"Just sew him up real quick, it's nothing too bad."<br/><br/>To be honest, it actually felt quite bad.<br/><br/>As Ian returned to the realm of consciousness, all he could feel was a sharp stinging in his shoulder. His first arena match had ended in a sort of draw, it seemed. He'd fired his round into her head just as her dagger pierced his flesh. Neither of them had the chance to finish each other off, he noticed, as she groaned from the other side of the operating room. She was a speedy little demon, she was. Ian did his best to mumble "You did good", but he was still groggy. It didn't take long for him to wake up though, with the doctors pumping all sorts of fluids in his arm with those sickening needles.<br/><br/>The room was sterile, and reminded him of the hospitals and dentist's offices from way back when. Mostly white, and he felt an odd sort of loneliness or coldness. The men finally took off their masks and instructed him to stand up. He did, a bit wobbly at first, the room spinning around him. He regained his footing, patted one of the doctors on the back, to which he was gave an awkward look, and pulled his hood back over his face. His hoofs where noisy as they fumbled across the cold, lifeless floor on his way to the door. Before he could leave, the doctor, his white coat covered  with splotches of crimson, regained his composure and began to speak.<br/><br/>"Ian, you're set to appear soon."<br/><br/>"Already? Just come and get me when it is time, friend!"<br/><br/>"V-Very well. Go get your things."<br/><br/>Ian frowned. He'd been here almost a year now, and just now they started laying on the fights. He's heard the horror stories from veterans of the arena, having been beat half to death and still given no time to recover. But he shouldn't listen to all that negativity, right? All he needed to worry about was keeping as many people as he could alive. He left the room, refusing to let these thoughts change his demeanor.<br/><br/>His revolvers were resting where they usually where in his housing room. He filled each of them with five nonlethal bullets, and one lethal. He was hunched over on his bed loading the last of them as another man, wearing a nearly identical white coat, barged in bearing chains. He'd seen the man once before, and the implications were unsettling.<br/><br/>Ian's armed were tied behind him, as well as his legs bound together, preventing him from changing or kicking his way out. He glared at the guard, his reptilian eyes misleadingly menacing from the shadows of his hood.<br/><br/>"Is this really necessary? Also, do you know how hard it is to walk like this?"<br/><br/>The man was silent. Ian said nothing more and was blindly led down the hall.