Description: GUITAR HERO presents SATURDAY NIGHT FIGHT!! Pacific Resistance members duke it out with an unsurprising result! (PS. THE RESULT IS A DKO)
Loud. Noisy. Obnoxious.
In many ways, Metro City Arcade is similar to Marisol, but damned if she'd ever admit anything. Currently, the girl stands with a look of obvious disgust on her face, arms folded over her chest as she sulks near a Dance Dance Revolution machine. Hopping and flailing wildly upon them are a few Asian nerds in Urbanwear, but that's beside the point.
Today, Metro City Arcade is crowded, likely to the glee of the owners and the sponsors of this particular outing. Throngs of people have flocked here to witness the SNF-to-be, a loud hum of voices flooding the massive five-story arcade, making it quite unbearable for some people.
Like Marisol.
Lifting her fingers, she plugs her ears with a scowl, eyes narrowed dangerously as she glowers. An official approaches the sullen redhead, and initially is met with a bitching out before she realizes it's not a nerd asking if he can touch her hiney. Once misunderstandings are cast away, they talk, and slowly but surely her hopes fall further into the gutter.
"What?" she asks, sounding frighteningly calm and composed.
"You mean...I have to fight...and play that??"
A finger juts toward a sectioned off area. There, in the center, is a massive television screen and console hooked up to it. Resting on faux guitar stands are a pair of wireless cheesy-looking guitars.
Marisol's features drop.
"You're kidding! That's bullshit! What is this?!"
Ka-link.
7-0.
"Man, you're such a easy beat! You got nothin' on my air hockey moves, man! Just walk away, you los--"
WHAM.
Walking away from the air hockey tables as a boy clutches his nose, Preston Alistair Wellington the II is already in a foul mood. "Fuckin' upstart little punky brewster bastards thinkin' they're fuckin' better'n me I'll fuckin' show them, why I should take that puck and..."
The muttering goes on. It's Preston, after all.
Walking past an excitable pair at the token prize display window, the Brit meanders up as only he can, bare-chested as always. Striding right past Marisol, he clips the girl on the shoulder as he goes by, his free hand moving to try and mess her hair up as he heads for the sectioned off area.
Mounting the stage, he then proceeds to try and juggle both guitar and oar at the same time, with little success. Over the constant noise of machines and crowd, he makes no attempt at conversation...
... but that's definitely a grin on his face, even if he has no idea what a guitar hero is.
He flicks the strum bar up and down, snapping it right off.
The officials hurry to get him a replacement.
Elsewhere in the arcade, it would appear Preston is sucking horribly at air hockey. Fortunately, a little bit of violence remedies and repairs what of the imposing Briton's pride may have been whittled away by his particularly awful loss. That is, of course, unimportant.
In the midst of her bickering, Marisol's hair is mussed up by a beefy hand, causing her to look positively upset. Hands reach up, smoothing what of her wavy locks have been messed out of place, those gray eyes scowering across the general vicinity for the culprit.
A light frown crosses her face. Why does her opponent have to be him!?
No matter. Rather than bicker, she watches as he approaches and ultimately ascends the stage area, her brows furrowing all the more. Unlike herself, he seems without protest in participating in what Marisol considers one of the most embarrassing SNFs she's had the "pleasure" of participating in.
Her frown broadens just a bit.
Hesitantly, the redhead approaches and gets on the stage, an arm stretching out with obvious uncertainty. Reaching for the other guitar, she offers another scowl as she positions it carefully against her body. Already, Marisol is uncomfortable. What the hell is a "Guitar Hero" anyway?
"A game for nerds," she surmises aloud.
And so, rather lacklusterly, the fight begins.
"Ha ha, I know this song!" the redhead chimes as the track list is surveyed.
"John the Fisherman! This has to be easy! HARD MODE!" Dink. Hard Mode is selected and so begins two player.
Almost immediately, Marisol receives boos from the audience in game. And a few from without. Her brow twitches, and she struggles to try and hit the notes. "Piece of shit!"
COMBATSYS: Marisol has started a fight here.
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Marisol 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Preston has joined the fight here.
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Marisol 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Preston
COMBATSYS: Marisol takes no action.
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Marisol 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Preston
As Preston walks by, he shoots that grin back in Marisol's direction, perhaps even going so far as to offer a wink before he's on stage and ... breaking guitars.
