Realistic or Modern Great Ganbatte!!!

[Shotgunpenguin]

The morning came both too fast and agonizingly slow for Connor as he fought to keep down the breakfast on his plate. He ate in his room, not wanting to leave it’s comfort and safety for any longer than he had to, even though he knew that eventually he’d have to leave. Daoud’s challenge was later in the afternoon, which meant the young man still had a few hours to stew over the coming situation. Washing down some eggs with a glass of Orange juice, he stifled a yawn as his thoughts drifted back to last night. After the group had come to an agreement, he found himself tossing and turning through the night, eventually slipping out to the hotel lobby to do something he should have done a while ago.

-

“Come on, pick up, pick up.” He repeated, each ring of the phone only feeding into the growing pit of despair that had taken place in his chest. Finally, after the eighth or so ring, a voice came through the receiver.

“Hello, you’ve reached Richard O’Davis. I can’t get to the phone right now, so leave a message af-“ The message was cut off as Connor shoved the phone down, prematurely ending the call. It was the same voicemail that he had gotten the past four times, although this was the first time he hadn’t left a message.

At this point he didn’t care if his calls were being recorded, he needed to call his parents, to tell them something, anything. It was all he could do to keep himself from breaking down in a nervous wreck as he rested his head against the metal casing of the payphone. After a few second of silence, he swiped his card once again and dialed another number, the phone ringing once again before being met with another voicemail.

“Hi, this is Mary O’Davis, sorry I missed your call, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.” A brief beep signaled the beginning of the recording, and Connor took a breath to compose himself before speaking.

“Hey, Mom. I-It’s Connor. I know, I already left you three messages but I…” He trailed off, pulling his head away from the phone so it wouldn’t pick up his hitched breathing.

“I just want to say that I love you. I know you’re mad at me, a-and I know I deserve it, but… I need you to know that I’m so, so sorry, and that I love you and dad.”

The phone slid back into place with an audible *click* leaving Connor to stand in silence in the empty hotel lobby, the only other person around was a middle-aged man behind the service counter who looked like he would rather be sleeping in his bed than standing around in the off chance someone needed something.

He considered trying his dad again, but decided against it before stepping away from the payphone. Sighing once again, he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and trudged his way over to the elevator, riding it up to his floor and carefully entering their shared room to turn in for the night.

-

He didn’t get any sleep after he returned to his room, whether his nerves were fried from fear or anticipation he honestly couldn’t tell. Or maybe he couldn’t get comfortable sleeping in the same room as people who’ve apparently killed someone before. Either way, he looked and felt like absolute crap as the time finally came for them to confront Daoud. Dressed in his boxing shoes, a pair of faded blue jeans and a burgundy shirt, his hands were tightly wrapped with boxing tape and clenched around the camcorder that Donavan had purchased last night. The deep bags under his eyes unintentionally gave off the impression that he was glaring at whoever he was looking at, causing a few tourists to quickly turn their heads as they walked by. Connor was honestly thankful for it however, as it helped cover up the massive amount of dread that was currently chewing him up from inside as their group stepped out of the hotel and into the large parking lot.

It was packed, between the crowd that was eagerly awaiting for their confrontation and those who were drawn in out of curiosity, the air felt heavy and stifling despite the open venue. His eyes settled on Daoud and his entourage, the man himself seeming a lot surer of himself than Connor would have thought. The events of last night were brought back in force, the threat against all of their lives stabbing a new wave of dread straight into his heart.

He was stood slightly behind the group as they came to a stop, hands tightly gripping the camcorder like his life depended on it. He was given a quick crash-course in how to operate it from Donavan the night before, and with a quick press of a button a solid red light blinked on, signaling it was recording. Stepping slightly to the side for a better angle, Connor waited for someone to make the first move.

