All Due Respect (open)

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Mars’ feet were light and quiet. The coliseum was quiet, save for the occasional ringing of swords upon shields. There was a bit of training and blood shed going on. That was something that he truly enjoyed. He leaned against the column, watching the kids hone their battle skills. Of course they used the blunted weapons that had been made for practices, his fellow god Terminus would have a panic attack if they had thought to bring weapons inside the Pomerian Line. Though to be quite honest, Terminus was a waste of marble if you asked Mars. There could have been much better things that marble could have been used for, like a statue of himself for instance. There were never enough statues of himself around New Rome. It’s true, these people were from all backgrounds and many of them were more than capable fighters. Mars adjusted the rim of his wrap around shades to fit a bit snuggle around his face. There were many people milling about the coliseum and Mars tightly wrapped the mist around himself, or at least tight enough to stifle his murderous and vicious red aura.

These were his people, and Mars was easy to pick his children from a crowd. They by far had pleased him, but he wasn’t here for that. There was that whole no contact with the offspring rule. Mars always bent that rule. Every time there was a battle and his Romans evoked prayers to him and his twin sister, Mars was always there. Even the regular mortals that fought and died for their causes evoked his presence. He was always that one soldier that was the first across the battlefield and he was always urging his soldiers onward and forward, Mars wished for them to succeed in their plights. Mars stood up and stretched, the joints of his mortal form popping and he readjusted his leather jacket. His face was etched in a scowl as he watched one of the would be soldiers fall out of step with the rest of the cohort. Whoever the instructor was, they were soft. There was no excuse for a soldier falling out of line. If only Mars truly felt like intervening, he would. That poor child would have gotten a taste of true Roman disciplining. None of this namby pamby wishy washy nonsense of conjugating verbs or polishing the armor, he would have the child doing drills till they passed out. But that wasn’t his place, any more.

Mars’ scowl deepened as he was bumped into. A deep rumble in his throat started as a growl of furious anger, who would be so careless to bump into a god? He swallowed his hard growl, after all he did have the mist wrapped around him and there was no telling what the mortals or semi-mortal saw. Some of them had much keener senses then others did, but it was no excuse for someone to run a god over like he was some sort of road kill. “If you wish to keep your appendages where they belong you had better pay your respects.” Mars growled as he drew himself up.

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Training. It was an unfortunate reality of a military camp. And Roman training, to boot, which was, she figured, probably sitting at about the same intensity as the US Marines or something. It wasn’t that Clare hated training. It just wasn’t her favorite thing to do. She had to admit it was useful though. Because in all honesty, she had no real desire to die a horrible, painful death on the battlefield. Some twisted minds might call that an honor, but she was not one of said twisted minds. Those were probably more Mars’ kids and the more hardcore Legionnaires. Admittedly, now that she didn’t have her brothers to fall back on, she was starting to learn to fight better and take care of herself more, but it was a slow process.

Which brought her to the Coliseum today. This place was a lot more interesting than the Field of Mars when it came to training. She felt like she might be in the real old Rome here, rather than that pockmarked field. Plus, when she tried out one of her own little tricks, sand did not get nearly as slippery as dirt. Which gave her an idea. She was facing off against a legacy of Jupiter in a little one on one, which she figured would be a nice challenge and also see how much exactly she’d learned from her spars with Damien all those years. She took a few steps back and lowered her gladius just slightly, concentrating, which brought about some jeers from her opponent, who seemed to think it was her chickening out instead. “Need a break, Bubbles?” he called in a mocking tone. But she hardly heard him.