The half-Spaniard joins him there on stage though, claiming her weapon. "Game for nerds, huh?" the Brit echoes her words, reaching up to scratch his relatively-bald head with a free hand. Which means his other hand is holding both oar and guitar at the same time - isn't it great to have big hands?
As the redhead moves to select a song though, Preston's attempting to do the same, which results in the selection moving up and down a bit before he simply gives in and lets her select the song she wants.
The two player event starts, the versus mode where they're supposed to apparently play different parts of the song at different times. "Nobody told me how to play this fuckin' thing," he informs his teammate as she receives her boos and hisses, from both crowd and otherwise.
But when it's his turn, he hits the start button on the guitar.
And then thumbs the strum down to selecting a different song. The list of tracks reappears, and he starts heading down the list. "You fuckin' suck at this game, you know that?" Preston informs her rather matter-of-factly, a grin on his face though despite the words.
Also, since this is supposed to be a fight, he aims to kick her right in the side and knock her off the stage!
Isn't he a card?
COMBATSYS: Marisol blocks Preston's Light Kick.
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Marisol 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Preston
There are numerous factors working against Marisol here. For one, she's supposed to play some dumb game and fight at the same time. Or so the dossier of the fight said. Boost product, or something of that nature. Really, Marisol didn't really care about that part. It wasn't important. To her, at least.
Another is the fact that, all around her, an audience is present to watch her every attempt. It serves as a considerable distraction, almost as terrible as last week's event in Vegas. Then, there's the fact she's never even PLAYED this game before. Really, what's with that?
Lastly, her opponent is the foul-mouthed Preston. Their last public fight didn't go so well. For Marisol, at least.
Suffice to say, she's a mix of anxiousness and annoyance. That is until she has a guitar in hand. "Yes, a game for NERDS," she pointedly responds, brows knitting as she gazes upon the screen. "So you should be right at home, huh?"
Briefly, the half-Spaniard flashes a toothy grin at the bald Englishman.
A song selected, the "festivities" begin, drawing all eyes in the house. Almost immediately is it ill-received; the two are obviously newbies at this. How are they supposed to draw any business for this game if they both suck? "No one told me either," the girl informs Preston, as her brows knit. She's trying to give an honest effort here.
"Fuck off! You suck too!"
And then Preston goes and kicks at her. Rather than get kicked off, however, she twists her arm, letting her guitar take the brunt of his blow. It draws a scowl across her face, before she tinkers more with the game. She's getting the hang of it! And it would seem she's using the game to gain an advantage over the Briton, to throw him off and distract him!
COMBATSYS: Preston dodges Marisol's Thrown Object.
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Marisol 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Preston
There's a loud 'tch' from Preston as his boot catches her shiny little replica guitar. Her attempt to get him off balance by managing the series of strings that arrive on-screen doesn't work though, as he simply works.
"You're the fuckin' nerd, look at you. Almost like you know what you're doin' after all..." But is it that easy?! He decides to try out.
Ignoring Marisol for the moment, the Brit turns his attention to the screen, waiting for his strings to show. And thus, he begins tabbing the strum bar as hard as he can, managing to get about half of them!
Then he breaks his strum bar again, and starts cursing belligerently!
COMBATSYS: Preston takes no action.
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Marisol 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Preston
"What's the matter," the girl quips, eyes intent on the screen in front of her.
"Are you jealous I'm a quick learner? Game too difficult for those hands of yours?"
Though her attempts to throw him off otherwise fail, it does not upset her in the least. Instead, she casts a glance aside as he plays his part, doing relatively well. Naturally, the redhead scoffs. He's supposed to suck at this, not actually catch on. This could be a problem.
So, while he plays (and ultimately breaks his guitar's bar), the girl takes this as a moment to further distract the imposing young man. How? Why, but reaching over and punching at his ribs. Hard. It's not her turn yet, ha ha!
COMBATSYS: Preston endures Marisol's Medium Punch.
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Marisol 0/-------/------=|=------\-------\0 Preston
And right when Preston considers himself on a roll, he's got a fist aiming for his side. "Oh you ruddy bitch," he curses, hand falling off the guitar to clutch at his side. With the strum bar broken, he's essentially unable to play anymore anyway, even while the organizers seek out YET another for him to use! His turn ends with the boos of the crowd, and hers begins!
