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Hazel kept walking with the crowd towards an unknown destination. Only until she saw the large, and well, one of the only buildings in the area, did she realize where everyone was headed. All she saw was a dirty cement building. Why would everyone be headed to such a lame building? As she got closer she noticed a set of doors on the cement and that a lot of people were going in, something was going to happen soon and Hazel wasn't going to miss it. As she neared the door she realized people were paying. She didn't want to use her money on this so she stepped aside. She fixed her hair a little and hid her money and other belongings. She stepped back into the crowd. As she got to the door the man stuck his hand out for money. Hazel looked him in the eye and smiled, "Sir, I don't have any money, and I'm sure nobody would mind a little girl like me in the stadium. I don't take up much room." She kept looking at the man and touched his shoulder, "Please?" she inquired in her most innocent voice and hoped that he would let her in.

Alkilai was lost, both literally and figuratively, after he was discharged from the hospital he spent the next hour just wandering aimlessly around the city, he didn't know what else to do, where to go. His shop was gone, so he no longer had a roof over his head, was pretty much broke, and worst of all, his hands were now replaced with metallic prosthetics, he knew life in this city would be hard, but it not even 12 hours his life went straight down the toilet... all because of one man. As he continued his mindless trek, he caught sight of some wanted posters on the side of a building. Many of them were old and worn, but some seemed to have been put up just recently, including one that depicted an all too familiar face. Jolly Rro Rogers, his very first costumer, was a wanted criminal, the crimes on his head were numerous and severe.

But this mattered little to Alkilai, all he could think about was how much this single, amoral man had ruined his life. as he stared at his smirking depiction an the poster, the memories of their encounter flashing through his mind. He liked to think that he treated him kindly, and THIS is how he repaid him, but he was a criminal, a man who found pleasure in causing mischief, so he supposed it was expected. Alkilai's depressed face suddenly sprung to life, a scowl plastered on it, his automail fingers balling into a fist as his anger built up inside him. Eventually, he couldn't take it and with a loud grunt he threw his fist forward and landed a punch to the poster on the wall. With that out of his system, he found himself in a moment of clarity, his first ever since he had woken up that morning. He removed his fist from the wall and saw that there was a small crater in the wall, he had punched with his full strength, add the fact that his fist was now metal and that strike did some serious damage. And the best part was that not only did he not feel the impact, but the automail held up nicely from it. As cynical as he was about it before, he had to admit that this was a well made all purpose automail arm, not bad at all. Suddenly, he was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of cheering, he looked up to see that he was right down the street from an arena. He remembered that Rogers had asked for an automail leg that would be "suitable for combat", could it be.

"...I've heard that arena matches are a good way to make some quick cash, if you're good enough that is... two birds with one stone I suppose." With that in mind he made his way to the arena, his first order of business was to get some money, and if he just so happened to run into Rogers there...

"Big Mich," he sighed, "sounds fun." Thanking the men again for allowing him to fight, he strolled casually into the arena. Following the directors instructions, he soon reached the locker room and waited there until he was to be called. Getting up, he stretched, and began to practice his techniques. Being a former mercenary/bounty hunter had its perks when it came to fighting. Knowing how to easily evade attacks, he ran scenarios through his head, and dodged, rolled, and twisted according to. Keeping a close circle, he generally dealt better when he was closer to his opponent, elbow-range. Awaiting his calling, he continued to practice, trying to imagine what this, 'Big Mich's', tactics were. he definitely sounded like a brute fighter.

"I am here to apply for a guard position..." Sam looked around, his skills were in hand to hand combat and his hacking ability. He opened up his bag and layed down a satchel of his resume, "I used to be an arena fighter in another city." He pointed to the resume Coal City, defeated six in the arena, it may have been a smaller venue until I was defeated by a man named Raeh." Sam hated cyborgs because one crushed him in battle. But he was ready to begin a new in this town, "what do you say? May I join or do I have to prove myself to you first???"