2007-11-12: Formal Beatings

Starring:

Brian_icon.gif Damascus_icon.gif Fenton_icon.gif Ophelia_icon.gif Mikhail_icon.gif Tyson_icon.gif

Summary: Another audition goes down at the BHQ with Mikhail trying his hand out.

Date It Happened: November 12th, 2007

Formal Beatings


Bronx, NYC - The Brawler's Headquarters

Tyson is giving Francis a break and letting him get nice and drunk before letting him take back his shift at the sign-up table. Every so often someone will walk in to fight at some point, but more or less, people are getting sloshed and he has been having enough of a time deciding whether or not drunk fighting should be permitted… "Maybe if they're both drunk…?" He thinks out loud imagining how bad that might turn out.

He was just going to look. Mikhail has no real intention of getting into a set brawl, but the concept seems interesting. If he's allowed to sit in on the fights, he can probably get a good idea of how fighting poses and actions go. Shouldering his messenger bag, the artist shuffles up to the sign-up table, recoginizing Tyson from…what, a week ago? Is that him?

"Uh…hey," Mikhail waves. No, he's not drunk - just a little tired. A little.

Leaning back in his chair, Tyson hears the approaching voice and sits up, looking at the guy as if he recognized him, but not having a name to connect him with, he simply nods, "Yo… so you decided to come in for a go… or something?" He asks, not certain if he was coming in to fight, drink, or dance, but probably not that last one… for some reason Tyson couldn't see him doing that. Not that his observations about Ophelia had been accurate…

Sometimes it's better that way. His style choice for the day leans more toward the goth side. A moment of hesitation takes place before he speaks. "Actually…I was just going to look around…" His voice starts to trail off now that the young man suggested that idea, mulling it over as he folds his arms across his chest. Lips press firmly together. "…How bad does it get? T…tyk." A hand gestures at Tyson, trying to get a name.

"Oh…" Tyson nods with a slow and examining look in his eye. Not disproving or disapointed, just gauging what was going through the guy's mind; when he starting fumbling for a name, he assumes by the 'Ty' sound he was making and the gesture. "Tyson. Call me Ty, though, simple, but yeah, the fights can get bad if the people aren't matched. Put a newbie in the ring with a beast and bad is only the beginning of how things can go… damn near brutal…" He shakes his head, getting it the thought out of his head, "Which is why I'm making sure to fight every newcommer at least once to get an idea of how they fight…" He nods with accomplishment. "What's your name, anyway? I didn't get a chance to catch it before I left."

Fingers snap, pointing briefly with the connection. Ty. That is easy to remember. The artist nods, smirking. "Mikhail. Or Mik, Miki, whatever's easier to work with," he says, shrugging. If one can't pronounce it right, they go with the nickname. He doesn't really care about that, though. Pausing, Mikhail taps his chin in thought. "…Yeah, I can see that." Oh, the imagery. He looks at Ty again, his half-lidded gaze showing some more interest in actual participation. Watching and doing are two completely different things, after all. Of course, seeing how he has no experience with fighting, it can only go so far. But that's not stopping him. "So…where do I sign?"

At Mik's signing question, Tyson stands and hands him the clipboard to sign, "There you are, just sign that and you'll be eligible to fight. Of course…" He pauses, looking back at Mik with a curious expression much like that of a forming challenge. "There's also the matter of your audition… when might you want to get that out of the way?"

"Awesome," Mikhail says softly, now somewhat stoked that he's going to do this. Taking the clipboard, he digs in his bag for a pen. Blue gray eyes dart back up at the word 'audition.' Well, figures - can't just go diving headfirst into everything without a simple test of skill. Good thing he isn't that reckless. "I can do that on the weekend, mainly," he says, scribbling his signature in a mess of swirls. "You know - college stuff eats up my time, so…just as long as I do most of the work I'm suppose to, I'm good." Maybe he should write his phone number too. Something. More scribbles.