Turning on his teammate, he lifts the controller in one hand and the oar in the other. "Fuckin' punchin' me right in the short ribs, that's fresh! And just because you want these big hands of mine all over your tatas doesn't mean you gotta be so bloody rough, Mari."
Glancing between guitar and oar, he opts for the former. Reeling it back, he aims to knock Marisol's teeth in.
COMBATSYS: Marisol endures Preston's Random Weapon.
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Marisol 0/-------/----===|==-----\-------\0 Preston
"You really do suck at this!" she exclaims, as he once again breaks his bar and sends SNF officials scrambling. A laugh follows, those eyes returning to the screen in front of them once again. For the moment, he's forgotten in favor of finishing the song. Unless they bomb it first. Her brows slowly and gradually furrow.
"Oh shut up and play," Marisol scolds, just as he decides to swing his guitar at her. Rather than move, the half-Spanish girl just takes it in the face - sure to turn to one side and avoid a clean hit to her mouth, of course.
"Why you," she growls, otherwise dropping the guitar in favor of turning to face him and lunge face-first at his face...
"THAT WAS A CHEAP SHOT!"
COMBATSYS: Preston endures Marisol's Red Clover.
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Marisol 0/-------/--=====|=====--\-------\0 Preston
Given a chance to headbutt the youth, Marisol is swift to react. Fortunately, that guitar of hers is strapped; thus is she able to drop it and free her hands up. Swinging a fist at his gut, she drives it home, before both hands ignite with yellow, fiercely glowing chi. Swinging up, she delivers two hooks at his jaw, the last coupled with a burst to add insult to injury.
Plus it makes her feel a little better.
"Don't hit a girl in the face!"
And thus, Marisol takes it in the face like a true pornstar.
%Not having anticipated that the girl would take the hit, Preston grimaces slightly, mildly wondering if any plastic surgery is going to be needed to make Marisol ugly again. There's a smirk on his face as she lunges for him though. Is this to be another of those ki--
Wait, wait, no, no. It turns out to be a headbutt instead of what the Brit was waiting for. Catching it squarely, he reels backwards as she delivers not one, but two hooks to his jaw, with a pretty burst of chi assisting the last.
With a grunt, he reasserts himself, leaning back to his full height. "Christ, you're punchin' harder than normal today, luv. You on the rag or somethin'? And I was just tryin' to make you look a bit better, that's all. Can't blame a bloke for tryin', now can ya?"
Thus he reaches for her, aiming to grab the poor girl by the throat and squeeze. "Cmon luv, give us a kiss, won't you?" Preston asks with a smirk, not intending anything of the sort.
If she's truly unlucky, the girl can expect to be swept off her feet by the smashed guitar, slammed into the arena floor to receive a burst of chi right to the funbags!
COMBATSYS: Preston successfully hits Marisol with Keelhauling.
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Marisol 1/-----==/=======|======-\-------\0 Preston
"Fuck off," the redhead snarls, hands moving thereafter to take grip of her guitar once more. The song is still playing, but by this time, the pair have done a stellar job of proving that they're just not the sort to be promoting a game like this.
Well, Marisol is, at least. Already she hates this game. And this particular SNF!
"Play your stupid game!" she barks, otherwise demanding he at least try to salvage this awful mess of a fight they've gotten themselves into. But instead, he chooses to ramble onwards, drawing a long-suffering sigh from the girl as she idly plunks (to no avail) at the faux guitar in hand. How do people make this look so easy?!
Not that she's any time to particularly dwell upon it. Again, the brutish Briton makes his move, but the girl just isn't quick enough to shrug it off with her guitar. Slammed into the stage, she belts out a loud grunt and flinches, before she's suddenly slammed with a gout of chi.
When the proverbial dust settles, she looks none too pleased. Rising slowly and carefully, she looks upon her white hoodie, and suddenly she's thankful she wore a dark colored camisol beneath. "You. ..you ass!" she cries, before she rips her guitar free and throws it down. Caring little of the point of their match, to promote some dumb game she's never even heard of, the girl swiftly kneels and punches the stage with a loud, guttural yell.
A beat.
Then, suddenly, the entire stage erupts into pieces of debris, as a massive gout of chi energy roars up from the ground, all of which has an aim right for the oar-wielding Englishman.
Meanwhile, in the back, the Arcade owner, as well as the product reps, drop their jaws. You can almost see the money flying out the window!
