Dawnrider — Roleplayer Guild

Team One

Level: 4
Day/Time: Day Two
Location: Smash Arena
Tags:Zangief@Holy Soldier
Mentions:Luigi@Bright_Ops

Oh, how familiar the feeling was to Fox; to once more be in the competitive spotlight (literally, in this case). That, and the name, was about all that this setting and scenario had in common with Smash tradition. Much more in line with other notable fighting tournaments, contestants were placed in tag teams on a conventional stage. Functionally, it wasn’t much unlike the Boxing Ring he had fought in a couple of times before, only this… establishment, if it could properly be called that, was more cramped, demonstrably less respectable and well-kept, and the attracted crowd less savory. Then again, what more could be expected of an underground, and presumably illegal, operation ran under a more reputable name? None of that mattered, though. If there was a fight to be had worth winning, it was a sure bet that Fox would eagerly cast his name into the mix.

He was inwardly grateful to have been partnered with Luigi. The two had fought with and against each other in the past more times than was necessary to know what the other was capable of, and of all the fighters Fox has come to know from Smash, there were few others he had more faith in than Luigi. He was glad to have someone he could trust to have his back. More curious was he about his opponent who he watched patiently with arms crossed from his corner of the ring as the hulking man put on a show. Well… not so much a man as a herculean titan that stood like one, his standard, plain attire struggled in futility to remain intact, but this presumably had more to do with producing the desired result of destroying it with a single full body contraction than anything else. Surely, he could have found something that fit him if he actually wanted to. No matter. It was admittedly entertaining nonetheless to watch him prove a point already visually evident: that he’s big and strong.

Expectedly, the stressed material practically disintegrated into confetti with the slightest ounce of applied tension. Fox tilted his head downward slightly with a faint smile and closed eyes, unfazed by the veritable giant’s display or comment about fashioning pants from his fur. What a waste that would be if he was serious about it; he wouldn’t be able to fit them either. Dismissing the amusing thought, Fox grabbed the collar of his jacket, slowly craning his arm around his head before deftly throwing the garment off. The overhead lighting silhouetted the skyward long coat as it drifted down to hang almost perfectly on the outer corner behind Luigi. This revealed his seldom seen, surprisingly toned, well-built figure that was so often hidden beneath an outer layer of clothing. Even with fur, it would be difficult not to notice that he had the shape befitting of a seasoned, upkept fighter. It wasn’t something he could brag about or show off like his opponent had, but he wasn’t exactly looking to either. Besides, he never was one for pre-fight showboating or trash talk; he prefered simply to let his skill speak for itself.

Fox paced forward three steps to take his position and slowly shifted into a stance vaguely resemblant of xu bu. He held his open right palm and left leg out with his hips facing forward and left hand at his side, and with bent knee, he kept the greater half of his weight on his back leg. Anyone who’s watched him fight before would recognize this, but those with an eye for it would observe that not a single muscle on him was tense, much unlike his opponent. He was completely calm, relaxed, and focused. In the brief moment before the final announcement, he shut his eyes once more to further still his mind and reopened them just in time to train them back on his opponent. The atmosphere thickened with anticipation for the match to officially start.

FIGHT!

Barely a fraction of a second was able to pass between Steve sounding them off and Fox making his first move. In what seemed like an instant, Fox would close in with his Illusion technique, pivot mid-motion to deliver a left inside kick to Zangief’s right knee, and, with the forceful pirouette carrying him forward slightly into the air at an angle, meet the flat of his right foot hard against the back of the Russian’s head. Should these hits connect successfully, the wrestler - AND the spectators - would perceive them to have done so in near unison. Without sparing a measureable second to let him process that, Fox would swiftly follow through by fiercely torquing his body to the left to drive the other side of the same foot into Zangief’s right temple. Ideally, this would send him into the adjacent corner of the ring. Whether the man flew, tumbled, or stumbled his way there made little difference so long as it clearly registered that Fox could physically affect him. He figured if he could crack his opponent’s confidence where it mattered as early on as possible, it would hopefully serve him well later in the match. He landed facing his foe halfway and assumed his default stance, readying himself for whatever came next.
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