Description: Finally, Hakan gets his chance to denounce the current holder of the "Red Cyclone" title holder. Two giant wrestlers in one ring, styles clashing for dominance...who could possibly not want to watch this? As usual, Hakan's frank nature elevates a simple misunderstanding of protocol to a personal grudge match between Capitalism and Communism. Will the world enjoy the pleasure of competitive business practices, or will it wither under the shadow of a failed social experiment?! (Winner: Zangief)
And the crowd goes wild.
It was inevitable, really. The Red Cyclone, quite possibly the greatest wrestler in the world, opposite Hakan, undeniably the greatest Turkish Oil Wrestler the world has ever seen. Two large men, Gods in their own right, living legends of the sport, ready to throw down in the ring for the first time.
Zangief lives for these moments. The thrill of a new competitor, the question as to who would come out on top, himself, or this man! He'd not really heard of Turkish Oil Wrestling until he was matched up with Hakan, but having done some research, he had to approve!
Maybe that is why he has chosen to oil himself up.
It's a mark of respect, really. Showing Hakan that he appreciates the man as a fighter worthy of facing! The huge, hairy Russian has inexpertly slathered himself in olive oil (though it isn't as good as Hakan's, obviously, he'd just bought it from a supermarket). His chest hair is slick with the stuff, even. Big red boots glistening. Shorts? Soaked. Although somehow, his mohawk and beard have maintained their usual, iconic look. Despite being slathered in the oil.
"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAH!" Zangief roars to the crowd.
"HAHAHA! COME ON, CHEER! CHEER! TONIGHT, THE RED CYCLONE WILL DEMONSTRATE, NO MATTER HOW TASTY HIS OPPONENT, HE'LL CRUSH ALL COMERS! AHAHAHAAHAHAAAAAAA!"
While off in Hakan's corner, he's less focused on working the crowd as he is talking with the referee!
"What, no gimmicks? Seriously? ...You're not pulling my leg, are you?" He had never seen a Saturday Night Fight match without some sort of trick to it, something to keep it from being just a normal fight. Little does he know that the fighters themselves are the gimmick this time!
With that clarification out of the way, the red-skinned Turk looks up as his partner for the night starts his boasting. What an energetic, optimistic fellow! "Though I respect your willingness to oil up, my hairy friend, do not think that wrestling when wet is such an easy thing!" From outside of the ring, he reaches out and grips an enormouse wooden barrel, normal save for the big golden lion's head on the top. When he sets the thing down, the mat shakes, the ropes wobble!
"For tonight, we shall prove to all who the true Red Cyclone is!"
It seems that this time, Hakan has the advantage. An avid fan of wrestling of all types, he's familiar with this Russian, seen the pain that he can inflict on others. However, not once has he ever seen him oiled up! Sweaty, sure, but oil is another beast entirely. The man's hand rests atop his lion-barrel, fingers curling into the thing's mouth. They're tense, flexing--eager. For his speech, however, he's rewarded with a great many boos from the audience! Everyone knows who the Red Cyclone is, and it sure isn't this weird-haired, leather-panted freak, that's for sure. The reaction still draws utter surprise from the oil mogul, however. "What? What is that! You all stop that right now!" It only helps to incense the crowd...guess he's going to be playing the part of the heel tonight!
Zangief is suddenly looking... much darker. At first, he was all smiles and good cheer. But then Hakan goes and tries to take his name?! Oh no. No no no. Sir, you go too far! You ask too much!
"You think you have what it takes to call yourself the Red Cyclone!?" Zangief bellows, audible, despite a lack of microphone, even over the booing of the crowd. "Maybe it is a little strange to be grabbing like this... but I'll still break you into pieces! NOBODY pretends to be THE RED CYCLONE! HRARGH!"
