Story: Butting Heads

Part of the Stories series. Like shorts, these are generally done by request and have some personification of the requester in the story.  Unlike shorts, these are longer (6k+ words) and move descriptive and world building. 

The two had been friends for years, maybe even longer. They trained hard with each other, helped push the other before fierce, high risk fights. They bandaged each other when one fell. They lifted each other up. They were as close as brothers. Maybe even closer. So of course the day would come, when brother would fight brother in the ring. Being at the top of their game it was only a matter of time. Plus the money was good. 

But that unspoken rule would be there.

Before the fight there would be respect, after the fight they would reunite as brothers. During? Today? Now? The world would watch them fight it out, draw blood and make it flow like waterfalls, and destroy each other for honor, to see who was really the top dog. They where still men after all. It would be a long ruthless match, bloody, never giving up, driven. It was the kind of fight guys with a lot of testosterone really loved.

And so the day came. 

 

First to approach the ring with his entourage was, Matthew C. Thomas, or better known as his ring name of Rad. No one could remember the how or why with the name, but it stuck. Rad was tattooed down the lift side of his arm and chest, he stood five feet, nine inches tall, and with a haired body that could give and take punishment like it was nothing. He wore red gloves and trunks marked with his logo. The trunks hung just below the belly button, making sure everyone could see his impressive core strength. He was a walking legend in the ring and he knew it. He worked his muscles hard and would proudly display them. He was king and others belief in the myth didn't matter. He knew his worth. He was a man after all. 

Inside the ring, he would raise his arms in victory, so sure of himself. The crowd would eat it up. Of course they would. They absolutely loved this stuff. He show ponied for but a moment more before taking his corner. There, he would be properly cared for by the tender hands of his assistants. Their hands would glide over his strong as stone pecs, caress ripped arms capable of bending steel, and for show, some oil on both triceps and biceps. When they were done, his muscles would shine like the sun, and be more than ready for the long fight ahead. 

Rad was ready. 

Next to present himself was Thomas J. Dionisio better know as the Finder. A fitting nickname he got years ago for the near supernatural ability to find his way threw even the toughest guard and find his mark. In reality he was just skilled and fast. He knew it, and today he would show all who was watching. He would show them all, he would prove himself a king. Standing five foot, ten inches tall, in his trademark simple (but very expensive) blue trunks and gloves, he was easily an perfect match for Rad. He had the muscle, he had the skill, he had the drive. Physically speaking the only difference between the two friends was Finder went smooth, rather than wild with body hair. Otherwise? First was his ego. He never learned to control it, a victim of his own contuined success. Next was his lasting power wasn't quite there yet. A concern Finder paid little attention to, he would end this match like all others, hard and fast. He would down Rad in round two, and he would suffer no dispute of this. 

Finder was ready.

The moment both were in the ring, their eyes would lock. Their minds were set on one thing. Their thoughts and hearts with only one desire, one outcome. To each, this match had already been decide, to each only they would win. Called to the center, the rules would be explained, the game was about to begin.

Gloves were tapped. 

The bell rang.

The world shrunk from a vast blue and green ball in space, to a single room to a single ring.

 

 

Round 1

Both would came out strong wanting the upper hand, wanting to display dominance. The fight was already played out in their heads, now it was time to use muscle and glove to force it into reality. As such, it would be a battle of pure violence, of skill, of raw male power, and it would not start with a whisper, but with a bang.

Rad would be the first to strike, sending a powerful left hook at his friend now opponent. It would crash into flesh and bone, distorting reality. The crack wouldn't leave the ring, but was felt by all. Rad moved to follow it up. A brutal series of jabs to the body. Each one hitting, each one producing a grunt from Finder. Rad was pleased, but he wanted more. Much more. Next came a  right hook ready to rock someone's world. Rad was looking to finish this fast, but the blow would meet stiff resistance. While blocked, and blocked successfully, it still fiercely collided with Finder’s glove, producing the sound akin to thunder. 

