Description: The unremarkable Sven Maesters was looking for credibility, was looking for a prize. What better prize than being the holder of the Western Rookie belt? All that stands in his way is the too cool, too collected Jack Sanders... (Winner: Jack Sanders)
It was time for the Circuit of the Champions.
The Metro City Bank Martial Arts Arena was a full house tonight for the Circuit of the Champions Western Regional belt. Sure, it was only the Rookie belt. But this was still worldwide material. Besides, the world-famous and legendary badass, Jack Sanders, was out there to defend his hard-earned belt. People flocked to see how Jack Sanders was going to get out of this one.
Frankly, Sven Maesters didn't give a damn who this Jackhole was.
The swaggering Swede saunters down the walkway to the center arena. The Arena itself was a cage; it typically was used for MMA matches, and in this case, it counted as close enough. Inside, a ref was waiting. Sven himself was already garbed in his fighting costume: A pair of cargo shorts, a wolfskin pelt, and a wolfman mask. A somewhat ridiculous getup, if it wasn't for the fact that the muscled swede was built like a brick house. The wrestler enters the cage ring, as the audience only half-heartly gives their applause for the relatively unknown wrestler. Sure, he had a few matches in the Neo-League. But he was just a big blonde nobody in a mask.
Where was the real star?
Jack Sanders is famous; he's no Johnny Cage, but he's on the list. He's been in countless action movies, and lived a childhood dream -- to become a martial artist, and fire awesome chi. Sadly, it turned out he didn't have the talent to actually enter the national circuits... but his confidence and exuded personality allowed him a professional career in the media. But a man can only take the mockery for so long that he's a washed-up nobody who doesn't remember how to still throw a punch.
And it's with that, the strobelights above begin to wildly flicker around, fireworks exploding from each turnbuckle. Music begins to blare, rough and savage, before all the lights go dark. Only for rainbow strobes to begin rippling up, in the rough silhouette of a being. People begin to cheer, surprisingly many of them female, as unseen arms thrust up.
"THE CHAMPION... JACK!!! SANDERS!!"
And then twelve spotlights center on the man himself. He's well into his thirties with a plain face, clean shaven. Black shades are worn, and an oversized trenchcoat. Flickering LED lights are set up along the arms and legs of his pants and outfit, and he's wearing sneakers that similarly flare with each step. He begins to sign autographs, dap, and otherwise take his sweet time getting to the ring. "DON'T LOSE, SANDERS!" "WE LOVE YOU!"
Taking out a cigarette and putting it in his mouth, a flick of a match lights it before a slow puff falls. "I don't care about the belt. What would kill me... ...is to lose your devotion." His voice is the deep melody of a thousand noir detective films. Shrieks begin to rain out again. "WE'D NEVER STOP LOVING YOU!!" "AH~~ SANDERSSSS!"
He pushes his way into the ring, the gaudily dressed man standing opposite Sven as the announcer goes over the rules. "A young man fighting for his dreams. It should be other way. But the true fight..." A slow draw of his cigarette follows.
"Is the fight of life. No matter what... remember where the battle of the heart goes."
DING DING!! "FIGHT!!"
COMBATSYS: Jack Sanders has started a fight here.
Jack Sanders 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Sven has joined the fight here.
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Sven 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Jack Sanders
A washed up nobody, huh.
Sven Maesters didn't even have the chance to be properly washed up. Jack Sanders was a big fish in a very small pond of his own making, but he was much bigger than Sven Maesters, and from a much bigger pond. The loser from the Swedish Wrestling Association clutches the walls of the cage, gripping the wires tightly as he peers across the crowd. He didn't feel as wild as he was acting, of course.
But he had to build up the presence against the real star.
Sven knew that everyone was here for Jack Sanders. Sven was just here for the belt. A chance at a bigger league, a chance at a new start. Ever since his mess up against Vyle... no, he wasn't gonna dwell on those failures. As the suave noir star enters the ring, he rattles the cage wall, before turning around with a snarl.
And he begins to pace.
