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And in the red corner, we have.....!

No one.

After Raven's badass intro that'd make even the burliest pro-wrestler shrink their scrotum up into their stomach, the other side of the ring was entirely empty. Murmurs went through the crowd like waves before a heavy storm. What a dissapointment! Was it a forfeit? Had the first match been decided already?

The only ones in the stands who seemed unsurprised were a small group of children seated in the front row. They weren't the only children here, obviously, but they stood out in that they had no obvious adult supervision. This was because the closest thing these children had to a legal guardian was currently supposed to be standing in the "red corner" of the arena.

"He's late.... again." sighed one, adjusting the backwards baseball cap that covered his red hair.

"Well duh. You call him a train, but the only thing he has in common with one is that he's never once been on time for anything." retorted an asian kid next to the first, who was actually the tallest of the group due to being the oldest.

The other children almost started to get into a heated fit over this turn of events, except they were shushed by a pair of twin girls with oddly colored hair at the end of the row. They were often regarded as "the creepy ones", given that they had a knack for talking to eachother without saying a word and finishing eachothers sentences.

"It's okay he just got here."

And on that vague tone, the doors at the top of the bleachers exploded open, nearly flying off their hinges in the process. A cloud of steam and smoke flew forth from them, barelling down the stairs to the stands at a breakneck pace. Because this was the very first fight, not everyone had found their seat yet. This made those people very unfortunate because the oncoming cloud was making it very clear it wasn't about to stop for anything, and one or two of them were knocked clear out of the way onto the other spectators. Among them was a down on his luck Hotdog Vendor. Who's hopes of making a quick buck at this event were dashed as his wares were scattered among the populace. The way this onrushing mass made it's intentions clear, was in fact verbally.

"S'CUSE ME! PARDON ME! COMING THROUGH! OUT OF THE WAY PEOPLE! RIGHT OF WAY HERE! ooh! hot dogs! LOOK OUT! WATCH IT!"

Suddenly the cloud reached the end of the stairs and, by proxy, the edge of the arena below. Rather than skid to a stop, it instead launched itself into the air and tumbled haphazardly before thinning out. As the steam and smoke dispersed it showed the figure that was creating it. A large and heavily muscled body, coverd in a a sleevless black jumpsuit. The skin unnaturally pale, almost pure white, trailing long black hair laced with all manner of wires. From his back protruded two objects that looked like the exaust pipes of a Mac truck, which were only just now stopping their production of thick black smoke. The arms and legs were disproportionately long, each ending with a thick metal cuff around the wrists and ankles, matched by a sort of half-cuff below the elbows and knees. The legs from the knee's down where entirely mechanical. They impacted the ground after the figures hundred foot somersault with a vibration that was felt through the lower stands.

The figure reared up to his full seven feet of height and snapped his attention towards his apparent opponent. Scruffy facial hair lined his chin, and his eyes were covered by large black weilding goggles. He grinned a smile filled with shining copper teeth and introduced himself.

"Brahm Dragos, Human Freight Train. Nothing Personal."

With that he decided to not delay things any longer. Brahm took a moment to crack his knuckles and prepare himself mentally, then started running towards his opponent. He didn't seem to care much about the absurdly large rifle Raven was carrying. His arms pumped rhythmically with his legs. He was taking long purposeful strides, not a slow and careful shuffle like one normally would in a fight. It was also unusual in that he wasn't taking up any apparent attack position. The exaust pipes on his back suddenly belched forth thick plumes of smoke as he shouted.

"Engaging Second Gear!"

It was, as they say, time to get this party started.

Brahm generally hated showing his specialties so early in a fight, but against an opponent with a firearm he generally had little choice. As Raven raised the rifle the hulking construct halted the pumping of his arms. His legs kept going, certainly nothing in the arena was going to put a stop to that, but his arms quickly took up different positions. His left arm reared up as though he were going to throw left-straight, while his right arm was held in in front of him for balance, bent at the elbow with the hand flat at about waist level.

He grinned wider as the barrel to Raven's massive gun dropped slightly, all the better for him. Just a split second before Raven pulled the trigger, a quiet, almost imperceptible metallic "clink" sound was heard. This coincided with an apparent explosion ocurring just behind the cuff on Brahms left wrist. The impressive blast propelled Brahm's left fist, and subsiquently Brahm himself, forward. This was the beginning of a powerful steam-jet that would propel him well past the epicenter of the explosion with phenominal speed.

As for the explosion itself? Brahm's body was specially constructed to resist heat. A neccessity when your designed to have piping hot steam running through you and over your skin. The impact was a little jarring that much was certain, but Brahm was made of sterner stuff and thankfully already had quite a bit of momentum built up to soften the blow. In fact, the shockwave from the Mazer blast actually propelled his half a ton weight even faster. Causing him to cover the fifteen feet between him and Raven with a rediculous quickness.

Once he reached Raven, his propelling fist would take a sudden downard turn, aimed towards the giant rifle with the intent of breaking it asunder. The rest of brahm would land because of this change in direction, but since half a ton of weight doesn't exactly slow down easily he would aim to simply shoulder tackle into his opponent with all the built up momentum he retained.

Brahm held no short amount of surprise at suddenly hitting an invisible wall between him and his opponent. He figured it had to have been set up ahead of time, as throwing up something that powerful in the split second it took for him to rocket towards Raven was patently rediculous. The ensuing knock backwards into the air was just icing on the cake afterwards. This was a serious problem, as being unable to touch his opponent meant he was basically going to be powerless. Still, it wasn't in his nature to give up so easily.