That was the other thing good about the Coliseum. They flooded it. Which was by far one of her favorite spectacles to see and she was determined one day to get to take part in one of those battles. But flooding meant one thing. Somewhere in here there were- Ah ha! Pipes. Pipes with standing water in them. The other boy seemed to be deciding he was tired of waiting and about ready to go in for the attack, but he didn’t even get a step further. A ground trembled just barely noticeably for a second as Clare stood her ground, feeling the water like an extension of herself. And just as her opponent lifted his foot to come at her, one of the nozzles off to the side of the rink shot a thick jet of water like a fire hose that arced until it slammed the legacy of Jupiter straight in the gut. Clare released her control on the water as he fell back, clutching his stomach and coughing at the water that had basically drenched him head to toe. She had to grin, allowing herself a moment of pride, and lifted her gladius. “Aw, you fell down! Need a break, air biscuit?” She called to him, mimicking his tone. It wasn’t like her to insult people, but he’d sort of been asking for it. And the brief stunned look on his face before he’d been been pummels with H2O had been pretty funny.

She watched him get back on his feet and got her gladius at the ready. Only he didn’t come at her at all, and well, she wasn’t one for the first attack. Instead, completely unexpected – it was a lot harder to see that one coming after all – she was hit by a giant cushion of air. The force pushed the gladius out of her hand and pitched her back a good twenty feet to a hard fall. Whoever thought sand might be softer than dirt was wrong. She muttered and stood up, rubbing at her side where she fallen on as she took a step back to regain her balance. And stepped right into someone. Turning on a dime, she was about to apologize to whoever it was when the sight of said person made her apology catch in her throat. He looked like one of those hardcore Romans she’d previously been pondering. And he looked unhappy. There was something slightly different about him too, though, but it was so subtle she couldn’t quite tell what it was. Maybe it was just that he looked ready to pummel her, which was reason enough for her to be a tad nervous. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were there, really. And-… why are you wearing sunglasses? It’s not that bright out here…” Trust her ADD to kick in when she needed to work on not losing an arm.

Tag: Mars
Word Count: 767
Outfit: light armor over jeans and purple camp shirt

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There was a long, laundry list of things that pissed off Mars. Haughty and hormonal teenagers were rather high on the list. At least they scratched the top ten. He liked his own kids on occasion, when they weren’t mucking things up by being boneheaded at least. This kid that had slammed into him, however, made his temper rise and rather quickly at that. He had noticed this kid fighting earlier with a child legacy. Her form was sloppy and needed work. There was a quip about his sunglasses and he tipped the rim of them down his nose. Mars stared the child down with the miniature suns that flared behind the midnight sunglasses. His eyes narrowed and his brow knitted as he curled his lip over his perfectly white teeth. “I try to not scare people off with my eyes if that’s alright with you.” He said, his voice deathly low in tone. Anything he could do to get a few pairs of wet pants was more than enough to satisfy his morbid sense of amusement. Some Romans didn’t scare as easily as the others, the latter making for the best soldiers.

“Romans these days, I remember back when Caligula was Emperor, talk about my favorite nut job. Hmph so who are the Praetors now around this dump?” Mars barked at the kid who was standing in front of him. He tipped his glasses back up and adjusted his shoulders under his leather jacket. “Who are the Centurions around here? Who’s in charge?” He continued to bark at the girl in front of him. Mars snapped his fingers and suddenly a can of redbull appeared in his hands. He popped the top and took a sip. “Come on girl have you forgotten your tongue, speak. Or do you fail to remember yourself in front of the patron of Rome?” He cracked his knuckles and they set off like a volley of gunshots, echoing in the quiet hallway of the coliseum. His glare surveyed his favorite domain, the smell of someone who had drawn blood down in the sand, it was probably another pair that had split off to spar. He watched them for a few minutes and regarded the kids technique. It was good for the kids age, but in time it would get better. Mars stepped in between the two twelve year old, catching them both by the sword arms and adjusted their stances. Then they went back at each other. “Better.” He stated.

“Come on girl speak.” Mars growled. Maybe he should do a little bit of showing off, but the last thing he wanted to do was cause a ruckus here in the coliseum. “hmph maybe they have started to take the tongues out of the new legionnaires. Or maybe it was a mistake letting women in the legion.” He growled, giving the girl another intense stare. His eyes flashed and the lenses his eyes hid behind flashed red as he sneered again at the younger roman in front of him. He gave a sniff of the air around her, she smelled like the ocean, the sea air, she must have been a daughter of Neptune. His cousin by his reckoning, but still he was a god and she was a demi-god. She was mortal and not like him by any means. Of course Mars was better than some little godling. A powerful big three though, he had to maybe give her a little bit of credit, but nothing much more than a tad bit of acknowledgement as a powerful demi-god.

