This hasn't really been beta-ed yet, so... just bear with me? The beta-ed version should be up sometime tomorrow :)
Marco sighed as he walked up to the podium. He waved his servants away as he took his seat amongst others from the royal family. He looked around the Colosseum.
The crowd had yet to gather. Today was a special day. One that rarely happened. The emperor had decided to let each member of the royal family- which was quite large, mind you- qualify a slave for today's battle. The owner of the winner would be granted a handsome reward.
Marco had brought one of his most prized fighters. A man by the name of… hmm, well, now that he thought about it, he had no idea what his name was. Never really cared to ask. Or demand, really.
Someone sat down next to him. Marco looked up to see the smiling face of his brother, Thatch.
"Hey, Marco! Glad to see you could make it after all!" he shouted as he wrapped an arm around the blond in greeting.
"So am I, Thatch." Marco smiled in return.
"So, did you submit anyone to the fights?" the redhead inquired. Marco nodded quietly. "You know you're not going to win, right?" He actually had the audacity to smirk. Marco grinned in return.
"Says you. Do you really think you'll win that money?"'
"Well, why wouldn't I? I mean, come on! Look at me. Do I seem like a loser?" Marco sighed.
"If you were in that fight you'd be one of the first to die. And honestly, I seriously doubt your slave's going to win." Thatch pouted. Pouted. The expression looked almost comical on the 35-year-old's face.
"Well, why not? My slave's as good as any!" The corners of Marco's lips turned upwards.
"Maybe, but they don't have any experience fighting, unlike, let's say… the emperor's." The blond explained to his brother. "All your slaves do is field work." Thatch glared at him.
"So?" Marco opted to ignore him, and instead looked around the Colosseum once more. Most of the seats were full by now. There were at least forty thousand people present. The emperor had also come sometime during his and Thatch's exchange.
A few minutes later, the fight had begun.
Marco carefully smoothed his the material of his toga, as the slaves were released. It seemed a few people hadn't submitted anyone to the fights. There were maybe about 30 slaves running around in the maze of buildings that made up the arena.
No, not slaves. Now, they were gladiators. And there was one that particularly attracted his attention. He couldn't see much of what the man looked like from he was sitting, but he was able to make out almost sickly looking pale skin and longish hair tied into a ponytail so that it wouldn't fall into his face and hinder him.
One by one, the slaves killed each other off. Not the pale man, though. He had kept conveniently out of sight for most of the battle, killing only one other man. Well, Thatch's slave, to be exact. He could almost feel his brother deflate beside him. His own fighter had been killed as well.
Now, though, with most of the arena stained with red and covered with mutilated corpses, he had no other choice but to get out of hiding and fight. Marco observed him as he came out from behind the building where he had been hiding and approached the other gladiator. The audience shouted for blood.
The gladiators carefully circled each other. The man Marco had been observing moved forward first. He gripped his dagger- as that had been the only weapon they'd been given, no armor- and ran forward with a speed that left many amazed. The other slave dodged the attack, and proceeded to try to trip the pale man. It didn't work, though, as he jumped over the foot that had been thrust his way.
The fight went on for quite some time, with neither man getting anything but a few scratches. The crowd was getting bored. Marco heard someone behind him ask for the lions to be released, to make the fight more entertaining.
They didn't have to, though. Because, when the older, bigger gladiator slowed down due to his exhaustion taking over, the black-haired man moved in for the kill. He slashed his dagger across the others throat. Blood gushed from the wound, the droplets staining the ground and both fighters' faces. The black-haired man pushed the other away from him in disgust and wiped his face, only managing to smear the red over his left cheek. The color contrasted beautifully with his pale skin.
An hour later Marco found himself approaching Marshall D Teach, another member of the royal family, to buy this one man who had managed to attract his attention.
And here is yet another plotbunny that seems to be mutating into something much larger...