[Round 2] Joe' Mante vs. Jamal

The arena itself, which actually sits below ground level, spans two hundred feet in diameter with walls twenty feet high before the stands begin. The floor of the arena is sprinkled with just enough sand to cover up the stones beneath, but not enough to be significantly detrimental to footing or traction. Gates at the northern and southern end lead into the arena, through which contenders will enter upon being summoned from their quarters in order to compete in the designated match. The platform is risen only four feet off the ground. The stone is tough and is made to withstand superhuman matches. Though there will be cracks and such to show damage, it is a resilient platform that cannot be destroyed with ease. The ring itself covers a span of seventy-five feet in diameter within the two-hundred span of the whole fighting arena within the seating area (this includes out of bounds).

Out of Bounds: The ground between the platform and the wall of the stands is out of bounds, which naturally starts the ten count. Touching the stands is also out of bounds. If the platform somehow ends up getting chunked somewhere to reveal ground, that exposed ground still becomes time out.

As Joe watched the South entrance, he might be shocked at the sight of his opponent. Skin tone, same. Height, same. Weight, same....well, 1 pound off that that wouldn't be noticeable. Jamal's head looked to the right and to the left, his smalls dreads on top of his head bouncing a bit as he did so. His right hand raised into the air, waving to all participants as he continued his steady pace for the arena. Another shocker for the opponent, Jamal had no weapons on his person. However, this was note cockiness, this was faith in his ability, and already known to himself, this was a test to prove one thing. He was to prove to himself that his training was not all a waste, and that he could defeat an opponent no matter the odds. Other than that, Jamal was here for pure enjoyment, he always enjoyed challenges, and unlike his previous round where the opponent hadn't shown up, Jamal was sure to have his real first round one today, right now.

He was again dressed in his black gi bottoms, the pant legs around the ankle tattered. Hugging his torso was a white gi top with the sleeves torn off and accompanied by a black belt. Down the length of his muscular arms, a pair of red fingerless MMA style gloves adorned his hands. What? He was barefoot? Indeed he was. With a smile on his face, he entered the arena and paced all the way to the point of where he would be facing Joe, exactly 10 feet away from him. As the pair stood in the epicenter of the creaming fans, both of these first time competitors would almost be starring into a mirror.

**"Yo! The names Jamal...Don't think just cause you look kinda like me means Ill take it easy on you bro."

H**e snickered just a bit before giving a formal bow. After said bow his arms bent at the elbow, forming a guard akin to that of a boxer's guard. His feet evely spaced apart, about should length apart. His knees slightly bent as his feet raised to rest on the balls of said feet, his body now acquiring a slight bounce. His brown eyes narrowed as he watched his opponent, unsure of what to expect as well as who would make the first move. If he had to, Jamal would not hesitate to do so, he was in it to win it. Period.

Jamal acquired a nice battle paced charge, not too fast and not too slow. Reading his opponent the best he could, he felt the motions of the staff would at least indicate a direction of attack, but no exact target. After a few swift leap-steps forward, he would push off of his left foot, projecting his body into the air. Lucky for him, his foot was the intended target, otherwise he may have gotten his in the foot during his rise. The only accurate reading of body language he got from his opponent thus far was that the attack was going for his left side of the body.

As he rose into the air, Jamal's body would pivot, turning his body to his own left as his left leg retracted ever so slightly before it extended again, raising up to aim above his own head temporarily. As he completed a 360 degree turn, as he got closer to Joe, he manipulated his ki, in order to harden the limb designated for the attack at hand, though his left leg [including the foot] would only remain hardened during the execution of the ongoing attack.

Finally, the attack was nearing its end, though this didn't take long at all to do, It was a step by step process. Bringing his left heel slamming down for Joe's dome, Jamal releasing a yell, mostly to help control his breathing as most martial artist did. If his heel connected with Joe's head, it wouldn't be enough to drop him to the ground [or so he hoped]. It would cause his head to hang down as his body hunched in a hopeful lag. If all went according to plan, Jamal already had an attack plan in mind as a follow up.