Finder would bear the force, and return with his own counter attack. The honor of the first hit was already lost, but that didn't mean the round or the fight was lost. He would answer with several quick jabs, meant to harm and confuse. They would all miss their mark. He cursed as Rad easily dodged attacks, returning hard and fast, unleashing several left jabs aimed for the eye. Rad clearly wanted to blind his opponent and use the rest of his time to turn Finder into a punching bag. You know out of respect. But again the exchange would be blocked. Gloves would fly. Blows blocked. A dance coming to a stand still. The crowd demanded blood. Not blocks, not dancing, just more blood.... 

They wanted it now. 

Finder, seemingly waking up to his skill, would find the opening he wanted. A weave, a sidestep, a well timed duck... Then the sound of a stiff uppercut to the midsection. It found it's mark with a loud thud. It was clean, it was hard, it had power, but Rad would show little sign of pain or recoil. His massive body, and well trained core, took the blow in stride and forced his body to return the favor. Rad threw another hook. A hard and deadly glove smashed into the side of Finder’s face, nearly knocking out this mouth guard.. Finder’s head would snap around, blood would go flying. 

First blood of war. 

Disturbed but not dazed, Finder would fire back throwing punches faster than a person should. Maybe there was a supernatural touch to them man... They would collide with Rad’s mountain of a guard. Each blow, glove against glove, would echo across the Arena, stirring fear, shock and awe. 

Rad, his arm glinting with light and power, rose up to deliver another hard jab to the face. He would plow deep into Finder’s nose and draw more blood. It would be disgusting, bone cracking, and glorious. The attack would easily be dodged and Rad would pay for his ego. A wide left hook slammed into his ribs, assaulting both bone and muscle. He would sallow a grunt from the pain and press on. He would show no sign of weakness for Finder to exploit. He couldn't! Rad stepped into the pain, into the punch, answer with a punch of his one. No theme, no style, just backed up with pure man strength. It would connect with Finder's smooth muscled chest and leave a mark, actually forcing the opposing power house back. "Good!" Rad thought. Rad would quickly follow it up with right hook to the side of the face, then a left, then right again! Each connected like a explosion, each forcing sweat to fly from the victims face. Each a good clean hit against Finder.

The crowd surged with excitement, with desire, with lust. Their hunger was equal to that of the fighters, if not more. Finder, with a few more close calls, had finally manged to dodge out of Rad's devastating assault. He was clear but he was marked. The side of his face was bruised, and he tasted blood. He didn't care.

Gloves up, the two circled each other, looking for a opening to take advantage of. Rad eyed the side of Finder’s face and chest, battle damage clearly on display. Finder favored Rad’s side, and wanted to destroy the rest of his body. Without the body, the bigger man would fall. 

Finder came in, like a bat out of hell, and pounded Rad’s defense with frightful power. Several jabs forced Rad’s defense up, not one hit successfully, but it left Rad's core exposed. As Rad went to counter, Finder dipped down low and came up hard with a hook to the stomach. The sound was deafening, as was the grunt of pain afterwards. The blow had collided with his core when not tensed, he was caught by surprised. Off guard. Finder pressed the attack, reducing Rad's face to a speed bag as the hooks and jabs flew. 

Jab. 

Hook. 

Jab jab. 

Cross, body blow, cross. 

Finder round his grove and was unleashing hell. Rad's knees began to buckle, his guard was beging to fail. Finder took a step back, lining up the finishing shot. A few more seconds and it would be over. Except the blow found only air. Rad had ducked under the wide hook, faked him out, and came up with a mean uppercut of his own, connecting with Finder's chin. Finders head was snapped back hard, and one wondered would he lose his head or knocked off his feet first. 

Finder would stumble several steps back, clearly both in pain and confused. But he would not fall. The battle would not end so easily. Drench in sweat, heaving from the heavy fighting, the would square up and be ready to go at it again-

Then the bell rang.

The crowd booed, the fighters glared at each other, face to face, chest to chest. They didn't want to stop, not till one lay bleeding on the ground. The ref, noticeably much smaller than the two, prayed they would separate and take their corners, which they did after a few tense moments.

