HCBC Round 1: First Night (Ch. 2: Day 7)

Kazz · Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 1:53 am

The bell went off, and Mako... Mako...

Proceeded to scream again and try to leap out of the ring through the ropes behind him. He was thrown summarily back in with little in the way of ceremony by standing-by security as a guffaw or seven could be heard drifting out of the audience. He turned back to face his friend and opponent, and idly considered the fact that Tank could grab his head like he, himself, would grab a grapefruit.

And then he squeaked again and put his arms up in a half-hearted offensive stance, his feet planted firmly on the ground (and shaking like gelatin all the while).

Greens · Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 2:55 am

Meanwhile, Tank was practically grinding his teeth (beak?) thinking of all the possibilities for the match not to end in a blood bath. Still, he kept his hands just below his eyes, and bobbed appropriately for a boxer to bob, still trying to make it seem at least a little convincing (and showing off a bit of the basic training he'd received).

"Mako. Mako," he whispered, the only warning he gave. "Dodge leift!"

And about... one full second after, he threw the first punch of the match-- a blatantly telegraphed, but still potentially perilous punch, just an inch the the right of where Mako's head was a moment before. Unless he dodged the completely wrong direction, the shark should be fine to box another day. But this was but step one in the plan.

Kazz · Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 3:06 am

Mako needed nothing in the way of second bidding, and he all but dove to the left. ... in fact, he kind of did dive straight into the floor. After a half-second tumble and another moment of scrambling in a deeply-awkward crab-walk (he cursed, not for the first time, his tail) he pushed himself back to his feet before a count could get going.

"I'm gonna diiiiie," he moaned in a piteous tone as his arms came back up, now pointedly guarding his face.
One would almost think he had already forgotten that the tortoise had already warned him and such, and his blue face flushed bright as the audience began laughing at him.

Someone had started up a chant of "Alfonso Luis Garcia Aguirre Martinez". This lasted a few seconds before they realized it was far easier to say "Tank". And that it was more fun to say "Fish fillet" towards the shark.

Mako looked at the audience from behind his arms with a sort of bewildered expression, if only for a moment, before he snapped his attention back to Tank.

Greens · Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 3:12 pm

Of course, El Tank was still standing where he was moments ago. He'd ended up cringing to himself almost as awkwardly as Mako's pratfall, and the audience's cruel laughter at his expense. The poor kid probably didn't even want to do this in the first place. For a brief moment, he actually considered simply delivering a swift and just KO blow for the sole purpose of keeping his embarrassment to a minimum, but quickly decided against it. He stepped in again.

"Mako! Dowck and opporcut!"

Sure enough, two seconds later, there was a hook that might have shaved the top fins off of the shark's head, should he choose to stand still for some ungodly reason. Hopefully, he'd be able to understand him through both the accent and the mouth guard.

Kazz · Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 3:35 pm

The fish stepped back, the phrase "stepped back" here read as "leaned back at an impressive angle, balancing on a combination of one foot and his tail, his other leg flailing wildly". Not dignified, but massive head trauma was less so. At least he didn't fall this time! For a moment, he entertained the idea of actually punching back... but proceeded to think of almost every fight prior. He had been paying attention in his horrified stupor, and seeing that broken hands were the order of the night, he chose to pass.

He then tried to figure out how he was even going to pretend to punch his gigantic friend without shattering his hand. After a moment, the little (at least by comparison) fish threw a jab... that was pulled the second it hit Tank's belly, not likely to register as much more than a tap. It looked real enough, though, at least from a distance... at least considering how much experience the fish had, and what the audience expected of him.

Greens · Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 3:42 pm

And wouldn't you know it, the very instant Tank felt the glove's material on his plated stomach, he suddenly half-lurched forward with a furrow-browed wince, as if the blow had knocked the wind right out of him. (Apparently, the world of professional wrestling taught him well how to fake fight, as well as fight.) As he took one stumblestep back, he beckoned to the shark in a surprisingly strong example of ventriloquism: "Do not stop, keep heeting!"

Kazz · Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 3:51 pm

For a moment, Mako looked at the glove that had struck Tank, in a bemused sort of way. He then remembered the entire "professional wrestling" thing, and it all fell together in his fishy, fear-addled mind. Of course he knew how to throw authenticity to the wind in a fight. More importantly: he was not about to be destroyed!

He cautiously took a couple more clumsy and slow pulled punches at Tank, before he added in a whisper when he was close enough to do it:
"Itinkder gnafigow yowrfikin."*
Okay, he wasn't used to speaking around the mouthguard, and his multitudes of sharky teeth had made it fit even more awkwardly.

*Translation: I think they're going to figure out you're faking.

Greens · Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 4:09 pm

"Only eef yew hold bahk! Yew haff to heet me!"

A crowd pleaser to the last-- or at least he tried to be. The revered El Tank took careful steps to make things at least look interesting, juking away, blocking strikes with his forearms, and occasionally simply taking the hit.

If Mako was offensive enough and his act was successful, (and he silently prayed it would be, with both his and the shark's reputations on the line,) it wouldn't be the first time he'd fooled an audience. They might just think the little guy didn't know his own strength.

"Almust there, almust there."

...Almost what?

Kazz · Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 5:56 pm

Mako gave a sort of skeptical look to Tank-- though he said nothing, the this will never work sentiment was all but written on his forehead in marker.
He threw more punches, hearing a few people in the audience get quite annoyed that he was doing this against the great Alfonso Luis Garcia Aguirre Martinez, but as the tortoise's words reached him, he focused in. He paused. He blinked a few times.

"... almoss'whanow?""

Greens · Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 7:35 pm

"Hai em going to heet you" he replied simply, but was quick to add "Bot not rrlealy."

