Description: The first round of Fightfest goes off with a bang as the Irish boxer Hawksley comes up against a shining star of the Silver Screen. Gentleman's rules go right out the window as these two handsome hunks throw down, as only one can advance to the next round. Hearts and faces will be broken, rivalries will be born. This, Is, Fightfest!
"Remember bro. Growl like a wolf, howl like a wolf. Whoever this Scottish joker is he's got nothing on you. Big Alfa energy!"
These are the words of one Matt Dangerfield, his many gold chains rattling as he walks along at a pale young man's side, gesticulating wildly. With his spiked Bleach Blonde hair, muscular slab of a torso, and violently orange spray tan, he seems more the type to be jumping into the ring himself. A prime specimen of hulking gym physique from the waist up, gloriously framed by his tight white muscle shirt, that tapers to thin nobbly knees poking from a pair of dark purple basketball shorts.
"IDIOT!" cries a high, slightly raspy voice from somewhere behind the slab of gym beef, followed soon after by the loud FWAP of knuckles striking flesh. Face contorting in sudden agony, Matt staggers to one side, nearly toppling into a fried noodle stand, and reveals the petite pixiesh form that had been hidden behind him.
"Shut up Danger-Failed," the adorable teen practicly snarls, her spiky neon-blue pigtails bristling as she glares at the wincing oaf. Though small, every inch of the rage-filled girl is toned to whipcord perfection, bare arms and shoulders covered in gothic knot work tattoos that match her punkish makeup and spiked leather gloves. Sporting only the finished of tight stretchy fighting attire, she throws an arm around the pale young man's shoulders and gloms against him, steering him toward the Gazebo arena with the press of her weight.
One last glare is thrown back toward Matt before Titania Belle, terror of the amateur cage fighting circuit, turns a beaming smile up to the man she's attached herself to.
"Ignore that idiot, Johnny. When that bell rings, or whatever they do, I want you to go right for the nuts. Mash those suckers like a couple of potatos, then a knee to the throat, gouge out an eye. Don't put him on the ground, put him in the grave!"
That, would probably explain why her current record is 0 and 18, all losses by disqualification.
"Hrrmfk." JD grunts in return, grey eyes dropping to consider the ferocious pixie for a moment with large, unsure eyes. Pale hands twisting together before him, he shuffles up to the edge of the stage and bumps against it, leaning for just a moment while Titania squeezes him tight.
"Kill him dead, Johnny." she encourages with a gleeful sort of blood lust, backing off so that the media sensation can scramble clumsily up onto the platform, rising to his feet with a notable sway to his stance. Looking about himself, he takes in the small crowd of standing onlookers, the camera crew and currently empty announcer's table.
"Brrrrrgh." he mutters to himself, head shaking sadly before he turns to lurch toward the center, aiming a soulful look across to where his opponent should be getting ready himself.
COMBATSYS: Hawksley has started a fight here.
COMBATSYS: John Doe has joined the fight here.
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John Doe 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Hawksley
The dark haired dude that joins John Doe on the stage looks like he's wandered into the International Fighting Festival via the nearest bar, which is infact pretty accurate. He's (partly) dressed for the occasion in a pair of well-worn jeans and white sneakers with a red trim. His upper half is left bare, exposing his toned torso and light golden tan.
"Alright, fella. Are you the one I'm gonna be having a punch-up with?" he asks in his broad Irish accent, his dark eyes twinkling and his lips curling up into a smile.
"I've been looking forward to getting my knuckles bloody again." He shakes out his right hand, before forming it into a fist and kissing the said knuckles.
"Well all the best to you, fella. Here's hoping it's a fun fight."
He starts to shift his weight from one foot to another, before stretching out his limbs and then looking John Doe dead in the eyes. "I hear you're something of a movie star, so I'll try not to mess your face up too much. No promises though."
Pulling a slim silver hip flask from the pocket of his jeans, Hawksley takes a long swig of whiskey, before igniting it and attempting to breathe fire into John's face!
COMBATSYS: John Doe blocks Hawksley's Hedonism ES.