Sure, she was in here before, but the money from just the audition and assisting with the boys was quite worth it to bring Ophelia back. That and it was a better place to hang around when she had no where else to really go. Stepping inside, she takes a moment to peer around, quietly noticing at least two familiar figures. She doesn't speak at first, simply observing. Another audition, perhaps? This could be interesting.

Tyson nods, a little put off that he wasn't ready to get down to it right then and there. "All right then. We'll get that out of the way sometime on the weekend, though really… it wouldn't be a big thing to just get a brief match out of the way… I mean…" He was looking at the ring now. "I wouldn't even get you bloody today. I'm good about that-…" He says turning to face Mikhail again only to see Ophelia coming in, too. "Oh, hey, Phi." Tyson acknowledges with a sharp nod and wave motioning for her to come over.

A quizzical sort of look passes on his features at Tyson as he sets the clipboard down with a light click. The pen goes back into the recessed of his bag, the strap shifting. Well, saying that he can do any weekend seems to be a good strategy - working on art stuff can only go so far if he has nothing else to do. On the other hand, if he gets it out of the way now, he can see how much he sucks without having to anticipate it so much. Mikhail wrinkles his nose, looking amused. "Well…if no one's busy right now…and if I don't have anything else to do…" Why not. The bag is pulled off and set upon the tabletop just as Tyson notices Opheilia. He also looks over a shoulder, nodding at the girl. "Yo," he greets.

Heading over as Tyson waves her over, Ophelia catches the last bit of Mikhail's words. "Going to try a little something, are you?" The girl asks, quite curious. "That could be fun."

"That's the plan and as soon as we get in the ring we'll have our answer as to if Miki here is even worthy to be in the ring." Tyson says that laughingly and starts on towards the closest ring. As one might notice, every ring is empty with a majority of people on the dance floor and bar area, they were more or less left to their own devices. Looking back at Ophelia he asks trying to recall something, "So, Phi, did Franky give you your money for helping out or did he pocket that, he kind of sucks like that."

At this, Mikhail's eyes dart around with mild uncertainty. He still manages to look calm, however. "Yyyyeah. It could be," he repeats, shrugging again. Seeing that he already made up his mind, Mikhail nods at Tyson. "Let's rumble."

…Does anyone even use that anymore?

He follows the teen toward the ring, but he stops to also look back at Phi. His eyebrows rise briefly as he fixes his jacket sleeves and wrist bands.

There's a grin from Ophelia. "Oh, I got my money. Wouldn't be back if I didn't get paid, right? Either that or I'd be back there convincing Franky to give me the money." She folds her arms over her chest, peering over at Mikhail as he heads into the ring. "Don't let him intimidate you," she offers, glancing between Tyson and Mikhail briefly, standing back to the side to watch, scanning both of them with a calculating eye, as if watching for strengths and weaknesses alike.

Tyson shakes his head at Mikhail with a laugh at his rumble comment. It wasn't that the word choice was hillarious, just his enthusiasm. When Ophelia adds her two cents, he shoots her a disbelieving death glare… "Phi? C'mon why would you do that…?" It was of no consequence but still… "Whatever, Miki just get ready. I'll be holding back as long as you give me reason to." He says, subversively trying to make Mikhail go all out regardless.

Intimidate? Well, who knows. People can act differently when the time calls for it. Mikhail smirks at the girl, giving a soft laugh. It's not mocking; he's just amused. Amused at the high chance of getting beat? Yes and no. "Aight," the artist says, maybe to both since it sums everything up. He jumps in place, shaking out his arms. His best fighting stance is influenced by video games and martial arts movies. However, his actual hits may not be as strong. An arm flies, a fist going out to punch at Tyson's shoulder.

Pok.

…At least his foot work will look pretty?

"Maybe cause I know a little of what you're made of?" Ophelia laughs, watching Tyson. Her gaze flickers between Tyson and Mikhail carefully, studying the moves, mostly of Mikhail for the moment since she's already got a taste of Tyson's fighting.

