think it'll be safe to move her any other way."

She's going to- Oh screw it, the rookie was clearly panicking.

Damian retracted his wand and, instead, tossed a pod in Palmer's direction. Legs sprouted from its bottom, slowing expanding into an automatic stretcher. It shambled toward the unconscious woman, seeming less like a machine and more like a metallic creature. It knelt on the floor, waiting for Palmer to lift the body while Damian radioed the paramedics.

"Yes we have a situation," he started, relaying the details of the fight, "I'm unsure of her current condition but if we don't hurry Apollo will need to find another candidate."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Yes I will come with you if that's what is required."

With that, paramedics rushed into the training room, taking command of Damian's strange stretcher.

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Character Portrait: Lelah Piaget Character Portrait: Rook Palmer Character Portrait: The White Knight Character Portrait: Beatrix Phoenix Character Portrait: Damian Stryke
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The White Knight





"Alrighty, so what is this extremely important lesson you need to teach me? You have my whole attention now so teach me."

"Come, follow me to the sparring room," Kadir said as he walked, leading Lelah to the said room. Inside, Kadir, strapped on boxing gloves while he instructed Lelah to do the same. The gloves themselves were rather heavy and after one got a few swings in their arms would start hurting. However, Kadir was not going to do any punching himself, he had only put the gloves on to perceive thought and idea that he was.

Turning around to Lelah he saw her standing on the sparring mat where matches are held. Kadir walked, well more like pounced over to Lelah. He jumped around keeping a strong but agile stance as he remembered the days as an enslaved gladiator when he was forced to fend against other boys his same age or older. It was a time of brutality for Kadir, and only the strongest survive, Kadir was trained to kill even before death matches were legal. It was a way to separate the weak from the strong, and Kadir proved his might. But looking back, Kadir would say that it was not right for him to murder and act like a dog to his masters for doing so with obedience. However he also would say that he cannot feel regret because regret brings guilt, but Kadir believed at that age he didn't know any better. No one taught him any better. So now Kadir was going to make sure he got his point across.

Kadir finally stopped jumping around and stood still. He lowered his hands and instructed her, "Lelah, punch me in the face." It may have seemed crazy to command that, but he had his reason behind it. Everyone knows before the White Knight there was Cataclysm, a ruthless gladiator that slaughtered opponents as if it was all a game for fame. He failed to see that he was hurting people until he hurt the one he loved the most. Kadir knew that though he only met Lelah the day before, but also that she would not want to ever hurt him, the man who spared her life. Not that Kadir was trying to scare her into never fighting again, but show her what it looks like when done out of brutalities. "Just do it, Lelah."



Beatrix Phoenix


Finally Beatrix blacked out, her consciousness submitted to the pain. All she could remember was blurred yelling, words she could not depict. Until she awoke, but of course it was not like she could see anything, not in reality, not in dreams. She always relied on audio, she could be a good listener if she wanted to. If she cared to.

But speaking of caring, she sensed something, people, breathing, sensed their weight, heard footsteps. It was Rook and Damian. Quite odd to her, she did not understand why they were there. Well, she could understand more why Rook would come, he was the one who approached her in the lounge, but not Damian, not after she had insulted his whole career and living. But yet again she insulted Rook, telling that he puts not enough effort, thus meaning that he will not be more successful than a lowly rookie.

"D-Damian, R-Rook, why are you h-here?" she questioned but not rudely, no she was not even acting like the same person in the lounge. Beatrix had not the voice of a cynical cunt, instead one of a hurt surprised child with a cracking voice after her screaming from her raw moment of the attack. Sure she was sore, but she was not in any wrong state of mind, she had full capability of her mentality, and it would seem like Beatrix's instincts to be ungrateful, quarrelsome, and arrogant, but she couldn't, she didn't have anything against them. Beatrix was many things, but she was not sadistic, she never had pleasure out of just inflicting pain on people. But the reason why she was so horrible to anyone was because first of all she was constantly a grouchy grump due to life's causes, and second because she never could trust anyone, she saw people as a target, shoot them first before they get you. For Beatrix, she always was in the arena, sure it may not be in the Colosseum, but she believed that she could never stop fighting.

Beatrix wanted to adjust herself a bit so she started by moving her legs, except she didn't move her legs. She couldn't feel her legs. Beatrix tried her best to do the slightest amount of movement below the waist, move a foot, wiggle a toe, nothing, nothing at all. Beatrix's face went from a sickly pale to a scared-to-death type of pale. The broken spine did it, it being something, Beatrix at this point did not know yet. But she did know, or least panic that she would spend the rest of her in a wheelchair unless cybernetics could do something, but no her step-father would never let Beatrix use cybernetics, he wanted her to be a legend so many great gladiators use machines for help and because of that he has indoctrinated her to believe that augmentations are for the weak. And Beatrix was not going to end up in a wheelchair that would be more embarrassing than dying, to go down as a cripple. Her whole career could be over because of her stupid mistakes.

