Authors Note: Thanks go out to screaming phoenix, Mr. Wizard, RSfan, OceanicLegend, Donteatacowman, Mengsk, Muzzlehatch, Comet Moon, Some1outthere, CajunBear73, Stubbs101, captainkodak1, and spedclass for reviewing. Also a big thank you goes out to everyone else who is reading. All of you are the reason I write.

Disclaimer: I don't own Kim Possible.

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Home.

He was now back in Rome. So why didn't it feel much like a homecoming? Perhaps it was because his hands were bound in front of him. Perhaps because the past few weeks he had been treated like a dog, or worse. Perhaps it was because he was now a slave. All in all it did not feel very much like he was home.

Ronicus continued to walk with the rest of the caravan. There were dozens of fellow slaves marching along beside him, along with a number of caged exotic animals from all around the world. Where his destination was, he couldn't say. His life was no longer in his control, so it was not up to him to where he was going. One thing was for certain though; it was not the same place Kimila was. He missed her already. It seems that ever since he had left Judea his life had gone from bad to worse. He had once been wealthy, only to be reduced to a poor man. He had once been a mighty legionnaire, only to be reduced to a slave. He had once had friends, only to become friendless. Life was truly not treating him well.

Only a few days before, he had been bought by a wealthy Roman citizen named Spurius. What or who he was, Ronicus could not say. He looked very prestigious by the way he dressed and spoke. Clearly he was a patrician. What exactly the mans intentions were with the many slaves that he had bought, Ronicus did not know. Surely he must have a gigantic plantation if he were to need this many slaves to work on it.

He continued to march along, all the while looking suspiciously at the guards surrounding the caravan. He then noticed a young dark skinned boy that had sidled up beside him.

"So, how did they get you?" The boy asked.

"They got me in Britannia." Ronicus answered. "I was once a legionnaire. I sort of drew my sword at a centurion and threatened him."

"Wow. So you're a traitor?"

"I'm not a traitor. I was just protecting someone I cared about."

"Oh. My name's Wadi by the way."

"Wadi… nice to meet you. I'm Ronicus. Where are you from?"

"Numidia originally. But I went to Sicilia to work on one of the plantations as a free man. Then there was a slave revolt, and the Romans were convinced that I was part of it."

"Ouch man. That's rough."

"Yeah, but what can you do about it."

"Nothing I guess. We're all given our lots in life, and we just have to live them out the best we can."

"Wow. You're pretty wise Ronicus."

Ronicus began to laugh, which earned him a confused look from Wadi.

"What's so funny?" The boy asked.

"Oh nothing. That's just the first time anyone has ever referred to me as wise. I'm not exactly known for being the sharpest sword in the sheath."

The last comment made Wadi laugh a bit as well.

"I'm sure that's not true. But if anything, you are funny at least."

"Yeah well, laughter is what gets you through the tough times in life. Sort of like what we're going through right now."

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

"So do you know where we're headed to Wadi?" Ronicus asked.

"Yeah. We're headed for Capua."

"Well, at least it's not that far I suppose. Probably only two days march from Rome."

"That's good. I can't take anymore of this walking. How do you stand it?"

Ronicus thought back to his training as a legionnaire. All of the marching he had done every day he once thought was pointless was beginning to pay off. He was in excellent shape, and his body was used to the long marches. It had meaning after all, to build endurance. Ronicus silently took back all of the insults he had called centurion Barkinian in his mind.

"Well Wadi, being in the legions helps you with this kind of stuff." He told the boy. "We used to march five miles a day back in training. So I guess I'm used to the long walks."

"Oh."

"By the way, who is this guy that bought us? What does he intend to do with so many slaves?"

Wadi looked at Ronicus with a sorrowful expression in his eyes.

"You really don't know, do you?"

"Know what?"

"That we're all going to die."

"Die!?" Ronicus shouted. "Why would he buy us if he's just going to kill us?"

"He's not going to be the one to kill us. We're going to kill each other."

