Post by faust on Dec 29, 2006 0:52:05 GMT 1
CRACK~!!
The sound was absolutely beautiful. Skull on pavement, blood seeping from the inflicted wound. This was his Wednesday night! The rather large fellow would roll to his side, a smirk curling up over his lips. A gash was placed properly up above his left eyebrow, coming a little close to his piercing. He could feel the scarlet liquid slip n' slide down his face, a bit of his curling up over his lips. The taste was absolutely magnificent. He would get up, spitting a bit of the blood out from his mouth and onto the concrete floor. There was cardboard on the floor at one point, but it wasn't here now. One of the main reasons why that blow dealt made such an impact on his skull. This was real. As real as it gets. He was ready for the next move. He was ready to deal the next blow. Faust was ready to break his fuckin' neck. His oppressor was a rather large man, coming up on 6"3, a little bulky though. He was nothing. Faust would smirk, every blood-stained tooth cracking through his thin lips. This was going to be one hell of a party. The man would give him a weird expression, his legs working themselves so that he was already charging towards Faust. Wrong move, fuckface. There was little room for him to maneuver in, but enough for him to actually land a decisive hit on this pride-filled jackass. The man actually thought he'd won. He was sadly mistaken. Faust's muscles would tighten, the man closing in, his movement fluid and beautifully constructed. The man was going to clothes-line him. Faust would crouch so that his shoulder was vertical to the man's chest, left fist balled, ready to perform the next action. The technique was executed perfectly, his arm would extend upward. The man obviously startled by the movement, slipped forward, making the blow much more effective. His knuckles would collide with the man's jaw-bone. At this moment, Faust had decided to name his victim.
Charles. Poor Charles was about to experience one of the worst pains of his entire life.
Charles would be sent backward, his head rocketing in the same direction. CRASH! Collision. Charlie had landed backward into the concrete, a spasm of blood bursting out from the lower end on his skull. An eye for an eye as Faust would say. Really, Faust let him beat him around for the first few minutes. This fight had been glorious even though Faust had forced it. His bare chest exposed, all six ab's exposed as he positioned himself. He would just need to catch his breath, whereas good ol' Charlie would be forced to watch in horror. PLAY-TIME WAS OVER! Faust lunged forward onto his aggressor, his right arm held backward, shot outward in a second. Colliding with Charles' cheek bone. He would repeat the process. Again and again and again and again and again and again and again. Faust felt sorry for Charlie's wife, having to wake up next to his fucked up face for the next few weeks. Faust would get up from his position over Charlie, the men around him cheering. He was a glorious combatant. No.
He was a beast, released from it's cage, having not been fed for weeks on end!
His feast was just beginning. He was going to kill the next bastard who stepped up in front of him. Faust had established a title, a cruel and sadistic title... But a title, nonetheless. He was itching for the next fight, his eyes scanning the crowd for his next victim. The crowd was looking forward to it too, many people afraid to step into the concrete ring. This urban jungle was his battlefield. He would circle around the ring, as two men managed to pick dear Charles up and dragging him out into the alley way. Faust had stumbled into this place by accident. Now, he was reigning as a beautiful fighter. The glorious gladiator pitted to fight against all odds. And honestly, he was waiting for the next fighter to step forward. Who would be brave enough to fight a monster, a brutal beast of a man? Obviously. This guy.
Jingle, jingle, jingle, jingle~
His leather collar held tight against his neck, the bell attached to the front of the handle jingling all over as he turned his head to look through the crowd. The bell would whistle with delight, as the next combatant walked on out in front of him. How he hungered for the next adrenaline rush. This next fighter... They would be going to battle with an absolute monstrosity.
"..."
Faust would stay silent as his next opponent strolled into his domain, The lion's den. Would this be more meat for him to feast on, something to properly kick off his frenzy? Or maybe, it'd kick and scream... Maybe it'd cry out in pain as Faust would satisfy his hunger with this one's flesh. He wanted to break thousands. He wanted...
