FUN AND GAMES

Disclaimer: I don't own anybody in here but Amocin. In fact I'm not even sure I spelled everybody's name correctly. I'm keeping this short since I know some people don't like to read overly written stories. Not to mention the whole movie was 2 and ½ hours long. There's no way in hell I'm going to do that. Wright what you already have seen while putting a few things of my own in there. So this is the story. Everything stays basically the same with some minor adjustments. Please R/R.

What it's about: What would the movie be like if a girl named Amocin had been in it?



The next gladiators had been paid for and now Proximo was on his way back to his home. He was half way out of the market when he saw a vendor selling a very disobedient slave girl. Unlike the other slaves she wasn't dressed in rags. This beautiful young girl wore leather armor, torn up leather armor, but armor nonetheless. She had long black hair and deep brown eyes. Strong for a girl too. The way she shoved the buyer away from her when he looked at her the way she found most unpleasant. She was being sold as a sex slave, and to be honest that was the worst kind of slave to be. Proximo shouted out to the vendor, "How much for that one?"

The vendor replied, "How much are you willing to pay?"

Proximo just laughed, "Not much with how much I'm going to have to work with her. I'll give you 100."

"Sold," the vendor smiled pushing the girl over to her new owner. She gritted her teeth and kicked and screamed to get free.

"I am no ones slave girl!" she shouted. Telling by the way she looked and the sound of her voice she was around 18 maybe 20 years old. "I will not be downgraded so."

When Proximo was brought his new slave he looked her over, "Seems to be a good fighter." He noted to her arms, no fat at all, just mussels. He asked the girl, "Why are you dressed in armor?"

"I was training with my brother, swords, maces, you know, training." She said.

Proximo handed the vendor his gold and told the girl, "If you trained in the art of fighting your worth more then just 100. I'll get good profits off of you."

Walking to Proximo's home proved to be hard on some of the slaves but a few held their own. The Spaniard and the girl most of all. On their way their The Spaniard stared at her. It was quite unusual for a girl to fight at all.

"Amocin is the name." She snorted. "Becoming a slave isn't my idea of a good time so lets not start the chit chat." There was something odd about her, something just not right. She sighed and shook her head, "I'm nobody special, just a farm girl who likes to play with swords. I'll never see a real battle, and even if I did my brother will never be able to see just how good I have become at the art. Those brutes killed him while we were training." Though her voice wasn't saddened a small tear escaped from her eye and slid down her face. The two were very much alike, rebels to slavery. They had everything, and it was all taken from them. Their good name, their freedom, and their family.

Training grounds to specify weather or not the slaves were any good as fighters they went up against one of Proximo's top slaves, he wore a blue shirt with a spot of red paint. Unlike others Amocin wanted that little red dot more then anybody. Being a girl she needed to prove herself. "Next." She stepped up after being handed a wooden sword. She didn't even allow him to make the first strike. She dropped to the ground and kicked the big brute's feet right out from beneath him. As swift as a fox she pinned him down and put the wooden sword to his neck.

"Red," Proximo said. Amocin stood up with pride and went back to the bench with the other slaves. Her red dot on her chest. Then The Spaniard got up and now it was his turn to prove himself. He just dropped his sword. He refused to fight. Why, Amocin didn't know. Not even after the slave hit him a few times with his own sword he still refused to fight back. Thus earning him a yellow dot. This indicated he was a weak fighter. But Amocin saw right through him. Her own brother was very stubborn. If he didn't get his way the whole world paid for it. Amocin first started her training 8 years ago, when her parents died. Her mother had died of a fever when her father was off at war. Her brother was full of rage and picked a fight with everybody he saw. She would often have to come and bail him out. The Spaniard was doing the opposite. Nobody wanted to fight her brother so he gave them a fight; everybody wants The Spaniard to fight but he wont.

It wasn't until the day they were all brought to a stadium that Amocin was truly in heaven. The smell of sweat and blood. The sound of the raging audience. The clinging of the swords was her heaven. Proximo gave his little speech, telling them to kill and make the crowd love them. Amocin cared nothing for the crowd, only for the kill. Too bad they were chaining her up to a yellow. Only reds she cared to associate with. Yellows she just shunned and went about her own business with the reds. If a simple girl could fight then all men should so too.

