[Tournament – The Boonta Gauntlet – Ring of Champions][P17 - Zhar - FZ] A Rockin', Rollin' Beatdown

The booming voice over the arena loudspeakers was nearly swallowed by the deafening roar of the crowd...

"You all know him! You all love him! The Prince of Darkness! The Caliph of the Legendary Riff! The Dark Lord of the Power Chord himself... OZZET OZBANE!"

The arena erupted.

Ozzet launched himself skyward, crashing into his opponent with a brutal flying kick that sent the unfortunate gladiator sprawling across the floor. As he landed, he threw his head back and unleashed a piercing shriek into the microphone mounted before his face. The vox pack mounted to the harness on his back blasted the scream throughout the coliseum, shaking the walls with raw, distorted fury.

The crowd answered with thunderous applause.

His battered opponent struggled to rise, barely making it to one knee before Ozzet stepped forward. With a triumphant flourish, he swung his signature powered guitar - "The Axe" - in a crackling arc, bringing the instrument down with enough force to end the bout once and for all.

The match had been disappointingly short.

The stock of gladiators on Gall lately was a sorry sight, more fit for slaughter than spectacle. Still, that hardly mattered to the fans. They hadn't come to watch a fair fight. They'd come to watch Ozzet.

People often said that one of his cage matches had more in common with a Scrak concert than a gladiatorial contest. Every entrance was a performance. Every strike hit on the beat. Every victory was an encore played as though it would be his last.

Standing amidst the fallen, Ozzet leaned into a dramatic power slide, dragging one boot along the durasteel floor as his fingers tore into a thunderous riff on The Axe. The weapon screamed with him, filling the arena with enough sonic fury to send the audience into another frenzy.

He soaked in the adoration for a moment before the grin beneath his optic sensor faded. Victory was sweet, but it was no longer enough. He craved an opponent worthy of the legend he intended to become.

The second Boonta Gauntlet was approaching, and with it, the promise of glory- of a battle worthy of the greatest showman the arena had ever seen.

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