Post by Deleted on Jan 30, 2014 11:49:46 GMT -5
The room is dimly lit, the soft glow from the lights barely reaching the floor. The single window in the room lets in a ray of sunlight, which shines directly on a piece of paper attached to the wall. This was probably deliberate, as the paper displays the bracket containing the matchups. Seven warriors gather around the paper, looking to see who they would be fighting. The eighth warrior stands aside, looking at the window instead. This is partly becuase his large frame would block the light, but also because he wants to savor this moment. "The calm before the storm..." he mutters, hearing the crowd cheering outside.
----
The crowd cheers loudly, the dull roar of their voices audible even down in the lockers. The fighter they call "Side-Iron" sits on a bench, holding an ice pack to his neck. He had fought hard, and gotten in some good hits, but ultimately it had been his destiny to lose. Well, not so much destiny as the whims of the men in charge. "I've fought a lot of matches. And all of them end with me face-down on the mat. Today makes fifty. FIFTY!" He clenches his fists in anger, crushing the ice pack. The plastic tears, spilling crushed ice onto the floor. "I think it's time I go into the business for myself. Show them all what I can really do!"
----
A red-skinned man steps away from the bracket, grinning impishly. "I'm in the first round! Against Brock Ogreson. Which one of you fools is Brock?" The man is well-muscled, but of average height. His red skin and sharp teeth give away his demonic ancestry, but Brock just smirks as he raises one large hand.
"Dar Ruma. I saw you fight in the qualifying rounds. Hell of a match, I gotta say."
Dar looks his massive opponent over, but his grin never falters. He even chuckles at the pun. "You're a tall glass of water. But you know what they say about big guys and falling."
Brock pounds his fist into his open hand. "This is one glass of water you're gonna choke on! Let's settle this in the ring!"
Outside, the announcer works the crowd into a frenzy as he announces the combatants. They cheer, they clap their hands and stomp their feet, some even wave flags or homemade signs. The two fighters take their places, one grinning maniacally, the other cracking his knuckles in preparation. The announcer raises his hand, causing the crowd to wait with bated breath, before he jumps backwards off the arena and chops the air. "Combatants, BEGIN!"
Dar leaps into action, his fist raised high as he screams out a battle cry. Brock rushes forward himself, clapping his hands together around his oppenent's fist. He grips Dar's wrist, swinging his arms up and tossing the smaller Makaio into the air. He follows with an uppercut, catching Dar in the chin, and finishes with a heavy kick as Dar falls that knocks the demon backwards from the impact.
The crowd cheers at the display of violence, while some wince or boo. It's all music to Brock, who raises his arms victoriously, urging the crowd on as he gloats.
Dar Ruma is no pushover, however, and as he bounces off the arena floor, he manages to get his feet under him and rush the gloating giant. With a spectacular leap, he lands on Brock's knee, then leaps upward to bring his foot crashing into Brock's nose. The hit staggers Brock back a step, a spurt of blood spraying from his nostrils. Enraged, he goes on the offensive, swinging his arms wildly as he marches toward the red menace, who swiftly dodges most of the hits. The ones that he doesn't dodge, he catches on his forearms, protecting his face and body.
The announcer yells over the din of the crowd. "A spectacular reversal by Dar Ruma, but Brock Side-Iron pushes back hard, trying to reclaim his early advantage! But Dar Ruma refuses to let Brock get a solid hit in! I can't say I blame him, folks! Brock Side-Iron is a monster truck that walks like a man!"
Brock pulls back for a heavy punch, shouting out "Ro!". Dar blocks the fist with his arms, but winces noticeably. Brock follows up with a quick jab, two fingers extended. "Sham!" Dar is too slow to block in time, Brock's fingers digging into his chest. Dar drops his guard, clutching at his chest in pain. This gives Brock the edge he needed, and he delivers a swift palm strike to Dar's unprotected chest. "Bo!" The thrust hits home, pushing the Makaio back.
The crowd cheers, the announcer sounding ecstatic in his commentary. "A perfect example of Roshambo, ladies and gentlemen! This is shaping up to be a decisive victory for Brock Side-Iron!"
Dar's impish grin is replaced by a furious snarl, and his body becomes enveloped in a white aura. Brock laughs, waving his arms in a "Come on!" motion, clapping his hands against his chest. Dar jumps forward, driving his fist into Brock's stomach, causing the big man to stagger back a step. "...That hurt more than I thought it would..." he wheezes, finding himself on the defensive now.
The crowd cheers again, Dar's supporters finally getting excited. The announcer, as always, is working them up even further. "A foolish taunt leads to some painful consequences! Someone needs to tell Side-Iron that this is a real match! He'll need more than his winning personality to back up a claim like that!"
Dar pushes his attack, Brock attempting to deflect his attacks with punches of his own. He tries to push back, and soon the two fighters are trading punches back and forth. Both refuse to back down, both hitting as hard as they can.
"Such power! Such ferocity! These two are just pummeling each other! I'd side with Side-Iron on this, but Dar Ruma isn't giving up an inch!"
A red aura gathers in Brock's fist as he pulls back for his strongest punch: the Ussuri Fist. Brock can feel the heat of his Ki, the strength of the bear that flows through him. He lets fly with a massive uppercut, the strength of his swing actually carrying him a few inches into the air.
But Brock's slow and highly telegraphed attack is easily dodged by the more nimble Dar Ruma, who steps aside and delivers rapid-fire fisticuffs into Brock's stomach. He finishes by engulfing himself in flames, grappling with Brock as his flames lick across Brock's flesh.
The heat is intense, and Brock screams in shock and pain as he steps back, only for Dar Ruma to leap up and deliver a vicious divekick to Brock's face. The impact staggers him, and he struggles with his footing. To his horror, he teeters on the edge of the arena. The flames around Dar Ruma go out, but his impish grin returns. With a puff of smoke, a wooden hammer appears in Dar Ruma's hand. Dar steps forward, swinging the hammer into Brock's chest, causing the massive man to lose balance and topple over the edge of the arena. The crowd's cheering fills his ears as he falls, landing in his back outside the ring.
----
The crowd cheers loudly, encouraging their favorite fighter. Brock sits on a bench in the medical tent, where his injuries have been patched up. He didn't honestly expect to win. But he didn't expect to be the first one eliminated, either. He stands, looking out at the arena. He can see over the heads of the crowd, seeing two more fighters battling for the title of World's Strongest. He sighs, knowing he never had a chance. "These guys are the strongest fighters in the world, making it this far." He grins, suddenly having an epiphany. "And so am I! I made it this far!"
He laughs loudly as he walks away from the tournament grounds. "I'm not just some jobber, taking the fall for more popular guys! I'm Brock Ogreson!THE EIGHTH BEST FIGHTER IN THE WORLD!"