Mentions: PiePillager BakaTheIdiot obscured_light DarKnight36​

 

[BakaTheIdiot]

Tomorrow was going to be a big day. Tomorrow was going to be violent, possibly disruptive. Tomorrow was going to be painful for everybody involved - mentally, for some, but mostly physically. It was unfortunate, then, that Donavan found himself with a bout of insomnia.

It wasn't a new development. He had been having sleep problems off and on for a few years now, but of all the times for it to kick into high gear, now was perhaps the worst. He needed sleep, and he needed it soon. Careful not to wake the others, he slipped away from Connor's room off to his own, getting to his bags. Sifting through his backpack, he dug out his bottle of lovely melatonin and-

Bone dry.

"Damn."

Looks like he wasn't getting any sleep tonight. Zipping his bag back up, he checked the time on his alarm clock by the bed. Just past 4 AM, and given the climate here was much more pleasant, he decided go for a run. Clear his head before the big day. Back when he was first getting into the underground rings, he never stopped training - getting faster, getting stronger, like the whole world depended on it. When he was already the best, he lost all incentive to run, and getting back into the groove reminded him just how long it had been.

A couple hours passed in relative silence. The streets were deserted, save for maybe one or two runners. The alleys were littered with other competitors, beating the shit out of each other in the wee hours of morning. Did these people really have nothing better to do? It was impressive, given the hour.

He wondered what his family back home were up to. Maybe they were watching. Donavan silently prayed that his niece wouldn't see what goes down today.

---

The gloves were fitted. His sneakers, which he had fixed up just before the competition, had been slipped on. His sweatpants let him move, his tank top let him duck. Grey, ratty, disposable, just like all of his fight night gear. It was easier to wash that way. If all went well, the fight would be over with barely a punch. If all went well, he might not have to step in at all. If all went well, Trent held up his end of the bargain, taking down Bek and leaving the frail Daoud for the wolves.

Assuming all went well. But things rarely went well in this business.

By the time he made it to the area, Trent and Connor were already up. Connor, poor kid, looked like he had barely slept at all. The camcorder was gripped firmly in his hands, and at least everyone looked ready. He didn't see Kipsang, but he was probably nearby. Same went for Rivera.

Standing just across from them was Daoud.

"Here we go." He murmured to himself, cracking his knuckles, and lining himself up with the others. Even as lean as he was, Daoud probably wasn't going down without a fight, and certainly not without showboating first.

No sense delaying it any further. All they needed now was Rivera to show up.

PiePillager obscured_light Shotgunpenguin DarKnight36

 

[obscured_light]

Her prayers that morning had taken a lot longer than usual with Rivera anxiously asking for the safety of her newfound allies. It was one of the practical things she asked for among other, more indulgent wishes like Daoud being struck with lightning. That thought however extended her time as she quickly had to ask forgiveness from a being she mostly believed in even though it would resolve the pressing issue they all faced today.

Rivera knew Donavan had been right, even if she hadn't said anything the day before. They were competitors in a country none of them were native to with a spotlight directly on them. If Trent's plan didn't work, they were all royally screwed.

She sighed and got up from the bedside she had been kneeling at. The guys had all gone early so she was alone to get ready. Even in the silence, Rivera's thoughts were buzzing as she kept looping back through the conversation they had yesterday. She knew Trent. There had been a reason Rivera had vouched for him even when Donavan had been skeptical. But she also knew Trent and there had been a reason he had been her last resort. Rivera stopped rummaging through her suitcase.

Perhaps she should have warned them.

It wasn't important now. Rivera grabbed a dark red tank top and solid black leggings. They could all have a conversation later once Daoud had been handled. She reached over to grab her phone and then immediately cursed. She was going to be late.

~*~

Out of breath, Rivera slowed down to a walk to join the guys. She was disappointed to see Daoud hadn't been struck by lightning but also noticed the varying moods of the group. It seemed a good night's rest hadn't eluded just her. With Connor already recording, she couldn't really say anything except give him a thumbs up and what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

"We got this," she said more to herself, ready to act. Even if it means killing him after all.