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It took a lot to get Clare Rodriguez angry. There was a very short and very dramatic list of things that actually had that power to do so. She liked to think she was unusual among the Romans here, at least in that respect. What was so great about getting ticked off about every little thing, or even a handful of things, anyhow? Just made you yourself more anxious and that was both no fun and also not all that healthy. She vaguely wondered if the more aggressive Romans around here had a shorter natural life expectancy. Would be surprising. If that really was the case, she expected a guy like this to be looking at heart failure in the next ten minutes. When he answered her question, the only thing that kept her from commenting on how on earth eyes could be all that scary was the tone of his voice. It sounded more like the statement should have gone ‘I’d greatly enjoy impaling you and feeding you to hellhounds.’ And not the cute puppy ones that Felicity had once mentioned. And as much as she enjoyed – ha, no – a day of dismemberment and death, she decided to just let the guy wear his weird glasses in peace. “Alrighty then. Appreciated… I think.”

She glanced back at the boy she had been fighting, who seemed to have already lost interest and walked away, but not before throwing her gladius up high into the raised seating. Wonderful. She let out a groan and looked back to Sergeant Stick Up Butt. I remember back when Caligula was Emperor… Well, now that wasn’t something you heard every day. She wasn’t good with dates, but she was pretty sure Caligula qualified as really freakishly old and definitely dead. And if she had it right, she didn’t think he was one of those nice, put the people of Rome first kind of guys. In fact, she was fairly certain he’d been assassinated, which generally didn’t happen because he forgot to bring donuts for the Senate. This guys was seeming more and more unpleasant. She could see him sitting down to lunch with Nero and roasting marshmallows together over the burning city. But he had said he remembered this Caligula guy, which hinted at that weird feeling she’d gotten about him earlier. That had to be it: this guy wasn’t mortal.

A second too late, she realized that while she’d been sorting out his references and buddy list, he’d asked a question. “Oh, um, the-” But her ADHD snapped to the sudden appearance of a drink out of nowhere – yeah, definitely not human – and it made her pause for half a second, which seemed just enough to tick him off more. Really, this guy needed a good calming swim or something. She was about to respond when she noticed he wasn’t paying attention. The nerve! And before she knew it, he was walking off. Well, if he was going to be like that, then he didn’t need to know. She crossed her arms and glared at him as he did whatever he was doing with a pair of younger kids. She had half a mind to march right up and tell him off, that scummy son of a gorgon. She stopped short. Where had that come from? She never told people off (with the exception of people who willingly polluted waterways) and she certainly kept any sort of insults, even in her head, to a minimum in occurrence and intensity as well. She shook her head slightly as if that would somehow dislodge the thought.

And he was back. She realized her arms were still crossed and for a second, let them stay that way. “Well, it makes it considerably harder to when you don’t stay still or quiet,” she said with about as much attitude as Clare ever got, but once again, any attempt to talk further was cut out. This guy was really getting on her nerves. And the longer she stood next to him, the angrier she felt. Especially at that comment. “Excuse me!? Women are just as capable as men. Maybe more so because we’re not as thickheaded.” Okay, Clare, calm down, she told herself. It would only do more damage to get angrier.

Then she recalled something he’d said before that she hadn’t even noticed much at the time. He’d called himself the patron of Rome. Oh gods. That could only mean… It started clicking together. The rough-looking appearance, talking in all insults, the way he seemed to make her angry just by being there. This guy was… “Mars. You’re Mars. Uh, sir,” she added quickly. Though the fact that he was the god of war didn’t make her like him much more. Just made her a little more cautious about not liking him out loud. “The praetors are Remus Stone and Zidane Quinn. Some of the centurions are Charlie-Mack, Valerie, Rowan, and Felicity.” And the others, she admittedly could not remember their names. Now, to address the question that had been bothering her since she realized who she was talking to. “Um, if I may… why are you here, Lord Mars?”

