The city was buzzing with excitement. The Emperor organized the games for the people of Rome to enjoy, and today was the first day of gladiator fights. You were usually avoiding attending, finding the games barbaric. You preferred entertainments of an artistic kind, such as music and poetry, rather than bloodthirsty crowds and violent fights.

But you were of an influential family, and unfortunately your presence at the games was expected by Caesar. Not wanting to displease the Emperor, you agreed to go see the gladiator fights this time.

The streets were busy as people were swarming towards the amphitheatre; street vendors were selling wine and fruit; and gamblers were taking bets. As you walked through the streets, holding up the hem of your white tunic, you heard one name being repeated among those who were placing bets. Falco. The Falcon. It was the name of an undefeated gladiator from sun-kissed lands in the south. Apparently everyone was very excited to see him fight today. He was known for his deceiving, unassuming posture. However toned and athletic, he was smaller and more lean compared to the usual mountain-muscles that were gladiators. But his true talent was not the brutal, physical strength. He was fast, precise, and clever, easily defeating larger and stronger opponents using his wit and careful strikes that always targeted the weak points.

Falco, qui numquam fallit. — Falcon, who never misses.

The Colosseum was decorated with garlands of bay leaves. The audience cheered the Emperor appeared in his loggia, waving. But, if possible, the crowd cheered even louder once the gates to the arena opened, and gladiators walked out.

And among them, you saw the unmistakable Flacon. Dark skin glistening in the sun, muscles flexing underneath… he looked like a bronze statue of the warrior god Mars. A leather belt with straps barely covered his oiled up thighs… He walked confidently, the sharp, long spear he carried seemed light as a feather in his strong hand.

The crowd went wild, chanting his name and applauding. People started tossing flowers at the arena, and they were falling at his feet.

Someone standing next to you tossed a rose right at the gladiator. Falcon picked it up as it landed under his sandals. He looked up towards the audience to see who threw the flower. And then his eyes landed on you. Sunlight flickered in the steel tip of his spear as he raised his weapon, and banged his fist against his chest. He dedicated today’s fight to you.