To say the least, Tyson was impressed with Mikhail's initiative; that, however, did nothing to keep him from doing something about it. He slips his right foot back a little and catches the flying hand with his right, stopping it. Smirking, Tyson looks first at Ophelia, winking, before turning back towards Miki with a more serious expression. "All right, your first mistake was not throwing that punch with everything you had." Pulling back on the fist, Tyson steps forward, putting his left hand on the small of his opponent's back, before sliding his right leg forward to trip Miki on his way past.

Oh dang. Mikhail blinks, finding himself caught. And as he hears the advice, he's hit, falling to the ground. Falling with some style, considering that he's still trying to weigh out his options. "Ow," he responds finally, rolling to the side and squinting. Well, if Tyson wants more put into his attacks, then he'll do it. The artist kicks out with his right foot, aiming for Tyson's legs. Knock him down. Or not. One of those.

Calculating eyes watch the match, and Ophelia notes the punch thrown as well as the expert way Tyson catches it. The moves are scrutinzed, especially because of the way Tyson takes control of the situation. Her arms remain folded, though her expression certainly seems much more interested now.

Going for his legs was a good plan, Tyson would have done the same thing. Unfortunately for Mikhail, he was good; jumping off to the side, he rolls a bit before coming to a stop on his left knee. "That was good too, but you're still not Brawlin', Miki. Give it everything you've got and then some." Tyson says bounding off towards Mikhail, covering the short distance and flinging his legs as if to do a flying sit onto the other boy. Tyson probably wasn't taking this serious. "Do you really think you're ready for this kind of thing?"

Fail. He's not doing very good now, is he? He gets up just in time to be missed by Tyson's next move. Still, he manages to skid and kneel, poised and ready. "Ack. It's something I can work on," he says in a strained tone, trying to rack his brain on what to do next. There's no winning this round.

However…

Mikhail crans his neck to the side, dashing at Tyson without waiting another minute. Instead of hitting him, however, he trips himself, flipping over onto the ground. Using his ability is stretching it, but he needs to see if it works. Otherwise, he'll just be lying there again.

Eyes shift back and forth between the two, and Ophelia purses her lips a little. She's aware that Tyson's good, but she's got a feeling for some reason that Mikhail's got more to him that meets the eye anyways. She bites lightly on her lower lip before pursing them in concentration, focusing on trying to figure out what the next move might be. "Come on.. you can do better." She urges Mikhail.

Tyson stares at Mikhail as he lies on the floor. "Hm… Didn't see that coming…" He sighs, looking at Ophelia and shrugging. "What do you think? Is he in? I want to say yes because he is into it, but I…" Tyson can't put a finger on it.

It didn't work. So much for trying. Mikhail sighs heavily, placing a hand on his face. "Let's try this once more," he mutters. Getting up, he just stares at Tyson and Ophelia. Sitting there. Might as well throw one more thing at him. Pushing off of the floor again, he rushes, kicking at Ty's stomach. Of course, it won't do much good. "…Yeah, maybe I'm not cut out for this," he says after a bout of silence.

"Oh, he seems like he's got some fight in him." Ophelia comments, glancing back to Mikhail on the floor before she looks to Tyson. "Don't give up entirely. I think there's some fight in you. I'm usually good at telling these sort of things about people."

The feeling that he has the wrong place hasn't left him ever since he set foot inside. Maybe it was an old address he'd found, or maybe the wrong one. Whatever the case, he's pretty sure this isn't a skate park, indoor or otherwise. He's also starting to feel a bit out of place with his board under one arm and his backpack slung over his other shoulder. Grey-green eyes scan his surroundings, and it's only due to curiosity that Fenton steps in further.
Music. People. This place isn't dead, apparently. What's with the rings? These are the sort of things he figured would be underground. Or is this an American thing? At least it doesn't seem like there's much action for brawling today, and it's easy for the young man's attention to be pulled towards the one ring that seems to be in use. He wanders over somewhat awkwardly, trying to avoid eye contact with the people that might be usuals or staff since he'd rather not draw attention, although he supposes he'd be better off for it were he not being so obviously awkward about it. The closer he comes towards the ring that the three are at, the more casual his gait becomes as his focus fixates upon the half-Asian in the ring. Hey, he knows that guy. "…."

