F's in the chat

[The Honeless Beard]

It started with a bang.

[ItzToxie]

Fisk stepped up the stairs to the top of the ferry. This would be the perfect vantage point for him to catch his bearing and figure out the next course of action. He adjusted his homemade scarecrow mask. In hindsight, he should've made bigger eyeholes, but alas he could see everything in front of him, and considering the majority of the arena was boats and corridors, he figured peripheral vision wouldn't be as much of an issue as normal.

He reached the top and passed the homemade bridge leading to the house boat. He didn't see anything there so he didn't pay much attention to it. He began scanning the other boats for other contestants. Targets. Other, targets... He rested his machine gun on his shoulder as he peered for the others, either his allies or his opponents. He may as well hit the ball rolling and find his quarry.

There was a squeak behind him. Fisk turned his head and realized he couldn't see past the eyeholes nearly as well as he had wanted to, so he turned more and-

Those squeaks turned into scrambled footsteps as a figure sprinted at him. Fisk took his machinegun from his shoulder and opened fire.

*BRRRRRRRRRRRRT*

[The Honeless Beard]

The pike twirled well in his hand, rotated easily with his wrist as the action. Nice and simple movements. He'd practiced swinging - uppercuts were easier to block than overhands - but was concerned about the durability of it. One good shot was all he needed anyway, Ivan figured. One good shot could disable anyone in combat.

One shot.

Ivan's first few steps down the gangplank were low, slow. For the second time since waking up, he cursed his footwear choice that day. The sneakers he was wearing were for comfort, but at home, freshly broken in, were his shitkickers that he usually wore when he thought there was a chance of a cast.

Whatever. Improvise.

The other figure turned slightly, and it gave Ivan pause, pick extended out in front of him. There was no face or skin tone - nothing but white fabric covered the figure's head. Ivan took another step forwards, his hi-top squeaking against the rusted iron.

The figure was turning, and Ivan had to move

Thunder erupted around him, rattling the gangplank in front of him and the rickety railings on either side. He knew nothing but to push forwards, pick thrust forwards in front of him as his body twisted to his left. Right arm extended, he hooked the machine gun and threw it into the air with a few more bullets rocketing skywards.

His momentum carried him past the bag-headed freak, and he righted himself with one hand, whirling to strike out at the shitty gimmick'd fuckboy, needed one good shot to disable him, gotta test himself early-

His arm rattled as the pick struck railing, joined by the sound of wood cracking as the head of the pick spiralled towards the ocean waves.

Ivan looked up, and was met with fist.

[ItzToxie]

That didn't go well! The machinegun clanked to the lower deck of the ferry out of his grasp as Ivan swung his pick again. Fisk sidestepped, and the pick broke in two on the railing.

That didn't go well for either of them!

Fisk smiled under his mask as he caught Ivan off guard with the fist to the nose, before sidestepping and sending two more to the ribs, before following up with a kick to the stomach from the side, before stepping back.

Things were more even now, but Fisk wasn't wanting things to be even, he wanted as little trouble as possible to the end. Bastard should've made it easy for himself and died from the bullets, now he was just making it worse for himself. Metal spats clanked along the ground as Fisk continued his flanking assault. Fisk's head swayed side to side as his arms blocked his face before he could find his next target.

Yes, this will do...

He planted his right foot forward and held firm. He spun and raised his left leg sending a roundhouse kick spiraling towards Ivan's head. A metal heel to the temple should do the trick.

[The Honeless Beard]

The rapid-fire punches pushed Ivan back, raising his hands in a loose boxer's stance, bouncing lightly on his hi-topped toes. He stutter-stepped forwards once, watching the shitbird's reactions, and was rewarded with the fucknugget planting and swinging his leg out.

Ivan stepped into it, catching the leg with his armpit, and sweeping the Stay Puff'd Marshmallow's free standing leg with one of his own, pushing forwards, trying to knock him prone.

[ItzToxie]

Fisk hit the deck hard, not prepared to perform a break-fall as he hit the ground, wind leaving his lungs. Not good, not good! Fisk felt his leg get raised as Ivan pulled himself closer, trying to get closer, to get onto him. He scrambled his leg out of Ivan's grip and scrambled his arms to crawl away as Ivan reached to hold him down.

Fisk brought his knees up to his chest and pointed his feet upwards, his heels outward. He shot both legs forward, sending his feet into Ivan's chest sending him flying back. Fisk raised his chest up and took a glance at Ivan splayed out. Fisk leaned back again, and bucked his hips, before planting his feet to the ground and standing himself up ramrod straight.


