Flak just gaped, as the roman warrior walked away from him. He didn’t know how to answer such a profound question, as sweat poured from every orifice.
It wasn’t due to some profound spiritual awakening, strange ideas on the morality of what he did, or the feeling of responsibility as Wyvern’s Chief ground forces commander that caused Flak this agony.
No, it was the memories of watching Gladiator, and spartacus, and from what he remembered, Rome had, like, thousands of dudes, a bunch of horses, and some heavy gear.
Which meant that, if Vitalien really had held all of that on his shoulders, he was Definitely sandbagging on the bench press. Flak was utterly terrified at the idea that he might actually have to face the older warrior’s strength.
“...Gotta be a bluff…” Flak mutters to himself after a moment, re-adjusting his helmet as he looked around, “How’d he even fit all of them on his shoulders…?”
“Oh, hey… you the like, spotter for the gym?” A brusque voice asked, looking him up and down.
Flak blinked, and stared down towards his chest, seeing… a pretty damn impressive specimen. Big man, though not as big as Flak, covered in muscle. He was wearing a white cape hiding some kinda karate gi, and his facial hair was… outrageous. The biggest handle-bar muscle he’d seen, combined with an Afro Bigger than his pecs - pecs he proceeded to show off like a parrot puffing itself out.
“Wha? Nah, man, I’m one of the guys here for this death-game… thing.” Flak volunteered with a grin, stepping out of the way. “I just finished spotting for the caveman, so If I’m gonna keep being over here, I’m taking the turn. Man hogged the thing for like, hours.”
The other man simply wiped a hand across his moustache. “What? You’re here to participate in the tournament? My man, I can respect the physique, but you don’t seem like the type that’s going to last here. Why, You look like you barely know how to throw a punch!”
Flak blinked. “Hey! I know how to throw a punch! It’s the kicks that are hard!” He added, gritting his teeth. “Who do you think you are?”
The proud champion gave a grin. “Why, I’m only the strongest martial artist in all the crossroads…”
Throwing off his white cape with a grin, the man introduced himself with a flourish, jumping high in the air, before showing off a barrage of blows… punches so fast Flak couldn’t even see them.
“Misterrrr Sataaaan!” The man cried out, throwing a grin over to the shocked giant.
“...Awright, I admit ya might… know a few more moves than me. I ain’t heard of ya before though.”
“Do you just pay no attention to martial arts? Or are you more the type for football?” The afro-clad man asked with a frown.
“Listen, Jerk, I just got here! Crossroads is new stuff to me! And before that I only had like an hour of TV between being a general and workin’ out!”
Mr. Satan looked a bit sympathetic to that, “Oh, new arrival? Well, if that’s the case, I might be bein’ too hard on you. Sorry.”
Flak’s growl stayed on his face for a second, before disappearing after a moment,
“Not like we’re not going to be ripping eachother apart in the ring. My name’s Flak. Black hole General.”
The other man’s eyes seemed to dart from the helmet to the eyes. “...Mmmmilitary. Right. So you’re… leading the army of these black hole guys?”
Flak raised an eyebrow, before realizing his mistake. “Oh. Sorry. Former black hole General. Hard to forget the old job, heh.”
Mister Satan apparently thought that was super funny, because he laughed super hard. “Ha ha ha! He he! Right! No problem, then. Here I was worried you had like-”
Flak Gave a laugh along with, “-Yeah, I’m the Commander for WYVERN’s Land forces, now!”
Mister Satan stopped laughing at the statement, which Flak felt made a lot of sense. WYVERN wasn’t really all that funny, he figured. No one was willing to crack a joke.
“WYVERN? L… like the space raiders? With the big dragon?” Mr. Satan asked, as Flak nodded,
“Yeah, but like, I’m trying to get a workout here. If you spot me I’ll spot you, but if you’re not going to help me I’ll just use another machine, man!”
“Errr… sure, I would be delighted to be spotting you. It would be great if we became great friends!” The Martial artist replied, rubbing his hands together.
“Maybe show me some of those cool martial arts later? I gotta admit them punches are fancy”
“Well, we’ll see, though I’m really only going to have a little time to exercise here.”
Flak just gave a nod, adjusting his helmet before taking off his shirt. “Huh. Well, you seem like a pretty good guy, Satan. I hope we smash each other last in this weird Free-for-all thing!”
“Err… I hope so, too. Is Flak your first or last name?” Satan asked, looking like he was a little uncomfortable with the situation. Flak hoped he hadn’t also had to wait for hours to get on the friggin barbell machine, and wondered if he’d been hogging the machine together with the Rome man.”
“Only! And, uhh… Don’t worry. I’ll get my reps in and pass my turn pretty quick here. I’m not enough of a monster to just hog the gym equipment!”