Built from the shell of an ancient foundation, the Arx Colosseum has undergone renovations to allow multiple new configurations for battle. Its spectator setup remains largely the same, with high walls, tall enough for even the most savvy Jedi to find unscalable that lead up to spectator chairs which are divided into nearly organized sections to accommodate several thousand people. At the center, an elongated platform “box” contains a central throne of stone with various seats of smaller scale lined beside it in both directions. Two large holo-projection screens are set up on each side of the Colosseum, offering different angles of the match bia holocam drones.

Today’s setup is known as The Bridges.

High-suspended walkways cross and weave through multiple levels of platforms. Some are solid, metal and duracrete crafting an unmoving foundation. Others are mere rope and wood, swaying with even the most gentle of breezes.

Below the walkways is a void filled with mist, the ground unseen for combatants and spectators alike. Periodic ripples of electrical energy can be seen through the mist, hinting to the deadly nature of the arena floor below.

Vincent Brujah walked across one of the duracrete walkways, keeping his eyes on his immediate surroundings for his opponent. He had vowed to himself when entering this tournament that he would destroy anyone that faced him. Deep in what little heart he had, he wanted desperately to prove himself. He wanted to show the Brotherhood that he was possibly their most capable of fighters. He wanted the name Champion.

But up to this point, the battles he had been in were less than the impressive showing he had hoped for. His first had him and his opponent hiding in shipping containers and agreeing to a duel before being interrupted by battle droids. In his second round match up, he had to encourage his opponent to even raise a fist against him. In neither did Vincent find the challenge and opportunity that he was looking for. He hoped that this round would be a different story, but so far he had not seen his opponent to know what he was in for.

Reaching out with his senses, he felt a presence above him. He looked up and found what appeared to be a mostly nude Kiffar laying on a rope bridge a few meters above him. A deep sigh exited his helmet.

"You have to be joking..." the Sith said.

Reaching to his side he pulled a lightsaber hilt into his hand and activated the red blade with a hiss. He tossed the lightsaber upwards and then guided it to slice the bridge into two pieces before calling the saber back to his right hand. The Kiffar seemed to awaken just as the bridge gave. He fell to the duracrete walkway below with a thud and a loud "OOF!". Giving his opponent a closer look, Brujah noted that he was wearing nothing more than yellow boxing shorts and a pair of shockboxing gloves. The Kiffar grumbled from the ground as he worked on bringing himself to his feet. A deep voice rang out from within the helmet of the Sith.

"I take it that you are my opponent this round. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Vincent Brujah, and I have come to Arx to slay all those who would oppose me. So, let me ask you Kiffar... did you come to fight, or did you come to play games?"

Shaking the cobwebs out of his head, the Kiffar stood and tilted his head first left and then right popping his vertebrate. He didn't speak, but instead took up a boxing stance. It was one that Brujah was familiar with from his time in the fighting pits of Tatooine. It had been many years, but Vincent was once a top-tier shockboxer. However, after joining the Brotherhood he put his gloves aside in favor of lightsabers.

The Kiffar didn't answer, instead moving closer to Brujah and dancing around him, shadowboxing towards him.

"Great. Just great." Brujah thought to himself before being struck in the helmet with a calculated, but soft jab.

A "bzzt" sound rang out as the glove made contact with the Dark Age Sith Armor, but Brujah did not move except to drop his head in what appeared to be disappointment.

"I'm wearing armor you karking idiot!!"

Tisto hopped back with a smile. He opened up his hands, wiggling his fingers after the strike and began to stretch.

"Yes, yes, you are wearing the eternal symbol of being afraid of getting hit."

Instinctively, Tisto took a few steps further away from his opponent. He held up his hands in a gesture asking for a few moments, then waved his hands to the crowd. The Kiffar was pleased to see that Vincent was humoring this. Still, always better to be sure.

