FIGHTER'S LEAGUE: Ari Karamzov vs. Cale

[Dain Gavyns]

(You guys have read the rules, I assume? Straight up streetfight on the roof of Legion this time, crowd all around you. Get your posts in by, oh, let's say 24 hours.)

[Ari Karamzov]

Ari had just gotten back to the dorm from an afternoon session in Hircine's weight room when the call came. He was apparently fighting someone named Artemis Adler in about half an hour, whatever the hell kind of name "Artemis Adler" was. Probably a German. Regardless, the match was on the roof of Club Legion, just like many street fights Ari had been in...especially the one against Tiao. For once he paid the memory no mind, though, his mind instead on how he'd get to Legion. Of course, the sounds he could now hear from the direction of his roomate's bedroom told him the boy was preoccupied with another of his "conquests". He probably wouldn't mind if Ari were to sneak away with his car.

That was how roughly ten minutes later Ari found himself at Legion again. Just like last time, the bouncers let him through after a quick look, though this time they also checked a clipboard with names on it, and he quickly walked in. Making his way to the roof thanks to the directions of other patrons, he was greeted by a cheering crowd. However, walking into the centre of the mass of spectators, he noticed something slightly off; Artemis Adler was not there.

"Bah, what's wrong with this kid? Too scared to fight a real man?" he bellowed, arching his head back to laugh at what he perceived as a joke. Despite his apparent demeanour though, he stood ready and waiting, hoping the boy would show up.

OOC: Sorry for the short post. Rush + me is sick = not good post.

[Dain Gavyns]

((Sorry Ari, but Artemis was one of the people I had my eye on. He hasn't logged on in over a month, so I was going to be the harshest on people like him. Artemis is hereby eliminated from this season of Fighter's League. Ari, I will attempt to find a replacement fighter for you, but if no one shall, you will receive a victory by disqualification. Again, apologies for the inconvenience.))

[Cale Rosiér]

Cale chained up his rusty old red bike on a parking meter and started walking towards the building.

"Name?" came a voice from behind a clipboard.

"Cale."

"Rosiér?"

"It's just pronounced Roh-zcher."

"In you go, smart guy."

As he approached the rooftop, he felt a sense that people were giving him "dead man walking" types of glances. He had been told that the guy intending to fight today was planning to lay low and that his own name could be substituted in a pinch. He now began to think there may have been a reason for the avoidance.

Some good experience and maybe a little extra cash...was it worth this anxiety? Always, before every match, this ball of nervousness formed in his stomach. It always served to motivated his instictually fear-driven primally fast maneuvers, but it felt terrible up until the moment of the fight.

When he finally reached the top, there he saw his wrestling prospect, The Blitz. The feeling in his guts intensified, but somehow it seemed right. Perhaps he could use this fight as an advertisement to show Ari that folkstyle wrestling was not about boys touching each other in leotards. It was a serious thing, the art of one starved animal against another with the tribes of each warrior howling fiercely for the victory to come to their champion. Smiling as he entered the ring, Cale knew he would have to give it his all if he were to win and at least put up a good fight if he wanted Ari on his team. There was a lot at stake here.

...oh...

...not to mention his 155 lb. frame could be crushed to dust.

...but better to put that in the back of the mind.

[Ari Karamzov]

OOC: *sigh* Trying this post again for the fifth time in three...two...one...
IC:

Waiting for his opponent to show up, Ari almost thought he would get the victory through disqualification. In a way, he was hoping that would be the case. It would mean he'd get both the points and prize money quickly, with minimal hassle. However, he would also be very disappointed if such a thing happened, as it would mean he wasted two hundred dollars on some punk who didn't have the balls to show up and fight. Throwing a few light jabs to warm himself up and then quickly twisting his neck to the right and left in order to crack the stiff joints, the giant could tell by listening that the crowd was getting as anxious and impatient as Ari himself was.

That changed, however, when he heard the door to the roof open and then close. Chuckling a bit, he turned around to face his opponent at last. However, the man across from him wasn't Artemis, it was Cale Rosiér.

