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A slick grin on his lips, foot after foot. In truth, our silvery hero had hoped he would arrive second. A day late already, he didn't need to chance it though. But to be the bad boy, runnin' in at the last second with a big opener. Was that so much to ask for? He didn't think so, at least.

A million thoughts ran through his head, each moving a mile a minute. Had he trained enough for this? Would he be knocked out in the prelims? He wanted to face off in the final round, teeth gritting, against his prime rival. Just like on TV. But in truth, he didn't really care if he won or lost. The clash of the blades was all he was after. That rush of exhilaration as a bullet streaks by your head. That burst of power when your at your ropes end. Just like in the old days.

He had dressed for the occasion, he was prepared with something of a strategy. His silvery hair glinted in the sunlight, only matched by the reflection off his glasses. There was something more to this hero, something which gave him hope. At least, their better be, or the outcome of this match would be rigged for sure.

In truth, he hadn't thought too much about the actual battle in itself. His brothers-in-arms would've prepared ten pages of strategy, every out examined, every challenger researched to its full extent. He hadn't so much as passed over this fight. But don't get me wrong, I'm not saying he didn't care.

His red leather coat, zipperrs and bells hanging off really proved how confident this warrior could be. It had been ages since he'd bought new clothing. This was a nice change. He had even sharpened up every tool he brought with him. The large coffin slung over his back had been cleaned and polished until the wood reflected like a mirror too.

A tug at his tight gloves, a pull on his coat, a click of his heels. He was ready for a brawl. "Hmph."

Eyes open, mouth dry. He hadn't had a drop of water in four days now, his legs hurt, and his arms hurt even more. He had been siiting in the same position for all that time, just waiting for his opponent to show up.

"I do believe that I have given my adversary ample time to show up, but I fear I can wait no longer." He sighed once more, totally detesting the next words from his mouth. "I belive I've won by default, due to the imprudence of my enemy." He stood up, the bones in his legs cracking like walnuts. Two steps towards the coffin containing his tools. Throwing them over his shoulder, he stood once more. "I suppose I must wait for Clash to appear then."

A grin on his crimson lips, a laugh on his tongue. A seemingly disembodied voice echoed through the arena. "Hachah! Finally! I never want to go through that sort of unbearable stress ever again." He was lying through his teeth, which seemed improbable as they were preoccupied with a cigarette at the time.

"Fantastic. I've been compaining about this fight all week, and I was just about ready to give up on it..." However, he was gunning for a fight. "If you're ready then."

The voice materialized with a body, as a silvery haired man walked through the doors, a huge smile on his wicked mug. His eyes flashed with a rainbow of colours, rivaling that of a rave club decor. On his back slung a huge coffin, a large key symbol engraved into the wood.

He was tall, clearly, but he was padded. A red leather coat kept him warm, while inforced pants hugged his legs. They were armored on the insides, they were strong. He held a rope in one hand, and the strap of his coffin in the other. Two leatherskin bags roped off, tied to his waist. The grin on his lips stayed as a constant item in his toolbox.

"Let's get to it then, doll. This fight is way overdue."

"Easy baby." He tossed the coffin on his back up, swinging it on his shoulders, shifting it to his front. Setting it down, and huddling behind it, as the fire gripped around him. "If this was made of wood, we'd have a problem here." He knocked back a chuckle, taking a few steps forward, pushing the coffin round to his back once more. "Well then, sugar. What's now?"

The livacious grin on his lips did not fade, even with the scorch marks that dotted the earth. He didn't seem fazed, or even slightly worried. He had everything he needed at his side. "Okay, let's have it."

A young man can be noticed sitting in the stands, behind a computer. His shirt can clearly be read with its huge, bold, red lettering. "K3RRI FTW" covers the front of his t-shirt. He holds his hand up in front of him, seemingly bored. He begins to shift water from his glass out onto his body and then moves it randomly over his body.

A childish smile overcomes him. Obviously, he is easily entertained.

However, just as quick as he had entertained himself, he was bored and wanted something new to do.

He then observes Kerri fighting. He yells out from the stands, "Do it for your momma!!" A huge smile comes over his face as he lifts his hand up cheering, rooting for Kerri.

He shifts his eyes from side-to-side and looks down towards the floor, under his chair. He pulls up a sign that reads: "GO KERRI!" and in a much smaller, harder to read text reads, "Will work for Pumpkin pie."

He continues to smile while holding the sign.

Kerri's eye twitched as she watched Gath put an end to her attack. The flames that rushed through the air at her, didn't worry her though. As soon as the green flame came close it split in two and went past Kerri. She glared at Gath, having never encountered an enemy like him, she didn't know which path of attack to take next. Finally clapping her hands together she wrapped her fingers together and cracked her knuckles loudly. Kerri's sweet voice returned to her. "Well I am at a loss mister..."

Holding her arms against her, she tilted her head. If the direct approach wasn't working she would try an indirect approach. Speaking her demonic language again the air in the arena grew warmer and a hundred feet above them sparks of green filled the sky. The sparks violently erupted and a rain of constant fire hailed down into the arena. The tiny specks of fire came down faster and faster. Kerri's eyes grew a pale green and she concentrated deeply on the words of her chanting, keeping the storm of fire going, and though the fire was searing the sand below, above Kerri, the fire veered suddenly away from her and leaving her untouched. Kerri glanced toward Gath, to see if her attack was a success....

Kerri ceased her chanting and looked foward at the fighter once known as Gath. Her mouth lay open and her eyes wide. To say she was shocked was like calling a tornado a gust of wind. Stammering incoherently, she took a few steps back and tripped falling on her rear. "What.... how... what?"

Something in Kerri rose up. Having felt it only a few times before, she recognized it vagualy. Fear. She felt fear. Not fear of losing the match, not fear of looking like a fool. Fear for her life. This feeling ran through her and as the rain of fire died away, her mouth closed in on a single word. "Mommy..."

A single tear ran down Kerri's face, and it looked like she may feint, but with what seemed like great effort, she began to rise. For a moment she stood still looking at the beast. Then, with a gulp, she raised her arms in front of her again and let two more words slip out. "...protect me."

Through all the fear, Kerri's resolve remained firm. Though she may lose, she would finish the fight.