The lights of the District 13 rock club went out; every last one. The sudden change caused a few people to gasp in surprise, but before anyone had time to panic, a new set of lights came on, though these ones were colored and moving from side to side, making the innards of The Spit look more like a laser light-show. The regulars knew exactly what this meant, and the gasps of surprise suddenly turned into anticipating cheers, nudging the new people in waited anticipation, the volume growing even louder when the music started up again.
The first song that played was a real oldie, but had a good enough beat to keep the awaiting crowd cheering on as the double doors of the restricted section swung open and a lean man standing at about 6’4” came out, putting in his mouth guard and giving the crowd a small show with a few warm-up punches as he jogged to the cage. Through the music and cheers, the announcer could barely be heard, introducing the man simply as ‘Spike.’ The crowd seemed to like him enough, since the rest of the announcer’s words were completely shut out by the growing roars and screams as Spike removed his shirt and handed it off to a much shorter man that had followed him to the cage, but stayed just outside the cage by the corner that Spike had gone to.
Spike’s music was then abruptly cut off, which didn't look as though it had been a part of the initial plan as even the announcer himself didn't seem to know what was going on. The crowd eased into a revered quiet, waiting on bated breath and then erupted into a fit of cheers, twice as loud as before as the next song played; a song everyone would recognize to be Deon’s theme song he picked out personally every time he entered the arena.
He didn’t come out the double doors that Spike had as was expected, however. No, Deon was all about breaking the rules. The crowd began to split as Deon made his way from his hiding place in the back of the room, walking with arrogance in every step as he relished in the crowd’s cheers and women reaching out to touch him as he, in no particular hurry, made his way to the cage. Once he broke free from the crowd, he turned to face them and gave a couple air-pumps with his fist, getting a response from the crowd of deafening screams. He paused to chuckle to himself a bit and then made his way up and down the front row of the crowd, giving out high-fives and even stopped to hug a woman who nearly fell down from the shock.
He went up and down the line one more time, handing out more high-fives before ‘dancing’ himself into the ring to take up his corner of the cage. He didn’t even give Spike a second glance as Deon kept his eyes on the crowd and put his fingers between the buttons of his jean vest, ripping it open so that the buttons popped off from the force and into the crowd. He had removed his wife beater at some point, leaving his chest completely bare to the air-conditioned air of The Spit though he bore no shame in showing off his muscled body. If at all possible, the screams grew louder, though this time it was more of a female audience. Deon wadded up the now ruined piece of clothing and threw it out to a group of practically crying women through the bars, smirking as he watched them pull each other’s hair and flying their fists in an effort to get the shirt (and buttons) all to themselves.
Deon let out his own scream, filling the air with even more testosterone in an effort to amp up the crowd once more before he finally faced his opponent. He looked Spike over and smirked, jerking his head and body forward mocking a cobra in its strike and then couldn’t help but to chuckle at his own arrogance, the majority of the audience sharing his laugh. He raised both arms in the air, a symbol of victory, and took another look at the crowd, flashing everyone and no one a confident smile.
He turned his head back to his opponent once more, his mind becoming numb and now completely oblivious to everything that was happening outside of the ring. The announcer, having found himself, introduced Deon with great vigor, calling him by the stage name given to him a year ago, Darth. With the two males ready, he began the count and on count two, rather than three, Spike charged Deon, determined to get the first hit in. He swung a right hook but Deon saw it coming from a mile away and ducked his head down with a smile on his smug face. Spike tried again with a come-back left hook but Deon put up his arm as a barrier, however the moment Spike's left hook made contact, he swung his right arm into another right hook and clipped Deon's jaw straight-away with his fist. The smile never left Deon's face though as Spike continued throwing right and left hooks, and all Deon did was back up a few steps watching the man swing his arms like an angry gorilla, miles away from it's mark. Finally when Deon had enough playing around, he caught Spike's left elbow with his hand and used his foot to trip the taller man to the ground and forced him to land on his hands and knees. Deon's opposite hand swung around and held Spike by the back of the neck, keeping him in a position there.
"Nice hook." Deon taunted Spike and then let the grip on the back of Spike's neck go and backed away into the center of the ring where he had once been. Spike jumped up and charged Deon like an angry rhino and buried his head under Deon's arm, wrapping his arms around Deon's waist in an effort to lift him up and slam him down onto his back, but Deon's dense muscle gave him the advantage over the bigger guy and just had to push his body weight down onto Spike's bent-over back to collapse Spike down onto his chest on the mat. Deon pushed Spike's face into the mat even harder after that, rewarding the taller man's futile efforts with a simple bitch slap across the face that the crowd seemed to love.
Spike got back up though, and saw that one of the people in the crowd had their arms through the bars. It wasn't too much, they were just holding themselves there with a red solo cup half-full of some kind of liquid in it, but it was just what Spike needed. Instead of attacking Deon straight on again, he slapped the cup out of the man's hand, spraying Deon's face and chest with the warm beer and in the couple seconds that Deon couldn't see, began hooking right and left once more and beating the hell out of Deon's face.
Deon just backed up a few feet though and pointed at Spike, laughing and licking his lips in a moment of enjoying the alcoholic drink,
"Ahhhh..." He shook his head and smiled, giving him kudo's for playing dirty. "...that, that was a cheap one..." He went around the cage and slapped high-fives to those close enough to put their hands through. "...but you are good; you've got a good center of gravity." he commended. "But that old school boxing shit...that, that just doesn't fly around here...not with me. You gotta mix it up." Deon had circled back to Spike and just as he finished speaking, he ran the couple of feet towards Spike and like a football punter, brought back his right leg and kicked the weak point of Spike's knee on the side, nearly causing the tall man to fall back down.
"Stings right? I bet it does." Deon threw his fist forward and Spike brought up his hands to block, but that was only a distraction and Deon sent his leg kicking at Spike's leg once again, hitting the same spot but on the opposite side. Spike managed to keep his balance, but it was obvious that he was now favoring that leg and had to hop around a bit to keep from toppling over.
"Aww, your leg's all jacked up. Can't put any weight on it maybe?" Deon charged again, clotheslining Spike around his center which brought Spike down hard onto his back. Deon circled Spike as he tried to get up, and by the time he was able to get onto one knee, he noticed that Deon was standing straight above him and looking down on him.
"And now for the bad news... it's gotta end... with you looking like a bitch." Deon smiled broadly. Rage infused, Spike shot up onto his good leg, using the momentum to swing his arm around to get in a good shot but again, Deon saw it coming and grabbed Spike around the arm and twisted it, sending Spike flipping over Deon's arm and back onto the ground. Now like a turtle stuck on it's back, Deon hopped over to get on top of Spike and swung both arms, alternating punching out Spike's face in eerie similarity as Spike had done to him beforehand.
The crowd went wild and Deon got off of Spike, giving the man a chance to get back up.
"Oh c'mon. It's not over, get up! Get up!"
Spike tried to get up, but again Deon only gave him the chance to get onto his knees before Deon sent out a round-house kick straight into Spike's face sending him flying a good few feet, his mass connecting with the cage door and falling through, into the crowd in a bloody heap, knocked completely unconscious.
Deon turned back to his crowd and lifted his arms up high in victory, shouting and screaming with them, reveling in both the glory and the knowledge that there would be no round two.
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TokyoPewPew
Lord Wyron