Apparently intending to make good on his promise, Zangief lunges forwards. There's little finesse or subtly in his style, but, then, that's never really been Zangief's strongest point. What might surprise Hakan, though, is that Zangief isn't even trying to go for a grapple. No, in order to prove that he was still more than man enough to hold on to his title, Zangief has clenched one oily fist tight, and he's leading the way with it. Putting his full weight behind the punch, he aims to just, smash Hakan right in the jaw. That ought to shut up any more claims about who the real Red Cyclone is! Hah! That's showing him, Zangief!
COMBATSYS: Zangief has started a fight here.
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Zangief 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Hakan has joined the fight here.
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Zangief 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Hakan
COMBATSYS: Hakan blocks Zangief's Fierce Punch.
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Zangief 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Hakan
Oh, there's no helping it. Though Hakan tries to quell the crowd, it's just too late. He'd reached too far, to claim the veritable title of another man. "But...he's not even /red/!" The man's accent comes out heavily now, his Rs rolling repeatedly off the tongue. He stands with his side to the other man, both arms gesturing toward him. Red underwear! Red boots! That's the only red part about the guy!
Any man, however, can hear that boisterous bellowing. The Turk's frowny face turns to see the wall of meat coming up on him, ready to knock his lights out for such an insult!
It's a fate avoided with his already-extended hand. The fingers spread and he catches Zangief's mighty fist, a feat to be certain, especially as the man is already oiled up! It didn't seem to matter in the slightest, save for the spike of pressure driven through joints and bone, brought on by the wet smacking sound.
"Oh, are we ready to fight now?" Hakan asks, his teeth bared with a wicked smile. Very well! If the people wish him to be the bad guy, he shall! And the first thing he does is...oh. He ignores the other man! Holding onto that captured fist firmly, his other arm bulges in its effort to lift his oil barrel. "NnnnNNRRRRRAHA!" With that single hand, the thing is hoisted and overturned, dumping its contents of olive oil over the /actual/ oil fighter...as well as a great deal of the ring as well, whatever doesn't simply run off onto the apron.
COMBATSYS: Hakan upends his lion-faced barrel over his head, bathing in the exquisite slick of virgin olive oil.
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Zangief 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 [E] Hakan
COMBATSYS: Hakan takes no action.
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Zangief 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 [E] Hakan
Zangief growls, and wrenches his arm back hard. With a grunt, he stamps one big red boot after the other down onto the mat of the wrestling ring, and then he slams his fist into his palm, "Not. Even. RED?!" He shouts, his face turning, well, quite red, ironically!
"I am THE Red Cyclone! My beloved Mother Russia runs in my veins! I carry the Soviet dream on my back, Comrade! Just because it has stumbled, don't ever think that I will!"
He turns his back on Hakan, throwing his arms open to the crowd, even as his opponent bathes himself in olive oil. "I am as Red as I have ever been! As Red as the dreams of my people! YOU may have some, strange and awful tan, but beneath that! BENEATH THAT, HAKAN!"
He rounds on the man, pointing with one thick finger accusingly, "YOU! You are Capitalist Swine! HOW DARE YOU!? How DARE YOU try to claim that YOU are more red than ME?! I'm going to make you EAT that barrel before I let you walk out of this ring, IF you can even walk by the time I'm done with you!"
... Okay, maybe that rage isn't /actually/ for show. It's hard to tell. Zangief's eyes are bloodshot, and flecks of spit populate his beard. It seems Hakan might have touched a nerve.
COMBATSYS: Zangief gathers his will.
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Zangief 0/-------/---====|=------\-------\0 [E] Hakan
So it would seem. Even Hakan is amazed by the fury whipped up in the other man...but even now, he thinks it's a farce, simply for the audience! What an incredible actor this Zangief is, on top of being an excellent wrestler!
"Puh!" The Turk spits on the mat in response, which really just ends up landing in a puddle of oil. The barrel is tossed aside and out of the ring, barely caught by SNF officials before it goes smashing into some of the onlookers. That's another mark against him, to be so callous to the fans! "I spit on your country! Its glory days have passed!" The superiorly-oiled man slaps his shoulders, then begins to run his hands down his arms and acros his chest. Working the oil into every nook, every cranny--including a short period where his hands delve into his own pants! They pull out and hoist up the leather attire, bringing on a jingle of the chain stretched across his torso.