"What the? Cale? What are you doing here? You're not Artemis!" he said confusedly, eventually shaking his head before crouching and raising up his hands in a guard.

"Well, since you made me wait so long, I'll make you move first."

There was the usual arrogant tone in his voice as he said this, waiting to see what Cale could do against someone Ari's size. He was sure that he could easily crush the 155 pound boy if he wasn't careful. That would be unfortunate, he got along well with Cale under most circumstances. Either way, he'd make Cale move first; he was a bit pissed off after having to wait so long only to have his opponent switched around. Not like anything Cale could do would actually damage Ari anyway, he figured.

I need that money, though. I can't afford to lose.

[Cale Rosiér]

Cale hated moving first just as badly, but he had a sense of obligation, so he would. Perhaps that was a mindset as old as Sparta, as old as chess, that to hold one's ground is so much easier than to invade.

His reach was gigantic, his moves were fluid, the man was an atom bomb waiting to go off on your ribcage. There was only one good way to deal with guys this big, and Cale had his strategy mapped out. It was a matter of execution. More than pride, as was the case in every fight, raw fear was motivating his every panicked move.

His pace changed from a walk to a jog, then to a full blown sprint before he drew back and walked again. Like an animal, Cale was testing this giant's relexes and movement, feeling disheartened by how few weaknesses he could spot. His circling got closer and closer, within striking range, when Cale finally made the commitment to engage and start dodging like life was worth living. This close to immanent concussion, the sheer horror of every moment can feel like an eternity.

With a sharp exhale of breath, Cale swooped to the left and grabbed Ari's right leg, but only for a split second before he swooped between his legs and grabbed Ari's waist from behind. The movement was so immaculate, so beautiful and purely executed, that the crowd was hushed for a moment. Or...perhaps they were simply wondering where he was going with it. The tiny fury himself wasn't even all that certain. All he knew was that every second spend in front of this man was like being tied to the train tracks and he did not want to wait around. He kneed him hard in the leg to break him down.

...

"...as I suspected. Solid brick." thought Cale, hopelessly.

His confidence was fading. He knew he would not leave without a serious injury, win or lose. His strategy was still the same, but it would be so hard to execute. Everything was on the line. This wasn't about the wrestling team, or money, or victory, this was about saving his own skin. A sudden, primal chill went down his spine.

"Whatever it takes. It's him or me."

[Ari Karamzov]

The eyes of an experienced fighter were at times like that of a vicious predator, mercilessly keeping track of the prey, monitoring them until the time was right for the beast to rush headlong at its victim in order to start the slaughter. One could never tell when a gaze of that kind would turn into a sudden and brutal attack, especially with a fighter such as Ari whose aggressiveness and strength could be compared to a mad bear. Every fibre of his being urged him to lash out at Cale and crush him like a bug, especially since the boy was already easily within reach even though he had yet to move in on Ari, but Ari still kept his position, following Cale with his dark brown eyes glaring ferociously at the smaller wrestler and turning to face him whenever he started to edge into Ari's peripheral vision.

Normally, Ari would have immediately charged forward and pounded Cale into dust right at the start of the fight, but in this case he thought it'd be better to think up a plan. Cale was good for a little guy, as odd as it felt to say that. Also, Ari wasn't sure if there was supposed to be some sort of signal to start the fight like a bell or the like, so it was a bit of a "better safe than sorry" deal. It took a good deal of self control, and the fact that he had been trained to not get psyched out by obvious probing maneuvres, but he limited himself to quick false jabs when Cale would dash in, only to dash out again possibly ignorant of the fact that he was still in range.

The circling got closer and closer, and Ari's patience for the boy's antics grew thinner and thinner, his annoyance growing more apparent with each passing second as he waited for Cale's real move to start. The glare on the Armenian behemoth's diamond like face became deeper, and his upper lip started to pull back slightly to reveal some of his upper teeth. The gesture would have looked ridiculous on most people, but when done by Ari the snarl was easily capable of inspiring terror in his opponents. Perhaps it was due to the fact that him using the expression usually signaled that said opponents were due some severe injuries. Speculation aside, Cale's sudden charge to his right leg was launched almost immediately after he adopted the aforementioned snarl, causing it to disappear.