To breath fire.
The sound was absolutely beautiful. Skull on pavement, blood seeping from the inflicted wound. This was his Wednesday night! The rather large fellow would roll to his side, a smirk curling up over his lips. A gash was placed properly up above his left eyebrow, coming a little close to his piercing. He could feel the scarlet liquid slip n' slide down his face, a bit of his curling up over his lips. The taste was absolutely magnificent. He would get up, spitting a bit of the blood out from his mouth and onto the concrete floor. There was cardboard on the floor at one point, but it wasn't here now. One of the main reasons why that blow dealt made such an impact on his skull. This was real. As real as it gets. He was ready for the next move. He was ready to deal the next blow. Faust was ready to break his fuckin' neck. His oppressor was a rather large man, coming up on 6"3, a little bulky though. He was nothing. Faust would smirk, every blood-stained tooth cracking through his thin lips. This was going to be one hell of a party. The man would give him a weird expression, his legs working themselves so that he was already charging towards Faust. Wrong move, fuckface. There was little room for him to maneuver in, but enough for him to actually land a decisive hit on this pride-filled jackass. The man actually thought he'd won. He was sadly mistaken. Faust's muscles would tighten, the man closing in, his movement fluid and beautifully constructed. The man was going to clothes-line him. Faust would crouch so that his shoulder was vertical to the man's chest, left fist balled, ready to perform the next action. The technique was executed perfectly, his arm would extend upward. The man obviously startled by the movement, slipped forward, making the blow much more effective. His knuckles would collide with the man's jaw-bone. At this moment, Faust had decided to name his victim.
Charles. Poor Charles was about to experience one of the worst pains of his entire life.
Charles would be sent backward, his head rocketing in the same direction. CRASH! Collision. Charlie had landed backward into the concrete, a spasm of blood bursting out from the lower end on his skull. An eye for an eye as Faust would say. Really, Faust let him beat him around for the first few minutes. This fight had been glorious even though Faust had forced it. His bare chest exposed, all six ab's exposed as he positioned himself. He would just need to catch his breath, whereas good ol' Charlie would be forced to watch in horror. PLAY-TIME WAS OVER! Faust lunged forward onto his aggressor, his right arm held backward, shot outward in a second. Colliding with Charles' cheek bone. He would repeat the process. Again and again and again and again and again and again and again. Faust felt sorry for Charlie's wife, having to wake up next to his fucked up face for the next few weeks. Faust would get up from his position over Charlie, the men around him cheering. He was a glorious combatant. No.
He was a beast, released from it's cage, having not been fed for weeks on end!
His feast was just beginning. He was going to kill the next bastard who stepped up in front of him. Faust had established a title, a cruel and sadistic title... But a title, nonetheless. He was itching for the next fight, his eyes scanning the crowd for his next victim. The crowd was looking forward to it too, many people afraid to step into the concrete ring. This urban jungle was his battlefield. He would circle around the ring, as two men managed to pick dear Charles up and dragging him out into the alley way. Faust had stumbled into this place by accident. Now, he was reigning as a beautiful fighter. The glorious gladiator pitted to fight against all odds. And honestly, he was waiting for the next fighter to step forward. Who would be brave enough to fight a monster, a brutal beast of a man? Obviously. This guy.
Jingle, jingle, jingle, jingle~
His leather collar held tight against his neck, the bell attached to the front of the handle jingling all over as he turned his head to look through the crowd. The bell would whistle with delight, as the next combatant walked on out in front of him. How he hungered for the next adrenaline rush. This next fighter... They would be going to battle with an absolute monstrosity.
"..."
Faust would stay silent as his next opponent strolled into his domain, The lion's den. Would this be more meat for him to feast on, something to properly kick off his frenzy? Or maybe, it'd kick and scream... Maybe it'd cry out in pain as Faust would satisfy his hunger with this one's flesh. He wanted to break thousands. He wanted...
To breath fire.