"Besides! He calls out now, spreading his feet, lifting up his arms as if to catch an imagined oncoming boulder. "How red could your nation possibly be under its endless winter? I mean, seriously, have you /seen/ the place lately? Such a terrible place to visit, and the people are so rude!" Indeed, this may have quickly devolved from a friendly match into a slugfest of personal grievances...
COMBATSYS: Hakan gathers his will.
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Zangief 0/-------/---====|=====--\-------\0 [E] Hakan
Throughout Hakan's retort, Zangief turns more and more red. Less and less patient, though, the rules of professional wrestling state that he has to wait for Hakan to finish before he responds. Lets be honest, Hakan might have some salient points, there. But how can Zangief respond to them? What witty and erudite comeback does Zangief have in store?
Simple! With a howl of fury, the Russian lunges back towards Hakan. He aims to grab the man by the shoulders, and if he can get a firm grip- no mean feat, with all the oil- Hakan is going to discover just what Zangief's anger looks like.
Zangief aims to flip Hakan around, and cram the oil magnate between his thighs. Squeezing his head with all his force, he'll leap into the air, and spin, sending oil flying all over the place, and making the ring even slipperier than it had been before.
But when he impacts the ring, again, he's trying to drive Hakan's skull right the way through it. There's a staggering amount of force, there, and although Hakan might be hard to get a grip on... he wouldn't be the first half-nude greased man that Zangief has gotten a firm grip of before!
(Shut up, he's just experienced!)
COMBATSYS: Hakan fails to interrupt Screw Piledriver from Zangief with Oil Dive.
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Zangief 0/-------/--=====|=====--\-------\0 [E] Hakan
Oh, Hakan. Perhaps you went a little too far this time...
Upon seeing the hairy mountain bellow and run toward him, it's only natural that the Turk do the same! He runs--or at least, he goes through the motions. His feet slip upon the ground as he remains running in place, arms extended and ready to grab the grabbing guy before he can grab his grabbables. Streaks of oil are flung back behind him, smattering all over the ropes, spritzing the crowd with its heavenly olive scent.
But this time, the lack of friction proves to be his undoing. He has no velocity with which to knock Zangief back and throw him as he likes. Instead, he's the one gripped, flipped and spun and SMASHED head-first into the mat. The floor caves inward under the impact, swinging back up and bouncing Hakan into the air, once more bowing inward as his bulk lands flat on his back. The careful spirals woven from the man's turquoise hair are all wobbly and crooked now, and if his eyes weren't already pure white, they would be for the fact that they're rolled up in his head.
The crowd is loving this, however! The sunburnt bastard deserved it with everything he said, and now look at him! He's sprawled out on the mat like it's naptime.
Zangief is furious, and it shows. Sometimes, he might give his opponent time to recover after he's been knocked down. He's not always set on utterly decimating the foe at all costs, is he? But, not this time. This time, Hakan has just gone too far, and he's going to keep up the pressure.
Advancing like a meaty avalanche, he lashes out with one big foot, aiming to crash painfully into Hakan's side, "GET UP!" He roars, trying for a second kick, "GET UP!" And then, he's reaching down to try and scoop Hakan from the floor, to hurl him against the ropes of the wrestling ring.
"GET UP SO I CAN KNOCK YOU DOWN!"
Maybe, just maybe, the crowd are starting to wonder about Zangief at this point... after all, there's the usual fighting smack talk, and then there's the almost murderous fury that is thundering in the ring right now. Zangief's national pride has been wounded, his name has been challenged! He's definitely not kidding around, that much is for sure!
COMBATSYS: Hakan interrupts Combo Throw from Zangief with Oil Slide.
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Zangief 0/-------/=======|=====--\-------\0 [E] Hakan
The first kick drives home that very fact: Zangief is /pissed/!
