"THE RAGING SKULL HAS NEVER BEFORE BEEN SEEN IN COMBAT, AND TODAY HE STANDS BEFORE US AS OUR NEWEST COMPETITOR, PROMISING TO BECOME A FACE OF THESE GLADIATORIAL BATTLES AND TO CHANGE THE VERY FACE OF OUR GAMES! The poor bastard doesn't know what he's gotten himself into, hehe. Following this freak-show is our main-even, man versus troll! Be ready ladies and gentlemen."
Shinbatsu stood in the center of the arena. Equipment and makeup had made him bald, and red and black paintings covered his face and topless body. He felt very conscious of his surroundings, of the fact that he was probably the oldest person to ever participate in anything like this, of the fact that there were a few thousand people watching him, cheering frantically, waiting for him to have his limbs torn off. He looked up toward a blackened glass box, where he assumed the hosts of these battles were. The wheels in his head were turning, and he was thinking hard. How would he get up there?
As he thought, doors opened, and two large brutes walked into the arena, all nearing Shinbatsu. The Chuunin did not really budge. His eyes were on the black box for as long as he could afford to keep them there, and when he turned them it was only to dodge a mace, deliver a decapitating kick to his first opponent, spin on his heel to turn into a sweeping trip of his second opponent, and to grab the mace from the first and plant it through the second's torso. After the demonstration all was silent, but Shinbatsu was back on his feet, fully composed, eyes leering into the black box. If he had some kind of special Doujutsu, things might be easier.
The announcer's tone had changed. The people were beginning to boo the 'Raging Skull'. Shinbatsu looked upon them, realizing that all the people here were willingly participating in this illegal activity. Five gladiators came out, and they dropped like flies; Shinbatsu was so fast about it nobody seemed to catch on to what had just happened. There were boos, loud boos; everybody was angry at the Raging Skull. Shinbatsu looked around, with a ridiculous look on his face. "What?", he beckoned them. "What? What's the matter? ARE YOU NOT AMUSED?"
It was difficult to speak over everybody, because the boos got louder. The people got angrier. Some were beginning to stand up, throw things down at the gladiator. He smiled. He saw the troll come out, with a large club. That was his chance; he dashed right at it, planted his hand through its chest and pulled its heart out of its back. When he retracted his arm, it was to snatch the club, swirl it at the troll's head to knock it out of his way, and to toss the thing in one single, angry motion at the black box. It collided with his target, the glass shattered, and the whole cubicle came collapsing to the center of the gladiatorial arena. Whoever was inside had certainly just met their end. Shinbatsu's eyes circled the people in the crowd. Mostly to himself, he whispered: "Let this be a message..."
MFT
Shinbatsu stood in the center of the arena. Equipment and makeup had made him bald, and red and black paintings covered his face and topless body. He felt very conscious of his surroundings, of the fact that he was probably the oldest person to ever participate in anything like this, of the fact that there were a few thousand people watching him, cheering frantically, waiting for him to have his limbs torn off. He looked up toward a blackened glass box, where he assumed the hosts of these battles were. The wheels in his head were turning, and he was thinking hard. How would he get up there?
As he thought, doors opened, and two large brutes walked into the arena, all nearing Shinbatsu. The Chuunin did not really budge. His eyes were on the black box for as long as he could afford to keep them there, and when he turned them it was only to dodge a mace, deliver a decapitating kick to his first opponent, spin on his heel to turn into a sweeping trip of his second opponent, and to grab the mace from the first and plant it through the second's torso. After the demonstration all was silent, but Shinbatsu was back on his feet, fully composed, eyes leering into the black box. If he had some kind of special Doujutsu, things might be easier.
The announcer's tone had changed. The people were beginning to boo the 'Raging Skull'. Shinbatsu looked upon them, realizing that all the people here were willingly participating in this illegal activity. Five gladiators came out, and they dropped like flies; Shinbatsu was so fast about it nobody seemed to catch on to what had just happened. There were boos, loud boos; everybody was angry at the Raging Skull. Shinbatsu looked around, with a ridiculous look on his face. "What?", he beckoned them. "What? What's the matter? ARE YOU NOT AMUSED?"
It was difficult to speak over everybody, because the boos got louder. The people got angrier. Some were beginning to stand up, throw things down at the gladiator. He smiled. He saw the troll come out, with a large club. That was his chance; he dashed right at it, planted his hand through its chest and pulled its heart out of its back. When he retracted his arm, it was to snatch the club, swirl it at the troll's head to knock it out of his way, and to toss the thing in one single, angry motion at the black box. It collided with his target, the glass shattered, and the whole cubicle came collapsing to the center of the gladiatorial arena. Whoever was inside had certainly just met their end. Shinbatsu's eyes circled the people in the crowd. Mostly to himself, he whispered: "Let this be a message..."
MFT