Tyson looks from Ophelia with a questionable look of uncertainty to looking back at Mikhail as he rushes him. Shifting his step, he readied himself and wrapped his left arm around his attacker's neck gettin him in a headlock and grabbing him around the knees so he couldn't be kicked either. One swift operation that ends only when Tyson fully stands and turns with Mikhail across his shoulders able to look out and see Ophelia and the new arrival. "Hey… Phi? Could you take care of the newbie. The clipboard's on the table."

"Crap," Mikhail half-exclaims, tangled in the hold. Almost being choked is not fun. And he's lifted? This is what he gets for being skinny. He tries thinking about Tyson's arm pulling into an awkward position, but he's viewing the world at a different perspective. It throws off his train of thought easily. Being properly humiliated to some extent, Mikhail then glances over to see Fenton. Upside-down. "Oh shoot, Fen," the artist quips oddly, still sort of stuck. Of all times to come in. Good thing Miki isn't a very proud person. "…Hi."

Looking over as a new figure arrives, Ophelia's arms drop back to her sides and she moves away from the ring to head over to grab the clipboard. She heads over towards Fenton, eyes studying him for potential. "You interested in signing up?" She questions, smiling still, glancing occasionally back to the fighting.

Well, Mik' looks to be in a spot of trouble. Except if he was -really- in trouble, he wouldn't be standing in a ring on an apparent one-on-one, nor would he be offering a greeting in the middle of it. Fenton blinks, only appearing mildly nonplussed at the situation, and it's only out of reflex that he raises his free hand in something of a wave back at the upside-down artist. If Mikhail's not in any real dangerous situation, then he supposes there's no reason for him to be concerned about what happens next.
But he's been noticed. It's not surprising since there's not a whole bunch of people on this end, but Fenton tenses all the same. He glances over at the woman that approaches him, his expression a shy neutral. "Ah… sign up?" He doesn't have to feign confusion here. "…for what…?"

Seeing that Phi was taking care of everything, Tyson goes back to the fight. "All right, Miki. Do you still want to get scrappy? Cuz I applaud your guff, but… what can I say, I like you… I'd rather you not get hurt unnecessarily." He speaks looking up at Mikhail on his shoulders looking around the ring and getting a good grasp of dimensions. He had an idea forming in his mind, but it would depend on what Mikhail wanted to do; the conjurer of the idea all ready knowing how he'd implement his gambit.

Yes, nothing bad is happening. He got into this by himself. See what he can do without supervision. He seriously needs to work on that. Eyes turn back toward Tyson at the odd angle, Mikhail's expression still pretty deadpan. A hand waves weakly. "…I think we already know who wins out this round," he replies plainly. "I'm good, you're good. Something like that." The art student blinks, tilting his head as he keeps his eyes on the one holding him up still. "…How does this all end?" he wonders aloud.

Ophelia gestures towards the ring. "See that? It's fighting. You can sign up and do that. You can get paid. It's pretty cool, actually. Better than my other job." She remarks. Maybe if she's lucky she'll be able to afford college in a couple of years of careful saving.. ah, who is she kidding anyways? The girl glances over at Fenton to size him up more, but then she nods towards the ring. "He's trying out. Not so good so far.. but I think he's got a little something to him." She does study the two of them as they end the fight, it seems, and she taps the pen against the clipboard. "And just when things were getting interesting." She remarks, her gaze still on the two in the ring.