Tag: Mars
Word Count: 862

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Mars’ face drew a smirk at the angry and snarky comments that this teenager shot out. He wouldn’t hold it against her, or maybe he would, his aura was like that. It made ordinarily calm, cool, and collected people bug out. It amused him. Then again, anything that put people out of their comfort zone and was opposite of usual personality made him chuckle. “Hmm…maybe I should have your tongue nailed to my shield for the next time some unruly brat decides to lash out at me.” He said in a musing sort of way, as if he was deeply considering doing it. Of course he wouldn’t, his uncle would be on him like stink on a pig. This girl didn’t need to know that. “Women are strong and capable; I’ve met quite a few. But your battle prowess leaves much to be desired fish face.” Mars stated. He took a long sip from his can of redbull before returning his attention to the daughter of Neptune in front of him.

She finally was able to work out who he was. “Well well it seems that you might have taken too many blows to the head in any case.” He growled as he scuffed dirt and grime from under his leather boot. He ran a hand over his unkempt jawline, contemplating what to make of this little legionnaire. If this was the best that New Rome had to offer, his little hope in the mortal race was going to slowly dwindle if not plummet into the abyss that they called Underworld. “What’s your name and cohort?” He asked as he stepped away from the column that had the pleasure of being the gods leaning post. Mars circled around her, surveying her in the light armor and the purple camp Jupiter shirt. He had watched her get sent flying back by a Jupiter legacy; anyone should have seen that move coming from a mile off. Maybe the big three kids weren’t as good as anyone else. Of course his children were much better than anyone else’s. He was a bit biased in that particular department even if he wasn’t in line for the dad of the year award.

“Hmm why am I here… good question isn’t it?” Mars paced back and forth, glowering at the kid in front of him. That was a good question, why was he here? He had a good reason to be here, or at least he did initially. Now that he was here, he couldn’t remember why he had decided to mingle with the semi-divine. But of course he had a master’s degree in BS. “But it’s none of you concern why I’m here, but if you must know, I’ve been charged with making sure things down on this gods forsaken rock. If the rest of the roman troops are like you, things have gone to Tartarus in a hand basket.” He spat. “Maybe I’d be better off talking to that dimwitted reject god terminus instead.” Mars growled as he pinched the bridge of his nose, pacing back and forth. He kicked a stray gladius that had been left lying on the ground, sending it skittering into the sand. It made one of the younger kids jump and run scared. Sometimes the younger legionnaires were much fun to pick on. He’d torment some of them later when he was done with this kid here.

“Is this legion battle ready? Where’s your standard at?” More barking questions shot rapid fire from his mouth. “hmph this place is for the hell hounds that’s for sure.” He growled. Mars brushed some sand off of his jacket, there were more partners that had been sent out for sparing practice. “What is this? The little runt’s class?” He stood up to his full height, towering over the daughter of Neptune with ease. He stretched his arms upwards, more of his joints popping. This mortal form is so bothersome, he thought with another scowl.

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This could officially be noted as what people here at Camp Jupiter typically called ‘bad’. She was losing her ability to think clearly in front of a god. And not just any god, but Mars. And an angry Mars at that. Well, the only way this could get much worse was probably if she was being used as a hellhound chew toy during all this. And she didn’t want to put too much more thought into how else it could be worse or, heavens knew, the war god might have some weird ability to read her mind and make it happen. Which, when he opened his mouth, she wasn’t so sure he didn’t have those sort of freaky powers. Or maybe he was just really good and practiced at scaring the crap out of little demigods. Probably the latter. “I-… no, no. I’m sorry, sir.” Tongue nailing did not sound pleasant.