 

[PiePillager]

Kipsang walked out after Rivera, one hand behind his back and the other....well of course it was holding up an alcoholic beverage to his mouth, this time a bottle of spiced rum. Stumbling about, he waved at the gathered crowd as if they were old friends, adding to their confusion of exactly what this odd gathering of individuals had to do to get on the bad side of 'Bek'...who apparently was not the real Bek. Murmurs erupted from those fighters close to the situation, beginning to wonder what Bek's game was. There had never been any footage of his fights after all. Was he some kind of cheater? Given his physique, it wouldn't be hard to imagine. He wouldn't be the first to enter the Ganbatte, but those fighters who did break what few rules there were never prospered for long.


And speaking of 'Bek', Daoud's confident demeanor nearly broke when he saw Trent approach. He had not expected another fighter to be among the ranks of those he had gathered to face. Why hadn't he shown up beforehand? Was he a secret weapon of sorts? Bek began to sweat slightly and his eyes darted around as if looking for an escape route. This only caused further alarm when he spotted a passerby on the street, wearing a suit. Unsure that this person was tied to the Magna Mafia, he stood frozen in place, keeping the same pose laden with bravado even though his knees were starting to shake.

He had no choice this time. With a heavy sigh, he inhaled before beginning to call out, "BE-" but before that last consonant left his mouth, a rumbling was heard from a nearby sewer lid. The gathered crowd turned their attention towards the clamor as a low, guttural growl emerged from beneath the lid. The lid burst open and flew upward into the air, before landing atop a car parked nearby, smashing its roof in.

And from the sewers, the true Bek emerged. The massive reptile, continued to issue a threatening growl as if it had sensed another dangerous animal afoot as it glared at Trent. Daoud looked in surprise, given that so far Bek had only emerged when called upon. Unsure of what to make of this, Daoud remained frozen until the crocodile gently swished his tail around pushing Daoud behind him and out of the way towards the crowd.

Bek issued a bellowing roar of challenge at Trent, his maw opening wide causing some of the crowd to stand, taken aback in surprise at the display before them. This was the true Bek. Sobek of the Nile!

 

[DarKnight36]

The blast of air from Bek's roar rippled over Trent as the fighter grinned like a maniac. This was the crocodile? He was huge, bigger than a man. How had such an abomination come to be? How would he fight?

Trent couldn't contain his enthusiasm. He balanced up on his toes and launched himself forward, putting his entire weight behind a heavy punch aiming straight for Bek's impressive head. He had to find out!

 

[PiePillager]

The gator hopped backwards to avoid the punch and let loose another bellow. Then, with surprising speed for his size and weight, circled around Trent quickly and spun to swipe at the legs of his challenger with his mighty tail.

 

[DarKnight36]

Trent hopped over Bek's tail by bringing both legs up to his chest, before launching them backwards at Bek's body in a double kick. His hands made contact with the ground, cartwheeling him back to his feet.

 

[PiePillager]

Bek let loose a bellow as the kick knocked him back towards the crowd, some of whom recoiled in fear at the large reptile heading their way. The croc caught himself however, his two right feet planting down and securing his position. He began to get back into the fight quickly, a hissing sound coming from his maw as he began to circle around Trent. His powerful legs bent and LAUNCHED forward, sending Bek spiraling in the air towards his opponent, his maws were open and ready to snap at the fighter.

 

[DarKnight36]

Trent dodged the mouth but was struck by Bek's heavy tail, barely blocking the blow with both arms covering his chest. The attack sent him rolling backwards. He winced as he got to his feet again but his grin only got wider.

"Didn't know crocs could fly," Trent sneered. "Show me more, Bek, show me more. You're only making me stronger!"

Trent leaped forward, delivering a rush of blows towards Bek's sturdy frame.

