The sand didn’t make for the best fighting ground. Made keeping your footing difficult, tiny hills of sand no bigger than a shoe could kill any traction one had, leading to slip ups that would ruin what would otherwise be a decent blow. Other factors, such as small rocks were also a factor. Patrick felt a small sharp rock stab his foot, painful but wasn’t deep enough to even break the skin or draw blood; but it was still painful and noticeable. What would happen if someone was roughly thrown onto the same small sharp rock with full force instead of merely standing on it? No, a tiny little rock was not going to do; his eye spotted a larger rock, right next to Gentaro’s legs, partially hidden by the sand. The rabbit didn’t even notice it. That’s better… How much was it gonna hurt if you were thrown onto that? This entire thought process was over the course of a sparse few seconds; even when the two of them were punching and kicking each other, he was observant enough to notice what was on the battlefield, parse it out.
Guess he was gonna find out, as he grabbed Gentaro by the shoulder.
“Let’s check your balance.” Patrick laughed as he gripped Gentaro’s shoulder, attempting to toss him to the ground.
Gentaro stay silent, bracing himself, keeping himself from falling down. He had already been struck to the ground once at the beginning of the fight, but not this time. It wasn’t easy though; he recalled a time when he was fighting in an industrial warehouse. He ended up chained to a heavy engine block, which was then thrown over the edge of the building. He had to keep himself from going down with it, straining against the heavy metal piece of machinery. Even with all his strength, he barely brought the engine back onto his level. Straining against Patrick’s strength was comparable to that moment. The two grappled there, no longer throwing punches, Patrick was trying to throw the rabbit to the ground while the rabbit strained against him. It was really similar to the times he took Judo classes; two students would grab each other by the lapels of their uniforms and try to throw the other, to get a simple understanding of the sport. The difference here that they were actually trying to hurt each other, no soft mat to absorb the blow, only rocks and relatively soft sand.
“You got some legs. Where’d you get leg strength like that, homes?” Patrick asked, raising a brow. His voice made it hard to tell if it was backhanded or not.
“Fighting.” Gentaro answered plainly. He jerked his knee up and slammed Patrick in the stomach. The move, however wasn’t without its cost. The attack didn’t land with the force that he wanted, and he quickly found himself off balance. He slammed his leg back down on the ground, staying on his feet.
“Desperation.” Tao said in the audience, everyone stopping from afar.
“Who? Gentaro?” Brook asked, “I don’t think he is being desperate.
“Oh, he is,” Tao chuckled, sipping his beer, emptying it and tossing it aside; a lone White Shirt picked it up and put it in a trash bag. “He’s stuck at a disadvantage, stuck in a grapple. Mr. Taxis has him right where he wants him. Doesn’t matter if he can toss him to the ground or not, this fight is over if Gentaro can’t break free. Let’s keep watching.”
“Look at those legs though.” Iz said. “Those are the legs of a monster.” She pointed a slender finger at Gentaro’s legs, straining against Patrick. “Patty is strong, but it’s gonna take all his strength to push him down.”
As she said this, though, she and everyone realized there was one way to end the seemingly endless grapple; Patrick began to pick Gentaro up, simply lifting him off of the ground. “Alright, enough to this. You’re too tiresome to throw.” Patrick groaned, as he flipped Gentaro over; Gentaro was now upside down, his legs kicking in the air. All the leg strength in the world didn’t matter if they weren’t on the ground. He knew what was coming, everyone knew what was coming, and it was going to hurt bad. Patrick jumped into the air and slammed down; a piledriver suplex, a brutal and effective move!
Brook must’ve seen the move a million times on her wrestling tapes and each time she wasn’t sure how the people on the receiving end of it survived; time to see if Gentaro was one of those people, as Patrick let go of him and let him lie barely moving on the ground.
There was life in him yet. His head missed the rock from before by just a few inches. Was it pure luck or was Taxis showing him mercy?
“I told you, homes,” Patrick said, “Did I tell you? I don’t remember. But here’s a reminder either way: I have nothing against you.” He picked the rabbit up by the back of his shirt, even getting one of his long long ears. “This is just a normal job to me. It pays well and I have a boss who gives me decent treatment. So no hard feeling, eh?” He jerked his arm down and slammed Gentaro into the ground. “Don’t think I’ll judge you for being all emotional over this shit, that’s fine too.” He slammed him into the ground again. Each of the hits were strong, yet he was holding back; this wasn’t just to hurt him. At this point, he was merely showboating over an easy fight.
