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Sascha was equal parts thrilled to be at the Coliseum and pissed that he hadn't come there sooner. It was like the Four Fronds city planner had designed it with him in mind. Sascha could have summoned a tear at the beauty of it all, but he was way too busy screaming at the redblood in the ring to clobber their opponent.

"KNOCK HIS HORNS OFF!" He yelled, punctuating with a punch to the air in demonstration. He'd long since forgotten what seat his ticket was for. Sascha had spent the entirety of the match pinned to the edge of the balcony. His premortem nonsexual liquid containment unit list was now topped with "participate in a coliseum match," followed closely by "win a coliseum match," and "achieve record-breaking popularity rankings in coliseum matches." Fourth place was "write and star in own stage play."

Practically glittering with second-hand adrenaline and realized dreams, Sascha continued whooping and crowing for his sportstroll of choice.

Sascha was having the time of his life. Disguise or not, he probably wouldn't have noticed Forera at all in his fervor if she just weren't so. damn. loud. Sascha's head reflexively snapped in the direction of the screaming. He felt the rage before he knew what was causing it.

Everyone was kicking up a fuss, but only one of them was tiny with asymmetric crescent horns. Unthinkingly, Sascha shoved his way into the aisle and down the stairs. He roughly grabbed Forera's shoulder to get her attention among all the commotion. After all this time, the hell was Sascha going to let her ignore him.

"YOU!" Sascha bellowed before realizing... he hadn't actually thought beyond this point. All her really wanted to do was pick Forera up and shake her, but that wasn't entirely feasible. At least, it wasn't without getting kicked out of the coliseum.

HP: 14/20
Telekinesis: 0/1 Offensive Style B: Attack does double damage, and detracts 1 health from opponent every remaining turn.

Sascha hadn't gone in expecting anything. Somehow he felt he should have still seen that one coming.

Yellow filled Sascha's vision as blood practically exploded from his face. He'd seen Forera turn, felt her shoulder under his hand, and then the cold force of a hammer clocking him in the jaw. He stumbled across the stairs of the aisle while Forera made her escape. His cries of pain were muffled by his gloves cradling his face and the sheer amount of blood pouring from his mouth and nose. Removing his hands resulted in a tangible splashing against the concrete. Sascha looked down to his palms only to see a handful of pointed teeth protruding like icebergs from the puddle of blood he'd managed to collect. Sascha realized he didn't know if the numb sensation from his mouth was from the shock or if there simply wasn't anything in his mouth left to be in pain.

It had been clearly established by this point that Sascha's reaction to indignity was not one of cool, calculated planning. The crowd split down the aisle to dodge Sascha as he very nearly flew up the stairs and out into the lobby. Yellow speckles dotted the slick tiles, further inciting Sascha to burst through the Coliseum's exterior doors.

Sascha wheeled down the street in time to catch sight of Forera's retreating form. She may have had a head start, (as well as a fist made out of ******** STEEL,) but Sascha had no reason to be deterred. This wasn't the bullshit kiddy stuff of sweeps past. It was time to pull out "the big guns."

Red sparks crackled from Sascha's body, streaking towards Forera much faster than either troll could run. The contact resulted in a surprisingly mild tingling sensation... followed by a sudden lurch. Sascha stood his ground, braced for impact as he all but wrenched Forera back towards him and his waiting right hook. HE COULD PUNCH TOO, b***h.

HP: 11/20
Telekinesis: 0/1 Offensive Style B: Attack does double damage, and detracts 1 health from opponent every remaining turn.

"The hell is your ******** PROBLEM!?" Sascha shouted through a mouth that contained more blood than teeth. The second Sascha had gotten Forera's attention, she'd decked him, bolted, and was now screeching at him. He'd only been anticipating one of those things.

And then she kicked him, which, by this point, Sascha should have also expected. He yowled and stumbled. Both trolls were now struggling to get off the ground. Sascha snarled as he made eye contact with Forera.

Sascha spat at Forera's feet for emphasis. He paused as he found himself close enough to take note of what Forera was wearing. "...Or are you."

It wasn't a question. The fire had fried Sascha's body, not his brain. The teal symbol, teal outfit, teal hair, and a dozen shiny piercings had made the Forera of sweeps past damn hard to forget. Hemoanonymity was one thing, but faking your blood color, and pretending to be a highblood at that. That was a culling offense--if she hadn't done something worse to make THIS seem like a good idea.

The pieces were falling into place. Understanding why Forera was jumpy enough to suckerpunch him didn't make Sascha anymore sympathetic. It did, however, take the edge off the pain in his mouth. At least, enough for him to smirk.

Sascha pushed himself back onto his feet. He wobbled on his weak knee, but paid the injury no mind. It was nothing compared to what Forera was in for.

The red haze of psionic energy returned. It gripped nothing, but was enough to give weight to the immediate atmosphere, like an oncoming storm. Like a threat. Sascha stared down at Forera, prepared to throw her again at the slighted provocation.

"What do you get up to when you're not running your mouth at carnival games? Honest question."

HP: -1/20

Sascha should have learned by now that Forera's fight instinct far surpassed her impulse for flight. He'd been standing too close. His grip had been too weak. Sascha's jaw shot skyward and he thought for sure he felt his horns connect with his shoulder blades.

The pressure on Forera popped like a balloon. Sascha appeared to be short circuiting if the random flashing and sudden diffuse of sparks around his skull were any indication. He dropped his head back down into his glove, looking as though he were trying to hold his jawbone to his face. What little concentration he could salvage from the head injury he used to hold himself upright on his feet. Well, that and attempt to stab Forera to death with his eyes.

"If thith how 'ou g'eet ole acquai'nces I theel 'EAL ba' 'or your thriends. Or accomplithez 'r whate're 'ou call 'em." Sascha probably had a time limit until his jaw swelled itself stiff. He hadn't bit his own tongue off, however, so he was taking what advantage he could of the situation. "'OU're the 'ne who made i' phythical, dumbath. No' a smart move fo' a criminal."

Sascha felt his vision start to swim. The renowned first-aid care of the coliseum staff only did him any good if he was actually on the premise. He didn't want to risk passing out for the sun to find halfway back to the gates. Retreat was as necessary as it was unbearably frustrating.

Sascha jabbed a thumb over his shoulder in the direction the two of them had come. The motion was enough to make him wobble on his feet. "Don' care 'bou' 'ou bu' I'M gon' go ge' gov'men' thponthored injury treadmen' like a contribudin' member o' society." Even without eyebrows, the look of pure disdain across Sascha's battered face rang loud and clear. He disguised his knees buckling as a pivot to turn and walk away. "Go enjoy nod ge'in' the droneth called on 'ou for one more nigh'. I thee 'ou again, it's gon' be between 'ou an' them."

Despite suffering what was technically a defeat, among other things, Sascha felt relatively smug as he left the scene. Wounds healed. Treasonous activity and being a general public nuisance, not so much. They were words Sascha kept repeating to himself as he set forth to walk off his stupid, embarrassing injury.

He hadn't even made it around the corner when a light pressure bounced off the back of his head. While his skull wasn't that tender, it was enough to startle Sascha into spit-taking with his own blood. He whipped around to see Forera run off into the distance. Further confused, Sascha looked around, then down at the ground to see what object had used his horns as a pair of goalposts.

Sascha picked up the roll of gauze. Despite being the single most familiar item known to the troll, examining it didn't resolve any of Sascha's curiosity. He looked over his shoulder in the direction Forera had booked it. She was long gone. Sascha sighed a deep breath that spoke to the long list of events that lead up to that moment. He pocketed the gauze and continued his walk, somehow feeling strangely less smug than before.