And with that, he took two sudden steps back with an agility surprising for his size, setting the distance between him and his 'opponent'. Hell, it was the part where both the boxer's faces go into that slow motion split-screen prevalent in Westerns. With an intensity in his eyes seldom seen by his friends and enemies alike, Tank didn't dash in so much as he took one giant step, and like that, the gap was closed.

What the crowd wouldn't know, (and maybe even Mako, depending on how freaked he was at the moment) was that all the sweat under his mask, all the effort in his movements, all the fire in his eyes was due solely to how hard the tortoise was trying not to make it hurt. It was like defusing a bomb.

The full force of the blow was halted just before would have struck Mako's nose, so what looked like a life-ender of a straight right was actually little more than a keepaway jab. And that, God willing, signed the end of the match that never should have been.

Kazz · Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 7:47 pm

Mako only made a sort of feeble "eep" as his pupils shrunk, arms limp at his sides as he gazed up at the towering tortoise. Even the bang-like fins on his forehead drooped with all but a cartoony noise... and then the tortoise's fist hit his nose.

"OW OW OW OW OW!"
If he was acting or not was a mystery, but either way Mako's gloved hands flew up to his shnozz, and he began hopping around the ring like a strung-out rabbit. (Wasn't it some sort of advice they always gave in self-defense classes to, on the offchance that your mugger is a shark, hit him in the nose?) It was only too bad he didn't realize he was heading straight for the ropes.

It happened fast.
He crashed into the ropes. He proceeded to trip magnificently into them, and after a moment of being in terrible limbo, the harsh mistress known as gravity struck hard and fast, sending the poor shark face-forward out of the ring and onto the floor below. He still clutched his nose in death-grip, and seemed oblivious to any of the other pain in his body, or to the roar of laughter coming from every direction.

"Owowowowowowwwww."

Greens · Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 7:51 pm

Tank went like this.

psikeout · Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 8:07 pm

The ref, who had been... skeptical of the proceedings thus far, but nonetheless happy to see the contenders actually fighting, looked all the more flabbergasted as the shark proceeded to throw himself out of the ring. Nonetheless, he did his duty, motioning Tank back to the farthest corner, and headed for the ropes to count over the side to count.

It was the first real count he actually got to do that night—and of all things, it was a ring-out 20 count, too.

"One! Two! Three! Four! ..."

And, he got to go the full distance, too. It looked like the shark was not keen on continuing the fight.

"... Nineteen! Twenty! Knockout!"

The bell rang and the show was oh so thankfully over.

The applause (and laughter) came, and the announcer took center-stage again.

"And the winner by knockout: Alfonso Luis Garcia Aguirre 'El Tank' Marrrtineeezzz!"

As if anyone had ever imagined any other outcome.

Admin · Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 9:02 pm

A few minutes later, it was time for another go. Two new fighters had just been brought into the ring: One very tall and skinny, the other shorter and and more muscled.

"In this corner, wearing blue trunks, at an official weight of forty-five kilograms, a new contender hailing from Central City, U.F., his official record: one victory, no losses, no draws. Sheffer Hawkins!"

The announcer stretched his arm toward the other fighter.

"And in this corner, wearing blue trunks, official weight: fifty kilograms. From South Island, another new contender to the ring, official record: one victory, no losses, no draws. Basil Jacques!"

And, as before, they were called to the center of the ring for the ref to read the rules. It was getting routine for him; he probably hadn't needed to read them so many times in a single night for years.

"You've already been told how this works. No low blows, no rabbit punches," cue glance at Jacques—it wasn't what it sounded like, "no kidney punches, and protect yourself at all times. And for god's sake, actually fight."

One could tell he was getting tired.

"Keep it clean out there. Touch gloves."

Whenever they did so, they would be motioned back to their corners. Afterward, the bell, then, that's right, the fighting. Or so the referee hoped.

Tony · Posted: Fri Dec 31, 2010 9:45 pm

Giving his opponent's gloves a firm tap with his own, Basil shared just the one piece of commentary for the hedgehog;

"Ahrm... Let's fight like gentlemen."

Hardly pausing to let the words sink in, the rabbit maneuvered himself back to his own corner of the ring, and mentally prepped himself as he awaited the bell to ring. The fellow was tall, and certainly looked spry... However, the detective was confident that his on-the-job experience would have been more than enough to at least give the ol' scoundrel a run for his money. ... Rather... he simply felt he would do well. His personal trainer, however, had more'n a few choice words for the other guy, and was actually the one doing all of the trashtalking...

"Arright, Copper! Y'got this guy! Lookat 'im! You could just floor 'im in one hit! He looks like he's about ready to fall already! Aaaaawwright, he's a noodle, this guy. So just bend 'im like macaroni! String 'im like spaghetti! Knead him like lasagna. Dress 'im up like a side o' beef and stuff 'im in the oven to... I... er... whoo...! I'm... getting hungry. I'ma check out the concession stand, y'want anything?"

"... I'm pretty sure that you aren't really supposed to leave me here. ... And, no, now is.. not the most opportune time for munchies."

...

"And I would appreciate if you stopped calling me 'Copper', Kind sir. It's -Basil-."

The portly feline looked quite crestfallen, stomach already starting to growl at the aspect of not hitting up the munchables... He simply huffed, and lowered his head slightly. "Oh, all riiiiiight, I won't go anywhere, Copper. So... in THAT case, all I c'n really say is... knock this guy clear outta the park, and fast! I'm starvin' over here!"

Jacques merely rolled his eyes, mustache a-quiver as he pondered just who had appointed this nutjob to his aid, and continued his wait for the ring... while said nutjob unceremoniously stuffed the mouth guard in.

HCBC Round 1: First Night (Ch. 2: Day 7)

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