Finally it made sense to Ronicus. During his time in Rome, he had heard stories of the gladiatorial events in the colosseums. They had been truly the most brutal and barbaric sports he had ever heard of. He had never seen a show in person, nor did he want to. But now it appeared he would not have a choice. He could be becoming one of the warriors who would fight often to the death in front of thousands of people.

So this was his fate. This was how he was going to die, in the sandy pits of the colosseum, against another desperate man like himself. It did not sound like the most appealing of options to him. But on the other hand, he had no choice. He could try to make a run for it, but he would not get very far before he was brought down by one of the guards, and probably killed on the spot for trying to escape.

A sudden thought crossed his mind. There were women among the caravan of prisoners.

"Wadi, are the women going to fight too?"

"Yes."

"Well, this tanks." Ronicus said to himself.

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Days passed by since Ronicus and Bonica had been sold. Kimila was feeling very lonely. At least on the long march from Britannia back to Italia she had had someone to talk to. Now she was all alone. Worse still, she was in very close quarters with someone she truly despised, Sheko. The traitorous woman sent hateful glares every once in a while in her direction, but the two never made conversation with each other. There was nothing for them to say after all. Even when they had been in the same tribe they had hated each other. And now that Sheko was one of the people who had helped kill her parents, Kimila despised her with a passion.

Suddenly a guard entered the room and looked around. Spotting the girl with red hair, he went over to her and urged her to stand up.

"You." He said pointing at Kimila. "You've been bought. Get moving. You too." He said as he pointed at Sheko.

"You mean, by the same person?" Kimila asked him.

"Yes, by Flavius Quentin." He answered.

"Great."

The guard urged them out of their cells and into the daylight. There Kimila saw the man who had just bought them. He was a tall and handsome man, around thirty years old. But despite this, Kimila did not find him the least bit attractive. No, he was her master now, and she could not have any kind of feelings for him other than contempt. The man walked forward and inspected his newly acquired slaves before he spoke to them.

"You two are my new house slaves." He told them plainly. "Any attempts to escape will be met with the harshest punishment possible. Do I make myself clear?"

Neither Kimila or Sheko answered him, and instead sent hateful glares burning into his eyes. This did not unnerve the man however, or even anger him. It only made him smile.

"I'll take that as a yes." He said. "From now on you will refer to me as master, and nothing else. Failure to do so will result in yet more punishment."

Kimila and Sheko were then forced forward by a pair of Flavius' personal guards. He would be taking them back to Rome with him, where they would be serving him for the rest of their lives. Kimila wanted to cry, but just couldn't bring herself to do it for two reasons. The first was that she refused to let Sheko see any sign of weakness from her. She would deny her hated enemy anything she could to use as a weapon.

The second was, she had already cried past her limit ever since Ronicus had been taken from her.

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So this was the colosseum. Ronicus was honestly impressed.

The building was massive, able to seat around twenty thousand spectators total. Rumor was that there were plans to build an even greater colosseum in Rome sometime in the future. Too bad Ronicus would never be able to see it. His fate was sealed as far as he was concerned. Normally he was quite the positive individual, always able to look at things with the glass half full. But it was no longer the case. With all of the misfortune that had fallen upon him in the past weeks, he could no longer look at things in a positive light. Rather, he was now bitter towards life.

Ronicus stood in the slaves chambers of the colossuem where the gladiators prepared for combat. All around him there were weapons, shields, and armor on racks ready to by donned by the slave-warriors. He walked among the racks, looking for something that would be suitable for him.

The first thing that caught his eye was an old battered piece of leather armor to be worn on the torso. Sure, it wasn't the scale-mail of the legionnaires, but it would just have to do. Besides, it looked better than the other stuff that was around. The chain-mail armor had several holes in it, which did not appeal to Ronicus.

Then he caught something which almost took his breath away. A gladius. It was the only one on all of the racks, so he quickly picked it up. It was the only weapon he had experience with after all, so it was essential that he use it in order to have the best chance of survival. Finally he saw an old circular wooden shield. Sure, it wasn't the best shield he had ever seen, nor was it like the one he had used back in his time in the legions. But it was there for him, and that was all that mattered.