Contrary to what Cale might have expected though, Ari "The Blitz" Karamzov was ready. Especially since the little guys always went for his legs. Because of this, he had a simple defense ready. He knew a knee to the face might work, but it would leave him dangerously off balance and play right into Cale's hands. Thus, he instead sharply brought the leg back and around clockwise in order to quickly pivot his whole body to the right, which caused Cale and his scoop attempt to run right past him. Ari was at his left, and the much smaller boy was in trouble.

Trouble first came with Ari's left hand clamping down hard on Cale's left shoulder before the boy could turn around and quickly pushing to the right with enough force to turn Cale around completely so his back was facing Ari. Moving forward to capitalize on the opportunity, Ari bent down slightly, and would then move his massive arms under Cale's much shorter ones in order to wrap his arms around Cale's body and hold him against Ari in a crushing grip. Cale's head and neck would be a bit above Ari's right shoulder as the giant lifted himself by bending backwards, and then continuing to bend backwards until the two slammed into the hard roof ground, Cale's head and neck getting the brunt of the impact while Ari's legs would bridge in order to keep his balance. He didn't register the pain from landing with Cale much though, being well used to German Suplexing people onto the street.

Meg!

That wasn't all though. Sharply rolling to the right, he maintained the hold on Cale's midsection with a painful amount of force while they returned to almost the exact position they had been in before the grab had taken place other than that Ari was now on his knees. Ignoring the scrapes, Ari pushed himself to his feet and repeated the suplex as quickly as possible in order to minimize the possibility of the opponent getting out of the combination throw until it was too late.

Yergou!

Almost as soon as they hit the ground with a thunderous smash from the second suplex, Ari repeated the move. This time though, as he started to bend backwards from his fully upright stance he would suddenly release his hold on Cale, sending the boy flying and eventually crashing to the ground.

YEREK!

Turning around to face the most likely downed Rosiér, Ari still stood at his full height, absentmindedly cracking his knuckles and then casually brushing some dirt away from the minour scrape on his right knee while waiting to see if Cale would get up and continue. The last guy he had subjected to rolling German suplexes had been knocked out and concussed. Then again, he had done more than three suplexes then. Still, if Cale could continue after that Ari would try to end the fight.

I stopped at three German Suplexes because I might just like you, Cale Rosiér. Let's see how tough you really are.

[Cale Rosiér]

Caught in an iron vise, Cale tensed his entire body and prepared for the clobbering of a lifetime. He became a tiny cannonball, safe from serious injury but still prone to be battered like some damn onion rings at the bowling alley. ($4.95 for a basket)

Augh...shit....AUGH!

He was sure he had blacked out for at least a second before entering a seemingly endless tumble towards the edge of the crowd. He was aching, tired, dizzy, even sick to his stomach. He wouldn't go on. He couldn't go on. There was nothing to be done against this barbarian.

Still...it can be said that man has no control, even over his own will. In this particular event, it was anger and spite that were overcoming the most logical of arguments his consciousness was making. It was rare when his stature limited his actual capabilities, but it was unbearably frustrating when it happened. It was like practicing with his uncle in the old country: No matter what, he was always bigger.

He let it out. Standing up in the blink of an eye, he screamed at the top of his lungs, obscenities that Howard Stern would blush at, words that nuns could not even imagine. The laughs in the crowd did not distract him or shake his confidence. He had calamitous intent in the purest sense of the phrase.

Breaking into an instant charge, he was still not too reckless to set it up and wait for the opportunity to present itself. He stalked his legs low, changing his posture to be similar to a crawl. He knew it to be a confusing and even intimidating adjustment, but he was using it to mislead his opponent. When he got close to Ari, he lept into the air and attacked his face, going for the eyes like a rabid weasel. He was beyond ferocious, and although he would need to exercise extreme caution to stay on his feet, the rest of the match would be spent on the offensive. After he fired his hands forward into the behemoth's stunned and disgusted visage, he would spring back onto the ground and circle too low and fast to be nailed down. He decided to himself that he would not retreat until he drew blood.