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John Doe 0/-------/-----==|-------\-------\0 Hawksley
Perhaps an inch shorter and a few pounds heavier than his Irish opponent, JD gives a slight wave of one pale hand at the introduction, the other lifting to shove his long hair back behind his ears. Where the boxer is bare chested and sun-touched, the movie star has on a hoodie and a knitted sweater over T-shirt and jeans, somehow chilly despite the warm spring day. And, well, if the notable sway in his stance is anything to go by, he might have come here straight from a bar himself.
"Grrmfh." he mumbles, solemn grey eyes dropping from the other man's gaze to study the floor, body language slumped and a bit, shy?
Can movie stars even be shy?
A question for later, as suddenly a rush of fire is blasting across the distance, and John has stumbled back from the blazing barrage, arms lifting to protect himself.
"Holy SHIT!" comes the shrieking excitement of Titiana from somewhere behind him, sounding way too happy about what is happening.
Head tucked low in the shelter of his forearms, JD reverses his course and lurches forward through the fading flames, the sleeves of his soft hoodie still smoldering. Though he seemed nervous before, his staggering pace increases as he closes on Hawksley, sneakers pounding across the stage into a dashing shoulder barge meant to crash into the other man and knock him off balance, only for his right foot to come punting up like an American football kicker, tip of his shoe aimed squarely for the Irishman's family jewels.
Half grunt, half snarl, the smoking hot star flails his arms for balance, before lurching close in an attempt to clamp cold, graceful hands around the taller man's belt and right bicep, to heave him in and up with surprising strength and launch the boxer up and over his head as he topples backward in a clumsy crashing suplex.
COMBATSYS: Hawksley blocks John Doe's Grave Mistake.
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John Doe 0/-------/------=|=------\-------\0 Hawksley
Titiana's excited cry reaches Hawksley's ears, causing his adrenaline to flow more freely. The Irish inferno watches in anticipation as his adversary stumbles himself to safety, shielding himself from the smoking assault with his smouldering arms.
"Well played, fella" he compliments, his dark eyes displaying only a hint of disappointment, before he's back on his guard, getting ready for the revenge that will surely come his way.
As the shy guy tackles and aims for his tackle, the Cork cruiserweight fights to keep his balance, but ends up bouncing down onto his buttocks. He avoids the foot to the Moore family jewels, instead feeling the sneaker smack into his muscular thigh. "I reckon I'll have a beauty of a bruise there come morning" he murmurs, seeming almost pleased with the idea, before getting back on his feet and avoiding being launched into the superstar's suplex.
Slipping forwards, the topless tyke twists into a left snap elbow in an attempt to put John off balance. He then tries to pivot into a devastating right-handed haymaker, aiming towards the other man's centre of mass, with the intention of sending him to the ground in a backwards motion.
COMBATSYS: John Doe blocks Hawksley's Detonator ES.
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John Doe 0/-------/-----==|==-----\-------\0 Hawksley
For only a moment the two of them are a tangle of grasping fingers and grunting, pale fingers slipping from the taller lad's belt as they strive for dominance. It is through that grasping flail that Hawksley's elbow rushes, sharp point ramming home into JD's chest with a hefty THUMP.
Where a normal man might growl, curse, or wince as the muscle soaks up the impact, JD barely makes a sound, huffing out a breath as he powers forward through the strike and flails his left forearm up into a clubbing block of smoldering sleeve against fist. Clearly he isn't very skilled, half blitzed out of his mind and uncoordinated as a newborn lamb, but the actor can certainly take a punch.
Dark eyes set in unblinking concentration, JD pushes through the block and stumbles over his own feet, tripping forward to crash before Hawksley on hands and knees. Glossy black hair falling forward to obscure his face, he lets out another annoyed grunt, fumbles his left foot up under himself, then surges to his feet with sudden strength, right fist rising from stage level in a helacious rising uppercut for the left side of the boxer's jaw, as if the actor were trying to give the heavens an exuberant fistbump and his opponent's skull happened to get in the way.
COMBATSYS: Hawksley blocks John Doe's Dead Rising.
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John Doe 0/-------/-----==|===----\-------\0 Hawksley
"What's that you say, fella?" Hawksley wonders, suspecting he's not the only one to have engaged in a few pre match refreshments, if the clumsy fighter's conversational skills are anything to go by.