COMBATSYS: Preston blocks Marisol's Shoot the Moon.
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Marisol 0/-------/------=|=======\-------\1 Preston
There's definitely no playing the game from Preston, as he slams Marisol into the stage and makes her all wet. Indeed, he's somewhat glad she's wearing a colored camisole beneath it as well, but that's not entirely what's on his mind -- hell, it seems that he does this to her every time they fight, in some way or another!
Giving her the room she needs to get back to her feet, the Brit warily watches for the retaliation. It always comes. This is Marisol.
And the half-Spaniard doesn't disappoint. Calling him an ass -- which earns her a smooch from the tall Brit -- she dispenses with the guitar.
Now there's an idea he can agree with.
But with her fist entering the ground, Preston knows what to expect. They know each other and how they fight; he moves on memory, crouching down as the stage explodes around him. The debris and the energy within it hurts, definitely, despite his defenses.
Getting back to his feet, he grimaces as he takes his guitar in hand and breaks it in half. The promoters may not like this right now, but they will in time -- seeing two of the up-and-comers of the fighting circuit taking to the product will create sales, properly spun!
In the meantime though, this is finally becoming a fight. Discarding both ends of the guitar, he steps forward with malice in his eyes and a grin on his face. A surefire combination for delight and enjoyment! "Alright, let's play," he says, twisting the oar in his hand. The blade spins as he steps forward, aiming to smack her with the flat of it, aiming for the head and shoulders!
Take that, dandruff!
COMBATSYS: Marisol dodges Preston's Medium Strike.
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Marisol 0/-------/------=|=======\-------\1 Preston
For a moment, the entire arcade is filled with a roar so loud even the most obnoxious of Dance Dance Revolution songs are overwhelmed. It annoys a few of the Asians playing, and they lose their step in the process, which is then followed with a lot of angry and animated curses in Marisol's general direction. And what of the redhead?
Slowly but surely she rises to full height, long fingers curling and unfurling slowly as she fixes her attention on the Brit. Full lips are poised in a wolfish grin, her tanned features alight with amusement as she holds her ground. "Damn," she remarks.
"I was hoping to end this."
With the break of his guitar in half, the redhead suddenly becomes more alert. Gray eyes narrow sharply, her teeth clenched tightly as she holds her ground. Let's play, he informs her, taking oar in hand, before he suddenly lashes out. Unlike last time, she doesn't take it.
Instead, the half-Spaniard suddenly ducks and weaves underneath it, hopping on her feet before she puts some distance between herself and the Brit. The grin still lingers upon her lips.
"I don't think I'm quite ready," she idly remarks, the video game they're meant to push otherwise forgotten about. Instead, she idly glances upon her manicured nails, lips puckered softly. Truthfully, she needs a break, a moment to catch her breath.
OR DOES SHE?? Ha ha, psych!
She rushes in, attempting to punch the Brit in his beefy jaw with a nasty right hook!
COMBATSYS: Marisol successfully hits Preston with Hook Punch.
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Marisol 0/-------/------=|=======\==-----\1 Preston
Now that's different! Usually Marisol takes Preston's oar without fail, but this time it doesn't quite work. His attempt to strike her causes air to whimper, and there's a moment of confusion from him as she dances away. He spares a glance at his weapon. No hole in the blade.
"Faster and stronger... you must be really pumpin' the 'roids then, luv," the Brit informs his teammate, the mention no doubt quickly censored from going live due to the sponsors not wanting to cast the drug controversy into this side of the pond.
He expects her to be taking that break though, when she suddenly lurches for him -- and punches him yet again! A sour grunt escapes the victim as his head lulls to one side, straightening a moment later.
"Oh, now you're being cute," he informs her, and since she's so nice to bring the action in close, his hand snaps out to try and catch her by the throat again. A simple hoist off of her feet, as his chi springs to the fore, shards of it slamming into existence and then headed right for the half-Spaniard redhead!
He does enjoy a wet t-shirt, it seems!
COMBATSYS: Marisol blocks Preston's Cape Horn Fever.
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Marisol 0/-------/-----==|=======\===----\1 Preston
Now you see her--
--now you don't! Having avoiding the strike altogether, the girl idly bounces on her heels, eyes narrowed still as she observes Preston carefully. Faster and stronger, he says...before she's accused of juicing. This, naturally, draws a nasty sneer across her lips, gray depths alight with muted anger. "As if; you're probably the one doing steroids," she accuses, before a glare is shot to the sidelines. A SNF official looks mortified as he's singled out.