The cheering of the crowd, both powerful and intoxicating, it only fueled their hunger. Rad observed Finder, pounding his gloves, wanting nothing more that to destroy every muscle in his body. He smiled, he felt the same way, and would have it no other way. True the first round wasn't exactly how he pictured it, but he knew something already. He knew one perfect fact. This round would be his, and he would suffer nothing else.

Round 2

The bell rang, the fighters returned to their Symphony. 

The two came screaming out of their corners, eager and ready to bring about total destruction. Rad had already planned out his attack, every move, every blow. Now he just needed to move, dodge, lure Finder into position so he could… 

A fierce display of power rocked Rad’s face before he could finish his thought. Faster than it seemed possible, a major error on Rad's part, Finder had slammed a left hook into the side of his face. The power would have knocked any other man clear off his feet. But this was Rad, so he stumbled back stunned. 

He would wish later he was downed.... 

Another hook, a right and no less as furious rocked Rad head like a hammer. No, like a out of control truck. He tried to steady himself, to rally. But he was dazed and confused. He attempted a counter attack, that proved to be a big mistake. As Rad swung his stomach exploded with pain, rippled even, from a low aimed hook. Rad stumbled back, again, gasping for air as a powerful series of jabs rocked his head, snapping is back each time. Snapping it every which way. 

With a swirl of motion, of both pain and wanting to vomit, with a final almost deadly left jab, Rad felt three things. First was the rush of blood. Then it's poor coppery taste. Then there was the cold humiliating feel of the mats, for the first knock down of the match had been scored.

The crowd went nuts, the whole arena exploded in cheers, excitements, demands to get up! The ref, for his part and with a very large helping of fear, got in-between the two. 

The count began. 

1….
2….
3…..

Rad began to stir, his body protesting the action. His world was spinning, his body was burning, and he kind of felt the need to throw up, a lot. It was both not unfamiliar but definitely unwanted. This round was defiantly not going the way Rad wanted to, and it would be mostly luck now if he managed a come back. Reaching out for the ropes, and using his considerable amount of muscle power, he managed to get back on his feet by eight. He was damaged, he was hurt, he was even bleeding, but this fight was far from over. Rad would not give in. He couldn’t give in! Back on his feet, Rad pounded his gloves together, showing he was ready and willing to fight.

And fight they did.

Blinking twice, shaking his head to get the butterflies away, Rad braced hit himself. Renewed himself by sheer force of will. He waited and watched as his friend came in hard and hot, ready to beat the absolute crap out of him. A thought, one that stuck with him when he watched videos of Finders fight. He was fast, he was deadly, he was totally unable to stop on a dime. Rad with all his bulk, could. Waiting till the final moment, Rad side stepped his opponent, the look of surprise amazing a sight to cherish, Rad attacked. A swift hook to the head caught Finder in the mouth, snapping his head to the side. Finder went stumbling back. Rad twisted down,  slamming a glove into Finders midsection. Then another. Then another, then another. The flood gates were open and Rad was the raging flood. The force of each hit lifted Finder slightly off his feet, and produced a grunt.

"He will fall" , Rad thought, demanded. 

With another dodge, with another side step, Rad found himself successful in plowing his  gloves in Finder’s side, fist left then right. The act bruised Finder, damaging him ever more. He was wabbling, he wasn't straight on his feet, he was clearly feeling the last of Rad’s assaults. The stage was set, the blow was lined up, with a roar that would do his ancestors proud, Rad threw the punch that would end the match....  he missed entirely. 

Still dazed from the rapid and numerous assaults from before, Rad’s vision still wasn’t up to par. What he thought was a fast and powerful hit was slowed, and avoided. He was lost in the moment, and he would pay for it. Before he could recover himself, realign himself to where Finder really was, an explosion of pain blasted Rad’s upper abs, just below the solar plexus. Rad stumbled back into the ropes, desperately trying to keep a guard up. Any guard, but it wouldn't help. His head would snap left to right, left to right, up and down. His body would fold in, into itself. His rock hard abs would crumble. He would become dizzy, the need to hurl once again taking him. 