Quote: Wrote:

> Ryubi Kyaku: Jamal leaps forward into the air in a sideways position, spinning as he does. He then brings his foot crashing down on his opponent.

As the attack missed its mark, the audible thud into the arena floor was accented with a light crack in the tile that the heel slammed into. May have sounded painful, but by channeling his ki, he was sure to hurt the arena more than himself, he actually didn't hurt himself believe it or not. As he drew his foot back into its original position, Jamal would pivot to his own left, only to be met with the blunt rounded edge of the staff Joe used as a bodily extension, and quite well if he might note for the rest of the fight.

**"oomph!"**

He muffled as the impact happened. He saw it coming at the last minute, but had a very narrow moment of time to react. So instead of failing to block or evade properly. He also lacked the time to abuse his ki manipulation more to dull the blow. Nothing was broken, but it hurt like hell, maybe a hairline fracture or two? Just after the attack connected, Jamal's left hand shot straight down and attempted a firm grasp on the staff. Should he succeed he would continue by repeating the action with his right hand, simultaneously pivoting to his low left, his two hands opposing Joe's own as he would yank the weapon away from Joe. As if that wasn't enough, his right leg would be used to execute a nice and firm snap kick aimed for Joe's closer knee, however, this kick wouldn't host ki energy like the previous attack.

All in all, he was aiming to disarm him of his staff as well as begin working on his lower body, seeing as to how he was fast, perhaps even faster than Jamal. His spin move to dodge the kick was quick witted and assisted with quick reflexes, Jamal needed to assist Joe in 'slowing his roll' in order to make his victory that much more possible. Should his plan go to shit as it begun, he would simply leap back, away from Joe and resume his previous stance of a boxer's guard, accompanied by bouncing on the balls of his feet. 'This is going to be much more fun than anticipated...I hope I can keep up.'

This fight was beginning to pick up, fast. Jamal hadn't expected it to go this way, but he did all at the same time. When his kick became misplaced, he would be somewhat shocked to see a kick coming just before receiving it. The blow smashed into his right side, which did indeed send him flying, however, as the hit connected he exhaled, relieving him of the winding factor. It there was one thing he was already sure he was pro at other than fighting, it was taking a beating. His five foot decent with added to by another six foot tumble, a rough tumble in which he denied releasing the staff that he had just acquired. As the crowd roared on, his right hand idled that staff, and his left hand reached across his torso and held onto the spot his opponent had just kicked. The fabric was torn? No shit....so it wasn't just a breeze.

Slowly he rose to his feet, his eyes looking back at Joe as soon as they were able to. Once there he simply replanted a smile on his face, his right hand shooting out to his right, only to eject the staff away from the arena, toward the north entrance Joe had come from. Surely his opponent had just majorly one-upped him, and he would be glad to return the favor. Shit was going to get much more serious, and as much as he liked the guy already, and despite the match being still basically at the beginning, he was getting just a bit mad, the burning intent to win awakening within himself.

**"..."

H**is muscled tensed as his heart beat rapidly. He felt as if an AK-47 was unloading an infinite clip within his chest. His blood pumping adrenaline throughout his body. His fist clenched tight as he grunted in heavy breaths. Obviously, he had become a tad bit winded despite his effort to avoid such a feat. Despite this he wouldn't wait to see what was to happen, he would partake in a charge, closing the gap between him and his opponent once again. It was no blind charge, however, he was definitely going on the offensive once more...That is, unless he had to defend/counter attack before he got the chance.

Unexpected, the attack was, however the use of elemental energies at play was not a surprise. It was easy for Jamal to know that 2 + 2 = 4. Being previously attacked with a vicious kick that had a drafty display, Jamal felt pretty sure what was about to come, and as Joe would yell, it signified the on coming of the attack. At the last moment he possibly could, Jamal would slow down just a tad, his upper body hunkering down as he ducked under the wave of air. His tiny dreads atop of his head whipped violently from the proximity of the attack soaring over head so close.

At this point the two fighters were about five foot apart, and Jamal knew he could clear that leap to drive right back in close up and personal with Joe. Thus far, the crowd favored Joe in Jamal's mind, but the 18 year old youth would be sure to attempt turning the tides on his opponent. Just after his duck, he wouldn't stall, he pushed his momentum onward as he took off into a leap once more.