Sven paces back and forth, watching the man like a feral animal. The cage door closes, as he licks his lips from under the mask. He lets Jack make his speech, he lets them build his hype. But once the bell rings, he breaks from his frantic pacing. Lurching towards his opponent, he gives another grunt, thrusting his chest out. "Battle of the heart goes? Bah! What a load of horse hockey!" The swede thrusts a finger straight at Jack, taking another step towards him. "Sven Maesters has no use for dreams! The only thing that am is worth living for is winning!"
"And I am going to win myself that belt!"
And there, the wolf pounces. He does a sudden lunge towards Jack, giving off a snarl, before stomping away to the cage. Circling the man, he gives another lunge, before giving a leap to the side... right into the cage wall. With a heft, he climbs up the cage a bit, getting a foothold on it, before he bounds off it. The cage wall shakes and shudders as Sven just hurls himself into Jack. He won't slam into him, but use the momentum to snap his meaty arms around him; one on his shoulders, and another on his hips. Should he get both hands on him, he will just take that momentum to take his shoulder hand to shove him over on his hip hand. There, he would balance him up parallel to the ground, and now with both hands, lift him up and just pancake slam him right on the arena floor. A showy display, even excessive.
But Sven was just as much a showman as this Jack guy probably was.
COMBATSYS: Sven successfully hits Jack Sanders with Power Throw.
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Sven 0/-------/-------|==-----\-------\0 Jack Sanders
There's no real reaction from Jack Sanders outside smoking his cigarette, the strobe lights continuing to go wild upon his arms and legs. Even as he's circled, not a single defense is offered. "Yeah. A true man should go for the world. Never be happy with where you are. Just like me... one fan at a time, one autograph per smile... like throwing starfish into the sea, Jack Sanders' fame continues to spread."
And then Sven attacks. But there's literally no reaction. In fact, Sanders has pulled out a comb and mirror, and begun carefully slicking back his hair while looking at himself. "NO!! SANDERS, THIS ISN'T THE TIME TO TOUCH UP YOUR LOOK!!" wails the crowd.
And then he's impacted, grasped heavily and lifted into the air. Slammed down upon the ground, his comb snaps and cracked mirror bounce away, as he lays there spread eagled for a few moments.
Only his cigarette continues to smoulder in his mouth.
"It's not up to him whether I dodge or not. As a man... only I can choose whether I get out of the way." "Ahhh!! SANDERS!!" He then immediately kip-ups in a display of agility not shown, turning to look at Sven. Blood is coming out of his nose; that definitely hurt him. "Let's get started!"
Suddenly he throws out a fist, attempting to slam it into Sven's gut in a flash of bright yellow chi, looking almost like a star. Twisting, another backhand is aimed at his face, before twisting both hands together in a palmthrust to explode point-blank and send Sven flying towards the distant ring turnbuckle!! "The challenger should always get the first shot. What sort of champion would I be..."
"If I didn't have a handicap...?!"
COMBATSYS: Jack Sanders successfully hit Sven with Hollywood Square EX.
?!? Weird Hit! ?!?
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Sven 0/-------/-----==|===----\-------\0 Jack Sanders
Was this some kind of joke?
This had to be a persona. As Sven Maesters slams his opponent to the ground, he shakes his fists into the air. "This is the strength of Ragnarok!" The Swede bellows, standing tall over his opponent. And yet, the man just pops back up, his cigarette still burning. And as the flash of energy comes, he recoils away from the light. "Gah!" He barks, stumbling backwards from the strange new energy. He blindly attempts to bat aside the palm thrust, but to no avail. He is hit solidly, and sent hurtling towards the corner post of the cage.
And he springs right back.
Rebounding off the turnbuckle, he fires straight back at the star. "You think I is need a handicap?! You dare insult me!?!" The swede snarls, as he draws back both of his hands. Hurtling through the air, brings both of his arms forward into a cross chop right at Jack's face, slamming all of his weight into the blow. Sven wouldn't be standing after this move; he would be collapsed on the ground, an easy target for whatever the superstar had coming next. The real question was:
Would Jack be on the cage floor with him?