"Could've made this easy for yourself."

[The Honeless Beard]

Ivan, for his part, squinted his eyes at the fuckdickshit as he leapt back to his feet. Ivan lifted his shoulderr slightly in response, then rolled himself backwards until he, too, was standing. There was an errant patch of blood on his lip. Ivan wiped it with a thumb, regarded it for a moment, wiped it away.

"Who the fuck is under there," Ivan snarled in response, checking the area. The railing was still at shitfuckboy's back, the gangplank to their right. Ivan couldn't get past if this fucked up, he'd have to go back down the main staircase.

Whatever. He could win this. This ain't shit.

[ItzToxie]

Fisk just adjusted his tie as Ivan stood up. He hated to admit it but this was very invigorating. Actually, no, he didn't hate to admit it, this felt great. Fisk raised his arms in front of his face again, preparing for whatever came next.

Fisk didn't reply to anything Ivan said, because truth be told none of his questions mattered. What point was there to answering a dead man? Fisk just took his thumb and brushed his nose through his mask as a taunt.

[The Honeless Beard]

"Fuck it."

Ivan took two loping strides, springing himself low to sweep his leg at the other diphshit's knees. Surprisingly, the other guy cleared it with a standing leap, allowing Ivan to spring to his feet and attempt a punch to the boy's gut.

He met the hard smack of a palm catching Ivan's fist, and glanced up just in time to see the bag-head swinging high and right towards his temple. Ivan jerked his head so his ear was flush with shoulder, the punch sailing wide as he freed up his aborted uppercut arm to try and ram his elbow into bag-head's temple.

The bag-head rolled his shoulder away, making it just out of reach. Ivan straightened his arm, rotated it, and attempted to bring the bag-head's face down into his fucking knee.

[ItzToxie]

Fisk taunted with his nose and he was now bleeding out of it. Fisk stumbled back after getting a knee to the face, eyes welled with tears out of reaction and the iron scent filling his nostrils as he felt the sensation of his nose running. He shook his head and locked eyes with Ivan as the bastard closed the distance swinging a punch towards the opening he thought he had after such a dirty trick.

Outward haymaker and Fisk raised his elbow to block the hit by Ivan's wrist. Another swing by Ivan and Fisk parried it away, followed by another and another. One towards the face caught by Fisk's palm and redirected towards the side. Next hit towards the solar plexus, Fisk crossed his arms and brought them down, knocking Ivan's punch low to a miss. Fisk pushed Ivan back, and Ivan retaliated by trying to send both of his fist's to Fisk's chest. Fisk caught his arms and crossed them, and pulled back, extending them further and bringing Ivan closer- too close for him to back out. Fisk let go, and brought his hands up; boxing them over Ivan's ears.

As Ivan stumbled back, hands over his ears in so-rightfully-deserved pain, Fisk brought his own flurry to Ivan to pay him back for this cowardly attempt on his life. Fisk lunged forward, and grabbed Ivan by the shoulders from his side, raising his knee up into Ivan's gut, again, again, and again. He stepped back, and attempted an axe kick into the back of the slumped moron's head, but Ivan stepped to the side and stood up, catching Fisk's leg with his shoulder as he stood, and raising his arms and bringing them down into his knee, hyper extending it. Fisk gasped in pain almost afraid that his knee was dislocated, but that little voice in the back of his reminded him of his shoulder, and as quickly as it appeared the fear waned. Not quite the pain though as he pulled his leg back, hobbling.

Ivan booked it forward, swinging one fist to Fisk's jaw, sending him back a step. Through the pain, Fisk saw the second one coming, and parried, pulling the arm in front of him as he slid behind Ivan, holding his arm in his right hand. He swum his left arm under Ivan's, and reached down for his own feet, throwing Ivan off balance as Fisk held his arm to his belt. He then wrapped his palm under Ivan's chin, and stood straight up, bending Ivan's neck back as he reap threw him across his hip, kicking his rear leg up behind Ivan's leading leg; sending Ivan spinning in the air before smashing into the deck, hard.

Fisk trotted back, and planted his feet. He raised his left leg above his head, and slammed it down hard, sending an axe kick hurling down towards Ivan's face.

There was a loud smash as wood splintered below him.