BAM
BAM
BAM
BAM
BAM
 

Blood and sweat flung from Rad’s face as the assault continued, showing no signs of diminishing in strength or ferocity. Rad’s arm dropped to hie sides and his eyes rolled behind his head, his legs came close to giving out, when his only saving grace came. His only savior, his only prayer of hope of not being defeated then and there, would be the bell.

It rang.

Finder showed great annoyance, his moment being interrupted, but obeyed the rules. He watched as Rad slumped into his corner, clearly aware he lost this round and paid dearly for it. His assistant did what they could, to focus and clean him up, but look on Rad's face was clear. Could Rad recover? Rally? Finder smiled, clearly he would not. 

Round 3

From the pain of the previous beat down, from the shame of being unable to raise a proper defense, from the humiliation of being knocked down and brought so close to knock out... Rad boiled like a volcano about to erupt. But he would have to keep control. Stay cool. As he slumped into his corner, as his corner workers did what they could to clean him up, even as his extremely attractive assistant massaged his arms and chest, he couldn’t help but feel anything but the titan others claimed he was. His arms were sore and tired from the poor defense, and his core felt like it was tenderize by and hour’s worth of sledge hammer hits.

In short this was not going well.

Rad glared over at the opposite corner, if only you could burn someone with the power of your mind right? He shook his ahead, almost ashamed at that thought. Finder was doing great and he had nothing but respect for him. Even if that thought burned his ego. He took another moment, stole a glance at his bro. There he saw his bro still massive, still strong, still bursting with power, strength, manhood and… wait, was he looking tired? While his muscles looked cut, defined, ready to destroy anything, his body was covered in sweat and his chest heaved quickly.

“That’s right!”, he suddenly thought. "How could I forget that!" 

While Finder was built like a tank, while his muscle was without question, his speed was that of a God, his stamina wasn’t quite up to standards. He was big, but he didn’t have the energy production yet to back it up for long. Finder was tired, he could gas soon, but could Rad really capitalize on it? He had suffered a good deal of damage, his body was already
protesting just moving. Worse yet, he was very much aware he couldn’t last much longer himself. What ever happened, he knew, if he went down again, that would be it. He wouldn't get up. 

The bell rang, his time to think was over... 

Finder was feeling massive, he was feeling powerful, he was the alpha male and there was no question of it. As his crew did their thing, as they patched Finder up and iced what little they had too, his sight never left his bro. Rad was giving a good fight, but there was no question this fight would be his. He would play with his food just a bit more before he would go in for the kill, before he would go in and destroy the body of his bro, let him fall, and flex over him in victory. In all this, as his assistant did their thing, he would ignore the pain his chest. The shortness of of breath, his body screaming for a break. 

As the bell rang, Finder had only one thought, victory. 

Finder took to the attack with excessive gusto. Hard hooks looking to stun, a number of jabs aiming to swell an eye, uppercut to challenge a chin, body blows to sap stamina. They were still strong, but slowing down. They were also blocked, a fact that infuriated Finder. Another series of left right hooks, met the same fate. 

Finder growled. 

Rad was putting up a good defense, but it would not be enough, not for him! A rapid series of jabs tested the guard again, but still did not break it. Finder threw himself into head shots, pressing the guard but getting no where. He threw a couple more, then quickly switched to a quick low punch to the lower abs. It hit it’s mark. Rad grunted in pain and doubled over, just in time to have two wide hooks miss him. Finder cursed himself, such a sloppy mistake. He should have known Rad couldn’t take the lower hits. That it would double him over. 

But it was just enough. 

A half a second to late, Finder saw it coming. A swift counter attack, a clean but furious uppercut to the chin the blasted his head back. Finder stumbled back a few steps, a now glassy look in his eye. But glassy would quickly switch to furry. He allowed the anger to take him, to flow from him, and swung wildly. Hooks and jabs to rip Rad’s head to shreds. Jabs to work that now soft core muscle. They all missed, being sloppy and without thought. Finder cursed but was interrupted by a sudden wave of pain. 