 

[PiePillager]

Bek grunted as he took the rush of punches, each blow slowly lifting the large reptile up into the air, until the last one sent him rolling backward himself. The beast looked rattled, his head shaking as if to try and knock the pain away. A few murmers in the crowd figured Bek couldn't take much more. A crocodile was a formidable opponent indeed, but a human who could stand up to one so boisterously and pummel it across the pavement like it was an iguana? Many took to their phones to wonder just who Bek's opponent truly was.

And then....

Bek stood up...and took a stance.

"What the hell?" came one of the voices among the crowd. "There's no way!"

"This ain't real!"

But it was. Not only was Bek taking a stance, his upright position being balanced by careful placement of his tail, but it was one many watching recognized.

From his seat, Kipsang took a long swig of his rum and narrowed his eyes. "It is exactly as I thought. I have heard tell of a master of Pankration who could find no worthy students among the world of mankind....so he sought a successor amongst the world of beasts. It seems he had found his student in Daoud's pet.

PANKRATION, whose origins lie in Greece was said to have been invented by the hero Theseus of Greek Myth who used the art to defeat the mighty minotaur. Pankration is a fighting style that incorporates boxing AND wrestling, along with arm locks and joint manipulation! It is a formidable fighting style that could be considered the precursor to modern Mixed Martial Arts!

Bek approached Trent, with a determined look on his face. No, even stranger than that, he appeared to be....grinning?! "Rahahahaha..." came an ominous gutteral noise from the crocodile's gullet that sounded eerily like a laugh. He switched off now, between walking on all fours and standing upright in his approach....only to stance once more as he faced Trent....and suddenly lunged!

But not as a crocodile would, not, this time Bek used Pankration, seizing Trent's right arm with both of his own, and curling his body around to make up for his stubby limbs as he attempted to bend his opponent's ar backward! And as he did, he wrapped his tail around Trent's ankle in order to trip him up and take him down to the ground!

 

[DarKnight36]

Trent looked almost ecstatic as he narrowly avoided the takedown, a smile of his own on his face.

"Finally!" Trent laughed, despite the obvious pain he was in from Bek's grip on his arm. "You finally show your true colors! So, then, I can show mine, right?" Trent's eyes met Bek's. "You'll keep up, right?"

Trent dropped suddenly, his weight distribution changing drastically. As Bek was pulled forward, Trent twisted and somersaulted backwards, his arm coming free from Bek's grasp. As the two competitors faced each other again, it was clear that Trent had changed tactics.

Trent was hunched over, low to the ground. His eyes were wide, unblinking, and had dilated despite the morning light. His hands were open, his fingers bent and stiff, like claws. He stepped forward, his movements much more fluid than before.

"I debated what to use to defeat you Bek," Trent said slowly. "Reptiles like you have immensely strong natural armor. Normal human blows wouldn't be strong enough to do any lasting damage. Still, you have weaknesses. And there's one predator that recognizes those weaknesses." Trent smiled. "The jaguar."

 

[PiePillager]

Kipsang took another long swig of his rum and narrowed his eyes, though he sat and silence. Bek stood and his slitted eyes widened in surprise. There was a certain irony in it all. The human replicating the fighting style of beasts against the beast replicating the fighting style of man. Bek leaned forward to land on all fours and charges towards Trent.

As he gets closer, Bek stands back on his hind legs and reaches down to grab Trent to haul him over his scaly shoulders.

 

[DarKnight36]

Trent's hands blurred as he dodged almost supernaturally fast, slicing into Bek as the croc drew within range. His fingers drew blood, shallow as the cuts may be thanks to Bek's natural armor along his chest.

"Cats have some of the fastest reaction times," Trent boasted, flexing his fingers. "So now I do too."

 

[PiePillager]

Bek growled. A human?! Slicing him?!?! This was unheard of. It was only a scratch but none could pierce his flesh, even most weapons barely grazed him. He snarled as he faced Trent once again. Bek was almost out of his element. In his own region, he hadn't had many encounters with jaguars, but he had faced a cheetah and they were much quicker on their feet!