"I-I...," she gulped, trying to sallow the truth of the matter. "I can't feel... m-my legs... at all." Beatrix started to breath, exhaling and inhaling faster and faster as her own words echoed in her head. "I can't feel my legs. I can't feel my legs!" Beatrix shook her head, "No, no, no." While being distracted over the fact that she was crippled, she had forgotten Damian and Rook as she spoke to herself, "Why did you have to be so damn stupid... Why, Beatrix? Why?"

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Character Portrait: Rook Palmer Character Portrait: Beatrix Phoenix Character Portrait: Damian Stryke
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As was stereotypical with those waiting in anxiety, Rook was pacing. Crossing the simple medical room again and again. He was aware that he was probably irritating Damian as well. He had to do something to keep his mind for stagnating. In the time after Beatrix was sequestered to the he had begun to feel responsible for her condition. So he had taken to constant movement to take the edge off his nerves. It didn't particularly help, he still felt that his persistence is what pushed the woman to leave in such a mood and run into Godhand.

It was this same guilt that kept him from striking up a conversation with the Iron Inquisitor. Although he was glad for the silent company. Although he was curious about why the man had stayed. He had preached about teamwork as Rook had, but Rook figured that hanging around waiting for someone who had had be antagonistic wouldn't be in his cards. Again it seemed Rook earlier impression had been wrong.

The quiet voice of Beatrix wrenched Rook from his pacing. He turned on his heel as she questioned them. The blind woman lying next to helpless in the bed, and her unsteady tone, was completely different to the angry firebrand that they had met in the lounge. It was rather frightening to see someone so exposed and vulnerable. Even more so for someone like her.

Rook moved to stand a little closer to the bed, although he didn't particularly want to crowd her either.

"Why wouldn't we be here?" Rook said, keeping his tone light. "What kind of people would we be if we just left you there. We're teammates after all."

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lelah Piaget Character Portrait: Ericka Wilson Character Portrait: Rook Palmer Character Portrait: The White Knight Character Portrait: IMIT-8 Character Portrait: Augustus Zephyr Character Portrait: Damian Stryke Character Portrait: Lucille Anthony Archer
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The White Knight



"Y-yeah... Sure... I will keep that in mind."

"Maybe it will make sense to you one day," Kadir responded. "But for now, I'm going to get some ice-cream. Wish you best of luck, well actually I don't believe in luck. Um, but I know you are going to make me proud."

The day of the match arrived Kadir was in an elevator with Lelah, he was going to walk her there to the room before the actually arena, his face was clearly wounded with the attacked he ordered for himself. Kadir had a point, in order to show her the brutalities of fighting in cold blood, he used himself as the target. But there was lie Kadir also had did it to punish himself, he felt like he deserved it, however he was not willing to let Lelah know that ugly truth.

When Kadir and Lelah arrived to the room, Kadir, put a hand on her shoulder, "You're going to do great out there." He had hoped, but it was not only hope, he believed, he trusted Lelah, and knew that he trained her as well as he could, for Kadir would never wish failure for her, because that would result in her death. Kadir has no idea what he would do then if he was responsible for Lelah's death. "See you on flipside, Lelah." Kadir then had to leave and be escorted out to a reserved section in audience with his team the same was for Apollo's team, well, they had nicer seats a VIP box.

Kadir was sitting next to Eight and Lucy, but he didn't say anything, not for a while because he was nervous and it was extremely obvious of that. But he figured if he would say something then maybe he could lighten up his mood, "So... You guys excited to see Lelah win?" He tried his best to speak optimistically, but the truth was that the sooner the actually match started, the sooner he feared for Lelah's life.



Beatrix Phoenix


As Beatrix was panicking she heard Rook say, "Why wouldn't we be here? What kind of people would we be if we just left you there. We're teammates after all." Teammates that was hard for Beatrix to process, especially against a hospitable bed with the potential of being crippled. If she was healthy, in her natural habitat, Beatrix would automatically disagree, but she wasn't. Instead, it seemed when Ericka had broken Beatrix's spine, so did the walls that surrounded her closed mind had been shattered. She turned her head from looking down at her legs, to Rook. "T-teammates?" she questioned the word, as if she had no definition to the word, it seemed unrecognizable to her, but above that confusing, also. Beatrix also did not understand what he meant by we, that word is plural, was he talking about him and Damian, or him and the rest of the team, because Beatrix could not find either answer believable.

"What do you--" And as Beatrix was going to ask him what he meant, she was interrupted with the door opening. First came in the doctor with his tablet in his hands and his googles pressed above his eyes. But then came in none other than Bentley Baldwin, the man's face looked harrowing, the visage of a nightmare. Beatrix always believed her mother married the man for his money, for there was not an ounce of charm in his face. But it was not only his face that gave him the appearance of creature so sinister, it was the way he carried himself. For as he would click his heeled leathery shoes he when walking carried a cane, and it was not used just for walking. He was an immensely tall man, slender also, like a walking skeleton, Beatrix has considered that she could beat him if he was on his own, but Bentley never went without his top of the class fighter bots.

