As thousands of people poured into the rectangular shaped stadium for what was being
called, "the event of the century" , the participants readied themselves for the
hardships they would surely suffer from the games. After a long grueling season of
intense bodily torture this would by the final chapter of confrontations. Out of the
275 original members of the DFS leagues infant year, only 20 remained. These men and
women were not only hardened on the outside, but on the inside as well for they had long
since learned the weaknesses that emotions bring. Everyone one present in the cubical
that was called a dressing room knew that as soon as the capacity crowd of 300,000 had
settled, they would no longer be comrades brought together by the common bond that
friendship makes but enemies of the battle field each one jockeying for the upper hand.
As the referee announced there was half an hour left before game time, a few players
huddled together to say a quick prayer while others gathered around the head coach for a
final word of advice. One of the competitors listening to this advice was Matt Williams
or "The Destroyer", as he was known by the crowd. He was a powerfully built young man
who was in the possession of deep opaline eyes, nightmarish black hair, and a ruddy
complexion. Feared by all for his ruthless behavior, Matt had joined the DFS league
after being courtmarshaled by the army for striking the commanding officer of his
platoon. Why he was even near the coach was a mystery to him because most of the coaches
words fell on unhearing ears. Matt guessed he was just nervous. Who wouldn't be.
Looking up, Matt saw that the coach had left and it was time to enter the field.
Strapping on his helmet and the rest of his gear, he took a deep breath, focused his
thoughts, and ran out onto the field joining the rest of the players.
The roar of the crowd sounded as if a tsunami was breaking on the beach and the ground
felt as if it were pulsating with a life of its own. He never remembered these feelings
before but he simply shrugged off the thought as he faintly heard the sound of the
referee's whistle. Suddenly, the sound of the crowd was replaced by e reverberating
silence that was deafening in Matt's ears.
Going into a defensive crouch, Matt circled the nearest foe to him. Jumping with raised
spear, he warded off the first blow positioning his spear into a counter-attack
position. Throwing it with deadly precision Matt was rewarded by the sickening thud of a
lifeless body hitting the ground. As he hurried to retrieve his spear, Matt remembered
a phrase the coach had said just before he left. "This will be a fight to the finish so
be prepared!". Since this was the year 2071, that was no lie because last year,
hyperbole's went out of style and gladiators came back in.
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