COMBATSYS: Sven successfully hits Jack Sanders with Double Hatchet Handle.
! VENGEANCE !
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Sven 0/-------/-----==|======-\-------\0 Jack Sanders
"Ragnarok? Ragnarok isn't a person, it's an event. Are you saying that you are some kind of force of nature? I like it." offers Jack Sanders, still puffing at his cigarette. Of course he pulled his punch; why shouldn't he? In the midst of the final explosion, a small child had thrown him a thumb's up. So he instead shifted his right hand to return it, leaving Sven far less devastated than if he had followed through. Which only seems to enrage him further, of course. The man leaps off the turnbuckle and then strikes hard, knocking Jack so hard into the ground he bounces once. "It's not an insult... you are just against more than a force of nature. You are against..."
He pushes back to his feet, once more in a casual stance. Blood is all over his face now, his forehead split badly open. Puff.
"Jack Sanders. Now stand up. A real man won't hit an opponent who's grounded."
And then he swiftly swings out his foot the literal moment that Sven begins to rise, attempting to kick the wolf right in the groin. What follows is a one-two-three combo of vicious slappings, each complete with an explosion, before two fingers attempt to stuff into the disoriented Sven's noses hard enough to lift him upwards... so his free hand can unleash a brutal, explosive PUNCH right to his face, one with actual weight and furious power behind it!!
COMBATSYS: Sven Toughs Out Jack Sanders' Highland Center!
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Sven 0/-------/-======|======-\-------\0 Jack Sanders
He didn't know who Ragnarok was?
It should be understandable. After all, Ragnarok was an obscure wrestling group. Sven was the only active leftover of it, after the accident. But as Sven collapses on the ground, the swede's anger only grows. Jack was pretty cool, that was obvious. But as Jack just no sells his moves, ignoring the very blood on his face, the wrestler only builds to greater and greater rage. He thunders back up to a standstill, his stance wide, open.
That last one becomes important as he takes a kick straight in the groin. The wolfman grunts in pain, but does not stop his rise. He doesn't even flinch as he turns towards the suave fighter, his biceps beginning to tense. As the explosive slaps come out, Sven just begins to respond in a bellowing, feral voice, his head turning aside with every burst, and then snapping back to glower at the man. "Ragnarok was the greatest trio in the SWA! If you think this is part of your dumb new age crap, then let me end your mistake!" As the fingers finally come, they jab right into the swede's face.
And hit harmlessly on the mask.
The explosive punch finally comes, but Sven was upon Jack Sanders. His head just cracks to the side as he dives on the star. Slamming both of his arms together, the mighty swede simply attempts to embrace the fighter between his massive arms. And should he get the grips on the neon-lighted noir star? He will just growl, as he squeezes. He will just squeeze and squeeze, crushing the man between his powerful arms.
He wouldn't let go, without being made to let go.
COMBATSYS: Jack Sanders interrupts Crushing Throw from Sven with Whitley Heights EX.
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Sven 1/-------/=======|=======\-------\0 Jack Sanders
Jack Sanders is a man of mystery. A man of many things. But he's not a wrestling fan, in particular. Sure, when he was a kid, but that was back when they still called it WWF. Although attempting to get the man to react to a savage beating... certain battles even Sven cannot hope to win. He's too hard-boiled. Yet when his foot finds that well-learned resistance, there's a small grunt. "You've trained your testicles well, friend. But not... well ENOUGH!! And it's spelled SWAG, not SWA!!" See all those glowing LED lights? They are the perfect example of such. Huge arms hulk about Jack, who then flexes both fingers as chi surges through.
"If the kick wasn't enough... let's try THIS!!" Both hands grasp hold of Sven, crushingly lifting him by his prior assaulted groin before simply hulking out; flicking Sven head over heels into the air to spin wildly, before spinning his right arm and patting the bicep. Only to then unleash a brutal, explosive clothesline just before Sven lands, sending him hurtling towards the turnbuckle with no small amount of force.
He might have just made Sven let go.
It was the battle of the gropes.
