Authors Note: Sorry for the delay. Thanks to everyone who is reading this story. I never would have expected so much support for my KP/Rome fic. Special thanks go out to Comet Moon, Muzzlehatch, Mengsk, Mr. Wizard, CajunBear73, Some1outthere, RSfan, captainkodak1, Stubbs101, screaming phoenix, Trinovantes, Weary-Traveler, and Donteatacowman for reviewing.

Disclaimer: I do not own Kim Possible.

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Six months.

It had been six long and arduous months since he had been sold into slavery. And they had not been kind to him at all. Ronicus had lost count of the number of battles that he had been forced to fight in. He continued to think to himself that he was lucky to be alive even now. It had taken a mixture of cunning, skill, and sheer luck to keep him alive throughout the many duels that he had fought against the other gladiators. He had the scars to prove how close he had come to death on a number of occasions. There was the gash on his stomach, right below the one from the bear's claws when he had went on the hunt with Kimila. There was the one that ran from his elbow to his forearm on his right arm when he had to fight against a man from Germania. And there was the most recent wound on his right cheek where a sword had slashed open his face. He would bear these scars for the rest of his life, which would be short unless he lived to see freedom again.

The life of a gladiator was a tough one, tougher than even the military. In the arena you had no one to count on but yourself. You had no backup of any kind, no friends, and no comrades. It was just you against the next desperate man. Outside of the arena however, there was an unspoken brotherhood between the fighters. Each of them shared the same fate as the other, and so they could bear no ill will against one another. There was however one certain female brunette who still harbored a grudge against Ronicus. But to the rest of them nothing that went on in the arena was personal, it was just a matter of survival. And each man wanted to survive as much as the next.

But perhaps the most unusual bond Ronicus had formed was with Wadi. The young Numidian was perhaps only fifteen years old, three years younger than him. Though Wadi was not a fighter, they had still managed to become quite close friends. They often spoke of their lives before their confinement to slavery. Ronicus had talked all about his life before and after joining the Roman legions. But he got the most excited when he told Wadi about Kimila. Despite only having known her well from the time of his captivity in Britannia from the time of being sold, he had quite a lot to say about her.

"Sounds like you really like this girl." Wadi told him.

"Well, how could I not? She's just so beautiful, smart, brave… just everything about her is so amazing."

"And you haven't seen her in six months?"

"Yup. Ever since that day in Rome. When I close my eyes I can still see the look on her face as I was being forced to walk away from her."

"That's rough."

"Yeah."

The two sat in silence for a moment, neither knowing what to say next about the topic. So Ronicus decided to change the subject.

"So how's life treating you with the meal serving?" He asked the young boy.

"I suppose it could be worse. I could be down there in the pits with you. No offense."

"None taken man. Do you know if you're going to have to start doing it when you're old enough?"

"Probably. Spurius hasn't said anything yet, but I assume that when I'm old enough to make a profit out of, he won't have any reservations of sending me in."

"If you want Wadi, I could help you train when we have some free time."

"Sure. Anything that will help me survive once I finally do get in there."

Ronicus began teaching Wadi the basic techniques with a sword. How to cut, how to thrust, how to parry, and so forth. It was a bit clumsy at first, but nothing less could be expected from someone who had never handled a sword before. That was when they heard the crowd roar from outside of the slaves chambers.

Wadi looked up from the sparring match as he heard the noise.

"What was that?" He asked Ronicus.

"Sounds like someone won. My money's on Bonica."

"You don't have any money and you know it." Wadi laughed.

"Oh yeah. Good point. But still, that girl is a madwoman in the arena. I'm glad I've never had to face her before."

"Well I hear someone coming, let's go see who it is."

The two teens walked to around ten feet away from the door leading out into the arena. Sure enough, it was Bonica who emerged, bloody and victorious. Her entire right arm was covered in blood, but whether it was hers or her opponents they could not say. One thing was for certain though, she was a fierce fighter who did not mind the sight of blood.

"What are you looking at Roman?" She said harshly to Ronicus.

"Nothing. Just wanted to see who won."

"Pfft." She scoffed. "Isn't it obvious that it would be me? I'm the best damn fighter in this whole arena."

"I don't know about that Bonica." Ronicus said. "There are a few other undefeated warriors here too, including myself."

"What, do you actually think you can beat me? Puh-lease."

"I never said that. I'm just saying you shouldn't be so cocky. It's going to get you killed one of these days."

"Don't worry about me. Soon enough I'll win my way to freedom, then return to Britannia to lead a revolution against your Roman friends." She smiled wickedly.