Entering now, is a young man dressed a bit styilishly for the current surroundings. A black track jacket with styilized white writing on it, a pair of dark blue jeans, and a white baseball cap. It doesn't scream wealth, more like, fresh, and nice taste. Hands tucked into his pockets the young man looks about curiously through the place. Those who know him might ask why a non-profit worker is in a place like this.. Lately he's been bored, and frustrated, and lonely.. He needs to take that out on something. And maybe doing a little punishment, or getting the crap kicked out of him would do the trick.
Standing still the young man really does not know how to go about signing up. Though, his grey eyes search the place and before long he looks a little helpless and lost. This puppy dog look has always helped him in the past any woman spotting him usually would have sympathy and help the guy out. So.. he tries his old ploy again.

"….ah." Eyes flick back to the ring and the two in it, poised in a strange and very one-sided position. It isn't too hard to see who is the victor for this outcome. "No?" Fenton returns his attention to Ophelia, lips quirking in a lopsided if not faint smile. "Actually, I was looking for a skatepark, but I guess it doesn't exist…" He'll have to thank Frank for the misdirections later, but then he doubts that the guy really knew what he'd been asking about then.

Tyson shrugs, Mikhail lifting at that. "Brawling isn't about winning around… I mean, it is, but it's about letting go." He sighs, setting his opponent down as opposed to tossing him against the ropes as he intended. "It's not that you don't get it, I just think I was a bad opponent for you. Still though," He pats proud of what had gone down. "You do have skill, no doubt about that. In fact, I'm certain you could have gotten out of my shoulder hold. Oh well. The real question comes down to whether you'll be content not trying everything you can to get out of a situation like that or worse? Cuz I was holding back, but if you've got something you want to show me, you should do it…"

Saying that, Tyson turns to look over in the direction of Ophelia, and the apparently two new guys. This, changed nothing, but made him smirk at the prospect of freaking the boy out. "How are you going to do with this?" Walking around the ring a while longer, he abruptly begins to sprint to sprint, not at the boy, but past him and at the rope, and leaps. The end result of this is that as Tyson leaps he grabs the top rope and pulls on it a moment to build up tension while he views the space between himself and Mikhail before releasing all that tension and launching himself into the air. His aim may have been a little off, but he was definitely going to land somewhere near Mikhail… or not in that he somehow manages to get everything wrong in execution and falls backwards onto his butt before he even got airborn. "…"

Oh good, he can touch the ground again. Smoothing out his jacket, the artist gives Tyson a half-smile. "Ah. I see." It does make him think about the situation, however, and it maybe relates to some other things he doesn't want to deal with at the moment. He nods, taking a step back without trying anything else. Mikhail is done. And yet, he watches Tyson as he goes one way, and then…back over at him. "Hey, wai-"

He freezes up, holding both hands up as Ty flies pass. Shoulders cringe a little at the landing, making him take another step due to the ring's shaking. "…"

Ophelia is not just any woman. Any woman would have found the puppy-dog look irresistible and immediately went to help him out. While he's spotted, she mostly ignores him for the moment as she looks back to Fenton. "You sure? It's worth trying out. Could make you good money and.. I'm sure your skate stuff can be pretty expensive, if you get the good stuff, right?" She offers Fenton a warm smile. "Besides.. you can fight me. I'm not so terrifying, am I?" Her eyes flicker back over to the newcomer and he's nodded at, a simple sign that he's been noticed, but she makes no move to go to him. /He'll/ have to come to /her/. Ophelia doesn't do puppies.

Noting Ophelia's nod, Brian stops the helpless look and makes his way over to the woman. She didn't come and talk to him, but he got what he wanted, a little direction. So case in point, he's still got it. He looks to Fenton then to Ophelia. "I can sign up to fight for the money thing right?" He asks a little quietly. Eyeing the woman. He glances to Fenton, then back again.

"….." Fenton doesn't reply to Ophelia right away. He's too busy watching the guy in the ring pseudo-slingshot himself completely off target. Well, at least Mikhail isn't getting thrown about. "Huh? Oh. Yeah… but… no, don't think that sorta stuff's for me," he says, glancing back at the woman with a shrug. He's been more prone to try avoiding fights than getting into them. Lifting his head slightly as he senses someone else coming up behind them, Fenton glances over his shoulder at Brian.
"Oh here, victim right here. Er, pardon- volunteer." He smiles a two-second smile before stepping back and away from Ophelia, patting a hand encouragingly on Brian's shoulder to direct him closer towards the woman. Yeah. Running around a ring trying to avoid being hit by someone isn't his idea of entertainment. 'sides, he hates boundaries. Soon as the attention's off of him, he'll make himself scarce.