"Wait, wait! Let us talk about TH-OOWW!" The big man rolls onto his side, clutching his stomach and kicking his feet. That actually really, really hurt! His arm reaches out and he crawls for the edge of the ring. The second kick strikes him just as he's got his fingers curled over the edge, this time leaving a fine imprint of the Russian's boot outlined clearly on his back. The pained yell that the Turk lets loose makes some people start to wonder if this may /not/ be scripted.
"Seriously, isn't this just acting??" Even as Hakan blurts out the rhetorical question, he's got a firm grip on the edge of the ring. With one deep breath, he pulls himself toward it, sliding quickly on the smooth sheen of oil he'd spilled earlier! Instead of slipping out under the ripes, he flies into them like a rocket, stretching the things outward a good two feet away...and when they retract, it sends the oil wrestler careening head-first into Zangief's waist, his big body sweeping out the hairy bear's legs right out from under him!
Zangief hits the ground, the blow sends a shock running through the back of his head. It isn't often that he is knocked down, but the sheer speed and force with which Hakan ploughs into him does just that, albeit briefly.
"The Red Cyclone NEVER jokes about glorious Mother Russia!"
And that bellowed battlecry on his lips, he comes hurtling up from the floor under his own power. Barreling towards Hakan, he aims to just slam into the man, and scoop him up into his arms. From there, he'll be jumping into the air all over again, soaring up, up for the delight of the crowd!
And then, right the way back down again. At some point in the ascent, his hands will have found his opponent's hips, and he'll be bringing him down back-first into the mat, this time. Probably preferable to being crammed between Zangief's thighs, at least.
COMBATSYS: Hakan blocks Zangief's Flying Powerbomb.
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Zangief 1/-------/=======|======-\-------\0 [E] Hakan
The red streak flies across the mat and slams into the far ropes, once again ready to come careening back. However, he stops, one of his thick arms tangling itself up around two of the stretchy lengths of blue. Back and forth, he oscillates until he comes to stop, at which point he stands up and brings both hands to press against either side of his cranium. "That really, REALLY hurt! It's no wonder you're the pride of your motherland!" Haha. 'Pride'.
"But seriously, Russia's a terrible place to visit." All mirth, pain, pretense, everything is gone as Hakan voices that single, solitary line. He's not joking about it, but neither is he being spiteful. It's just a fact. Not that it keeps him from being set upon by an angry bear, though! His stance is firm and his posture low, making him a difficult target to grab.
And yet, he doesn't move as Zangief grips his hips and lift him up. Ah, the magic of the oil finally begins to make itself known. Well, okay, the quick slide into the ropes and back was really the first time its greatness was shown, but now! Now, its defensive qualities shine! The Turk's legs tuck in and he spins as though the hands on him are well-greased joints. A blow to his already-abused head surprisingly ends with him back on his feet! A smug grin spreads his lips, that bright blue moustache curved upward with delight. "My turn, my friend!" he yells out, both arms lifting to try and shove the Russian to the ground.
COMBATSYS: Zangief endures Hakan's Hakan Throw.
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Zangief 1/------=/=======|=======\-------\1 [E] Hakan
And with the sickening sound of wet flesh smacking against wet flesh, the 'Red Cyclone' is shoved down before the ...ah. The... The NEW Red Cyclone! Yes! But that's not enough. As soon as Zangief is shoved down, Hakan bends right over him. Ah, the touch of pecs against his back! The curl of a thick arm running over his shoulder and between his legs! THIS is the sort of thing that gives fangirls nightmares. Oh, how sweet, to sift one's fingers through that iconic bush of chest hair...only to curl up and get a good grip on it. The other hand follows suit, curling up with a wrenching grip on his opponent's Mike & Ikes.
"And here...we..." The oil mogul's atm and back bulge with tension, shiny and slick with the trappings of rich oil. In an instant, his arms lift, veritable blurs as he throws his fellow wrestler high overhead and behind him, out of the ring and into the crowd itself!
"GO!"