He can't knock the long haired lad's guts though. He's taking any damage in his stride and that's something that deserves respect in the Irish man's eyes.
"Is that firecracker your girlfriend?" he asks, gesturing towards the blue haired babe in the crowd. "I bet she keeps you on your toes, though not literally given her size."
As the actor drops to his knees, he's met with a curious gaze. "I don't think nows the time for religion, Johnny boy."
Apparently it's punching rather than prayers on his opponent's mind however, as the rising right fist seeks to find the bar fighter's face.
"Jesus" he cries, as his jaw skims against JD's knuckles. "That could have been bad, if I wasn't so feckin' fast."
Rubbing at his chin, Hawksley darts forwards, aiming to deliver a left-handed jab into a right cross to break open the other guy's guard and put him off-balance. He will then make a grab at his shoulders and try to pull him face-first into an introduction with Hawksley's knee.
COMBATSYS: Hawksley successfully hits John Doe with Buzzkill ES.
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John Doe 0/-------/--=====|====---\-------\0 Hawksley
Staggering sideways out of his improvised uppercut, John Doe drops both hands to his sides and turns, glancing over his shoulder to see who it is Hawksley is gesturing at.
"Mmmrmfjklrgf..." he mutters, seeming equal parts startled and frightened at the prospect if the slight shiver that runs through him is anything to go by. Upon seeing him look her way, however, Titania blows him a very enthusiastic kiss before flashing the double piece sign, certainly seeming happy at his attention.
"Kill him, Johnny! Bite his ear off like that one guy!"
Turning back to Hawksley, JD is half way through a shrug of utter helplessness when the opening jab pops him in the mouth, rocking his head back and leaving him completely exposed for the right cross to his chin, knees wobbling as he begins to topple backward...
Only for the Irishman's hands to hook a double hand full of his hoodie and drag him forward into a crushing knee strike, the force of the blow blasting him up and swaying unsteadily on his heels, grey eyes dazed. Or, well, more dazed.
Blinking once, JD gives his whole body a shake and lurches forward, long hair parting just enough to show the purpling bruises left across his forehead and chin. However, if being kneed in the face has done anything to dampen the drunken brawler's enthusiasm he doesn't show it. In fact, it seems to have reminded the crazy lad of an important fact.
Hands grasping for Hawksley's shoulders, the teenage heart throb shakes his hair out of his eyes, grins briefly into the other man's face, then rears back and slams his head forward in a full on headbutt for the taller man's mouth and nose.
He has remembered that he has a head!
"YEEEEAAAAH! WOOOOO! Use your head Johnny! Push his nose into his brain!"
COMBATSYS: John Doe successfully hits Hawksley with Brain Dead.
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John Doe 0/-------/-======|======-\-------\0 Hawksley
"She's brutal ain't she" Hawksley states rather than asks, howling with laughter. Apparently the cage fighter's caustic commentary is causing the Cork City charmer amusement.
"I think your lassy is meaning Tyson" he chatters to John. "You're a solid slugger, but you're no Mike."
As the lumbering teen topples towards him, Hawksley seeks to stablise himself, but as he battles for balance, the brute butts him in the bonce, busting his nose and sending a spray of blood to splatter on the screen idol's handsome face.
"Beautiful!" is the fiery fighter's strange response. "Now we're really in business."
Wiping his hooter with his bare skin, he smears the red liquid up his arm, before running a hand through his short dark hair and reaching into his jean's pocket again. Taking another swig of its contents, he then closes the lid, before keeping it in his grip and smacking it full force into the other fighter's forehead.
COMBATSYS: John Doe endures Hawksley's Small Random Weapon.
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John Doe 0/-------/=======|=======\-------\0 Hawksley
It takes JD a couple of backward steps to regain his balance after the brutal butting. Still, if the red smears across Hawksley's upper lip and arm are anything to go by, they might have finally started landing some real shots.
"Hrrg, mfrrglkrrj..." John grumbles, one hand rubbing at his face beneath the obscuring curtain of his hair.
"EEEEEEE! Make him bleed!"
Well, at least she's having a good time.
