XIII smirked as he made his way to the mat. "My head's pretty spacious," he said as he knocked on it. "One of the upsides of having only four years worth of memories. You'll have to hit extremely hard if you want to knock something out, that is, if you [i]can[/i] hit me." XIII took his stance as he faced Rozalind. "Ready?" 

[hr]

[i]Years ago.[/i]

XIII shivered as he sat in his cell. It was always cold. He couldn't remember a time where he felt warm other than when he was taken of the cell. There wasn't much he could remember, but he could always remember when he was taken and what happened to him during the time he was out of the cell. They were trying to make him afraid, but it wasn't working. All they did was make him angry. So many times had he tried to lash out at his captors. Every time he had failed. But it never stopped him. Now he was waiting for the right moment. When he can inflict as much harm on them as they had on him.

When the voice spoke to him from the next cell he smiled. "Damn right!" He reached up and touched the left side of his face, wincing as he did so. The burn was still fresh and sore. "These guys are playing with fire and gasoline, and one of these days their luck is going to run out and they're going to get burned alive."