"What have I gotten myself into?" he thought.

"I'm in over my head. I can do this though...I've spent years training for these moments. I won't be scared away by someone's size. I have serious leverage over everyone I fight when I make them play my game. I've got to really move. He won't go easy on me after this. I'm putting it all on the line."

[Ari Karamzov]

OOC: Since you didn't specify, I'm going to assume the tumbling was after Cale landed, and not describing the actual suplexes.
IC:

Cale Rosiér would not get that chance. Ari wasn't stupid, and when he was in a fight he made sure it finished one way or the other. Because of that, when he saw Cale start tumbling near uncontrollably towards the crowd upon landing, he almost immediately charged forward to follow. His stride was somewhere between a jog and a full on sprint, quick enough to get to the opponent without running over him. Because of this calculated run, he was almost on top of Cale when the boy practically jumped to his feet and opened his mouth to start a tirade of swears. Before the first oath left his mouth, though, Ari's right hand would be shot out and grab the boy by the throat. Continuing the run while tightening his grip on the trapped neck in order to constrict Cale's airwaves as much as possible, he then sharply brought his arm up to above his own head, pulling Cale into the air, his 155 pound frame relatively easy to lift with Ari's massive strength.

That wasn't where the move ended though. Stopping his run abruptly, he pitched forward by bending his upper body over and dragging his legs back some. At the same time, he sharply brought down his right arm, with Cale in it. The sudden pitch forward would cause Cale to be thrown down and forward in an arc, and the momentum would keep him in a horizontal position without Ari needing to use his free hand as a support like pro wrestlers did. When Ari's reach was fully extended and Cale had dropped to a point that would be just above Ari's own hips, he let go with a last push downwards, which would cause Cale to be slammed into the hard ground of the roof with immense force.

Ignoring the sounds of the crowd, Karamzov would turn himself around with the same right leg pivot he had used earlier, using the clockwise turn to swing his whole body around, now facing Cale's side. Not wasting any time so as to minimize the chance of Cale getting up from the chokeslam before Ari could move, Ari quickly bent his legs so that he would fall down towards Cale. This wasn't a simple trip and fall though, as he was falling knees-first. He fell swiftly, and both knees would have almost all his 273 pounds behind them when they landed square on Cale's chest/gut area near the solar plexus and his throat. Cale's right arm would be trapped beneath the giant, and Ari's own right would reach out and grab Cale's left. This left Cale Rosiér trapped and defenseless as Ari's left hand, already balled into a huge fist, rose upwards and then swiftly came down, aimed at the bridge of Cale's nose.

That hand would continue going up and down in a series of brutal hammerfist strikes into Cale's face until the boy was knocked out, escaped, or the "mystery judge" the rules referred to stepped in to stop the deal. He couldn't hold back against anyone, not even an acquaintance. The more wins he had, the more prize money he'd be given, and both he and his family needed that prize money.

Mom, Dad, this is all for you!

[Cale Rosiér]

Cale became swept up in all of Ari's attacks, dominated by his superior size and the strength of his blows. He was losing his focus and the brawl was next to go. He was recoiling from every strike so alarmingly as to admit, via body language, that he was completely through trying to attack this titon and would sincerely profit more from being far away from it. Like a bug, he jerked so wildly in his retreat so much as to nearly be thrown off balance with each flinch and defensive maneuver. Being grabbed and thrown around like a rag doll, he would claw and scrape to gain better and safer position to receive the unavoidable punishment of every agonizing second. When the aerial assault was nearly about to crush his body into indistiguishable human parts, he snapped to his senses just long enough to curl into a ball with his knees protecting part of his torso and his hands ready to catch his upper half. It was like being a child receiving a merciless beating from your father: There was no remorse and no possible chance to get control of the situation. He became almost broken under the weight of this overgrown human being before he realized he was trapped. There was no way to win this fight. It was a failed experiment, and he wanted out. With each punch, Cale would shift furiously enough to cause each punch to miss or glance his face. Eventually, after being actualy hit enough times to really give him a feeling of near-death , he wormed his arm out and scooted his legs out from under him to kick the ogre away from him so he could stand up and forfeit like tomorrow was worth experiencing.