A shake of his shoulders, a bracing grunt of breath, and JD lurches forward toward his swilling opponent, right hand cocking back fo--
The bottom of the flask lifts away from the actor's face to reveal an already reddening stamp in the outline of its base, the mark encircling a grey eye that stares with all the deadpan gravitas someone in his profession can manage. Lips shifting down a fraction into a frown, he cocks his head to one side, inky brow lifting just slightly as if to say, 'Another face shot?'
Long fingers curling into bunched fists, He throws himself at Hawksley, right hand flailing in a wide, sweeping hook for the side of the taller man's head. There is such force behind it that the unsteady fellow nearly loses his feet again, staggering forward and putting his weight behind a lunging left straight square for center mass, not unlike a reversal of the heavy punch tried on him earlier.
COMBATSYS: John Doe successfully hits Hawksley with Bone Yard.
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John Doe 1/------=/=======|=======\=------\1 Hawksley
Hawksley's blood has started to clot, congealing at the base of his nostrils and causing him to blow out a boozy breath.
"I'm already bleeding" he responds to the heckle, as his flask finds the face of the filmstar.
When it makes its mark, the man allows himself a slight smile, before Doe is on him again, hooking at his head and launching a lunge at his bare upper body.
The attack has the desired effect, knocking the wind out of the energetic Emerald Isler.
"Ah, you got me good, fella" he admits, falling down to the floor of the gazebo's stage and staying down to rest a while until he's recovered enough to hoist himself to a standing position.
As he clambers his way up, he throws out a kick, aiming it at John's shin.
COMBATSYS: John Doe blocks Hawksley's Medium Kick.
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John Doe 1/-----==/=======|=======\=------\1 Hawksley
The blessed moments Hawksley spends resting gives JD a chance to catch his baring's. The smell of blood in the air, seasoned with human sweat...The bruised star is forced to wipe one charred sleeve across his mouth, clearing a dribble of spit away from his lips. Probably a result of getting punched in the mouth earlier, rather than how delicious it's starting to smell.
"What are you Doing Johnny? Mount him! Step on him!"
Cat calls rise from the rest of the crowd.
"Not like that you idiots!"
The petite cage fighter rages at JD's side of the stage, pounding her gloved fists against the wood and glaring around her with murder in her eyes.
Stomach rumbling, JD watches the play of muscles under Hawksley's skin as he stands. Stares with wrapped attention as his weight shifts, one foot lashing out toward him as if in slow motion. Stoops to reach toward the offering, leg crashing against his grasping hands and sending a jolt up his arms. Opens his jaws wide, breath panting past perfect white teeth...
Grunting, JD tightens his fingers around the calf and heaves, abnormally strong muscles flexing beneath his baggy layers as he attempts to whip the cheeky boxer up and over his head and bring him crashing down hard on his other side, then again, and again, teeth bared as he does his best Bam Bam impression from the Flintstone's, unless the slippery man can escape, that is.
COMBATSYS: Hawksley blocks John Doe's Dawn Of The Dead.
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John Doe 0/-------/------=|=======\===----\1 Hawksley
The kick doesn't go to plan. As he lashes out his leg, Hawksley feels it grabbed by the grunting guy and experiences a rush of fear as he's lifted up into the air. He enjoys this rush of emotion.
In these moments, bloody in battle, is when he feels most alive. His adrenaline pumps, his heart races and he is fully present in the moment, thinking only of how to handle the hurt and push through the pain. It's perfect.
Unlike his bid to flee the formidable grip of his opponent. His escape lacks elegance, and as he is brutally bashed to the floor, he has to crawl away, cradling his cracked cheekbone.
"Feck!" he cries out, making a noise that sounds somewhere between agony and amusement.
As he finds the fortitude to force himself to his feet again, he closes his eyes, focusing his energy and then stamping his foot with force against the floor.
The area around him alights with vivid orange flames, forming a ring that rapidly spreads outwards towards JD, till its circling both the fighters.
Should this prove distracting enough for Doe, Hawksley will seize the opportunity to deliver a lightning-fast punch and send the hearthrob actor hurtling through the red hot ring of fire.
COMBATSYS: Hawksley successfully hits John Doe with Burn Baby Burn.