He swung the sword a few times in the air to test its balance and was pleased with the results. This would be his weapon, in which he took lives and protected his own. It reminded him of his own sword he used to own back when he was a legionnaire. How he missed those days of freedom. They had been directly responsible for him meeting Kimila. He wouldn't change a thing if he could go back in time when it came to his time spent in the military. He would go through all of the pain and even getting captured again, just so he could be with her.

He thought back to Felix as well. He wondered how he was doing, or even if he was still alive. After all, his legion had been the victim of decimation. Ronicus hoped with all of his might that his friend was not dead. Then there was his new friend Wadi. Luckily for him, the boy had been deemed too young to fight by the slave owner. He was now charged with serving food and drinks to the owner and his entourage with they watched the gladiatorial games.

As he was thinking about these things, one of the guards entered the room to announce the next match.

"Ronicus!" He called out.

Ronicus stepped forward to reveal himself.

"You will be facing Vecorix. Prepare yourself to die the best way you can, you will be entering the arena in two minutes."

Ronicus had faced death in the face several times before, but never like this. Before it was war, where anything could happen. A man could die honorably on the battlefield with his comrades, knowing that he was fighting for something greater than himself. But this was not that. This was pointless, bloody entertainment for the masses. For the first time since he had landed on Britannia, Ronicus was afraid. He called out to his God for aid, once more from The Book of Psalms.

"Hearken, O LORD to my prayer and attend to the sound of my pleading. In the day of my distress I call upon you, for you will answer me."

Two minutes seemed to pass by painfully slow as Ronicus waited to be called out to the center of the colosseum. But eventually the time had come.

"Ronicus and Vecorix, you're up."

The two warriors made their way to the entrance and stepped out onto the sands of the interior of the colosseum. The hot scorching sun hit him and he shielded his eyes from the light. Looking around the arena, he saw that thousands of people were in attendance to see him and his opponent battle. Not only him, he mused, but everyone who had fought before him, and those who would after him. He could already see blood stains on the sand of the arena floor from those who had died before him. His felt a wave a nausea hit him as he realized that this would perhaps be his last day on earth.

His opponent on the other hand looked very calm. He was also armed with a sword and round shield. Like Ronicus he had blonde hair, but the Gallic man's hair was shoulder length and he also sported a beard.

"Ladies and gentleman." A voice from somewhere in the crowd said. "It is my pleasure to introduce to you your next two combatants. May I present to you, Ronicus the Legionnaire, and Vecorix of Gaul!"

The crowd roared in anticipation for the upcoming fight. Despite how much blood they had seen spilled already, they could not get enough. Capua was a large city like Rome, although Rome did not have a colosseum. The senate had refused to let such barbaric games be hosted in their city, so gladiatorial games were limited to the outlying cities in Italia and the provinces.

Ronicus looked at his opponent, and the two began circling each other in preparation for the upcoming fight. He gripped his gladius hard in his right hand as he looked into the eyes of his opponent. Like Ronicus, the man was a slave and being forced to fight against his will. But that did not mean that he would go lightly on him just because they were in the same boat. No, this was a battle for survival. The winner would live, and the loser would die. It was that simple.

Ronicus decided that it would be best to go on the offensive. He closed the distance against Vecorix before he took a swing at him with his gladius, which the Gallic man was easily able to deflect with his shield. Ronicus then attempted to use what he had learned in his legionnaire training, and thrust his shield forward in an attempt to batter away his opponents. It succeeded, and then Ronicus stabbed his own sword at the midsection of the barbarian, but Vecorix was able to parry the attack with his own blade.

Now aware of Ronicus' skill, Vecorix brought his own blade down in a curved arc at Ronicus, who was able to block the blow with his shield. He then stabbed forward with his blade, but once again Ronicus blocked the strike. Realizing it would take more than simple attack to defeat the former legionnaire, Vecorix brought his blade up high to strike at Ronicus from above. Ronicus raised his shield high to deflect the blow, but it was all a ploy. Now with his torso exposed, Vecorix kicked him in the stomach, which sent Ronicus reeling back in pain.