It didn’t take long, however, for her anger to return. Or at least, part of it. She could fight! She could have won that battle with the Jupiter kid if Mars hadn’t gotten in the way! At least, that was what she was telling herself. Maybe she wasn’t the best, but she wasn’t the worst either. Her dad was a Big 3, after all! When he continued to demean her, she couldn’t help but clench her fists, but on the inside, she seriously was wanting to just run for it and try to forget this had happened at all. But running away from a god just because he insulted her? That didn’t sound like too good an idea. She was representing her camp and her father here, and she couldn’t let them down. She straightened up when he asked her name and cohort and tried her best to show a confidence she wasn’t sure she had at the moment. “Clare Rodriguez, daughter of Neptune, member of the fourth cohort.” As uneasy as she was about his circling, she stood her ground and let the oversized immortal vulture size her up, hoping she didn’t rank about the same as the eleven year olds at this camp or something.

Don’t react, she told herself as he shot her question right back at her and paced with that piercing glare set on her. There were not a lot of times in her life that she would rank as bad as this moment. She made a mental note to try to avoid gods in the future. Then again, the next round of insults didn’t do too well to keep her cool. And the anger that seemed to sit at the edge of her consciousness so long as he was there was not helping either. “Well, maybe I’m not as bad as you think!” she snapped before putting any thought to it. She was mad, scared, and on a roll. All in all, not a good combination. “I’m not the best fighter here, but I’m not that bad either! And if you’re so quick to throw Camp Jupiter aside like a bunch of trash, then maybe you shouldn’t have bothered coming in the first place! Since obviously you weren’t planning on giving anyone a chance anyhow.”

She was getting really tired of his rapid fire questioning. Or perhaps demanding was a better word for it. Though she didn’t mean to, she’d started glaring right back at him. “Yes, we’re battle ready! We’re always battle ready! Especially if we get some news this place is under threat, not that I expect you to care about that. And the standard is back at the Principia, where else?” As he went on with his insults, the water from her earlier attack, still slowly soaking into the sand a ways behind her, started to boil in response to her fury. “All the people you see here, myself included, are on break. No scheduled training. Which means every person here is determined to get better on their own. Something I should think even you would have to respect.” Though her tone suggested she did not in the slightest expect him to do so. Once again, probably not a smart move.

Tag: Mars
Word Count: 691

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Mars looked at the little Neptune fish with a sneer. “You’re not as bad as I think? That sounds like a challenge if I had ever seen one. Just because your daddy is the god of the sea doesn’t mean you’re worth your salt. I’ve watched you fight, your form is horrible, your stances are weak and to be honest I’m surprised that Jupiter Legacy took so long to knock you down. Oh and lest I forget, your sword arm is pitiful. I’ve seen Venus spawn with better battle sense then you do.” He growled. This little fish wouldn’t soon forget who she had crossed. Mars stuck his hand out and suddenly a gladius leapt into it, obeying his will. Though it probably would have been way more impressive to summon his favored sword, Terminus’ rules only applied to the Roman residents of New Rome. “You big three always think you’re better than everyone else. Why not test your mettle against someone worth your time.” Mars snarled. He snapped his fingers and his shield appeared strapped on his arm. A circular shield with a wolf painted on it. The shield itself was dripping with blood and there was a band of feathers circling the metal edge.

Mars snorted at the thought of these people doing training on their own. It was a useless waste of time. Many of these kids needed someone to show them and hold their hands while they drilled on their own. “The only way you can get better is by challenging someone much better than you, working with people who know what they’re doing. That Jupiter Legacy, he’s crap. Even someone as water logged as you could do better.” Mars gave his sword a twirl, flexing his hand and testing the leather grip of the practice sword. It seemed to have a red aura about it, much like any weapon he picked up. But it was just a practice blade, nothing too extraordinary. That didn’t matter, anyone with the skill and know how could turn even the bluntest blade into a deadly weapon, it all lie in the technique. “Come on then, if you want to get better prove it! Show me this rock is worth protecting.” He shouted.