The searing energy burns against Sven's naked chest, burning his skin as he fights to hold on. He fights harder, as his words assault the swede's brain. When the groin is groped, he just bellows, fighting harder. But the heave is too much, and the wrestler is sent hurtling away... but not before an explosive clothesline comes to rocket him harder into the turnbuckle.
He does not rebound this time.
Smashing against the corner of the cage, he collapses against the wires, clinging to it desperately. He gasps for air from under the mask, dragging himself back upright. "Swedish Wrestling Association!" He grunts, turning himself around, walking his hands along the cage walls. Facing the noir star, he shoves off the gate, thundering towards his opponent with heavy steps. "You is making mistake! You have to focus! How can you be so chill when your belt is on the line!" Stomping towards Jack, Sven just leans back as he thrusts his big booted foot right into the center of the man, a crude, jabbing stomp of a kick coming in. His eyes were burning from under the mask, the stormy temper of the wrestler fuming.
Twilight was coming for Jack Sanders.
COMBATSYS: Jack Sanders blocks Sven's Light Kick.
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Sven 1/-------/=======|=======\-------\0 Jack Sanders
"The belt...? Don't get me wrong. It's not my fault..." He begins to shave the side of his cheek with a disposable razor, other hand settled in his pocket as he appears thoughtful while Sven rises to his feet. "If you are that insecure about your possessions." "SANDERS! DON'T SHAVE IN THE MIDDLE OF A MATCH!!" This time, the booted foot is intercepted with a blocked forearm, driving the other man backwards in a brief skid. "A true person doesn't need to worry. Things just work out for me. Being recruited as a fighter. Having all these wonderful fans. And now..." He suddenly moves to shoot forward, attempting to strike his elbow right above Sven's eye and cause a nasty bleed. "Putting on a good show for my fans... as I take you down. Nothing personal." Another huff of smoke leaves him, continuing to try to shave in the midst. He's doing a pretty good job, which might make it even more infuriating. Is he really this lackluster? Is he holding back? There's a strange sense of effortless effort... like he's trying very hard not to make it apparent he's trying...
COMBATSYS: Sven interrupts Strong Punch from Jack Sanders with Wolfensteiner.
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Sven 1/------=/=======|>>>>>>>\>>-----\1 Jack Sanders
"Your time is up, Jack Sanders!"
That is what the wrestler bellows from under the mask, as Sanders idly dismisses the furious Sven. As the forearm comes to block the blow, the wrestler slams it down, regaining his footing all too quickly. With a swift, single movement, he unclasps his wolfskin cape, and hurls it away to the corner of the cage. "Your day of fame is ended!" As the elbow comes roaring in, Sven takes a glancing blow to his skull. A streak of blood seeps from behind the mask, as the Swede frontflips forward in the same movement.
And latches his legs around Jack's neck.
Clamping down hard on his neck, Sven Maesters heaves back. In a smooth motion, he smashes Jack head first into the arena floor. Rolling with the impact, he tumble around on the ground, dragging Jack with him as he crunches him along. Finally, he kicks him off, this time launching HIM to the corner turnbuckle of the cage.
"The night of the Warwolf has begun!"
Sanders attempts to evade the brutal blow thrown towards him, but he committed too much in his elbow; a grazing hit is certainly not sufficient, and his face hits the canvas with an oddly satisfying *THUNK* before being launched face first to the cage, crashing into it with the rattle of an angry bird and then crashing down on his back. He's silent for a few moments before slowly pushing himself up, and twisting back towards Sven. "I let you throw me." he lies, face a crimson mask of horrible wounds, the left lense of his glasses shattered into a spiderweb pattern. "But now... you made me serious." The razor is hucked aside, before suddenly Jack begins to beat his chest.
"OH... IT'S COLONEL TIME!!" "THE COLONEL OF PAIN!!" "COLONEL SANDERS!!"