Two very clean and very hard hooks slammed into, or more like assaulted his midsection. He had not thought about it, and had not tensed up to take the hits, so they sunk in deep. He coughed and grunted hard as he stumbled back. Now he wanted to gag, now Finder wanted to pass out. He recollected his guard, brought it up to protest, but he could see Rad stopping. He was shaking his head, trying to clear something out? This was defining moment. Despite the protest, despite the pain, despite his consciousness wanting to fade, he rose to his full height. Finder marched right over to Rad and pressed the attack. His gloves exploded into Rad's ribs. Plowed into his chest, carving it like roast. Shook his head like a teacher's bell. The other man cried out in pain, and it was music to Finder's ears. The hits were doing real damage, and left a few good marks for stories and beers later. 

Finder was on top again, he would challenge, he would dominate, he would find himself crashing down onto the mats. Courtesy of a right hook that didn't care what harm it did. 

The ref jumped into act, came between the two, started the count. 

A twitch, 

A sharp in take of air. 

A reach. 

By seven, Finder was up. Clearly shaken, but not yet ready to throw in the towel. Like he ever would.... 

Rad has been fighting hard to stay in the game this whole time, and now, in this moment, he finally felt some pay off. He had
openly taken the hit to the ribs to bring his bro in close. The blow had shook his body hard, and more than likely bruised his rib for some time to come. But it was worth it, it had to be worth it. Rad twisted, pushed past the pain, and quickly with as much force as he could, slammed a glove into Finder’s face. The blow had connected with a loud and crushing thud to his left eye. He watched Finder go down... And get back up. 

"Good" Rad thought, "I'm not done yet."

Rad was upset, he was shamed from the previous two rounds, his honor as a boxer, his very manhood, demanded payback… and that he did. He allowed himself to snap, to loose it to the bloodlust and go at his bro. A risky bet to take at anytime, Rad considered it worth it.

His friend was clearly hurting, clearly gassing every moment he stood. Rad's guard came up and he fired off jabs faster than the thought possible. The anger fueled him. His arms became, morphed into rapid fire machine guns, his gloves the bullets. Each connected hard and snapped Finders head back. Blood and sweat went flying both in and outside the ring. Finders face would find new meanings of pain, discover new directions it could be bent and snapped. His nose would be busted open, if the steady flow of blood from it was any clue. 

Rad did not stop. 

Swift and powerful hooks connected with this eyes, swelling them up faster than expected. With nothing holding him back, Rad’s hit were without mercy, without end. 

Blows to the face. 

Digs into the chest. 

Gut busters. 

Bruised ribs. 

Each hit was powerful, precise but not without meaning. Finder fell into the corner, his guard barely up. He would not be standing for much longer, a thought that made Rad smile. Another body blow, another crack to the ribs. Several more to the body, then one uppercut to the chin. It connected with  with a very loud, very messy thud that even managed to silence the crowd. Finder head was snapped back hard, how he was standing still was unknown to all. 

But Rad did not stop. 

No he contuined, plowing several more hits into the midsection. The sound of each blow echoing off the walls that housed their fight. Each blow sinking in deep and with out mercy. Each blow vibrating the skin of Finder, causing pain to shoot threw his body. With a final body blow from hell, Finders arms dropped... then the whole of his body hit the mat hard. 

For a moment, one merciful moment, Rad allowed the cheers of the crowd to wash over him. Who could blame him? The crowd was electrified, showing more and more enthusiasm! The ref stunned by the brutality and even the art of the moment, was probably the only thing that saved Finder from losing the count. But he, the ref, quickly collected himself and the count began. Hanging from the ropes, Rad paid little attention, instead he tired to catch his breath. He took these few precious seconds, this gift, to steady and clear the butterflies in his head. Finder, he was back up at 9. He was bleeding, he was tired. He was back for more. 

With a single word, the fight was back on.