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John Doe 0/-------/-------|>>>>---\-------\0 Hawksley
Only one slam in and the wily boxer has slipped JD's grip. This, will not do. It will not do at all. Lips pulled back in a fixed grimace of growing hunger, the unsteady brawler lurches into a shuffling per suit, swaying a bit woozily as he tracks the crawling Irishman across the stage.
"Yes! Yes Johnny!"
Bouncing excitedly on her toes, Titania thrusts both fists toward the sky with exuberant bloodlust. A tiny, ferocious cheerleader of death.
Sneakers scraping across the wood, he lurches to a stop, staring at Hawksley as the bare-chested fighter regains his feet. Face battered and bruised, the heartthrob can only watch as fire is stomped to life, raging forth to encircle them in a very dramatic ring of death. Can only stare, hand lifting toward the boxer, as a lightning fast punch blasts past his arm and strikes him full in the chest, staggering him backward into the roaring tongues of flame.
Breath hissing through clinched teeth, the monster sways in the scorching heat, jeans and sneakers bursting alight. Head dipping forward until only his gleaming teeth show through his thick curtain of hair, he just stands there, flames spreading onto his hoodie, licking at the ends of his perfect locks.
Rasping the word in one long breath, JD lurches free of the fire, flames blazing across his body as he swings a pale fist for the boxer's already broken jaw. Looking like something straight out of one of his movies, the pallid actor is clearly no stranger to danger. Maybe he does his own stunts? Being on fire doesn't seem to be alarming him nearly as much as it should.
COMBATSYS: Hawksley interrupts Hook Punch from John Doe with Angel Interceptor.
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John Doe 0/-------/------=|===----\-------\0 Hawksley
Even Hawksley seems surprised by the drama he's caused. Sure, he's been aware of his abiity to start fires for some time but channeling them is another matter. Initially they weren't intentional, though few believed him when he insisted this was the case. He was dubbed "trouble" by his teachers, "best avoided" by the parents of his friends and "that feckin arsonist pup" by his maternal grandmother.
His beloved mammy and Gram Moore had believed him though and he has been trying his best to control his fiery outbursts. That's actually one of the reasons he's joined the New Fighting Generation. He's hoping with some guidance and mentorship, he will learn to use his abilities at the proper time and place.
Which he only just went and did! As the flames glow around the two bruised and battered brawlers, the Irish man's face alights, not only with their glow, but with the satisfaction of a job well done. He's no eejit though, he knows this fight is far from over, so he's got to stay focused.
As the aflame actor approaches him and mutters the word "BRRAAaynes", the former bartender starts to laugh loudly. "You auditioning for a part in a zombie movie, fella?" he asks, shaking his head.
"Does that make me the harassed hero, who's trying to escape your clutches? Please don't eat my brains!" he protests, holding his hands up to protect his face, whilst still laughing.
Amused be may be, but he's still awaiting another attack, so when John Doe lurches towards him. The anticipation allows him to act fast and he quickly crouches down to avoid the jab to the jaw, escaping its wrath and more potential pain.
From this position he pushes upwards, leaping into the air with his arms oustretched, before bringing his right fist downwards into an uppercut to the screen idol's chin.
It is well known to his fans that JD is a consummate method actor, but this might be going a little too far. Flames spreading across his clothes, steps lurching and loose, the mumbling star delivers a ferocious swipe of his fist to the empty air where Hawksley should have been.
A low, desperate groan rises from the teenager just before the Irishman's uppercut clobbers him square in the chin, rocking him back on his heels and sending a spray of drool splatting out across his attacker and the ground. It is a knockout blow, and John Doe should be dropping jelly-kneed to the floor at any moment.
Except, he doesn't.
Face still hidden behind his shroud of hair, the blazing monster wibbles, wobbles, then sways forward, pale hands grasping at Hawksley's throat in an attempt to latch on and heave the fighter once more into the air, to turn and hurl him ass over kettle out of the ring of fire and half way across the stage to crash into one of the Gazebo's support pillars.
COMBATSYS: John Doe successfully hits Hawksley with Power Throw.