"I wouldn't exactly call them my friends after what they did to me…"

"And I don't care, so shut up."

Ronicus didn't say another word as Bonica forced her way past him, making sure that she bumped into him along the way. He couldn't understand why she couldn't just let the past go. After all, they were both just soldiers fighting on opposite sides in a war. Like the gladiatorial games it was nothing personal, just business. And now since they ended up under the same circumstances, wouldn't it just be easier for her to accept him as a fellow slave? That's what he figured at least.

Ronicus resumed his training with Wadi. He didn't know how much longer he would be alive, but as long as he did live he would try to teach the young Numidian all he knew so that he could live too.

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It had been almost half a year since Kimila and Sheko had been sold by Flavius to a gladiatorial slave master in the city of Tarentum. Since then she had been in her fair share of bouts, as had Sheko. And throughout it all, they had both come out alive. Scratched, bloodied, and bruised, but alive none the less. It was amazing to see the strange twists and turns that her life had taken the past few months. She had once been the daughter of the King of Britannia. She had once had it all. Then came the Romans. They had taken everything from her. Her family, her friends, her home. But they did bring one thing with them that had been a boon for her, Ronicus.

And then they had taken him away from her too. It seemed that no matter what she did, or where she went, the Romans were always ready to take what she cherished most. Now they had taken her dignity. She was forced to become first a house slave, and now a gladiator. It sickened her that she was forced to take the lives of other men and women who were in the same situation as her. But what could she do? She refused to die. She was determined to get out of this with her life and find the only part of her life that she had left… him. She didn't know how she would do it, but she would reunite with him. With her family dead and her home in the hands of the Romans, he was really all she had to look forward to.

When she had first been put in the slaves chambers underneath the arena, she scrambled to find weapons and armor that would suit her. The first thing she spotted was a long spear, not unlike the one she wielded back in Britannia. Sure it wasn't as nice looking as her own ceremonial spear, but it would just have to do. The second item was a bronze breast plate that would cover up and protect all of her torso from harm. This was something she was unused to, as she would normally fight without any kind of armor. But here she had to make use of everything she could in order to survive. The final item was a masked helmet made of iron. It covered up her face completely without obstructing her vision, which was essential when fighting against an opponent. Since she had refused to give out her name when she arrived and because of the mask she wore, the announcers at the arena had dubbed her "The Masked Warrior".

That had been many months ago. Many battles and many kills later here she sat, waiting for the next time the guard would call her name. Her last battle had been a few days ago so she knew that her time would be coming soon. She just never expected it to be next.

"Masked Warrior." The guard said as he entered the room.

Kimila looked up and gazed into the eyes of the man who would announce her fate.

"You will be facing Sheko. Prepare yourselves."

Sheko… one of the other only undefeated fighters in the Tarentum arena. She was a truly frightening warrior to behold on the battlefield. She fought with a sword and shield like she had back before she was a slave, and she was very good at what she did.

"I've been waiting a lifetime for this moment, princess." Sheko said emotionlessly as she stared into the eyes of Kimila.

If Sheko had had it her way she would have killed Kimila the moment she was presented with a weapon. But there were strict rules about the slaves fighting with each other when they were not in front of an audience. Simply put, if you died without being out in the arena, the slave master would not make any money off of you. And if he didn't make money he would be a very unhappy man. So he had told the newly bought slaves that if one killed the other, the murderer would be instantly fed to the lions out in the arena. And this was a prospect that did not sound very appealing to Sheko.

"You never could beat me back in our sparring matches in Britannia, Sheko. What makes you think you can beat me now?"

Sheko didn't respond, but rather stood up and began walking towards the door that led into the arena.

Kimila immediately stood up and followed her. As she neared the door she could hear the announcer speaking.

"Ladies and gentlemen! It is my pleasure to introduce to you two undefeated warriors from the fabled island of Britannia. Please allow me to introduce to you Sheko of Britannia, and The Masked Warrior!"

The crowd cheered in anticipation of two undefeated gladiators facing off against each other. The way they figured it, something had to give. One of the two warriors would die if they had anything to say about it. And sometimes they did. When a warrior was down and out of the fight but not dead, the winning gladiator would play to the crowd and either let the fallen warrior live or die depending on what the crowd was cheering for. And in this particular bout, they wanted one to die.