The shouting had gathered the attention of a few people, some of them veterans others were just little probies that were working their little asses off to get better, but all of them were staring at Mars and this little Neptune brat. This little training lesson would do her well to remember who the real deal was. HE was the god of war and he knew better than anyone else how to bring pain and agony to those who insulted him and stood in his way. “Girl you had better not keep me waiting.” Mars growled as he flexed his sword. “Give me a reason to consider this place worth keeping around.”

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This was not going well. In fact, this was starting to chalk up as one of the worst days she’d had in a long, long time. Which was saying a lot these days. Clare really hadn’t meant to challenge a god, honest. But her anger had betrayed her and it had come out that way. Which meant that she had essentially challenged the god of war to combat. She tried not to wince at the insults he was throwing at her. They had the likely desired effect of getting under her skin and making her feel terrible, if not getting her slightly angry as well. She wasn’t that horrible at fighting! So she wasn’t that good, but still. She’d never had reason to fight much until now. Before now, she’d always falling in with the not that violent group, spending free time having fun rather than training. But things were getting serious around the camp, and she no longer had her older brothers to turn to and Zidane was busy with his praetor work, so that more or less left Clare on her own. Which meant that she was determined to be better on her own, even if the whole thing still made her really uncomfortable. She went on the defensive. “I never said I was better!” Though she had a feeling any debate would do not good whatsoever.

When he suggested she fight him, she could feel ever bit of color drain from her face. “I didn’t mean to insult you, sir, really.” She glanced at the blunt but deadly looking sword in his hand and the shield that came into sudden existence. The dripping red stuff – that she sincerely hoped wasn’t real blood or she might be sick right then and there – was not doing a lot for her confidence. She didn’t see why he had to go so hard on her, though. She’d held her own in that battle! And did he miss the part where she’d caught her opponent by surprise first? That had to be worth something! Right? Either way, she was not looking forward to facing off against the god of kicking people’s butts.

Then he said she needed to show him a reason why Camp Jupiter was worth anything. What!? She was expected to represent their whole camp? Why her? Why not someone who could actually do it justice? This was one of those moments when she really wished she could disappear and get away from things. But she was supposed to be representing Camp Jupiter. And he wasn’t getting any less angry, so best to comply. She hurried to a stand not far from her against the wall and grabbed one of the dulled gladii and shields there, mentally begging her father for help. She would need all the help she could get. She swallowed hard as she walked, albeit slower, back to Mars. She couldn’t back out now. She was supposed to be defending the honor of all of her friends – and her few enemies as well – and they were counting on her whether they knew it or not. Though she was vaguely aware that at least everyone in this Coliseum was aware, and staring. Like that helped with the nerves. Taking a deep breath, she put herself in a defensive position. Even if she was an excellent fighter, after all, she still wouldn’t like being first to attack.

Tag: Mars
Word Count: 568

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Mars snapped his fingers and he appeared in the sanded coliseum floor. There was a massive plume of smoke and sand before he appeared clothed in his armor. The brass and steel glinted and his chainmail was highly polished, save for a spot or two of blood, he would have to take care of that later. He swung his sword as it glowed bright red. He stared down the little girl in front of him. This would just be too good. No, he wouldn’t hurt her, not too bad at least. Mars would at least send her to the infirmary with a bruised tailbone or five. Nothing too bad, just enough to make her look back on the day that she decided to argue with the god of war and challenge him to a fight. Mars watched the daughter of Neptune protest, but none the less she decided to enter into the arena. She was shaky and nervous. It probably didn’t help her resolve that there was a good deal of people watching. Mars lived for the glory in battle and the mummering of the people, they were whispering his name. “Better pray to your father girl, because your sword arm is about to fail you.” Mars growled.