Tyson sits up, stunned. "That was the first time… huh…" Muttering about that for a moment before getting back up, he rubbingly pats himself down paying careful attention to his pained backside. He looks at Ophelia and notes that she wasn't watching, something he was both happy and disappointed about. Whatever the case, he turns back towards Mikhail with a serious expression. "So, I think we can work with you." Saying that, he dipped his hand into his back pocket and pulled out a couple hundreds and handed them over. "That's for you, feel free to come back."

"…First?" Mikhail repeats, a little curious by what he meant by that. Maybe it's nothing that important, stuff that happens in brawling terms. He meets Tyson's gaze evenly, however, a small smirk forming. Whoa, cash. Awesome. "Aight then," he says, folding the bills and stuffing them into his own back pocket. "Thanks. And I'm sure I will." With this, he nods, backing up and off of the ring to gather his stuff and look around some more.

Well, Fenton isn't interested. Ophelia glances to him for a moment, then nods. "Well.. can't make you like it." She does curiously look towards Brian now. "You'd like to fight? Yeah. You just have to sign up here." She offers the clipboard forward for him to sign the sheet, smiling still.

Grey eyes perk up at the young man handing over the cash to Mikhail. Let none say Brian is an extremely affluent or materialistic person.. but come on. That kind of extra cash.. just for getting slapped around. That's a lot of DVDs. And sizing up the other young man, he's confident he might do a little better. He almost runs straight up to the ring to start his turn!
A little glare is shot over his shoulder to Fenton. "Hey man you're really funny." It is said in a serious voice, though it implies sarcasm. Brian's own brand of humor. Grey orbs then return to rest on Ophelia. "Next victim? Is that Superman in there or what?" He darts another glance to Tyson. Doesn't -look- like Superman. Taking the proffered clipboard, Brian quickly signs up all desired information willingly. Once finished, he hands it back with a charming smile.

Stretching out his arms, Tyson makes his way over to Ophelia and the new guy tucking the money back into his pocket. "What's going on here?" He asks curiously, examining the guy to see if he'll be any more of a match. d looking at Phi as well, trying to figure out her expression. "Curious…" she looked like she either wanted to fight the guy or do him, in either case, he was stepping up. "… You here to brawl?" Right to the point.

Ophelia glances back to Tyson as he approaches. Her look is one that seems mostly of amusement, simply as she looks back over at Brian and his attitude towards fighting. She takes the clipboard and sets it aside, her eyes glancing back to Tyson for a moment. "Right.. so we'll obviously have to make sure you can fight with a little bit of an audition.. that's what was being done just a second ago."

Pointing to the clipboard he just signed, Brian gives Tyson a quizzical look. "No," He starts dryly, "I'm the Jehovahs Witness." Comes the reply, crunching his brows a bit. A smirk then as his attention returns to Ophelia. A nod. "Sure. I'm down with being smacked around a little, or smacking around. Whatever happens." Not cocky, just irritable, it seems. He has some frustrations to vent in that ring. "Well.. Let's get started." He says, going to take off his track jacket.

Ophelia doesn't seem to be backing down from the ring at all either. Damascus is pretty much unnoticed, and she focuses on Brian. "Lets start, then." She glances over at Brian, studying his reaction.

Grey eyes are sent to Ophelia. "Wait." He says with a frown. "What is this?" Raising one hand in question to the woman in the ring. Then he looks up as the cage begins to descend. "More fun?" He asks as he watches the metal descend. More like 'more broken bones'. He turns to face the cage with a frown then turns again to face Tyson. He faces the other man for now.. If she attacks him, he'll react but no way is he going to try and punch a girl.