Standing in line, chained to their opposite colored partners they waited for the arena doors to fling open and to bring on the battle ahead. Amocin was in the fourth row. Last one to see the battle. Then the doors opened and the light blinded them all. Most ran head on. Amocin just watched in awe as she saw were destiny awaited. She noticed some were to frighten to go on, others without a fear. The top slave seemed to be doing well, as was The Spaniard and his colored partner. Amocin raised her sword and ran strait into the arena, her partner close behind cowering behind her. It wasn't long before the battle was over, and somehow out of the 8 who went out only four came back in. Amocin and The Spaniard were of those four. Amocin had still not killed. She mearly fought against the other men, her partners in arms did the dirty deed themselves.

The next day in the training grounds Amocin sat among the reds, enjoying a nice little talk. But today she favored the yellows. When she saw The Spaniard she called out, "Hey you, come here."

"I do have a name," He growled. Amocin just smiled shaking her head. "What do you want?"

"I want to see how id fair against you. You put on quite the show yesterday." She grabbed her wooden sword and tossed The Spaniard one. "I saw my brother yesterday in you, lets see if I wasn't mad."

The Spaniard threw the sword down, "Not interested."

"What's wrong?" She questioned in a taunt. "Afraid of a little girl?"

The Spaniard could feel the eyes of a thousand slaves staring at them. He didn't say a word and just walked away.

A new friend of Amocin's walked up to her. She didn't care too much for names, everybody was either 'hey you', 'red', 'yellow', or 'shit head'. This young lad around 24 years of age with dirty blonde hair asked, "Are you sure it is wise to push his buttons? A guy like that could be the death of you."

Amocin just turned away with a laugh, "I wouldn't get that lucky."

Only one fight and The Spaniard was back to being cheered on by his fellow Gladiators. Amocin too cheared as he stepped into the arena alone against five men. She watched in awe as he sliced through each and every one of them. And the final man got his head cut off. The Spaniard threw his sword at the audience and yelled, "ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED!" He then spit and walked off, the crowd roaring.

Amocin just stared in total bewilderment; this was without a shadow of a dought the best warrior she had ever seen. If she didn't know any better shed say he was able to best her own brother in combat. The temper was what really caught her eye. The only time she had ever seen a man with that much rage was when her mother and father died. The Spaniard must have suffered a similar fate.

It wasn't until the next day when word got around that the slaves would be fighting in the coliseum that Amocin decided it best to become this warrior's friend. She may need his protection when they got to Rome. She caught him in his cell, talking to his colored friend. "Pardon my intrusion but id like to have a talk with you." She said kindly, very intimidated by The Spaniard. The Spaniard came outside and Amocin started to walk off indicating she wanted no ears to hear what she was about to say. "I've been watching you. You're very good with the sword, but very unwise with the tongue. But I haven't come to you to talk about your troubles." She stopped and stared him in the eyes. "I will need your help when we get to Rome."

The Spaniard laughed, "Why, big bad girl can't take care of herself? Only female fighter among us slaves wants the help of a yellow?"

She gave him a 'don't piss me off' stare and explained herself. "I have never seen real combat until just the other day when we all fought those men. You on the other hand, I can tell you have seen many battles. I don't want to die, not yet."

The Spaniard just gritted his teeth, "I have no time for people like you."

And with that said he turned around and started to walk away. Amocin shouted out to him, "Revenge is one nasty feeling isn't it?" He stopped in his tracks but didn't look back at her. She smiled, "I know that temper. The 'Nothing can hurt me for I've already gone through Hades.' My brother was like that when our mother died and we received word that a Barbarian at the command of Marcus Aurelius had killed our father. He wished revenge against everybody. The man who trained our father, the ruler of Rome, the Barbarians, even our father's comrades in arms. You seek revenge, I see that. But the question is why? What is your purpose for seeking revenge?"

The Spaniard looked over his shoulder, a blank expression on his face. "My family was murdered by somebody I held as a friend."

Amocin just stood there in silence. How do you reply to that? To think that a friend would kill your family is disgraceful. She nodded her head and looked down, holding back tears, "I too want to avenge my family. I'm sorry I brought it up, nobody should have to recall tragic events." She sighed and recited something she once told her brother, "Grief is the razor that slices the soul. Wounds heal with time but a scar is forever."

The Spaniard said one final thing before he left Amocin there to morn her brother more and more, "I will protect you, but that doesn't make us friends."



1 So should I continue it or what? Review