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Fight Night with @nogodsnoheroes
Dec. 15th, 2023 09:50 amPrizefighting went one of two ways, for Luka. First, he could take the fight seriously and attempt a good show despite his enormous strength by toying with his opponent for a few rounds and then finishing them off decidedly after the bell, usually at the top of the fourth or fifth round. It was a tough business, not because of any real risk of harm but because his strength and ability to walk off nearly any injury made him a very conspicuous fighter. He had to sell pain and disorientation in a way he did not real, and often got wrapped up in his performance enough to lose sight of his real objective: Beating the snot out of his opponent for large sums of money.
The second option was altogether easier: Rig the fight. Few were the fighters who looked up at his seven foot, musclebound self, and thought they had a fair chance in a brawl. So why not fake it? Both fighters would perform, toss each other around and see how they could best hurt one another without injury, before one of them wheedled out a victory. Then they split the money and disappeared. It was altogether easier and left far fewer questions. Even if they were made for charlatans they were then both culpable, instead of strange questions being asked as to why just one fighter had been holding himself back.
Seeing the woman across the ring from him tonight, with a severe, animal look in her eyes and no apparent interest in talking things out, Luka guessed tonight would go the hard way.
He shrugged off his satin robe, hung it on the post behind him and sat watching the woman in the opposite corner of the ring. Worrying over fighting women didn't concern him, only the worry that he would be up against someone slighter than him and punching down at that. If he wasn't careful there could be serious trouble right away, and if the match was over too quickly he might be made for the sneak thief he occasionally was.
Hands wrapped, glasses stewed away, in his undershirt and trousers Luka rose when the ref grumblingly summoned the fighters to the center of the ring. He tapped his knuckles on his opponent's and inclined his head towards her, hoping for fruit at the end of his olive branch as he said:
"Let's have a good clean fight, uh?"
The second option was altogether easier: Rig the fight. Few were the fighters who looked up at his seven foot, musclebound self, and thought they had a fair chance in a brawl. So why not fake it? Both fighters would perform, toss each other around and see how they could best hurt one another without injury, before one of them wheedled out a victory. Then they split the money and disappeared. It was altogether easier and left far fewer questions. Even if they were made for charlatans they were then both culpable, instead of strange questions being asked as to why just one fighter had been holding himself back.
Seeing the woman across the ring from him tonight, with a severe, animal look in her eyes and no apparent interest in talking things out, Luka guessed tonight would go the hard way.
He shrugged off his satin robe, hung it on the post behind him and sat watching the woman in the opposite corner of the ring. Worrying over fighting women didn't concern him, only the worry that he would be up against someone slighter than him and punching down at that. If he wasn't careful there could be serious trouble right away, and if the match was over too quickly he might be made for the sneak thief he occasionally was.
Hands wrapped, glasses stewed away, in his undershirt and trousers Luka rose when the ref grumblingly summoned the fighters to the center of the ring. He tapped his knuckles on his opponent's and inclined his head towards her, hoping for fruit at the end of his olive branch as he said:
"Let's have a good clean fight, uh?"