"All right, I remind everyone that eye and nut shots. Other than that, does anybody have a problem with this match?" It was only fair that Tyson asks. If he didn't… he'd be pretty much sending someone to their doom. "Three-way cage match, winner gets three-hundred and an automatic entry in the Winter Tourney?"

Damascus steps like a cat up the set of stairs for the bleachers nearest the occupied ring. He seats himself in a manner somewhere forcibly between 'textbook good posture' and 'faux casual.' Intently, he watches as scant few words are exchanged and the fight looks set to begin.

The cage was lowering and Tyson had a look on his face that was more than somewhat devious. His eyes dart from Ophelia to Brian, back to Ophelia, then to Brian, then back to Ophelia, he was deciding something, completely fogetting about the kid in the stands, but making sure to put on a good show. Finally Tyson makes up his mind and sprints over to where Ophelia is and carries her off and out of the ring just as the cage surrounding the ring came to rest on the ring in completeness. "Sorry about that, Phi. Technically it's still my job to try guys before they go public. If nothing else, I just want to protect you." He winks and turns back to face Brian, a seriously anticipatory smirk on his face. "So, are you ready?" His eyes focusing on the guy, not wanting to miss a thing.

Loosening his shoulders, the young man rolls his neck a bit. "Feels like I've been waiting for weeks." Brian notes as he flexes his hands. With that he brings up his two fists into the on guard position. "No crotch shots and no eye shots, is that it, really?" He asks with an arched brow.

"Give it your all? Do what you need to win?" Tyson shrugs, "I say that and I think it helps. Not that anybody ever completely does it, but try not to kill them, well, me-…." He pauses save a smirk forming on his face, "in any case… Just pound my fist and we'll be like Nike and just do it." Tyson holds his left fist back defensively while he extends his right fist out towards Brian.

Having not been in many professional fights, Tyson does as instructed. Walking forward, cautiously, he bends his knees a bit as he offers his fist to pound. With that be backs up and holds his fists up again protectively. He'll let Tyson make the first move.

Tyson bounds back as well, noting Brian's defensiveness. "Not going to start it?" He notes with a smirk, "A tactic, yes, but you've got to get out of that mindset." That said, he takes a couple steps towards Brian before bounding towards his opponent rearing his right fist back to blast him in the chest should the guy not be able to dodge. The hit wasn't fatal, but it would definitely rock the poor guy.

Eyes narrowing, the man bounces from one foot to the other. "Do you lecture every one as you fight?" Brian asks, looking slightly irritated. He tilts his head a bit at the younger man as the fist flies at his chest. Rolling his shoulder back the man is able to step to the side quickly, throwing his other arm into a fist at Tyson's chin as he moves to the side.

He hadn't expected Brian to handle himself so simply and by the time noticed the other fist on its trajectory, he is too late and it hits wit him trying to use his momentum to stablize himself. Falling backward, he rolls a couple times before getting back to his feet. "Only for the people that need it." Tyson shoots, thinking about testing the guy out one more time before really doing anything special. For now though, he simply lunges for Brian's abdomen between his naval and solar plexus doing his best to get him with his right shoulder.

"You're real cocky for a kid." Brian marks as he raises his hands. But he moves the wrong way, and straight into the punch. He doubles over the fist with a grunt. Letting out a wheeze the man slowly straightens as he glances at the man. An explosion of rage brings the yell with his arm swinging his forward powerfully at Tyson's stomach in return.

Trying to block Brian's attack definitely didn't work as his strength forces Tyson back a ways coming to a skidding halt with his arms clutched over his stomach; not before throwing a flailing fist at Brian's chin. "Swagger doesn't know age." That said, he starts to focus his eye sight again. He didn't need perfect accuity to attack the guy, but his retalliation was fierce. "Just don't go soft on me. If you want to make any money…? Take it out of my pocket." He pats his back right pocket keeping his eye on Brian.

