The King Of Pain

As the bloodthirsty crowd cheered him on, Milo brought his right elbow down viciously on the back of his opponent's neck, snapping it instantly. Milo knew all about the art of killing without using a secondary weapon; his arms and hands were his weapons. As he raised his blood soaked hands in victory, Milo closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift back to the days long ago and far away, when the only thing on his mind was preserving life instead of taking it, then the cheers from the crowd would bring him back out of his trance like state to reality. This was his life now; one of fire and smoke and bloodshed and death. The lead instructor in a makeshift gladiator school, his whole existence now one of breaking bones and the ripping of flesh and the gouging of eyes and the screams of his opponents as they writhe and die in excruciating pain and agony. Milo, the King of Pain.