The two ladies walked forward and out onto the sandy arena floor, as they looked around at the audience. They had seen them many times before, but sometimes it still struck Kimila just how many people there were, and just how enormous the structure was. She never could have imagined that man could build structures so big. But here it was, and there were other arenas just like it dotted all up and down Italia.

The two warriors looked at each other heatedly as they circled each other, each trying to outthink the other and anticipate what they would do first. Sheko decided to strike first.

She lunged at Kimila with her blade, which was battered away by the tip of her spear. She followed up the attack by slashing away at Kimila's neck, but she brought the butt of her spear up to once more deflect the attack.

Sheko then spun around clockwise to try and catch Kimila off guard with an attack on her right side, but the red-head was once more able to bring her spear up just in time to block the blow.

Seeing that she was getting no where by being on the defensive, Kimila decided to attack. She thrust her spear at the midsection of her opponent which was deflected by Sheko's round wooden shield. In the same motion Kimila brought the butt of her spear up to try to whack Sheko on the side of the head, but the pale-skinned woman was able to duck under the attack.

Regaining her balance, Kimila launched another attack with her spear aimed at Sheko's abdomen. But once more she was able to deflect the attack with her shield, sending Kimila back once more.

Sheko immediately went on the offensive once more as she slashed and cut away at Kimila with frightening speed. Every blow forced Kimila backwards as she desperately raised her spear against every attack that Sheko could muster against her. One of the attacks managed to penetrate Kimila's defenses and slashed her across the right shoulder.

She looked down at her shoulder before looked back up at Sheko, who had a smug grin on her face. Now enraged, Kimila gripped her spear tightly and once more ran at her opponent.

Kimila held her spear like a staff and rained down a flurry of blows upon her enemy, sending her back with every strike. Sheko was forced to defend herself with both her sword and her shield as Kimila sent blow after blow down on her with both the tip and butt of her spear. Finally, she held her spear in a one-handed overhand grip and sent the attack straight towards Sheko's heart.

But Sheko was apparently ready for such a strike, as she allowed the attack to not only pass through her guard, but also underneath her armpit. She then tightened her arm, pinning the spear between her arm and the rest of her body. Sheko ripped the spear out of Kimila's hands, and threw it away in the sands of the arena.

Now weaponless, Kimila was not in a good position. Sheko once more went on the offensive, but was shocked when her sword was kicked out of her hands by Kimila.

"So, looks like we're doing this weaponless." Sheko smiled as she circled her opponent.

"Looks like it." Kimila responded.

Always one to make the first move, Sheko lunged at Kimila who stood there and took the attack. Sheko's right fist was blocked by Kimila, but her left managed to get through her defenses and smash her in the cheek. Kimila reeled back from the sudden impact, now aware that her opponent was just as dangerous without any weapons.

Sheko then delivered a roundhouse kick against her red-haired opponent, but Kimila managed to grab hold of her leg and bring down her elbow on the vulnerable knee joint of Sheko. Both females fell to the ground with the blow, with Sheko obviously feeling more pain than the one who delivered the attack.

As they stood up Kimila noticed a limp in her opponent, and would have to make sure to take advantage of it somehow. She decided to target that injured leg in her next attack, and ran at Sheko preparing to send a well-placed kick at the knee. But Sheko was obviously feigning the injury, and dropped to her back and monkey flipped Kimila over her, sending her crashing unceremoniously to the sandy floor. But in a fortuitous twist, she had landed right next to her fallen spear, which Sheko apparently had not noticed yet.

Sheko got up and ran at Kimila who was laying on her stomach in pain. But it was all a ploy, for as she was about to cave Kimila's skull in with her foot, the red-head immediately sat up and thrust her spear upward into the gut of Sheko.

Sheko doubled over, her eyes wide in both shock and horror as she realized what had just happened. She looked over at Kimila who had a look of utter hatred upon her face as she twisted the spear around inside of Sheko. The pale woman collapsed to the ground where she lay for a few moments before her eyes closed for the last time.

Kimila stood up to the roar of the crowd and realized that she had won. A slight smile appeared on her face. Normally she would abhor killing in an arena like this, but she had not just faced any opponent. She had certainly not faced an innocent opponent either. She had faced one of the people who had rebelled against her father and the rest of Britannia. She had killed someone who was directly responsible for the attack on her village. For Kimila, this was vengeance.

"Mother… father." She whispered. "I hope that I have honored you both by what I have done today."

With that, Kimila made her way towards the exit and back to the slaves chambers. Now she would be able to rest her weary body and tend to her wounds. But her future still did not look very bright. She was still alone and still a slave despite the justice she had done today.