Rad readied himself for what was to come. Finder came as hard and as fast as his body could. He swung like a wild man, wanting blood, wanted pay back. They were strong, but they were also slow and sloppy. Rad kept his cool down, managed, just barely, to dodge the attacks Finder sent his way. He blocked and weaved, danced and dodged, at one point hearing (yes that’s a thing) the force of the punches as they wizzed by. 

Sweat dripped down his face, down his massive hairy chest. Breath was coming harder to come by. Even with the misses, Rad couldn’t keep this up. Finder should have gassed out by now. But he didn't. Ducking down as Rad dodge a new set of hooks, he landed a hard uppercut to Finders core. Finder grunted, clearly feeling it, and so Rad pressed the attack. A hard jab, then another, then another landed and tested the limits of Finders brick wall. No screw that! He would break it, once and for all! 

Red marks from the continued abuse began to form, muscle jiggled and sagged. Finder was looking wabbly again. His eyes were rolling behind his head from the sustained hits. Another series of thuds and groans took the the man.... 

First his mouth guard fell out. 

Then Finder fell to his knees. 

Then the rest of him hit the mat.  

It was cold, lifeless, no sound around him.  Finder tried to get up, but his core burned in protest. His chest? It felt like crap, like someone dropped a ton of bricks on his pecs. His head? His head was making him see six of everything. Somehow his body was responding for him, somehow he was on his knees. Somehow by the count of nine he was back up. Just then the bell rang. 

Save by the bell, and time to lick his injuries.

Round 4

Exhausted from the intense rounds that expelled more energy in minutes than many did the whole day. Dripping and covered in sweat, clinging to hair and muscle alike. Bodies sore, red and bruised from taking extreme punishment and dishing it out just the same. Silently, almost without need, the audience agreed this was one of the best fights they seen in a while. No matter whom took the fall and whom took the win, both men would be seen in a higher light, granted much more respect. As the fighters took their corners, as they were attended to as best as possible, the audience went insane. Today two titans of the ring, two men of pure muscle and power put everything on the line and held back nothing. Both men put honor, ego and prestige out there, as they were expected to. Cell phones recorded all the nonstop action, even now as they rested in their corner.

Finder fell into his corner with a loud thud, he was upset, he was tired, he was hurting and bloody. His body was on fire, he was suffering far more than he was letting on and for the first time, in as long as he could remember, he felt shame and embarrassment. This ass had turned him into a punching bag, and dropped him twice. Him! The person who could easily and quickly end careers at will! This act of defiance demanded swift vengeance, and vengeance it what he would get. He pounded his gloves together, flexed every muscle he had, both impressing and freighting his assistant. Yet even in these feelings, there was still pride. Finder found peace in the fact if he was to fall, it would be to the man he called brother. It would be the man he trained with, drew blood with, cried with, and not some random nameless punk. For a brief moment, he smiled. Win or lose, he enjoyed this match.

Rad slumped into his corner, feeling good about taking back the round, but was tired as hell. His body burned, it was sore, it would be bruised for a long time. While he was no joke when it came to the art of boxing, his bro and opponent wasn’t either. He was feeling it, and would for some time to come. But he had to keep going, he had to get back up and keep fighting. He was a man, and could not give in, not yet. He held his head back as his body was cleaned off and suddenly had to hold back a laugh. For all this violence, for all this beating of the bodies, he had to admit he was really enjoying himself. Win or lose, he was pleased he lasted this long against his bro, and had a match they would enjoy for a good long time.

Outside the ring, yells of excitement, cheers of pride, insults and heckling all suddenly became hushed whispers as the anticipation hung heavy. The timer for their rest period had hit its final seconds. As it counted down, both fighters rose and stood, deadpan and focused completely on each other. The energy they were giving off could not be put into words, nor would anyone try. This would be it, this would be the final round. 

The bell rang, and all freaking hell broke loose.

Ignoring all hopes for personal well being, of self-preservation, the two monsters charged each other, giving all they had left. 

Finder’s head would be snapped hard from side to side, as leather and blood stained gloves collided with his face. The force would echo throw-out the arena, causing wonder and fear in the audience. His chest would burn, suffering jabs that felt like they would break all the way threw. His abs wound buckle, taking hits not meant to be suffered by any man. 