"Gentlemen...," Bentley spoke with an eerie tone, one Beatrix was so familiar with, anyone would be, he had such a distinct voice. "Please, you must excuse us, me and Beatrix need a little chat." From then Damian and Rook was kicked out from the room, Beatrix left to endure her step-father. As soon as the two men left Bentley clicked his tongue signally for one his bots to execute his commands. The robot put two firm grasps onto Beatrix's shoulder, jerking her out of the bed and hoisting her up, lifted off the ground, bounded body to face Bentley.

"Funny you had friends, what did you somehow pay them to accompany you, believing that with their presence you could avoid mine? Or are they making you think they actually care about you? Because if that's the case, I'll sign you with some mental health therapy, and don't worry, I can be the one operating the sessions." Bentley turned away from Beatrix. "But do you know what I find not quite as hilarious, you know, it doesn't quite tickle my funny bone. Maybe the humor's just not my cup of tea or maybe--" And right at that moment Bentley whipped around with the metal ball against his cane rammed against Beatrix's jaw, busting a tooth out, she coughed with blood sinking out. "You're making me look like the clown! I will not be seen as the fool! And whether you like it or not, you represent everything I have invested in. And I will not let you throw it all away!" Bentley would continue to lose himself in striking Beatrix against the face if the scars and sores would not remain afterwards. He knew he should have not struck her to the lip already, would not want to let the public know what he does to her, no Bentley wanted to be seen differently than from the slavers, though he practically was one himself.

"And you know Beatrix another thing that pisses me off. Do you know how unique it is for you, a blind woman, to never bear cybernetics for any injury or disability. But now with your crippled legs, I have no choice but to fix that. Soon enough Lily will take your spot, perhaps she will not prove to be quite the bloody dunce as you are."

Beatrix has been quiet the entire time, fearing anymore pain and torment to come, but with mention Lily, Beatrix had to speak, "B-But that's not the deal," she said with worry. "As long as I fight, and she doesn't have to."

"Oh, that was the plan, but guess what-- plan's changed," Bentley responded. "Her training starts tomorrow, because if you die, I need another gladiator to be cushion so I don't fall into bankruptcy. Speaking of your death, some might find it a miracle that the Godhand didn't kill you, but in reality, she screwed you harder than any other opponent faced. You know why?" Bentley started to walk off, but paused. And before he said anything the doctor wrapped a muzzle around her mouth to muffle the screams to come. "Because of this." And with that the bot holding Beatrix elevated her body so that the broken bones in the spine would align and finally the robot snapped it back in place with Beatrix feeling it all, and as soon as that happened the bot dropped her.

Beatrix screamed madly, crying with the electrifying pain stitched to her spine, and it was at these moments that Beatrix twisted into bitterness of despair.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lelah Piaget Character Portrait: Ericka Wilson Character Portrait: Rook Palmer Character Portrait: The White Knight Character Portrait: IMIT-8 Character Portrait: Beatrix Phoenix Character Portrait: Damian Stryke Character Portrait: Lucille Anthony Archer
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Damian Stryke





The short conversation that transpired nearly tugged the humanity out of Damian, nearly. She revealed to him and Rook that she couldn't feel her legs anymore which reminded him of his own plight but he wouldn't show it. They were still on Apollo's territory which meant that every interaction, whether it was on or off the arena, was a battle. It was a pity that she'd been so reckless. She was already at a disadvantage due to her blindness; her inability to use her legs would only make things worse. He had a feeling that she would refuse any sort of cybernetic armaments due to her own pride, but Apollo wouldn't be so principled.

"Why wouldn't we be here? What kind of people would we be if we just left you there. We're teammates after all."

Ah yes, that was right. They were teammates so Palmer (rookie that he was) felt it necessary to stick around. Damian wanted to open his mouth to say something else, but the arrival of Bently Baldwin meant he needed to quiet. Much as Damian cringed at the sight of the man, Baldwin's sphere of influence outweighed his own so defiance would only get him killed. He decided instead to slip out of the room and go back to his personal garage where he would work for the rest of the day.

Some time later he entered the gym, his limbs refreshed and ready for some training.


Lucille "Lucy" Archer





The training that she performed for the next few hours was nothing compared to what Lelah Piaget went through, or at least that's what she assumed going into the elevator. It was clear that neither woman enjoyed the presence of the other, but they both enjoyed winning. She honestly wasn't sure what Lelah's deal was (presumably "the stars" or something equally stupid) but Lucy knew that she wasn't the most socially adept.

Her agent booked her for three online interviews and a television spot, but she cancelled two of the voice calls and only barely dressed for the live interview. It was meant to hype up the match and "unravel" some of the mystery behind the enigmatic "Lightning Lucy", but with her mixture of curt replies and interviewer's lack of experience dead air filled the stage. At best she attempted to expand on her feelings regarding her opponents but they decided to cut the show short.

Fine by me. It's more time to train.

On the day of the match, she stood silent and emotionless with only her boomerang to keep her company. While the Knight's team stood beside her she didn't feel much in the way of camaraderie so she merely gave a shrug when Kadir attempted conversation.

"I've got five hundred dollars riding on our team since I know we'll win," she smirked.

What she left out was that she also had five hundred on Lelah losing the first match.