John hadn't meant to kill his father. He didn't really feel bad about it at all, the old man had deserved it for all the shit he had put him through, but he really didn't think that would kill him. After all, despite not fighting for the last twenty odd years, his father was still massive. John may have shared his 6'5 frame and muscular physique but years of drinking had taken its toll on the old man whose body laid before him what was once the body of a heavyweight champion in kickboxing now had developed a beer gut. It had dulled his eyes making them have a constant glazed over look to it, or perhaps those eyes were all he could remember now that they were the last John had seen them to be.  John had just been so sick of his ranting and raving about life had been ruined because of the government and that damn bloodsport that had no right to be said within the same sentence of his beloved kickboxing. Finally after 19 years of listening to the same spiel however, John had had it. He snapped yelling at his dad that it had been his fault, his choice to gamble away what he had won in his career, and drunk away what little he received outside of that. Of course, that had made his father even worse, causing him to get up in John’s  face and yelling at him for being an ungrateful ass who should learn to shut up. To say John hadn’t taken that well was an understatement, he had inherited his dad’s temper after all. He hooked his father in the jaw then delivered a front kick to his chest. This had caused his father to fall back, hit the back of his head on the corner of the granite table. Killing him instantly. 

It wouldn't be long before the police and paramedics arrive everyone had a vitals monitoring chip in them that also kept track of where people were to ensure  their safety and make sure they committed no crimes, this meant that the moment someone suffered a major health concern there was a chance to save them, or in cases like this catch those who caused it. Even worse there was no way John could run, try and blend with the crowd to escape. He was too distinctive, 6’5, muscular, with platinum blonde hair, and a nose too big for his face no one looked like him except for his dad.  And even then his steel grey eyes were completely different from his dad’s green eyes. If he was on a colony planet or rimworld perhaps, the response would be slow enough to  make a get-away, but not here, not in New York, on Earth where he could already hear the sirens. John sighed if he was going to be arrested he might as well eat something, something told him he might not have the chance for awhile.

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The police had been surprisingly polite all things considered, they seemed to have realized what happened, but a murder was a murder, and they had a job to do. John didn’t make it hard for them either, he had gone quitely, hoping that it would make his sentence lighter, that somehow he would be spared a life sentence, perhaps several years hard labour. Upon arriving at the station, he had told the police everything. They reported it to their superiors. The verdict came down coldly, dashing any hopes John might have, killing, for any reason carried other than self-defense was punished by only one sentence, a life sentence. However, given the circumstances, John was given a choice. He could either serve his sentence on a ‘peaceful’ prison colony, or he could risk his life in the Blood Pits. To John the choice was simple, He had been taught all his life how to fight by one of the best in the world. He told them his answer. He would go to the Blood Pits and fight for freedom.