Quote: Wrote:

> Dankuukyaku (lit. Severing Air Leg): Leaping into the air, while moving toward the opponent, Jamal leads with his right leg thrusting a knee at the opponent. Should they recieve the first blow and go air born, he follows up into a combo of a left legged kick, and then a right legged kick before he lands on the ground.

"Haa, Haa, Hyaaah!"

When Jamal hit his initial range of attack, his right leg was bent at the knee, projecting it forward at Joe to knock him right in his chest, another releasing yell as he did so. If the first hit connected, he would pivot to the left and send a swift kick for Joe's mid-section also with a yell, and then, another pivot back to the right to send a third and final right legged kick, this time with a more exaggerated yell, accenting the harder kick if the first two slightly lesser ones landed. Should his opponent block or evade, he felt confident he had a plan to not repeat his previous tossing away. Should he succeed, he would begin to display his own abilities, during the moment his opponent was left open from the small combo Jamal had just unleashed.

Fireside watched the combatants from the stands, leaning forward slightly as he studied their movements. His previous fight had ended in his favor without too much trouble, the opponent succumbing to his injuries in short order, and so, he had time to rest and research his prospective matchups. Fireside wondered if the winner of this bout would prove to be more or less difficult to overcome.

So far the match was proceeding nicely. After an initial bit of that usual fluff and grandstanding that traditionally occurred between two martial artists, the two had gone at each other with zest. Fireside noted with interest that the one with the staff and fan seemed to possess some measure of control over elemental air. Stroking his chin between thumb and forefinger, he smiled broadly to himself as the ki master was repeatedly repulsed, and finally thrown bodily into the stone of the ring. The impact resounded with a satisfying crack, and around him, the crowd roared it's approval.

It was looking like Joe'mante was going to quickly gain the upper hand, and Fireside quietly continued to watch, determined to learn the moves of his future opponent... and enjoy the spectacle of someone having the piss beat out of them.

This is the point when someone knows how tough they really are. Joe was in the position where he could capitalize on his opponent's high flying movement. But it wouldn't go so easily as Joe had liked.

But here's the thing, in order to dish out a hook, naturally, the body would twist into the motion to provide such power to rock a person. Jamal was up in Joe's grasp where Joe'mante could feel it in the motion of his opponent's body.

Sure, Joe was rocked, and it did hurt like hell. But he gritted his teeth and continued with his counter-move.

At the same time, Jamal had twisted himself into the direction of Joe's slamming maneuver. To give a left hook, he would be inadvertently turning in the direction of Joe's right hand pulling. All Joe had to do was continue the course of his plan.

What's a hook compared to a devastating slam into the ring floor? What's a hook without the full range of motion provided by grounded feet and the spin of hips? Joe could take a hook, what fighter couldn't? Could Jamal handle getting his back thrashed into the cruel arena floor?

Joe was going to finish this move even if his head was rattled. Joe was agile but he was physically, mentally, and emotionally tough as well.

BAM!

If given the chance, Joe would stand up but the portion of his head where Jamal had swung on was throbbing.

Joe huffed out while he rubbed at the side of his head where Jamal had hit. It was the cheek and it throbbed with heat. But in time it would fade away compared to the brutal hits Jamal had to suffer through. Joe did a quick count in his mind of how far he had succeeded. He strike Jamal’s left side, probably hurting the ribs. He connected a good strike to his right side, hitting the liver with a dead on kick. And now, he had slammed the other black skinned brother into the harsh floor, receiving his first blow to do it.

Yet, this match was nowhere near over.

Joe noticed it quickly when Jamal had rose up on his feet faster than a regular man would have. Joe showed the shock on his face without even attempting to hide it. This match was turning into something, well, more than friendly.

The audience who were boisterous and chanting for Joe’mante was not aware of the change so quickly.

**“JOE!”

“JOE!”

“JOE!”**

It was nice to hear, it helped filled any fighter with vigor and heart to fight his hardest. But Joe found it somewhat funny that they could not feel the shift in the aura, the darkness that pumped in Jamal’s veins, the wrath of something sinister and heinous.