There's one problem with trying to grab Zangief in embarrassing ways. That being, the pride of Russia really is almost impossible to shame. Even though Hakan puts him through a rather impressive wringer, Zangief is hardly one to let a little thing like inter-match groping put him off. He's a frighteningly talented wrestler, and throughout it all, he's just looking to turn the move to his advantage.
His opportunity comes as he is thrown into the crowd. Or at least, in that direction. No doubt, if Zangief wasn't huge, it would have gone off without a hitch. As it is, though, Zangief takes the disturbing move in his stride. He doesn't seem that put off by it. Instead, he grabs the top rope of the ring as he is sent hurtling out of it...
And then he's using that to throw himself forwards again, with words that would probably send lesser men scurrying all on their own.
"TWO CAN PLAY AT THAT GAME, COMRADE!"
Zangief's momentum is carrying him forwards with frightening intensity, but where Hakan had used his momentum to crash through Zangief's guard, the True Red Cyclone is aiming to get a much more... personal grip.
Talk about below the belt! But with one meaty hand, Zangief aims to get a very painful, tight grasp that Hakan's wife certainly wouldn't approve of! And, well, squeeze as hard as he can! Tight enough to grasp and *twist*, and then just, /headbutt/ the other man to get some distance again.
Good thing there doesn't seem to be a referee...
COMBATSYS: Hakan interrupts Choke Hold from Zangief with Oil Rocket.
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Zangief 1/-----==/=======|=======\==-----\1 [E] Hakan
As soon as the hairy, oily mess fo a man is tossed, Hakan remains there with his arms up, bent and flexing majestically. Ah, the sheen of oil! The strength of his magnificent body! All are welcome to gaze upon it in awe! So focused is he on his posturing that he doesn't realize that Zangief is far nimbler than he looks! The first indication that anything is wrong is the look of surprise on everyone's face. He's still facing away, having tossed his opponent behind him, so he doesn't know what's amiss until he's spun around...and gripped! OH GOD.
But once again...the virtues of oil wrestling! The pants designed for this very sport are made to be extremely baggy and /very/ hard to grasp. The offending hand might be able to get a good palmful of Turkish junk, but the squeeze leaves nothing but leather in its grasp, the twist rendered harmless.
That's not to say that the junk's owner is going to stay idle, oh no! He's already got his arms out, leaning over Zangief, shadowed like some sort of slick red demon as he captures his prey in a bearhug. Clinching the Russian's arms to his sides, there's no escape once Hakan grips his wrist, muscles encircling him like an unyielding ring of iron. "Silly man! This uniform is made for tricks like that! My oil is my ultimate defense!" That said, he squeezes. HARD. Compressing the hairier wrestler's bones and organs, the pain is thankfully momentary. Before anything can break or dislodge, his body just...starts to slide upward, squeezed out into the lighting above as though ejected from a jet!
Zangief has to admit, it isn't often that a defense helps anyone wriggle out of his grasp. But being covered in slippery oil is pretty good as far as things like that go. It seems to be working pretty well for Hakan, at least. It's even more rare that someone can just get a good grip on him in turn, and the crunching grab hurts! BUT! Never let it be said that the Red Cyclone is afraid of taking a few hits!
High above, Zangief is already roaring as he descends from the heavens like some terrifying hair angel. Most of his original oil has been shaken off by now, though some of Hakan's is rubbing off on him. What is scary, though, is the way Zangief just seems to be getting angrier and angrier as the fight progresses. At first, he'd been furious that anyone could challenge his name and his country. Now he's angry that Hakan isn't just crumbling before his towering might. He has terrible luck in these Saturday Night Fights, but he isn't going to let Hakan become his oily, red Kula!
"ORA!"
And now, as he comes down behind Hakan, his arms are stretched out to the side. Huge, meaty trunks which are spun around on the spot as he aims to batter against the turkish wrestler in a spinning, well, angry red cyclone!
COMBATSYS: Zangief successfully hits Hakan with Double Lariat.