"Screw this, seriously. I didn't sign up to get killed by some jackassed blowhard they have to keep in a cage 23 hours a day. Keep your money and my blood out there and get the hell out of my way. I've had enough. Someone else can bleed enough for your entertainment. I'll stick to fights they weigh you in for. None of this mismatched bullshit there."

He had won the absolute disdain of the crowd. On his walk out, he was spat upon, mocked, and scowled at. When he swung at the one to spit, someone instantly punched the back of his head, something he could take no more of today. After he fell forward onto his face, thought to be out cold, he faded back into consciousness and dragged his sorry corpse to its feet. Shambling out the door, he uttered one more curse to the savage crowd and was ignored. He was so messed up that he couldn't even ride his bike home. He had to walk it the entire way through the freezing night, still tripping infrequently in his exhaustion and dizziness. His pride was non-existent, his self-confidence had diminished into nothing. He was completely disgraced and miserable.

"Fighting should be a means to an end." he thought. "Those who train to be fighters their whole life lose their awesome abilities in death. Those who figure out a good way to live can die in dignity and with the assurance that their soul will be safe in whatever journey is to follow. Fighting is for the weak-minded. It is only a means to get something better. It is a dead end, the training for it's own purpose, it is a way to waste time until one dies. I have better things to do."

Somehow, he didn't have himself all that convinced in the advice he had given himself. He was mostly just humiliated and furious that he had allowed himself to make such a stupid decision. If there was any truth in what he was rationalizing...he still wasn't quite smart enough to really understand it.

"I should have just stayed in bed."

[Dain Gavyns]

"Well that's pretty embarrassing."

Dain stepped into the ring and shook his head, then shrugged and gave Ari the nod.

"Guess this is your lucky day, big guy, or maybe not, depending on how you look at it. You're the winner by disqualification."

Turning his head, Dain saw Cale still on the way to the roof's exit. The crowd parted for him as he slipped through, going to catch up with him before he left.

"Hey, hold up, buddy." Dain grabbed Cale's shoulder, gently, and pulled him around to face him. His look was obviously rather upset, but in some ways, still understanding. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills, counting out one hundred and twenty-five dollars and extending it towards the smaller boy.

"I ain't trying to hurt your pride any more here, but if you wanna leave, go ahead. I don't approve much of quitters, but if you're gonna go so soon, I'd feel like a crook keeping your money. Take it."

Whether he accepted it or not, Dain would make his exit shortly thereafter.


WINNER: Ari. Cale, I'm not sure if that means you're leaving for good or what, but I left it open for either. If you could take the time to answer me in-character, I'd appreciate it.

[Cale Rosiér]

OOC: Take no offense from how Cale's rudeness may seem to be pervading into the ooc world. He's a genuinly bitter and frustrated human being. His experiences with failure and humiliation are his own fault, and he has yet to own up to that fact. He mirrors me, in many ways. So, nothing personal! Deal with the misfit as you think your character would.

IC:
Subtle tears pooled in the bottom of Cale's eyes, perhaps originating involuntarily from all the violence rained down on him or perhaps a mixture of his self-loathing and regret. The brief pause in dialogue that was spent staring into this delinquent's defeated, childish face must have been unbearable when the young wrestler finally strained his stare away from his own shoes and acknowledged Dain's well-intentioned visage. His words would barely eek out of his mouth, lips split and throat hoarse, before he turned quickly and walked away with what little humility and self-respect he had retained after his total and complete failure. Not only a loss, but a failure.

Taking the money slowing with his shaking hands and pushing it into his pocket, his reply came out with immaculate care to ensure that he wouldn't break down right then and there. As he shook his head and winced his eyes, the weakest smile ever performed could not hide the world of humilation that he was experiencing with every syllable.

"...I got no pride left..."