Joe who could tap into spiritual forces to perform amazing feats could sense it from a likeminded warrior.

Besides the feeling, the sight of Jamal hulking forward -- looking like a primate ready to charge with relentless hunger for blood and brutality -- was very disturbing. Joe’s smile drooped into a worried look, not for his own well being but for Jamal who dipped into a world many men lost their souls too.

It was a cruel and cold world.

It was a murderous world.

“Jamal,” Joe called out while he started to back away. For once, the leading fighter decided not to attack first, “Don’t do this.” Joe moved until he was ten feet away from Jamal’s heaving and white-eyed form.

“I’m warning you.”

The young fighter, the still conscious and human black brother, entered a stance.

“This won’t end well if you indulge in that sort of combat.”

The right side of Joe’s body would be facing Jamal. His feet would spread wide apart, his knees would bend, and his hips would lower. The right arm was stretched forward out. The left arm was held up, the elbow bent, and the curled fingers were close to the left side of his face.

“Jamal, snap out of it,” Joe yelled and his eyes would glow orange. At last, the true power within Joe’s body would be released. The floodgates open and inside was his spiritual nature, flaring and streaming through his veins. It was an interconnected highway, a web of flowing energy hidden from the view of normal humans, those who could not tap into spirit -- the energy of Chi. Joe’s bright orange eyes were like the fleeting moments before, when he had released those two previews of his air element affiliation.

As Chi flowed, air whirled around Joe’s body, forming a tiny and insignificant air devil swirling two feet from his body center. From ten feet away, Joe stared his opponent down. Praying that he would regain himself and Joe in return would dismiss the charge of air.

"This is not the way!"

Joe’s prayer had come true, and so, as a part of the deal with Jesus, Joe dismissed the charge of air. While Jamal would regain his focus and composure, then set into a stance. Joe, in return, would straighten up out of his stance. His arms would spread into a loose and fluid motion like the flaps of a bird. His fingers were splayed out to the farthest they could stretch as his breathing was completely attuned to the flow of his Chi. His glowing eyes dimmed before he huffed out and flapped downwards for a final time.

WOOSH!

The swirl of air was dispersed outwards like a single ripple across the surface of water. The gust caused by it was strong enough to ruffle Jamal’s clothes and push lightly against him. The wind would carry so far that the throng of fight fans sitting the closes to the ring would feel its refreshing, cool breeze. Some would be wowed by this but those up on the nose-bleeding sections of the stadium would be confused.

“What’s Joe doing?” “Hey, we ain’t here for a pussy-fest, get back to fighting!” “I want to see some blood!”“GO JOE! GO!” “I felt a disturbance in the force. It’s Joe about to whoop that ass!”

The audience was confused with the display. Their hollering had muffled out the conversation Joe had with Jamal to break him out of his dreaded, angry state. Joe ignored them. It was fun to entertain the audience and hear their chants, but he could do without them. This was a personal affair between him and his opponent. This was a fight between two young men who want to excel in their art. This was a battle where they were brothers at skin tone and in the love of all that was fighting.

While Joe was unsure of what drove Jamal to fight – probably victory – Joe was driven to fight because he loved the experience as a fighter, a fan, and a man. What better way could you prove your mettle?

…

Joe glanced towards the crowd then back towards Jamal. “Ignore them. This is just between us men. Let’s dance.” For a young black buck, Joe had this thing about him that made him sound older than he really was. Joe’s morality was the usual suspect but the same time, before this tournament had commenced, Joe had seen the type of action that would break men. He had survived it and now he was competing in GTB.

With the charge of air dispersed. Joe’s eyes returned to normal and then he began to hop up and down – floating like a butterfly. He was back to his fluid motions and irregular beats and he would close the distance himself.

If allowed to enter fighting range, the first attack would be a Southpaw jab from Joe’s right fist. The target was Jamal’s nose. It was a speedy, textbook punch – stinging like a bee. The moment it was fired, Joe shuffled towards his left.