She was on the defensive. For the most part the strategy was fairly sound. Against normal Romans that is. Mars charged forward so fast, there was a shimmer of himself left behind. He quickly charged behind her and swung his shield to the back of her head with a good deal of strength. He had once used this particular attack against another roman he decided to challenge a few centuries ago. Mars had barely clipped his head and the poor boy was unconscious for nearly a year. His eyes flashed and it was almost like a sun going super nova, once again he strafed to the left. He slid along the sand with ease. He slashed his sword towards her midsection and flipped backwards. Mars’ muscles chorded up, almost as soon as his feet touched the earth, he shot forward again. Sand flew up as he nearly flew forward at the Neptune girl. There was a flurry of sword blows against the girl, hacking, slashing and spinning, never staying in a single place to keep her from getting complacent. Oh he would keep this little fish on her toes. Neptune might punish him for it later, but it would be worth it.

The red aura radiated from him like the rays of the sun did around Apollo. His assault was relentless and near unstoppable. Another swipe at her legs with the sword and the swift shot with his shield to her head. Mars backed up. HE slammed his sword on the shield in his hands. “Come on little fish. You’ll have to do better!” He shouted. Mars hadn’t even broken a sweat. He flipped his sword in his hand. “Come on now! I’m growing impatient!” He shouted. Instead of waiting for a reply, Mars shot forward once more with a flurry of quick slashes and stabs with his gladius. Sure the weapon was blunted but it would still hurt.

Mars outfit

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To say that his change in costume wasn’t helping Clare’s nerves was a vast understatement. She gripped her gladius as though it was the only thing between her and a very painful, humiliating dead. Which, to some degree, it was. And his jest at how she’d best pray to her dad was definitely unnecessary. After all, she was already doing so about as hard as was possible. Then completely out of the blue, it started.

All she knew was he came at her a heck of a lot faster and stronger than anyone ever did around this place. It was easy to tell he wasn’t mortal at all, and that he did this for a hobby. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know just how many people he’d beaten to a pulp over his years. She wasn’t sure how she did it – thank you, ADHD! – but she ducked in time not to lose her brains. That would be a bit of a setback. She tried to block some of his blows, but the gladius felt heavy and awkward in her hands, which was something that had never happened before. Had he actually cursed her? She hoped it didn’t last too long! She missed blocking a swing and got a lovely gash along the side of her stomach and stumbled back as he went in for another blow and the attempt to block it knocked her shield out of her hands. She had to admit, as was probably all too visible, she was growing more and more terrified by the minute.

It all seemed a blur, happening so fast even her ADHD couldn’t keep up. She tried to parry the blows, but it was no use. She would have been just as well trying to fight him with a pool noodle. Within minutes, she was littered with cuts and spots and trickles of blood. There was nothing she could do. She tried not to whimper as she backed away, using her sword more to shield her face anymore, since she could barely swing it properly. “Please, Lord Mars! I’m sorry!” She would never live this down, failing so miserably, but she couldn’t help it. Partially, because she just wasn’t a good fighter. And partially because she was fairly certain there was a little divine magic or whatever you’d call it going on.

When he spurred her on, she really did try to fight back, but before she knew what was going on, he was in her face again and her shoulder, cheek, and calf all suffered unpleasant cuts. She stumbled back, dropped her sword, and held her hands up in defeat. “Please, please stop! I-… I can’t…. I’m sorry,” she managed to stutter out between quick, shallow breaths.

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There was nearly no contest. The girl was barely able to block him nearly separating her head from her shoulders. But the block did happen. Her moves were becoming a bit sluggish as if the gladius was made of lead. Good the curse was taking effect. Mars gave a rather malicious smile from under his helmet. No one would have seen it and under the bronze gladiator helmet he wore. His body felt the breeze of the day against his flesh. The smell of fear radiated from her, almost like a skunk had sprayed this little fish with its odious stench. He had heard of times when a lion used a tree to sharpen its claws, Mars felt like he was using this little girl to sharpen his blade. The shield skittered across the sand, the dust flying everywhere. Mars wanted to break this girl…..no not break. He didn’t want to break a legionnaire. They were his romans, his own fighting force. He twirled the blade in his hands watching her bleed as she fell to the ground. His mortal heart pounded against his breast bone. The adrenaline was something that he loved about the human form. His senses were heightened when the adrenaline coursed through his mortal veins. The smell of the blood and the sound of it hitting the sand were magnified a hundred fold. Mars narrowed his eyes as he flashed his sword and went into another flurry of attacks.