"Why didn't you screen him before the fight?!" she bellows. "Christ!"
Her hand is shaken out lightly after the punch, an idle gesture as she keeps her eyes fixed on the imposing youth. "Cute?" she inquires, tilting her head absently to one side. Just then, rather suddenly at that, his hand lashes out and attempts to snare her throat. In turn, Marisol sweeps her arms up and together, preventing him from grabbing hold and staving off the chi that swells and crashes into her arms. It stings, and she hisses softly.
Then, casually, she drops her hands to her hips. "So," she remarks.
"Is that your best?"
NOW SHE SECRETLY NEEDS TO CATCH HER BREATH.
COMBATSYS: Marisol gains composure.
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Marisol 0/-------/------=|=======\===----\1 Preston
There's no emphatic crunching to be had as Marisol rallies her defenses against him. Another sour grunt leaves the Brit at his failure to capitalize there -- and even more so when it seems that the half-Spaniard has no intention of pushing the assault.
The pure-blooded Brit considers his options, but decides that delaying this fight isn't really in his best interest. Spinning the oar between both hands, he smirks at his teammate as she cuts at him with the remark.
"You know my best. Don't ask for it, it's time to try somethin' different," he says, perhaps the first indication that he wanted to try experimenting. And he doesn't mean the kind of experimenting that involves a cup.
But is he going to have the chance to use that something new -- does he really have something new to offer? He shrugs his big shoulders, bare chest glistening with perspiration as he pushes the attack. The oar whirls, twisting, a stabbing series of moves given in an attempt to keep Marisol guessing. They're destined to be evaded, simple action to try and wear her down for just the right moment. Swipe after swipe, drawing the two intrinsically closer.
And seizing that moment, the Brit does the most logical thing a man has ever done on international television.
He slams his forehead down for Marisol's chest.
But the suits won't allow a motorboat to go to air! Thus, if he manages to turn her chest concave with the descent of his massive melon into hers (got two melons) he follows it up with a blistering, oar-laden uppercut!
COMBATSYS: Marisol blocks Preston's Bull of Barney.
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Marisol 0/-------/-----==|==-----\-------\0 Preston
"Oh? Well, if I don't ask," she begins, leaning forward at the waist as one hand rests on her hip; the other lifts, a solitary digit pointing at him. "I might find myself getting put to sleep, you know. This venue is boring enough as is!"
A few people in the audience boo even louder. Marisol simply tosses her head and softly scoffs, eyes drawing shut. Only the whip of the broad oar through empty air draws her out, those gray eyes fixed on Preston as he does precisely as he seeks: he keeps her guessing for the moment. Long arms rise, ready to defend at a moment's notice as she keeps out of oar's reach.
Only when he comes down at her chest does she blink once.
But she doesn't move. The Brit finds himself with a nice face full of soft bosom on national television. Marisol, on the other hand, lets her lips cut into a sly grin. "Nice try," she chides...as hands reach up and out, intercepting the oar's blade in her palm. It draws a wince across her face.
But with Preston so close...she finds a suitable opening. Jerking her arm to one side, she seeks to mildly derail him before she thrusts her arms forward. Her palms' heels ignite with dandelion-yellow chi, which coalesce before she slams them toward his stomach. Her intent is simple: she aims to blast him back and send him flying away with one simple motion!
"FRESH!"
COMBATSYS: Marisol successfully hits Preston with Moon Sling.
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Marisol 0/-------/---====|=====--\-------\0 Preston
And what a soft set of pillows Preston finds himself in. While it's a soft landing, his head is still rather hard; she does the sane thing though, when she decides to block the sudden sweep of his oar though. And for all of that, the girl gets herself a rather sour grunt of disgruntlement from the tall Brit with a face full of the good stuff. But alas, he's sure he's felt softer tissue paper!! He'll never find that kind of softness again.
On the other hand, it certainly draws a very different response from the crowd, as all the male boos turn to rabid cheers at the sight of it!
But all good things must com to an end, and an end they do; those hands slam into his middle, discharging that dangerous blast square into his middle. "Fuf-" he manages, before his mouth and the rest of him is dislodged and sent flying across the damaged arena!