The jab was a basic weapon, a timeless attack that had a long history in the boxing ring. It was well respected punch used by all outside boxers. While Joe was not an orthodox fighter, he had taken lessons in boxing and he understood the mechanics of the sweet Fight Science. In spite of throwing a Southpaw Jab, Joe understood angles and he understood the capabilities of different types of punches and the speed they could be delivered in.

Joe went with a jab to initiate the fist fight because it was a safe attack. It was a fast attack. It was a punch that required no footwork or lower body mechanics. It was a basic gun-shot deriving from the rotation of the shoulders, the extension of the arm, and bee-lining straight for the target.

The jab was not hard to dodge, but to counter it?

Countering a Jab was not an easy feat because the fighter who throws it had no commitment in the move. Joe’s feet were still in motion in their random pitter-patter when he had thrown the punch. If he had wanted to seriously hurt Jamal, then he would have to stop his feet and throw the punch with actual weight.

That was not Joe’s goal and after throwing it, Joe was already motioning towards his left, away from his opponent’s left overhead punch. The heavier attack, the one that required sturdy footwork, was in most cases slower.

Joe just had to lean towards his left and stay in motion, circling towards Jamal’s right. Then he would fire another jab just when Jamal’s heavier attack soared by the right side of his cheek.

The ingenious thing about a Jab was its speed and how easy it was to pull back. A jab in the hands of a good fighter would come out like a flicker of motion. A man could blink once, get clobbered, and won't know what hit him. Sure, it might have been read in the shoulders when Joe came in. But could Jamal keep reading it at the speed that Joe could dish them out? Joe’s first jab was just to test the waters. The second jab came out even faster. Some members of the audience sitting higher up would have missed the motion. It was fast enough to stir a tad bit of wind, a testament to Joe’s elemental affiliation and his elusive nature. This second, swifter Southpaw Jab was aimed for Jamal’s chin – another fleeting bee sting.

Like it came it would go and once Joe pulled back his right fist as if it had never left, he would stop circling and skip backwards to exit Jamal’s punching range. From kicking to punching, Joe was good. As of now, he immolated the boxing etiquette of Muhammad Ali with both hands up and his feet shifting in confusing patterns. It was as if Joe had walked into this fight fresh while Jamal could still be suffering from the wear and tear of Joe’s effective maneuvers. It might have been evident based on who still had the energetic motion in their body and who didn't.

In Jamal’s mind, it might not be the case. But Joe knew himself quite well, Joe understood that he was a freak. An athletic freak that could go the mile and leave opponents in his dust if he was ahead. No super-speed required.

There was a cushion of six to seven feet between them while Jamal recovered from taking Joe’s jab. The leading martial artist gauged the damage his opponent was suffering from and would think it would suffice during this section of the match. As of now, Joe was peeling away from his opponent Jamal, and it would show as the match went on. While Jamal was stuck to the ground, probably unsure of where he could attack and where Joe would come from. Joe’mante was very confident, he was still healthy, and the punch he had received during the electrifying slam had receded away like a distant memory.

At this point of time, Joe could settle down, he did not need to be in a rush and he would naturally slow his movements for Jamal. Not because he was pressured too, but because he felt quite comfortable and maybe, even more dangerous with a slower foe drastically declining.

Joe’s shuffling, bouncing, shifting, and confusing feet had stopped to settle down to something more traditional. If Jamal wanted to watch them, he could go ahead and do so as Joe easily transitioned into a Southpaw stance, the right foot leading with the left set back, shoulder length apart. There was still an energetic bounce on the balls of his feet while Jamal had closed in.

Joe’s hands were still up, fingers curled but not into complete fists.

He did not precede forward, he allowed Jamal for once to come to him. Joe’s brown eyes watched the entirety of Jamal’s movements, indeed so, they were slower and he was breathing hard. Joe could hear, see, and somewhat feel his opponent was in a grind.

Joe was comfortable, but he was still wary like any fighter.

He took the jab as it was, feint or not, Joe would respond with snapping out his leading right foot for a lightning fast kick to the inside of Jamal’s right lower leg – just below the knee. Like the Jab, as fast as it came, it was gone and Joe would smoothly move backwards.

