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“Y’know son, typically people try to avoid falling off the side of the stage” A grizzled Doctor in a white coat said as he handed Lucas an ice pack.

“I t-think I preferred it better than the a-alternative” Lucas muttered as he pressed the back against the back of his head, he now sported several red marks around his neck and a large welt on his back that didn’t seem like it’d go down anytime soon.

“Point taken, open your mouth” The Doctor said, pressing a little flashlight…. Type…. Thing? Into Lucas’ mouth and looking around for a few moments “Well, after a quick once over, and I do stress [I]quick[/I] once over, your vital signs seem to be well enough. Don’t know who you pissed off to get lumped against that freak but at least it’s over now. 

Lucas looked around at the stark white and polished doctor’s office, usually used for more nagging injuries as opposed to immediate medical attention, even still Lucas was only here because he kept trying to get off the gurney staff had strapped him to after the match, chiefly because they strapped the damn thing way too tight and he was beginning to feel lightheaded.

Even though he was quite thankful he didn’t die, as thankful as once can be, Lucas still gave off a slight sigh. A regular fighter would have been irritated to lose sure, but they would pack their bags, resolve to get better and move on. Lucas’ performance was the absolute best he could do, and he still failed. He wouldn’t care so much had it not meant he’d have to continue doing this damn thing.

As the doctor was about to speak again a long scraping noise was heard outside followed by the pleasant sound of screaming. The doctor and Lucas looked at each other quizzically before they both rushed to the door to see what was happening.

In an interesting turn of events the [I]Click-Clak[/I] came from three metal… Things, stood side by side advancing down the hallway, some patrons of the fight and less, gifted, Nomads running in fear from them.

“What do we do!?” Lucas asked fearfully to the doctor.

“See ya kid!” he faintly heard as he looked over to see the Doc running franticly to the hall on the left with a bag full of medical supplies, syringes and other appliances spilling out the side.

Lucas let out an annoyed groan before turning back to the, now closer, robots. His expression turned to fear as he comically looked left and right, his feet constantly moving in a haywire of orders to flee. Suddenly he bolted to the right corridor, one robot seeing this and breaking off from the current slaughter to deal with the small fearful child.
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The spurs of Voyt’s boots gave a slight jingle as his footsteps echoed through the empty corridor, ordinarily he wouldn’t even register them but the place was so devoid of noise that it felt maddeningly loud. The place should at least have some form of noise from the wandering spectators or the monitors.

[I]’That’s, probably not a good sign.'[/I] Voyt thought to himself, a thought that proved correct when the wall next to him smashed open, a man in martial arts gear fighting off several robots flew past Voyt, crashing through the wall to Voyt’s other side.

“...Hrn.” Voyt grunted as he squinted his eyes in annoyance. He glanced back towards the first created hole in the wall to find some more robots pouring out of it.

Voyt took a good look at them and frowned, they appeared more mech like than anything else. Regardless Voyt drew his revolvers and brought them to his face.

“Incendiary.” He said barely above a whisper, he spun the cylinders and began firing at his attackers, the bullets crashing against metal with an audible bang, the rounds heat and ki enhancement pushed the mechs back and even brought down a couple but more were quick to take their place, stepping over the bodies of their fallen comrades as they approached Voyt.

The gunslinger continued backing up as he lay down an endless volley of firepower at the robots, behind him three members of that Brazilian gang who’d been no end of problems for the Nomads during the time of the tournament appeared around a corner and behind a retreating Voyt.

Knowing that he couldn’t really keep this up forever Voyt formulated a new plan, pulling one of the grenades out from his poncho Voyt threw it towards the wall and fired at it with his gun, causing an explosion that brought down another section of the already weakened wall and collapsing a portion of the above level on top of Voyt’s robotic adversaries, now having cut off his attackers who would no doubt go to seek some more worthwhile prey Voyt allowed himself an exhale of relief before he turned around.

Right into a group of three members of the O Massacre De Soldados.

“Well look what we found boys, another fuckin’ Nomad.” One said with an evil grin “Good of you freaks to keep runnin' right to us, like shootin’ fish in a-”

The “Soldado” never got to finish his cliche as Voyt wordlessly fired one of his guns at a monitor next to them, the bullet ricocheted off into the first one’s head, passed through into the other’s before lodging itself in the taller and final member’s neck. As the gang member struggled on the floor, choking painfully on his own blood, Voyt walked over them and looked into his satchel.

[I]’Six vials. After dealing with all this shit today I’d say that’s more than enough…’[/I] Voyt thought to himself as he neared the arena’s exit, it seemed like Brazil was to implode at any minute and Voyt was not going to stay to get caught in the fallout. It was time to see ‘The Jackal’ and finish the job...