He spun his sword as he backed off from the attacks. He was done with this little fish. She begged for him to stop. Mars gave a smirk; the begging was always the best part. The fear in her voice and the pleading was enough to make him stab the sword in the ground. Mars set his shield aside and walked over to the begging and pleading girl. Her blood smelled like it was ripe with sea water. He stood, towering above her like a giant. Her breathing was ragged and short. Mars did something that was not expected of him. He held his hand out for her to take. He was calling a truce to the fighting. Yes he could be a real jerk. But this girl rose far above his expectations. To take on a god when you were cursed took guts. To know when to yield in battle took even more. “You did good kid, you did really well.” He made to pull her up to her feet. He wasn’t quite sure how well her mortal body held up to the fight, she may have lost too much blood to be able to stand properly. “This is a child of Rome! A true child of Rome!” Mars bellowed. The entire arena fell fairly silent, all eyes upon him. “She has brought true honor to the legion and to the city of new Rome! She has fought bravely and will in all her battle that lay in her future! Under the patronage of Mars I commend you, Clare Fontaine of the Fourth Cohort! Ave!”

He nodded as he looked her over. Mars lowered his voice so only she could hear. “You did Rome proud kid.” He said as he took his sword from the sand and wiped the blood and dirt off of it. He picked up his shield and turned. “Despite the curse of your sword, you still did very well. You belong to this legion.” Mars saluted her.

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Clare felt like she was going to be sick. She hadn’t been in a fight this hard since… well, no, not even the Battle of Orthys had been this bad. Then again, she’d stuck close to Zidane Quinn at that battle, and he made it a lot easier to fight, since he seemed to pick up her slack. Here, though, this was different. This was one-on-one, and not with a monster or a rogue demigod. This was a god. And not just any god, but Mars. He specialized in fighting and especially in winning said fights. And here she was, without a shield and soon to be without a sword if her luck kept up like this.

Oh, and bleeding. She could taste that nasty metallic ting as the blood from one of the cuts on her face found her lips. She wiped at her face and, sure enough, there came a streak of red on the back of her hand. She wiped it on her already blood dampened shirt, keeping her eyes on Mars as she begged for some form of mercy. Was he capable of that even? None of the stories of Mars even hinted at it. And only Charlie of his kids here seemed to know what the word even meant. Well, that was a bit harsh maybe. But still.

That was when the very last thing she ever expected to happen actually did. First of all, he stopped kicking her butt royally. Second, he offered to help her up. She couldn’t help but stare for a second before realizing this was for real and she took his hand and stood up shakily. Wait, did he actually just compliment her? She’d failed miserably! How could he compliment her when she’d done so poorly? “Thank you, sir…” She muttered, still a little stunned that he’d said it to start with. Or maybe her head was just still spinning from the fight. Or both.

And then he went one step further. She looked around at the gathered Romans, including the once-smug Jupiter guy she’d lost too, all staring at her as he announced her worth in what she had to admit was a very hard to ignore voice. True child of Rome? Bringing honor to the legion? It was hard to imagine when she wanted to just get some salt water taffy and her stuffed fish and probably some ambrosia too. Though all the same, she could feel herself blushing at the very lofty (especially for a Roman) compliments from the patron god of Rome himself. She looked to him, hoping she didn’t look as numb as she felt. When she saw him cleaning his sword, she realized he wasn’t holding her hand any longer and was honestly a little shocked she was still standing. She gave him a shaky salute in return, but thankfully her voice was going back to normal and didn’t shake too much at all. “Thank you very much, sir. That means a lot. Though… do you mind if I go on to the infirmary…?” She didn’t mean to sound rude, but between blood loss and the harsh workout, she was feeling a bit faint.