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Zangief 1/---====/=======|=======\=====--\1 [E] Hakan
As Hakan shoots Zangief out of his great big oily embrace, his arms cross fully over his chest. Immediately afterwards, he reaches for his crotch as though actually worried despite his bravado, just to make sure everything's okay! To find that he's fine is a huge relief, but the lack of focus has cost him. When he looks toward the ring again, he...he can't find where his opponent landed!?
As the hairy angel descends as though on the wings of a communist cherub, the Turk is busy looking into the audience for him. Some of the fans--not many, mind--try to yell and point him in the right direction. "Up? Seriously?" By the time he gets the point, he also gets a fist smashed into the side of his face. It's crazy, really, just how much oil flies off of him, how much sticks to the fist. Bashed once, twice, maybe even thrice before he's sent flying off, impacting with the ropes and eventually oozing through them to land harshly against the barrier in front of the fans. So great was the force that the metal beams had bent, easily seen as Hakan slides off of it and back onto the ground.
But he's not out, not yet. Not totally! A red hand slaps onto the edge of the mat, and then the other follows, lifting higher to find purchase on the lower rope. The red man's hair comes into view, and then the color of his face, which now has a bluish tint on the half that had been smashed! But his movements are slow, groggy, as he climbs up to stand on the ring's edge, leaning back and pulling on the rope, swaying back and forth...
COMBATSYS: Hakan focuses on his next action.
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Zangief 1/---====/=======|=======\=====--\1 [E] Hakan
Perhaps, once, Zangief would have done the sporting thing and given Hakan some time to recover. It's only sporting, after all. But. If he does, there's a very real chance that Hakan will turn the tables on him! And if he does, then the pride of Mother Russia would never recover! He can't take that chance!
As Hakan clings to the ropes, Zangief stomps forwards as fast as he can, each booted footstep sending the stage shaking...
And when he's close enough, he grabs for Hakan's shoulders. If he can just get that grip, then Hakan will find himself being drawn into the ring, hauled up over Zangief's head...!
COMBATSYS: Hakan fails to interrupt Ultimate Atomic Buster from Zangief with Oil Combination Hold.
*KNOCKED AWAY*
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Zangief 0/-------/------=|===----\-------\0 [E] Hakan
COMBATSYS: Hakan can no longer fight.
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Zangief 0/-------/------=|
And brought down hard into Zangief's knee!
The force of the blow bends Hakan in half, and from there, he's smashed backwards into the mat, the beginning of the cry is even echoed by the crowd, who know a legendary move when they see one.
"ULTIMATE!"
Then Hakan is sailing through the air again, hurled up there with all the force the Red Cyclone can muster. He gets a good look at the Smash Masters Arena, at least!
"ATOMIC!"
Then Zangief is coming up behind him, and cramming his head between his thighs. The spinning is so much more intense than the last time he was in this position, though. The world reduced to a blur of colors which ends with a terrifying smash, the sound of the ring buckling, and a literal mushroom cloud of splintered wood and property damage raising up behind the pair of wrestlers.
"BUUUUUUUSTEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER!"
He tries to turn the tide, oh does he try! Hakan wobbles faster and faster, and when it seems like he might just slip off the rope, he flies forward!
However...
His trajectory his off, his aim untrue. Instead of taking out Zangief's feet, he's introduced to a world of pain that he never even knew existed! The first hit is bad enough. He's passed out by the second, his body limp and unresponsive. The final impact is just downright uncalled for, using the poor man to pin the very foundation beneath the ring like a greasy railroad spike. The impact sends every last droplet of oil flying outward like a wave, albeit a very small one, leaving the Turk drier than he's probably been in countless years... And there he stays, his body now rigid while half-embdedded in concrete, both legs together and pointed upward.
It's going to take a lot of jackhammering to get him out of there.
COMBATSYS: Zangief has ended the fight here.
Log created on 10:34:32 11/14/2010 by Hakan, and last modified on 14:14:22 11/15/2010.