Bek sunk low to the ground on all fours again, before suddenly leaping at Trent with surprising speed, but it was feint. Before the lunge could be completed, the gator planted his hind legs into the ground and swung his tail around to sweep Trent's legs from under him!

 

[DarKnight36]

Trent leaped into the air, dodging the attack. Either by having seen through the move or by virtue of his insane reaction speed, Trent's trajectory took him over the top of Bek. But as soon as he landed, he leaped again, not giving Bek any time to recover.

His hands struck again, low this time, wounding Bek's left leg. Trent once again moved to a distance, eyes never blinking as he prowled softly around Bek. His smile slowly faded.

"I think it's time to end this Bek," Trent said softly, baring his teeth. "If my next attack lands, I'm certain it will mean your defeat."

 

[PiePillager]

Bek was forced onto all hour legs again. Crouching low as he could, he took a leap at Trent. This time his maw was open as he spiralled into the air. Either his jaws would snap into Trent or the beast would tackle him onto the ground. The only issue was his trajectory was slightly off thanks to the strike against his legs from earlier. Feeling the pain surge up from the wound, Bek would change course in mid-air and use his own momentum to flip over before landing and swing his mighty tail onto Trent's shoulder!

 

[DarKnight36]

Trent, caught by surprise by the sudden change, was not able to dodge fully, even with his cat-like reaction speed. The blow struck his left shoulder askew, causing the man to wince. But it was not enough to halt his counterattack.

As Bek landed, there was a brief moment where Trent entered his blind spot. And in that moment, Trent struck.

Jaguars hunt caiman in the rainforests of the Amazon. They do so by attacking a particular spot on the caiman's body, a weak point inherent in the ancient predator's system. They sink their fangs deep into the base of the skull from above, where the crocodile's neck is weakest. This paralyzes the reptile, and the jaguar can easily snap the spine from this position. It was for this reason that Trent had chosen the jaguar for this fight.

Trent had no fangs of his own. His bite would never have the power of a jaguar's. Nor had he a desire to kill Bek, even if he did have these tools. So instead, he used his good hand - his fingers piercing into Bek's neck from behind, gripping the monstrous crocodile into a fit of paralysis followed swiftly by unconsciousness. And just like that, it was over. Trent had won the fight.

Trent stepped away from his opponent after ensuring the beast was recovering. He shook his head in admiration, noting that even with the attack, Bek had only been knocked out for a brief amount of time. Such an attack on a human opponent would have taken them hours to wake from.

"You truly do deserve a place here in this tournament," Trent grinned. "I acknowledge your skill, from one master to another. Perhaps the next time such a tournament is held, you will have no need to hide behind a surrogate."

 

[PiePillager]

Daoud fell to his knees, his shock numbing the pain from the bone hitting the pavement of the parking lot's gravelly floor. "Bek...lost...wait, wait no he's not out now there's no official uh...um...." he looked around nervously, shirking back from looking into the eyes of the gathered fighters who had shown up to watch the bout with a mix of irritation and pity in their eyes. Daoud's eyes only showed fear, however, as he struggled to get to his feet and he began to dart his eyes around wildly. He was watching every facet of his plan fall apart and it was clearly getting to him.

Bek rolled around on the ground and onto his back, breathing what appeared to be a heavy sigh. With an effort, he rolled onto his stomach and made a low rumbling noise. Perhaps he was in pain, but it was clear that he wasn't going to attack Trent any further. Instead, he made his way back towards the sewer he had originally emerged from.

"Hmm..." Kipsang, frowned, squinting an eye at his now empty bottle and sighing at the fact that he had yet again run out of drink. "I hope you kids were all taking note. There's no time to climb to the next level, you've already been tossed into it...." he muttered to himself, shaking his head.

 

[Sir loin of beef]

Of course Johnny was still in the bar drinking some of the local booze while the others fought a Crocodile. he likely wasn't even aware.