Stepping back, his eyes go a little wide though making a grab to stop Tyson's attack fails. Tyson's fist connects quite neatly. His chin swings the other way and his head whips back as the rest of his body follows. His back slaps hard against the ground of the ring, his hands flopping against the ground. Moving slowly, the man touches the blood at his lip. Then the man steadily starts to go to his feet. Pushing himself up off his knees, he brings up his fists on the on guard position once again.

"Well, it looks like some collateral damage is going down." Tyson says grinning a bloodied smile, bouncing around a bit more. Left around Brian on the ground before shifting back around to the right to drop an elbow on the guy's stomach.

As the elbow comes down, Brian is able to slide to the right and out of the range of the attack. Bouncing on his feet Brian finds himself in an excellent position to attack. Bringing back his arm the man puts all he has into swinging his well musceled arm at the side of the man's head. His fist cuts through the air at alarming speeds at Tyson's head.

Focusing on the attack coming straight down on his head, Tyson had little time and as he refined his vision he moved adequately trying to roll backwards over his left shoulder. This was largely saving, but when it came to getting away completely free, he was wrong because although he had gotten his arm out of the way of the attack, Brian's attack nicked his right ear. It was ringing. "Good. You might be worth something in the ring afterall…" He scoffs, taking a moment to catch his breath.

Time to end it. "You shouldn't talk so much." Brian suggests, his face twisting into a rather ugly feature as he brings up his fist and throws it in another powerful swing at Tyson's face. He puts all he has behind this one, aiming to knock back the man to his back, hoping to get his money's worth out of this one.

Tyson smirks, still clearly seeing things including the fist coming towards his face and hearing Brian's taunt. Instead of doing anything flashy, he instead decides to just wrap his left arm around Brian's oncoming fist and getting keeping him locked in position with his forearm at his opponent's bicep. He holds Brian like this and grabs him by the collar tightly. Not to cause any pain, but to express dominance. "Talk is cheap, I admit, but it doesn't matter if you can back it up. Do you have anything else for me to consider for your audition?" Tyson leers intimidatingly.

A little yelp is given as his arm is caught up in Tyson's grasp. Glaring, he looks back to Tyson over his shoulder, tugging a little bit to try and get his arm free. Though he gives up for a moment. He pauses as Tyson says his piece. Narrowing his brows, the man brings his offhand across his body in a powerful blow aimed at Tyson's chin. "That." He growls as he unleashes his attack.

He probably could have dodged the attack, but he instead just took it. Tyson could see Brian's determination and wasn't about to disappoint in receiving his attack. The attack hits across his face, a solid hit. Considering all the damage he gotten from the fight, he was in some pain, but he had been worse. Tyson releases Brian and falls off to the side, not rubbing the hit and letting it run its course. "That was a good one."

A little satisfaction waxes in him as he flexes his fist through the pain of his knuckles. "Am I good enough for you?" Brian asks casually as he turns to fully face the younger man.

Tyson thinks about that for a moment, all ready knowing his answer. "Yes, definitely. But never say it like that again." He breaths, slowly reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a sum of money he figured to be approximately three-hundred fifty dollar. Tossing it over at Brian he chuckles softly, "I take it you'll be accepting that entry into the tournament?" He still preferred not to move but to lay where he was.

Gathering up the money the man tucks it into his back pocket, wiping the blood from his mouth he goes to help the man up, offering him a hand. "Sure. Money for being knocked around a little. Fine with me." He says, grinning.

Tyson looks up at the hand a moment before taking hold of it and getting to his feet. "Glad to hear it. Now we just need to get out of this cage." Saying that, he makes his way over to the side of the ring with the cage control. Pushing the 'up' button, the prison setting began to shift to a more freeing one. "You'll get your license sometime soon, other than that. I'm sure we'll be in touch with you."

Giving a nod to Tyson, the older young man gives him a pat on the back before making his way out of the ring once the cage rolls up. "Sounds good, seeya. Good fight." He adds in before climbing out of the ring and carrying on his way.

//Continued in More than Fists

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