Through the dispersing steam he saw the barrel of the gun point his way again. Brahm had no idea what kind of energy that thing worked off of, but until he figured that shield out he could only hope it had limited ammunition. The more immediate concern, however, was that he could tell a single hit from the weapon would mean instant death for him.

A single blast in 2nd gear right now could take Brahm halfway across the arena's width, so he still had enough built up for a few more short bursts. He made a wild guess as to how far the shield might stretch, and fired himself in that direction to avoid the MasR blasts. The steam blast shot him well past Raven in a straight line, meaning his opponent was going to have to shift position to fire again. This was a good thing, as his engine still needed a couple seconds to get enough RPM's for hitting 3rd gear.

"Says the guy who was perfectly happy to shoot at me a second ago..." Brahm thought to himself wth some annoyance as he landed and skidded several yards along the ground. A light trail of smoke, steam, and dusty sand was left in his wake. He was skeptical of Raven's sudden change of heart, but once the light cloud cleared out he was actually surprised to find himself not staring down the barrel of the MasR rifle again. Still, dropping a gun was a far cry different from no longer using it.

His cynicism diminshed however, when he looked at Raven's eyes. They were eyes made with bloodlust. Brahm was no stranger to looks of men who knew nothing else but battle. They lived for the fight, and irrational decisions were par for the course as far as they were concerned. He was still wary, but Brahm figured he'd go with the assumption that Raven meant what he said for now.

Meanwhile, Brahms observation and Raven's preperation gave him the few secondsd he needed. A sudden change in the vibration of his engine made Brahm aware he was now at enough RPM's to make another gear switch. By the looks of his opponent, it was going to be neccessary. He just hoped he wouldn't have to go any further, as he'd hate to endanger the audience. The smokestacks on his back hiccuped and belched a thick puff of black smoke again. His internal boiler flared up and he felt the pressure chambers in his body fill in a massive surge. His response to Raven was pretty simple, light dazzling off his copper teeth as he spoke.

"Now engaging, Third Gear!"

They were only a few meters apart, so Brahm didn't have to get a running start this time. He took a couple steps forward, his movements roughly twice as fast as they were before. While still some distance away, Brahm suddenly jumped into the air an positioned himself for a double drop-kick. His legs drawn in, while his arms were unusually crossed in front of his chest. The cuffs on his ankles exploded with another steam jet, this one much more powerful than what was propelling him earlier. He straightened out and rocketed forward with tremendous force and speed, straight towards the center of Raven's form.

As soon as Raven saw the jump into the air, he knew it was time to move the hell away or be crushed. Even with his strength, which was a thousand times that of any human, he couldn't stop that kind of attack. He'd definately be stunned, and might break a hand if he tried. The momentum from the charge, jump, and fall was too much for Raven to stop with even all his strength behind it.

Fifteen quick steps back kept the seven-foot-five warrior out of the kick's range, but kept him in range with Brahm's landing spot. Raven was going to make sure to greet Brahm's fall with his foot.

In two linked together motions so fluid and fast it was nearly impossible to catch, Raven pivoted on his back heel, right leg bent and kept at waist length. The spin gave his kick momentum, thus, power. And powerful it was. Aimed at the face, the kick could crush the skull of a human AND rip the human's head off at the same time.

If the kick connected, then Raven would follow it up with five knuckles to the throat, followed by a spinning backhand (which is a smack with the back of the fist) to the temple. The punch would be with the left hand, and the spinning backhand with the right, taking a grand total of two seconds to complete.

Heart spat disgustedly. "I wonder if that ******** freight train has NOS. . ." He said to himself, rethinking his bet if it did. From Heart's angle it looked as if Raven was out of his mind, or a lot stronger than he looked, taking on a beast like that head on.

The massive blast washed over Brahm like a tidal wave hitting tokyo. His propulsion caused him to stay in place in the air for just a split second. Enough time for his mind to register what was going on and that he really couldn't do a damn thing about it. The jets from his feet cut off, and his entire body went slack as the shockwave blasted him across the arena. He flew through air, body twisting about like a ragdoll before hitting the ground. He didn't stop there either. Bouncing off the sandy ground like a stone skipping off water, he hit a grand total of three times before somersaulting straight into the wall of the arena.

The impact echoed around the arena several times. Brahm's body was slammed into the wall hard enough to make an impact crater and actually set his body two or three inches into the wall. He was upside down, his body contorted sickeningly as though every joint in his body had broken from the blast. It seemed this was the end of the short lived battle...

Until Brahm opened his eyes.

"Ow."

He spat a small cloud of blood as he spoke. Blood soaked metallic teeth shown through a strained grimace as all of Brahms muscles flexed. The stone surrounding his body creaked and groaned before finally breaking away as he broke free. His feet were released first, causing him to sort of peel himself away from the wall from the top down. His legs apparently straightened themselves and popped the joints back into place with nauseating popping sounds. He landed on his feet and slumped a bit as the rest of his body started to follow suit.

"Funny..." he grumbled as he pulled himself together. Nearly every aspect of his body was built to make him incredibly durable and resistant to damage like this, but that attack was easily enough to put some serious hurt on him. He spat a crimson laced dollop of phlem onto the floor and wiped the blood from his lips. His mood had obviously soured. "Thought you wanted to fight. Not mess around with stupid Jedi mind powers."