Earth, 2300, 26th December, London, Boleyn Ground.
Earth was once a haven for all living creatures to dwell in, until the Destruction happened. Cities, landscapes and civilization were incinerated in a blinding flash, followed by lingering radiation and annihilation. What was once a great beacon of power, London, was ravaged by the bomb, what is left remains in ruins.
Crumbling buildings and a radioactive savannah enclosed what remained of the Boleyn Ground, a pre-war football team's famous stadium. Deep within slaves were kept in what their tormentors called "your resting place", small grimy cages which barely held their occupants. 21 sat in one such cage, he had no name, he never bothered with one, his captors would never recognize him by it. Romero was a small rat-like man with no formalities, he stood before him with a glinting smirk on his face. He tried ever so hard to act more graceful as the others, 21 glanced up, his blond hair swinging around with the movement, something rumbled within 21's stomach, he did not know whether it was hunger, or something else. "This will be your last fight in this god forsaken world, no way could you win this one my dear boy!" Romero attempted the smile but failed.
What would my life be like if I hadn't been a slave for twenty one years? Blood stained the sandy grit of the arena with the same effect as spilt wine on a tan suit. High above the walls surrounding the small circular arena were the stands, where all shades of sadists and scum stood betting on the odds that their favourite fighter would survive to clash with more foes in the next round. Amidst the putrid scum stood a decorative pedestal of unholy evil and sinful greed, whoever was host stood there with his women, slaves and fellow shady characters.
Horns blasted, briefly shaking the ground until something more terrorizing turned the minuscule shaking into a gut wrenching rumble which rather comically unseated a few of the audience. Gears groaned as the ten foot rust tainted gateway ascended, A thunderous roar erupted from the shadows, He recognized the sound. Memories of observing such beast shredding apart two heavily armed men in seconds, somehow he realized that he was close to the end of his life, just a feeling. Colossal as well as deadly fast the Deathclaw was more than a match for Him and his knife, yes that and a grey vile material covering his groin, was all he had on his persona. Pouncing forward with so much speed that He was forced back to the wall of the arena with no where to go, the Deathclaw pulled its right arm back preparing to crush his skull against the already stained wall. Moving fast He ducked as the claw crumbled the wall above him, he swung his eight inch serrated knife into the beasts wrist, blood did not spurt out until the deathclaw ripped it's arm back thus further slashing the arm into pieces. Wounded and dragging itself away from danger, the beast studied him for a moment, slowly stumbling forward to harm him. Unknown to him at the time someone had thrown a helmet to him, said helmet was at the far side of the arena, behind the deathclaw. Still threatening and lethal, the deathclaw rushed forward throwing its right arm on a downward arc towards his skull, he rolled to the right, standing up now, he hacked at the wrist, urgently diving as the beasts left hand clawed the empty air where his head was. Now running to the far end of the arena with a knife, hand and a piece of string like skin. Contemplating a few swirling ideas within his head he chose the most useful plan. Using the string like skin that was torn off with the hand, he tied its hand to his hand effectively making a gauntlet with claws, he dropped to the floor, he picked the weight-less helmet and turned it around in his trembling hands. A new sense of freedom flared hope into his heart, just looking at the helmet he knew he would make it out alive.
Oddly unique was the helmet, on the side was a sunset red chrome finish and the front or face-plate was a mirror. In the mirror was a furious Deathclaw, Helmet found its way to his head in a flash, he turned as the claw came rushing towards his head, claw met metal with a thunderous shriek, he was thrown to the floor, Deathclaw above him to finish the job with its remaining claw. Rolling left as said claw dug itself into the ground where his chest was seconds ago, Blade in his right hand he tore the beasts hamstring. With a unearthly roar the paw raised up and the tan beast reared up onto its back bellowing with a ferocity to shake the ground. He stood sluggishly, moving his head as well as eyes as he observed the dumbfounded crowd, his eyes fell upon the man who denied his right to live. Romero was his name, he cowered upon his pedestal high above the arena. He stopped and turned turned observing the crowd for one last time. "Am I not worthy to be a freeman?"