"You are that ex gladiator from Scholae Palpatinae right?" Tisto attempted his appeal to the man's inner athlete. "I'm the reigning cruiserweight champion of Odan-Urr. I just came from a fight where my opponent was messing with my head. It sucked. I joined this whole tournament because I am an athlete. I wanted real fights. And here you are. An opponent with a storied history, a crowd to cheer us on, a floor that isn't trying to melt me alive. I was thinking, I don't know this guy but..."

Tisto let that hang in the air, hoping the tease of the first punch and talking this up would work on his opponent's ego. He couldn't read anything behind his opponent's mask, but Brujah made no move.

"What do you propose?" Brujah's voice sounded almost hopeful at the prospect. "And how do I know this isn't some Jedi trick?"

Tisto gestured at his outfit before blowing a kiss towards the crowd. "I don't exactly have much space for hiding tricks now do I? Now I don't know about you but a good fight needs a cheering crowd."

Tisto was delighted to see his opponent nod at that. A real fight... now to get the crowd roaring.

"Please my friend, why don't you get us started!" Tisto thrust his arms above his head waving at the crowd in the area before gesturing to Vincent.

The Sith did not need any time to get ready. He started by taking off his helmet, resting it under an arm so he could show off his scarred and bearded face. "I am the one and only Vincent Brujah! Many of you might have heard of my work. Not only was I the former Quaestor of the mighty House Caliburnus I was so good at the job they begged me to take up that mantle again."

Brujah raised his lightsaber over his head, lighting himself in its red glow. "I have spent time as the Left Hand of Justice. I was a deputy to the Combat Master. I was a Proconsul to my clan! Each scar on my face has been earned in combat, fighting and killing anything from athletes like yourselves, to Jedi like your clan! You are not even in my weight class, kid This is going to be a slaughter."

The crowd erupted in cheers with the unexpected spectacle. Camera droids moved in to get good views of the display. Excellent, Tisto’s mind raced as the crowd embraced the hype building.

Tisto crashed his fists together, causing a flash of blue as the electricity flared to life. Droids turned their cameras towards him. "I can't claim to have held such lofty positions as you. I am a mere padawan, no Jedi killer. The Jedi Lord of House Hoth, slayer of one of Arcona's false gods. I bet you pride yourself on your combat skills, but can you even last two minutes? Careful not to get too winded calling to the crowd old man."

Tisto shot finger guns to where he thought his friend would be sitting. "I am Odan Urr's sixty-minute man. The ladies call me oh god, but you can just call me Tisto."

There was a roar of laughter from the crowd. From the direction opposite of where he was pointing, he could just barely make out a shout of, "Karking dammit Greencheeks!"

The two fighters nodded at that, the crowd cheering and jeering for their match to truly begin. Tisto fell back into stance, making himself small, standing on the balls of his feet but crouching with his elbows bent in. Vincent bent his knees slightly as he turned his body sideways, his left side facing the Kiffar.

Tisto was not surprised when Brujah took the offensive, advancing with a swing that seemed to be like how you would swing a bat. Tisto was ready for this, a familiar heat flowing through him that he focused into a barrier. The saber collided with his use of the Force, and Tisto stepped down on Vincent's leading foot. His flesh met the man's boots, keeping him in place, and was followed by an upper cut to the ribs that only hit armor. Electricity crackled against the Sith Alchemy forged plate, and Tisto had to retreat as Vincent slammed his saber into the barrier again. Despite his best efforts, panic flashed on the boxer's face and his eyes quickly darted to the lightsaber.

The Kiffar stepped back further as he avoided another swing that passed uncomfortably close to his left arm.

What do I do now?

Brujah continued to press the attack, but for every swing of his lightsaber, his opponent ducked, dodged, dipped, dived, or blocked, obviously enhancing his abilities with his connection to the Force. Seeing the Kiffar either block or back away from every swing only proved to frustrate the Sith. With the anger building in his eyes he swung high on Tisto, forcing him to duck, but then brought his other saber to bear in his left hand. In an instant he was swinging downward over and over again at the Kiffar with both blades, but Tisto's barrier blocked the strikes again and again. Brujah could feel the barrier weakening, but before he could focus on that fact he heard the crowd begin to boo.