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John Doe 0/-------/--=====|======-\-------\0 Hawksley
This actor that Hawksley has found himself up against isn't the kind of celebrity who's afraid to get his hands dirty. He seems as up for as much rough and tumble as he is and it's making for a very fun fight for the fiery fella.
As the guy grabs at him, the Irish inferno tries to get the hell out of the way again, but this time he's all out of luck. Finding a pair of pale hands positioned around his throat, causes him to start choking. His own hands fly wildly around, flailing and flapping as he struggles to catch his breath.
Before he can do so, he feels himself flying through the air and crashing cruelly into the pillar, sending the stage wobbling wildly with the impact.
He begins to pant, wincing with the pain. Unable to find the strength to stand for the moment, he instead starts crawling forwards on all fours, fumbling on the floor for something he can use as a makeshift weapon.
Picking up one of the banners advertising the International Fighting Festival, he flings it towards JD in a desperate attempt to cause him some damage.
COMBATSYS: Hawksley successfully hits John Doe with Thrown Object ES.
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John Doe 0/-------/--=====|=======\-------\0 Hawksley
Sneakers striking the stage with a steady, ominous rhythm, John Doe lurches through the fire in shuffling per suit of his prey. Seeming less like a zombie than a robot sent back from the future to kill the Chosen One, the actor emerges from the blaze with more of his clothes on fire than not, grey eyes fixed upon his crawling opponent with glazed intensity. All around them the crowd is screaming their heads off, clapping, whistling, girls shrieking. But JD has eyes only for Hawksley.
Swaying drunkenly from side to side, there is an attempt to stagger out of the banner's path, but the desperate boxer's gambit pays off and the cloth wraps itself around the lumbering menace. Blinded, burning, and with the weight of the hanging dragging him down, JD staggers forth in one last display of strength, barreling down upon the Irishman as the banner entangling his limbs begins to catch fire. Pale hands reaching, always reaching, he attempts to grab a fist full of the cheeky man's head and haul him back to his feet, whirling him around in an attempt to smash him skull-first into the same pillar he just collided with, likely destroying it in the process. That hopefully done, the exhausted actor would hurl his opponent tumbling away across the stage, the weight of the banner finally dragging him collapsing to the ground to lie still, emergency personnel hurrying forward to try and smother the blaze before it can kill the poor idiot.
COMBATSYS: John Doe can no longer fight.
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COMBATSYS: Hawksley interrupts Cemetery Man from John Doe with Numbskull.
* Attack Of Opportunity! *
[ \\\\ <
It's like a scene from a horror movie. As the zealous zombie powers through the flames, intent on causing violence to his victim, Hawksley looks up to watch him heading his way. He makes for a glorious and ghastly sight that appeals to the man's more grotesque tastes.
"Feckin yeah" he murmurs, his face full of the thrill of the fight the two of them are enduring together.
As the banner becomes a floppy, blazing bind around the film star, the injured Irish man awaits the next scene, still too weak for the moment to get up. But then he doesn't need to. Instead he's been forced to his feet by the thick dark hair that covers the top of his crown.
As his sneaker clad feet kick at the air, he tries to weave himself around, pushing to position himself so he's facing his foe. As he struggles to stop himself being thrown through the air, he finds himself smacking into the screen idol, sustaining multiple more bruises in the painful process.
Eventually though, through sheer endurance he manages to gain the momentum and take control of the uncomfortable embrace, trapping the teenager's arms with his own. Letting out a roar that reveals all the excitement and fear he's feeling, he starts to smash his forehead into his face repeatedly.
It seems like he will never stop, until a tournament official runs on to the stage, pulling him back from his opponent and leading him away from the stage. He allows this to happen, raising his right arm in the air with triumph, as they weave their way through the chaotic crowd.
Before they vacate the vicinity, Hawksley turns to look back at the battered body of John Doe and shouts out to him, just in case he is able to hear.
"Respect to you, fella. You bashed me up big time and it was a feckin' pleasure to dance with you. I'll buy you a beer or two in the hotel bar when we've both recovered."
COMBATSYS: Hawksley has ended the fight here.
Log created on 13:52:48 04/10/2023 by John Doe, and last modified on 18:56:39 04/11/2023.