Lights high above you cast a flickering half-light across the crowd, the heavy bars, the oil-stained concrete. Two hulking shadows stand, immobile, across from each other. There is a bewildering pattern of sound throughout the arena: the hum of power cells, the hiss of coolant, occasional sparks, and of course the charged anticipation of the crowd.

The hi-beams flick on, and in an instant the two frames are on the move. The sounds of machinery are completely drowned by the immediate roar that erupts from the crowd. The frame nearest you is charging forward, pistons driving heavy armoured legs into the ground. Its broad body, armoured with iridescent plates, is hunched into a low shoulder charge, presenting a grotesquely oversized pauldron towards the opponent that is comparatively motionless, waiting for its chance to dive or to get a bead with the giant harpoon that makes up its left forearm. Green-striped black armour on the lighter frame hides the gladiator's body, but you can see his face. It is tattooed with stark lines that appear to radiate from beneath his thick goggles, streaking away round the back of his bald head and down his neck out of sight beneath the armour. A snarl of concentration is the only expression you have time to take in before the pneumatic blast of the harpoon launch forces you to blink and turn away.

A fraction of a second has passed but when you look back at the arena, the gap between the fighters has closed dramatically. The green gladiator is no longer standing ground, instead his steel boots are striking sparks off the reinforced concrete as he tries to get momentum and enough distance from the aggressive charge of the heavier frame. He skids round a pillar, one of the arena obstacles - a giant metal column that is sunk over twenty feet into the floor. The harpoon cable drags behind him and around the base of the column, suddenly tightening and jerking the dark bulk of the other frame forward, disturbing its rhythm and causing a spiked knee to strike the floor. Before it can recover, the green gladiator has rounded the pillar and is able to take a moment to leer at his enemy, tugging again at the nanotube cable as he beats his chest and roars at the deafening crowd. Struggling to turn, the almost-black mass of the other frame gets to its feet and you can see for the first time both the face of its pilot and where the harpoon is lodged within its midsection. Anger but no pain registers on her face, as the bulky machinery completely encloses what is left of her original body. Her dark red mohawk and visored eyes jerk towards the showboating enemy and she is able, weakly, to deflect the sweep of its clawed fist with her own massively armoured arm and shoulder. It is enough to give her a moment to swing her own weapon, a snarling buzz saw in place of the other forearm in a low arc that grazes off the green-striped leg plates of her opponent.

Jerking away from the vicious saw blade, he puts a little more distance between them. With the slight extra room she turns her attention back to the cable that tethers her. She must know from experience that the nanotubes will resist her saw as she does not even try to sever it, instead grabbing the shaft of the harpoon with her open hand and trying to jerk it free. As she does so it drags on the green gladiator's forearm just as he started moving again, causing him to stumble slightly. She misses her opportunity, however, and the green gladiator detaches the cable in frustration. A set of claws shoot out from the harpoon launcher almost immediately and he goes on the attack.

Alerted by the sound of his advance, she steps in towards him and ducks beneath his first swipe with the newly deployed claws, which would have given him a strike against the shimmering chest armour. Instead he hits thin air and the heavy attacker is able to grab the attacking arm and jam a boot into the back of his knee. He goes down, with her heavier bulk now above him, and can only watch as the buzzsaw screams and bites through the armoured limb. It detaches with a shower of sparks and the heavy frame tosses it away like a scrap of paper. She then calmly turns her opponent over and lazily deflects a desperate attack before kicking him in the chest and sending him sprawling to the ground.

Raising her arms in triumph, she leaps forward and onto the stricken gladiator. Severing a leg in mere seconds with the saw, she looks up at the crowd and tosses it towards them. Her eyes go wide as she looks back down, and flails the other arm wildly at the fighter on his back... but does not deflect the harpoon, wrenched free by the green gladiator's remaining fist and thrust brutally towards her head. It strikes her in the neck from below and punches out through the back of her skull. There is a pause that feels endless and then the giant bulk of the armoured frame slumps down on top of the prone gladiator.

A salvo of fireworks blast out from the centre of the arena and the frenzy of the crowd reaches impossible heights. It is relatively rare for fighters to die in the arena, as the damage to their frames is reparable, and when it happens - especially to a fighter as obviously popular as she was - it is a spectacle relished by the supporters of the victor and tragic to those of the dead gladiator. A great deal of money will have been won and lost tonight.

Turning away from the arena and attempting to control your surging adrenalin, there is a mess of emotions in your mind. The main thought that will not go away:

This is your home now. Get used to it.