Landing in the crowd, they topple like bowling pins with just as many cracks, which otherwise leaves Preston standing on his feet though. Giving his head a vicious shake, he spends a moment wobbling on his toes before stomping his way back into the fray. "Christ, girl," he grouses, a hand rubbing at his stomach. "Now I'm fuckin' hungry."
A kid in the crowd shouts that he should eat some butter, which earns a sprinkling of laughter. Flashing the bird to the unknown speaker, he stomps back up to Marisol with his oar tapping against the ground a few times as he closes the gap.
And once he's up close and personal, he aims to put his boot square into her stomach, so she too may feel hungry!
COMBATSYS: Marisol endures Preston's Strong Kick.
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Marisol 0/-------/=======|=======\-------\0 Preston
"You only get one!" the redhead calls out, lifting a finger up as to further emphasize, despite the fact Preston is flying back and crushing a few members of the observing audience. The game is otherwise forgotten now; and as such, the product representative is flailing his arms and shouting at an SNF official. They paid good money for endorsement!
Tuning her back to the imposing Brit as he stands up, Marisol softly scoffs, arms folding neatly across her chest. Only when he grumbles does she purse her lips and glance over a single shoulder, her only visible eye narrowing as he reapproaches. His words earn him a grin.
In fact, she turns to face him directly as he nears, feet shoulder's width apart as she holds her ground. His presence intimidates her not; instead, she hoods her eyes, biding her time. ..until he moves. A foot lashes out, a kick aimed for her stomach..!
And it hits. It draws a heavy grunt from the girl, but she doesn't move. Instead, she opts to use the close proximity to her advantage. Swinging her fists, one after the other, she attempts to hook, then deliver a downward punch to his jaw; only then does her body twist sharply, both fists slamming forward to punch him square in the chest, coupled with a burst of more yellow chi energy.
"Not my problem!" she growls. She's not his keeper! He can feed himself!
COMBATSYS: Marisol successfully hits Preston with El Matador.
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Marisol 1/-------/=======|=======\=------\1 Preston
It's evident that the girl did nothing to evade his foot, which is a tell-tale sign to Preston that it's best to get the hell out of the way! But his attempt goes awry; he goes left when he should've done right, and he ends up going right into her fist! The punch to his jaw rocks him, and she capitalizes swiftly -- both fists again strike his center, sending him back several yards!
He grunts, and he threatens to fall over then and there. Staggering on his feet, he spares a moment.
Preston squints.
"Fuck me, I'm seein' double. Eight titties!"
The censors are naturally having a field day with this fight. By the time it goes to air, Preston's actually recorded as saying:
"Duck me, I sure didn't! Eight time!"
Much later, Preston squints at the television. "I so don't remember sayin' that," he laments to Marisol at the time, as the two nurse their wounds after the fight. She shrugs and throws an ice bag at him. Something like that anyway.
In the meantime though, the Brit summons what he's got left in the gas tanks for one final action!
His eyes roll back, and he falls forward at Marisol. It seemed he liked it so much the first time, he's going for it a second!!
COMBATSYS: Preston can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 1/-------/=======|
COMBATSYS: Marisol fails to interrupt Bull of Barney from Preston with Snap Wind.
COMBATSYS: Marisol can no longer fight.
Frowning at his remark, the redhead just folds her arms over her chest and huffs. Truthfully, mention of her chest has her feeling a little modest, especially after he decided to up and just spray her with his damned water chi. Really, it's frustrating! And he should watch his mouth.
"You're a jackass," she states, clearly enough for him to hear over the audience.
And then he comes at her once again, trying to put his face in her chest once again. Predictable, she laments. Frowning harshly, those eyes narrow as she reels an arm back, fist clenched tightly as she readies herself to punch him in the nose. But her timing is off - considerably.
As result, she's not only motorboat'd by the burly Englishman, she's also sent flying up and back, landing a short distance away on the stage, barely moving. It would seem that neither fighter is capable of moving for more after that display.
Fortunately for the sponsors, they've just encouraged a few helpless nerds to go out and buy Guitar Hero, with hopes they'll get to score. How that's related, who knows. Grasping for straws here.
"WINNER BY KO..." an SNF official looks between the two. He seems confused.
Neither get up or really move.
"Okay, er...
"SCRATCH THAT. DRAW MATCH."
Log created on 22:26:07 11/30/2007 by Preston, and last modified on 14:38:11 12/05/2007.