Yet this would be reversed, challenged and answered with brutality of its own. Finder would duck and weave, managing to avoid a knock out blow. His gloves would cut deep, sinking a hard right hook to Rad’s ribs. He would do it again, then again. He would punish the rib, aim for a single spot, pour all his malice into it. The final blow would connect with such force, it would make Rad cry out in pain. As in literary cry out. The cracking sound would have broken any other man, as would the extreme pain. Yet somehow Rad took it and continued on. He would take another hard blow, then another then another. This time it was aimed as his battered abs, Finder was chipping away at every last muscle he had! Another blow came, it plowed deep and pushed the muscle aside. It touched his spine with pain. 

Yet still, with a grunt of pain and a growl of anger, Rad would collect himself. The tables would turn yet again. Glove would meet flesh, fresh blood would spray. Fresh bruises would form. Finder would find himself the target of successful attacks. Head, body, head, head head. Another, then another would find its mark, as unconsciousness threatened. 

Again the tables would turn, Finder would swing wildly and connect twice, with left and right hooks, sending both Rad and sweat flying in both directions. Rad would be lifted off his feet as an uppercut slammed into his stomach. He would have doubled over and fallen if not for another fierce blow to his chin, sending him back into the ropes. Rad was seeing stars now and had to do something.

Dazed and confused, instinct kicked in. Rad brought up his guard, just in time. It would have been five hits, a combo of jabs and hooks that would have connected. Would have torn Rad's face apart. But his guard took it all, absorbed the apocalypse. 

With a quick jab from Rad, more out of luck than skill, the tables would turn once again. Rad contuined, scoring hit after hit. The face, the chin, snapping head left and right. He would swing his body around and combo hits from crosses to jabs, all aimed at his bro’s head. The attacked worked and he would fall back on the ropes. Finder would try and bounce back off, to launch a massive attack of his own, only to find his core attacked as before. Going down low, showing no mercy, wanting to hurt, Rad used Finders dizziness and plowed hard into his stomach with rapid fire hits. Even with the gloves, Rad could feel his muscle weaken and give out. Then it happened... It was a long and painful moan, one that every man feared to give. There would be no recovering from this, no more rest time or massage to strengthen them. Finders ab wall had failed completely. 

As Rad lined up his would be final shot, he was shocked with a hard blow to the side of his face. It sent him reeling and stumbling almost falling to his feet. Finder rallied again, burying pain. He pushed off, went in on the attack, but kept one glove protecting his ravaged core. Finder scored three direct hits, pushing Rad into the turnbuckle. With a violent primal road, Finder aimed to finish this, only to be surprised himself.  

Rad threw wildly and landed a hard right cross to the side of Finders face, snapping his head to the side. He stumbled and counterattack, but only hit open air. Rad slammed a glove into Finder’s ribs, causing clear and very real pain. 

But he didn’t stop there. 

Rad let his bloodlust overtake him and use Finder as it’s sole target. There would be no more turning tables, no more changing of luck, no more games. With a roar of his own, punches flew like nothing. Finders head would be snapped to the sides faster than people could count, and he would be lifted off his feet numerous times by hard hooks and uppercuts to the body. By the time the fight made it to the center ring, Finder was done. He stood there, gloves dropped to his side, covered in busies and battered with hits. His chin rested on his chest and was clearly not seeing right. Rad, did not look any better, and knew this hit had to end it, or he would end himself.

Lining up his shot, Rad knew exactly what he had to do. The massive brick wall of a body was the one pride of Finder. His chest cut from stone and twice and strong were matched only by his chiseled abs of steel.

With one glove on his chest, to steady the swaying giant, Rad’s other glove plowed and sank into his unsuspecting and unprotected core. The blow sank in deep and fast, causing a thud you only ever saw in old Batman shows. Finder’s eyes went huge as his mouth guard was forced out of his mouth. There was nothing he could do, no defense he could call upon, Finder dropped to the canvas and did not move. 

 

 

Rad had proven himself the king of the titans…

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