“Enough.” Gentaro said, as he was struck against the ground again. He reached for the closest object; a small round stone, previously hidden in the sand. Then, twisting him body, he tossed the stone towards Patrick’s face, striking the bear in the eye. The mixture of blunt force and grains of sand in his eye, they loosened their grip. A dirty tactic but dirty tactics win fights. Stumbling to his feet, Gentaro got back up and dashed forward in a tackle; already at a low position, he slammed into Patrick’s large stomach. For such a lightweight, especially when compared to Patrick, his tackle was like a bullet train, proving the leg strength that Iz pointed out. Patrick was knocked right off his feet, falling backwards, gagging. Gentaro was back on his feet, spun around and delivered a back kick to the same spot that he tackled. Patrick was knocked off his feet! “Care to continue?” Gentaro boasted.
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
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Meanwhile, miles away, at Megido’s manor:
“It looks like your man is struggling a bit, friend,” Megido said, eating from a plate of mini tangerines; they were his favorite food, due to being fun to peel and they could be eaten while playing games without making too much of a mess. The fight, being captured by drones, was being displayed on a large television.
Of course, accompanied by cigars and drinks, Rosemary at his side, Audwin watched on. “Don’t speak so soon, goat. He took two hits.”
“I can see him being at the next Royale.” Vega said, slouching in his chair. “The masked guy that is. Gentaro, is that his name?”
“You’re not serious thinking of handing an invite out to him, are you?” Audwin asked, feeling argumentative today.
“Well, it is my say. I do have to run it by the top brass, but I won’t mind seeing him there. A masked fighter and vigilante? Do you know how much the audience would love that?” He chuckled, “You got to remember, I’m sure you forget for being so profit minded, but Primal is not just about the money and the earnings but entertainment. Entertainment is the first and foremost most important thing in the company!”
“…And entertaining it is.” Megido clapped, watching Patrick and Gentaro trade blows. Speed and agility vs strength and defense. Also known as Dex vs Str, in those video games that he recently gotten into playing.
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Back on the island:
Gentaro, primarily focusing on kicks and dodging, tried to take his mind off the emotion of the fight, something that wasn’t easy for him; the things Tao said staying there in the back of his head. Just forget yourself and lose yourself in the bloodshed, something like that. Taking a punch to the chest, he found himself flying back. Was emotion truly a bad thing? Was caring about the stakes of a fight a bad thing? It was easy to not care about the stakes of a fight when you were simply a man doing his job like his opponent. He quickly rolled away, diminishing a lot of the damage of the blow. Yet, even then, it clearly left lasting damage, as he stood up, he felt his left leg buckle from exhaustion.
“Starting to get to you, rabbit?” Patrick asked, slowly sauntering up, stretching. He was tough, even with the lasting blows that Gentaro landed, he was far and away more well off than Gentaro. “You can walk away if you want… But if you do, well, it’s my win.” He said, looking to the tiny Redliner referee, who was watching silently.
The capybara nodded, permitting Gentaro to take the opportunity. “Walking away is frowned upon, but it is permitted.”
However Gentaro only looked up at him in defiance. Even with a mask hiding his expression, a lot of emotion was on display.
“Hey, just giving you a chance to avoid a lot of pain.” Patrick shrugged. “This fight is just about over. Thought I’d-”
“I get it.” Gentaro slowly stood up. Gentaro looked to the Winston, “I’m not walking away, don’t even give me the opportunity to.”
“Fine by me.” Winston laughed. “I’m enjoying this nonetheless.”
“Come on, Gentaro.” Brook said, leaning forward. It was a similar situation to Eli in his fight with Darnelle.
“He’s barely standing,” Tao commented as well. “He better have something good. That last punch took a lot out of him.”
“Patrick looks like he’s barely hurting.” Iz said, “Just what can our little rabbit do?”
“His best.” Brook said, being the only one remaining hopeful here.
At the bottom of the hill, where the two leopards were, Opal was wondering if this was kayfabe; why else would someone wear a mask to a fight if it wasn’t part of some character? Gem had no idea what was going on himself.
His best was right. But, your best wasn’t always enough. At this point, there was nothing left to lose, so Gentaro was ready to try one last trick. He turned his back on Patrick, now completely faced away from him, staring out at the spanning beach ahead.
“Oh? What’s this? I thought you said you weren’t going to walk away? Now look at you, looking away from me.” Patrick taunted.
Gentaro said nothing.
“…” Patrick raised a brow. “Very well then, I’ll end this then.”