It started quietly, but quickly built into a roar of jeers pointed at the fighters. The crowd had been promised a fight, but what they were seeing was an impasse. Vincent played it off with a grin and by spinning his lightsabers in circles in front of himself as the Kiffar backed away. Looking to his side he saw his helmet sitting on the walkway. He had never remembered to put it back on after addressing the crowd.

"All for the better" Brujah thought to himself before facing Tisto and speaking.

"No, no, no... this is all wrong." he said, deactivating and holstering both of his sabers. "It was a fight you wanted, right? Something the crowd could cheer for? Well where's the excitement in this game of cat and mouse? Can't you hear them? They're booing us. They're booing you!"

The Sith paced in front of the Kiffar, allowing him time to regain his thoughts and composure.

"I haven't been in the pits against a Shockboxer in a long time, but today is as good a day as any. Show me what fight you've brought here with you."

Tisto brought his fists up and took form.

"Let's give them one for the ages..." Vincent said

"And when you tire down, I'll put a blaster bolt between your eyes" he thought to himself.

The Sith jumped in, quicker than what his age and form would suggest he was capable of. He threw a diving right cross at the face of the Kiffar, but it was batted away as quickly as one of his previous saber attacks. The Sith stumbled forward, but before he could recover the glove of the Padawan's right hand made hard contact with his cheek.

ZAP! rang out as the glove made contact with Brujah's head in a perfectly placed punch. First the Sith's face twitched from the current coursing through his flesh, but then came the familiar ringing in his ears. The crowd erupted as Tisto lined up his next shot. Vincent spit blood on the ground and looked up at the Kiffar with a crimson smile.

"There you are..." he smirked.

The Kiffar pushed forward, throwing a left jab his kneeling opponent, but the Sith sidestepped the shot and used the rising momentum to bring a knee crashing into the Padawan's abdomen. Tisto instinctively leaned forward, the air rushing from his lungs. Brujah grabbed him around the waist with both arms, interlocking his fingers, and spun, driving the Kiffar into the pavement with a belly-to-belly suplex.

Brujah attempted to mount the Kiffar, but quick hands rained upwards from the ground, striking his jaw with quick jabs from the left and right.

ZAP! ZAP!

Vincent lost his footing and tumbled to the ground. Tisto took the opportunity to roll to his belly and then crawl on top of the Sith, taking the mount that Brujah had tried for moments ago.

ZAP! ZAP! ZAP! ZAP!

The whole world was blurry, but Vincent could still hear the crowd screaming with satisfaction. Tisto took a moment to soak in the cheers. Standing and holding his arms out at his side as the Arx Coliseum roared for him. Brujah slowly reached towards his hip and the RSKF-44 waiting there, but hesitated as he saw Tisto turn to look back at him. The Kiffar spoke as he approached.

"Just like I said. Two minutes! Now get up! We're not done here."

He leaned down to pick up the Sith from under his arms but at the exact moment that he straddled Vincent, an armored shin came crashing into his groin.

Pain shot through Tisto’s body like hot irons piercing from his groin, through his stomach, and spiraling outwards. He steeled himself in the Force, locking in place against the kneeing. The Kiffar tried calling on the calming heat he always felt to ease the pain, but it was too late. This was a bad time to have a lunch of hot wings, bloatgourd, and honey wine.

For his part, Vincent was pulling out the gun at his side. It was not easy to draw a bead on Tisto; the repeated shocks to the head had Vincent off his game. Yet it seemed like he had all the time in the world as the Kiffar just stood there for several heartbeats.