After the kick, if Jamal wanted to retaliate he would have to consider Joe’s newest arsenal. With the feet settled to bouncing on the balls and keeping to the southpaw stance, Joe’s hands and arms were in motion.

The palms would face Jamal with fingers splayed out. The arms would be slightly bent at the elbows but a considerable distance forward from his torso and head. These hands and arms moved in circular and random motions. His shoulders would roll with the motions but change up erratically, in an off-beat sort of way. And lastly, his head would bob and nod, again, off-beat.

Given the distance of Joe’s jump back after the kick, it might have been at least one or two feet out of striking range. Joe wasn’t moving from his spot so Jamal would have to come forward. But now, he was given a treat of either watching Joe’s moving hands or his deceptive feet. It was like Joe had switched from shuffling his feet to motioning his arms, maybe opening up for more kicks to thwack against Jamal?

Or it could be for more punches and catch Jamal when he looks down? It could be one or the other, or even both. Who the hell knows except Joe? He was playing this portion of the fight with deceit in mind.

Joe's skip back had him in a very disadvantageous position.

Well, it was going to happen eventually. Joe thought, somewhat disappointed that he couldn't ride out the rest of this match on top. Oh well, where's the fun if things were going to roll through that easily?

Biting on the feint and leaping back had Joe in a vicarious position. Indeed so, he smacked hard against the inside of Jamal's lower leg, but he was going to have to take some punishment for it. It was well designed ploy by Jamal's own hands, and Joe was forced into a position where he had to select his defensive option within a limited time space.

The moment his feet landed, those rolling hands of his closed tight for a hard guard. The first electrical hot blue attack came searing in like a missile, striking Joe's united forearms with a cruel CRACKLE and burst! Hot, painful energy course through Joe's veins and burned the flesh on his forearms excruciatingly. Joe gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, his legs were bent with the left drastically behind him to resist the push.

With an electrical current running through his body, overriding his nerves and frying him up pretty bad, he was for the moment, immobilized. A wisp of smoke trailed from his forearm after the clash of his body against the force of Jamal's super-normal attack and Joe would have to take on even more pounding.

BAM!

The second blue bolt slammed hard, nearly knocking Joe off his feet but he held his ground and slid back further. The forearms held up but were trembling from taking a repeated attack. As the third zoomed in, Joe did the best evasive practice he knew, he dropped to a knee and ducked under it, allowing it to fly right over head.

"GASP!" On his right knee and two hands, Joe endured Jamal's counter-strike but the pain was still brutal. He had taken a jolt of electricity before and it still hurt like having the wind knocked out of you. His forearms throbbed, the skin on each limb suffered from friction and abrasion, looking like he skidded across asphalt on them. Breathing deeply, Joe looked up with one eye close and nodded.

"Good one..." For the time being, Joe looked to be downed and recovering from the two hits about twelve feet away from Jamal. The crowd must be stunned silent before the cheers would come again from the new spectacle. When it comes down to two new faces, two new and young fighters, there was no loyal fan. Neither Joe or Jamal would gain one until maybe after winning this match.

*INHALE

EXHALE

INHALE

EXHALE*

Joe breathed with the mastery over his elemental affiliation. He drew in drafts of whirling air into his body via mouth and nostrils, barely noticeable unless examined under a magnifying glass. With his head held low, his hands on the ground, and on one knee, he looked down and hurt from the crowd’s perspective and probably from Jamal’s perspective. He could sense his opponent was drawing closer, though, it was a safe and careful gait like approaching a dangerous animal, seemingly wounded, but very dangerous indeed. Jamal was right to do so, because the damage done to Joe could be like glitter and glam.

Still, with an impending attack coming, Joe did suffer heavily from the electrical forces of the first blue bursting sphere. In order to combat it with the limited time he had, he drew in air with deep breaths and abnormal control. His tensed muscles, trembling from the shock of being electrocuted would start to relax and ease back to normal. Joe’s rapid heartbeat would settle, his mind would relax, and a new wave of energy would course through him.

The damage that had been dealt would still be carried, but now, with a kick being set up and coming for his throat – Joe could do his thing!