While it looked like Gentaro was just standing there, staring into space, there was a lot going on in his head… Or rather, there was nothing going on in his head. The man was in complete concentration. Drowning out everything around him.
The sound of the wind, lightly rushing by. The waves lightly lapping at the shore. The warm sun that heated him up even with plenty of clothes on. Not far away, he could hear the rustling of the trees and the small blades of grass. Maybe if he had some supernatural hearing, he’d be able to hear the bugs crawling through the grass. The voices of people were completely deaf to him. He was focusing solely on the sounds of nature. So quiet, as if he could hear Qest itself speak. Yeah, there we go, he was completely focused; the art of meditation, even in the most dangerous of moments, it could be achieved. He took several breaths, not deep or shallow, just maintaining it. Then, he heard it. The sound of feet approaching. They were heavy and slightly cumbersome, but held a great degree of strength that shouldn’t have been misunderstood. How far away were they? Were they close. It felt like time was slowed down but he only had so long to figure out where they were. They were picking up, moving faster. 10 feet away… 5 feet away… The target was right behind him. It was time to wake up and return to the real world.
It happened so fast. So fast that anyone who looked away for just a second would’ve missed the attack. A spinning kick directed at Patrick’s jaw and neck. He might’ve been significantly heavier and more brawny than Gentaro, but he definitely felt that; he was certain that he felt the bear’s jaw pop out of its socket. Patrick wasn’t even sure what happened. Suddenly he was falling to the ground and Gentaro was now facing towards him.
WHAM!
Patrick slammed to the sand, kicking up bloody sand and small rocks.
“Sorry, but I’m taking this win.” Gentaro said, “I’m not a dirty fighter. I will fight dirty if I must, but I don’t enjoy it. I prefer to win with what I have, but I won’t fault anyone who chooses to use underhanded tactics.” He said as he began to remove his helmet, showing his youthful face. “I also fight for what I love and I love this land… I won’t let you take it.”
Patrick, feeling blood and what was possibly a loosened tooth in his mouth, didn’t get up. His brain must’ve gotten rattled by that attack. But, the countdown was started, if he didn’t get up soon the fight would go to Gentaro. He didn’t even hear Winston shouting to him.
The fight was over. Gentaro walked towards the hill where Brook was. He wasn’t much of a tournament fighter; he didn’t like the spotlight or being a showman. But he will be dead before he walks away from a fight that he feels he has to fight. If his fight money can go to helping people or he was fight for the sake of others even if it means being in front of a crowd, then so be it, put him in the spotlight or on the TV for all he cares. That was who he was and always will be.
Results
Winner: Gentaro “Lago Rider” Hojo
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Tao said, “I guess the little rabbit does have some-” He went on, only to be cut off by Brook cheering.
“Kickass! Gentaro, you did it!” She ran down the hill and embraced Gentaro, practically tackling him with how much speed she picked up. Her breath smelled of alcohol and cigarettes, but that was normal.
“Ow ow ow!” Gentaro shouted, hissing in pain. “Brook, please, I’m beat up!” He groaned, gently giving her a push, just enough to get some space between them. “But thank you. I told you’d I’d win.”
Brook looked up to Tao, “You remember your promise!”
“I promised nothing.” He said back, but the markhor sighed, “But, I’ll consider it. I’m sure this won’t be the last time we see each other.”
Brook nodded, smiling up at him, confident. She was balls deep in the world of Primal at this point. This was a stressful past few days, wild since she was suppose to be on vacation, but she wanted to see more of this.
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Back at Megido’s Manor:
“Well, Audwin, that’s another lost bet under your belt. How are you feeling?” Schwarzchild asked looking at his friend who was staring out the window.
The owl didn’t respond, he clenched his cane with rage. First he lost to someone fighting under Ethan; Simon’s crotch spawn that acted nothing like his father. But to lose to a someone fighting under the stupid hyena drunkard? That was a humiliation that he wasn’t going to let go. Finally, he spoke up. “Vega? Do you have more of those invites to the Royale?”
“Yes, why?”
“No reason…” He said, “I’ll be taking my leave. If you happen to invite Gentaro or Eli, I won’t be against it…” He said as he began to do just that, taking his leave. “No… As a matter of fact, I recommend you invite both of them. Consider this my approval.”
“You’re mad aren’t you?”
“Mad? Yes… Yes, I am.” He said, “But this rage was reinvigorated me. I want to see Ethan reach the same peaks that his father did. Then, and only then, I want to see him get struck down.” He said, as he and Rosemary departed.