Ronicus once more thrust his blade forward in a desperate attempt to batter his way through the barbarian's defenses but to no avail. Vecorix simply used his own blade to parry the attack.

Vecorix then swung his blade low, aimed at Ronicus' legs. Ronicus brought his shield down low to block the attack, but was immediately smashed in the face by Vecorix's shield when he did so, sending him tumbling to the ground.

Vecorix brought his sword up high and then drove it down into the sand, but Ronicus was barely able to move out of the way in time. He then swung his blade down to the sand, but Ronicus was able to parry the blow with his own. Again and again the process was repeated, and Ronicus was beginning to become tired from repeatedly having to dodge and block the barbarian's strikes.

Realizing the position he was in, Ronicus grabbed a handful of sand and threw it into the face of Vecorix as he approached, temporarily distracting the Gallic man. He then stood up and buried his gladius into his gut, much to the delight of the crowd. Vecorix looked down at the blade protruding from his stomach, and then looked back up at Ronicus. Ronicus had a look of regret in his eyes, as he knew that he had to play dirty in order to win today. The barbarian sank to his knees before collapsing on the ground dead.

Ronicus retrieved his blade from the fallen gladiator and looked up at the crowd. They were roaring with delight at the thrill of the kill. He did not acknowledge them, but rather just walked towards the exit of the arena back to the slave's quarters.

He sat down on a bench with his blade and shield at his side. Burying his face into his hands, he just wanted to cry, but he could not.

The same guard who had announced that he would be fighting once more entered the room.

"The next fight will be, Bonica vs. Marmuk. Prepare yourselves to die the best way you see fit."

Ronicus looked up to see Bonica grab a sword and hand axe from the cache of weapons. She then turned her head to look at Ronicus, and sent a hateful glare his direction. He knew why too. They were still enemies as far as she was concerned, despite the fact that they were both slaves. Soon after they broke eye contact and he watched her and her opponent make their way out to the arena to the roar of the crowd.

XXXXXXXXXX

"I'm sorry!" Kimila yelled.

It had been a noble effort after all. Flavius Quentin had decreed that Kimila would be working in the kitchen of his mansion. It had turned out to be a big mistake. Despite Kimila's pleas that she had never cooked before in her life, he had made her do it anyway. According to him, women were only useful in the kitchen, and that all she had to do was follow the instructions of the other cooks and everything would be fine.

Oh how wrong he was.

The fire had started out small. But soon it spread to the other rooms of the house. Eventually it had completely engulfed his mansion, sending both patricians and slaves fleeing for their lives.

"You stupid worthless bitch!" Flavius screamed at her. "How could you do this to me!"

"I didn't mean to I swear!" Kimila pleaded.

Flavius was furious with her. And why wouldn't he be, she had just destroyed his mansion. He raised his hand and struck Kimila across the face, sending her tumbling to the ground.

Kimila's first instinct was to get up and punch him right back. But then cooler heads prevailed as she realized what would happen. If she were to strike her master his guards would no doubt kill her right then and there. Considering the fact she was defenseless, that prospect was not very appealing to her.

"I should kill you right here!" He yelled at her. "But I have a better idea. You're going to be taking a little trip to Tarentum."

"What's in Tarentum?" Kimila asked.

"Oh just a nice colosseum. I'm going to be selling you as a gladiator, and your little friend too."

The little friend that Flavius was referring to was none other than Sheko. While Kimila had been placed in the kitched, it had been Sheko's duty to please her master in the bedroom. She had refused to perform her "duties" from the start, which only enraged Flavius. That was when it got physical. Flavius had attempted to strike her, but Sheko not only blocked the attack, but hit him back. Why Flavius had decided not to kill her right there was a mystery to the woman, but one thing was for certain now. She would be heading to Tarentum with Kimila to become gladiators.