“Ah, I LIKE IT!” Kjartan pointed a massive digit at Vreta. “Get the nuclear warheads and STRAP ONE TO MY HEAD! I’ll headbutt Carthage to atoms!” Foam sprayed everywhere as the berserker shouted and paced about, waving his hammer. His eyes had become bloodshot over the course of a few minutes.

“As much as I'd [b]love[/b] to do that, I don't think we have sufficient ordinance.” Knossos cut in. “Taking inventory, we only have anti-infantry grenades. We might be able to collapse a few areas, but there’s no guarantee it’ll all come down. “It’s settled then! We go with my plan.” Kjartan boomed, turning to survey the area as the map finished generating and the countdown to begin the round appeared. Thirty seconds to go.

They were in the loading area of a tall apartment building. The fire escape doors had been blocked with metal clamps and were scorched with burn marks. In front of them was the war torn remains of a two-laned avenue and another apartment block across the street, with another loading area. Crashed fliers, military blockades and fallen masonry presented a maze of barriers through the middle of the arena.