And then he rushes forward, feinting to the left before twisting into an upward backhand towards Sven's mask, the impact harmless but flowing into him twisting his upper body around to catch him by the face in earnest -- to *slam* him upon the ground, and begin unleashing pulse after pulse of explosive chi directly within him. "SANDERS! SANDERS!!" Oh no; The heel's starting to lose the favor of the crowd!! Doesn't that power the hero up?!
COMBATSYS: Jack Sanders successfully hit Sven with Hancock Park.
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Sven 1/---====/=======|>>>>>>>\>>-----\1 Jack Sanders
It may be a lie.
But Sven believes him.
"Horse hockey! How can you be so relaxed!" Was the cry as Sven staggers up. The swede was fuming. Did nobody take him seriously? Blood continues to dribble on his mask, as he staggers, tromping around erratically as the crowd begins to chant. And all Sven can sputter from behind his mask?
As Jack goes for the left, he weaves to the right, attempting to evade an attack that was not to come. THe feint comes right into his mask, the wrestler lashing out his hands to try and evade THAT attack. But to no avail; Sven is slammed to the floor of the arena. His limbs flail about wildly with each blast, the turnabout seeming like just enough to take down the fiercesome Sven Maesters.
But he stretches his legs upwards...
COMBATSYS: Jack Sanders interrupts Wolfensteiner 3D from Sven with Live Free and Die Hard.
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Sven 0/-------/--=====|>>>----\-------\0 Jack Sanders
And he wraps his legs around Jack's neck again.
Squeezing hard, he wrenches Jack to the floor, tumbling backwards. Smashing his head hard to the ground once, he rolls only once more to toss him to the cage. Perking up, he leaps after Jack as he hits the cage, ready to trap him in his murderous thighs once more...
"Because... I'm gonna win." Jack Sanders states, thumping his fist to his chest. "A champion never falters. You're not fit for the belt." Of course, this man could stand before Heihachi Mishima, and in the 0.74 seconds before death, he would STILL not take him seriously. It's the persona that makes him money, gets him fans: Being so damn hard boiled.
Of course, having a name like Colonel Sanders is distracting, which might be the case. But then mighty thighs find him, and he's hurtled through the air. All right, Sanders. This is where things start to go well for you. But there's nothing... nothing...
~Sanders, if you win, I'll have drinks with you~ Teehee~~
His eyes snap open, and energy begins to surge through him. "Hnnnn!!" Crashing hard, he falls to a crouch instead of a freefall, before twisting up and rearing back his fist. "ULTIMATE... SANDERS..."
The thighs find him, crushing tight, before his fist slams into Sven's midsection to send him hurtling like a meteor into the cage opposite. "PUNCH!!! I made this move up. Although of course there's a few copycats out there."
"THE CHICKEN DANCE!!"
And while Sven is recovering, Sanders straddles his back, grasping either of his wrists and then hefting him upright. His elbows would jutt out in a comical fashion, before Sanders begins launching exploding knees into Sven's ass, trying to make him jump around until doing a final backwards powerbomb, a last explosion of pyrotechnics before Sanders rolls... rolls... rolls...
All the way back to his razor, which he plucks up and stands, scraping through the sea of red in his face. "That's how you defend a belt, son."
And like that, the belt slips away from the Warwolf's grasp.
"No!" Was the cry as Sven Maesters is punched clean out of the follow-up leg clamp. Collapsing to the ground, blood pours from under his mask as he gropes around blindly. By the time Sanders is on him, he is helpless as a babe. He doesn't even recognize the degree of the humiliation that was unleashed on him, as he jumps around desperately.
He only knew he was humiliated.
As the final powerbomb comes, the swede is consumed by the blast. As Jack rolls away, he just lies there. Moaning in pain. He makes a struggle, a staggered rise as he attempts to roll over, to rise up one last time. But as he reaches towards the star, Sven collapses, face first, on the arena ground.
The night of the Warwolf has ended.
COMBATSYS: Sven takes no action.
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Jack Sanders 0/-------/----<<<|
COMBATSYS: Sven can no longer fight.
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Jack Sanders 0/-------/----<<<|
Log created on 23:38:51 01/01/2015 by Sven, and last modified on 03:59:48 01/02/2015.