Thread: DudeMeister and LaBellaMia

The loud ringing of the bell signaled the end of the ninth round, yet both of the pugilists involved were still trading blows, their machismo pride carrying on the fray until the referee stepped in-between them to split the two fighters apart. Vic didn't take his eyes off of the man across from him until his own corner pulled him back and sat him in the stool, his coach barking directions at him as he dipped a sponge in some water and splashed it on him in an effort to revive him. Vic was not an ugly man by any means. Standing 6'2'' and weighting 200 pounds of muscle, he cut an imposing figure that went along with his rugged face that was covered with a rough brown stubble, his medium length hair messy. Yet after a 9 round war he looked like hell. His lips were busted, struggling to open as his cornerman pulled his mouthguard out to cleanse it, his face red and bruised from taking shots. That, and a nasty cut above the brow of his left eye that was opened from a nasty headbutt in the seventh round. The two fighters were of equal weight, reach, and stature, yet that was where the similarities ended. Although Vic couldn't even dream of having the light grace and speed of Muhammad Ali, he was explosive and powerful, with a orthodox style that protected him even whilst he was dishing out concussive blows. His opponent was a brawler, and his corner warned him about headbutts the last five fights with this guy ended with a doctor's stoppage from cuts. The cunt was rough and dirty on the inside. Vic knew that his coach was blowing a gasket trying to yell orders at him, noticed the slightly bellow average ring girl strut the tenth round card, and felt his cut man slather Vaseline upon his eyebrow to stop the bleeding. He didn't need to be a genius to know what was going on if that cut got any worse they'd stop the fight, and Vic would lose in the worst possible way to a pussy who couldn't fight clean. When the seconds were called out of the ring for the fight to resume Vic charged his man with a fury to end this fight. He through his jab and right cross, the previous snapping his head back and the latter landing against his gloves. Vic pivoted his front foot horizontally to torque his body into a left hook. He had been throwing this combination all night, and the bum before him raised his arm up to impede the assault. Only the hook didn't go for his head, but instead dug into his right side. Vic had dealt and received shots to the liver, and it was never fun. The brunt of his force broke a rib and bruised the vital organ, and as the man grimaced and coughed in pain, Vic unloaded tight hooks to his exposed face. He pursued his man into the ropes, unleashing what was known as the 'Dempsey Roll', his whole body pivoting and torquing into each shot. It was after a right hook did the man's head snap violently, and soon plunged face first into the canvas with the loud thud of a man separated from his senses. The referee didn't even bother to count and waved the man off. The fight was over. Vic Hearns raised his gloved fists in victory having become the third top contender for the title as medics flooded into the ring to attend to his unlucky adversary