“I guess you took that hit like a--”

Tisto couldn’t hold on any longer; even as he worked to numb the pain, he could feel the bile rushing out of his stomach. He tried to lurch to the side to not get Vincent in the splash zone, but freezing in place had been a bad call for that. The boxer opened his mouth as a flood of bile and partially digested foodstuffs came flying out. A chunk of bloatgourd smacking into Vincent’s left eye, with bile spraying across that side of his face. There was the sound of a blast as the Sith instinctively pulled the trigger, and pain shot through Tisto’s left arm.

The Kiffar stumbled back, letting the comforting heat of the Force rush into him. His pain began to subside, but nothing fully went away. Tisto looked at Vincent, who had dropped his gun, and was trying to wipe his face clean. “You shot me!” Tisto’s voice was half accusatory and half mirthful.

“You… oh, by the Force, I can taste it.” Vincent’s voice was far less mirthful and far more disgusted. “Why did you stand still? It got in my mouth!”

Both of them took a few seconds to compose themselves after that. The crowd was a mix of laughter and cries of being sick. Tisto couldn’t help but feel shocked that this sort of thing might have his life for a fourth time now. Why do people who do groin shots never expect vomit?

Tisto settled back into what might be generously called a variation on his typical stance. He was sure if he needed to move his left arm he could, but he kept it hanging limply at his side for dramatic effect. As far as he could tell, he had been shot squarely in the upper arm—something that would be painful, but if he forced enough adrenaline into his system, it would be easy to move. Vincent picked up his blaster and stood up, looking at his opponent with raised eyebrows but a solidly closed mouth at this point. If Tisto were a betting man, and he was, he would bet Vincent was shocked that the claimed title of sixty-minute man was the least inaccurate thing Tisto had claimed. Either that or he was dazed from repeated electrical hits to the head.

The Sith wasted no time, taking a few shots at Tisto that struck his latest barrier, and with that, the Kiffar moved in. Blaster bolts dispersed as he closed the distance, throwing a right hook that served no purpose other than to graze Vincent’s cheek with a light zap. With Tisto in as close as he was, Brujah activated his Lanvarok, launching the net right at Tisto’s unarmored chest. It exploded in fire as Tisto’s momentum carried him right into Brujah. The two collapsed into the ground, wreathed in flame to a cheering crowd.

Tisto was quick to roll off of Vincent, rolling along the ground to extinguish the burning liquid that covered him. His face did not betray any of the pain he knew he would be feeling after this fight. Yet his eyes were wild, darting around looking for anything he could use to win this fight. The smell of burning hair filled the air around him as he finished extinguishing himself. Tisto stopped as he found himself close to the edge of the walkway they were on.

Vincent enjoyed the thermal protections of his armor, standing back up and using the force to call his lightsabers towards him. He ignited the pair of them, lighting himself in red yet again. He walked over to Tisto, dragging his sabers lightly along the way.

“You fought well.” Vincent had a hint of an unseen smirk on his face. “But I was stronger.”

Tisto looked up at the Sith, a smile on his face. Both of them were close to the edge now, so Tisto decided it was time to also fight dirty. “I guess you are stronger than me. Would you mind letting me stand up? A boxer would like to lose on his feet. I tip my nonexistent hat to the greater warrior.”

Vincent took a second to think about the request. Then he nodded, to the cheering of the crowd. Tisto pushed himself up, focusing on the Force and Vincent. He was on his feet but hunched over, holding his knees with his hands. “I gotta say, I am rarely outdone like this. You certainly earned your pride.”

Vincent’s smile was not something Tisto ever wanted to see again. “You earned several of your titles as well. Goodbye, Jedi Lord. Know that if you had lived, you probably would be a padawan no more.”

“I am however,” Tisto said as he saw Vincent slowly raise a lightsaber, “strong enough for one last trick.”

Tisto swiped his right hand towards the edge, grabbing hold of Vincent with the Force and throwing the Sith over it. He watched as Vincent plummeted, then laid on the ground himself. A camera droid flew over, inspecting the burned and bruised Kiffar.

“Can anyone from the arena send in a medic?” he asked. “I sure could go for a bacta bath right now.”