[The Honeless Beard]

A well-timed roll brought him out of the way as wood splintered around his face. For a moment the wood hovered in the air as time paused, him looking at the hooded, suited figure, white pillowcase and tie fluttering in the biting wind. Ivan let his nostrils ease air out of them, slowly deflate his lungs as he continued to roll forwards, facing away from the bag-head and out towards the rest of the flotilla.

Steadily, Ivan rose to his feet, continuing his exhale as he half-turned back towards bag-head, imagining a sneer flitting across evil-looking features. He'd started it, so he'd better fucking finish it.

Bag-head was the aggressor this time, but his straight was knocked away with an elbow, which turned into a glancing punch on Ivan's left shoulder. Ivan countered with a straight right to the collarbone, which bag-head allowed to spin him, sending bag-head's elbow crashing towards Ivan's ribs. Ivan winced with the impact, stepping with the blow to open-handed smack away bag-heads follow up jab, swinging with a sneakered foot into bag-head's instep.

Bag-head stumbled but recovered, knocking away two punches that Ivan aimed for his head before grabbing Ivan's arm and swinging him towards the railing. Ivan slammed into the wood, but leaned across it to dodge a wide blow, grabbing it to pull himself airborn as bag-head's steel covered boots rattled into the wood where his legs were moments earlier. Ivan let himself fall on bag-head's right foot, pinning it in place as the two exchanged punches neither tried to block - shoulder, chest, collabone, stomach - before an attempt to throw bag-head on his shoulder resulted in bag-head clapping his ears again, sending Ivan reeling back, shaking the cobwebs loose.

Ivan's chest heaved, face set in a determined line, as he tried to circle bag-head, looking for an opportunity.

[ItzToxie]

Fisk turned his head to face Ivan as the deadbeat circled him. Fisk cocked his neck as it let out a satisfying pop. He stepped forward, and planted his leg, turning and sending a roundhouse kick spiraling towards Ivan as he stepped back to dodge it, trying to find his opening. There wasn't one. The moment the kick missed, Fisk planted that leg down, and followed through with another spin, another round house kick. Then another, then another. Ivan could only step back or parry as Fisk had him on the ropes now, as was intended. Ivan was being backed into a corner.

Ivan stepped two paces back, and that gave Fisk the opening he needed. Following through with the last round house kick, Fisk stepped back himself, then bolted forward with a running start. He jumped, and planted a foot into Ivan's chest, winding him, before following through with a spin and a kick to the jaw midair; sending Ivan stumbling into the corner railing.

Fisk kept his footwork moving to maintain momentum as he hit the ground, arms and legs moving back and forth until he marked his target. He lurched forward, starting with a roundhouse again, before converting into an axe kick mid-spin. He felt impact, but not the one he wanted.

His heel was planted into the railing and not Ivan's skull. Ivan had ducked, leaving Fisk's legs spread eagle above him, one foot on the deck, one on the railing.

Fisk's eyes widened as he realized what he'd just exposed himself to.

[The Honeless Beard]

Faaaalconnnn-

PAWNCH

[ItzToxie]

Fisk stumbled back and hunched over, his hands pressed over his family jewels.

A nearby camera zoomed in on his eyes, getting a perfect closeup reaction for all the viewers at home.

[The Honeless Beard]

Ivan shook out his hand, flexing it as the impression of the dickhead's dick head spread across his fingers and faded in the salty wind. No time to celebrate, though.

He walked up on the hunched over figure, aiming a sneakered foot in a glancing hip-shot that spun bag-head around but straightened him out. Baghead responded with a wild, flailing closed fist that Ivan knocked away and countered with one of his own, sending baghead stepping backwards again. As Ivan pushed on, baghead recovered, shook his head visibly, swung back. Two blows got through Ivan's defenses - one shoulder and one throat shot that brought tears racing to his left eye - but Ivan had the upper hand, now, lunging forwards to get two hits, three hits, on baghead's retreating form.

Baghead again placed himself between Ivan and the gangplank to the houseboat, but Ivan didn't care, now. He had the aggression. Baghead couldn't touch him. He was the baddest motherfucker on this entire fucked up-

Baghead punched him in the jaw, sending him staggering to one side. Ivan caught himself on the railing and then ducked under a second strike, slamming both fists into baghead's stomach. Baghead responded with locking Ivan's head downwards and swinging wildly with his knees, catching Ivan in the nose and chest. Ivan shoved at baghead, pushed him upright, jumped backwards as another fist nearly landed but was knocked away at the last second.

Okay, so he had some fight left.