Like a bullet fired from a chamber, like a sprinter off the line, Joe exploded from his low body stance off the push of his left foot to shoot him forward. He slid his right knee across the ground before it tilted upwards for the foot to clash upon the ring floor. Then he pushed off that foot in the same explosive manner to carry him the rest of the way for a single-leg take down.

Jamal’s kick might have bashed against Joe’s left arm instead of his original target, but its weight would be ineffective in slowing him down or even hurting him since Joe impeded its whipping effect by shooting forward into the attack. The actual target of Joe’s sudden burst was Jamal’s most open and dearest part of his body – his left knee. It was the most valued support of Jamal’s kick and gave Joe the opportunity to seriously hurt him.

If Joe was a cruel man, he could have snapped it with a vicious tackle into that rooted and firm left knee.

Joe was not a cruel man.

So instead, he tackled his right shoulder into the knee a little bit softer than he could have. It should still hurt like hell and afterwards, if nothing was to happen with this takedown, Jamal’s ability to walk could be hampered badly through the course of the match.

But with what Joe was given, this could end the fight right there. The moment Joe’s right shoulder made contact with the left knee, possibly jolting Jamal back in an awkward way since he’ll be on one foot, Joe’s right hand snaked from outside to grab the heel, the left hand slapped at the calf. Then with the strength of his left leg, he pushed off the corresponding foot to lift Jamal up into the air by a few inches, tilt forward, and drive his back and the back of his head into the hard ring floor. If all went well, Joe would cling to Jamal’s body and start to climb up to mount his waist. Once on top, Joe's hands would ball into furious fists ready to pound.

Welcome to the ground game and your tour guide will be Joe'mante Avaraje.

Joe’mante Avaraje started off slow, connecting punches into Jamal’s guard with an off-beat and random rhythm. It would be hard to read and if Jamal was to try to throw a punch and guess wrong, Joe would punish him.

But somewhere down the line, in this hallmark of what could be an amazing finish.

There was a tempo, there was a rhythm, and there was a chance that Jamal could attack back and force Joe off.

That was if he could get past a barrage of bullets. Faster and faster Joe’mante went, his arms working like the pistons in race cars. He smashed hard, powerful fists into Jamal’s forearms with a relentless zeal, as if a beast had finally awaken and was allowed to roam free. That side in every fighter that wanted to throw caution to the wind and beat their foe down with the truth.

What was a blur to the crowd was a torrential downpour of punches at Jamal’s guard, trying to break it apart and find an opening. Soon enough, it would slip in or find a beaten crack to smash and pulverize Jamal’s head with. It might not be as often or frequent, but it would occasionally happen based on how tight Jamal’s guard was or if he risked throwing a punch, underestimating Joe’s attacking speed.

But there were always those once and a lifetime chances that Jamal could pick up the rhythm of these speedy and hellish punches. It could happen in any fight and it was the reason why most professionals would pound with an off-beat rhythm, so they could negate the chance of being countered. Jamal may look like a novice, but no fighter should ever be doubted, especially in tournaments. When it seemed like the most likely time for an unlikely reversal.

Joe gritted his teeth, huffed out his nostrils, and went even faster!

His eyes shined orange. The air would part and friction would decrease between the space of Joe’s fist and Jamal’s body – specifically the head if left unguarded. At the same time, the air that was moved to allow Joe’s fists to increase rapidity, were transferred into mini-bubbles that surrounded the knuckles. Cushioning Joe’s knuckles from breaking while bursting on contact the moment they strike Jamal’s flesh, doubling the power of each punch in Joe’s relentless pounding storm.

Anyone viewing it from the stadium would feel the rush of excitement at this mind-distorting craziness. Joe could have been a Gatling Gun fired dead into Jamal’s upper-torso. His air manipulating fists sounded like tiny explosions each time they hit, adding to the nature of Joe’s merciless attack.

It was as if the Joe that had entered this fight and had fought Jamal before this point, was not the real Joe. It could possibly be this blazing, blitzing, rampaging black skinned monster.

Then, at some point, like a flip of a switch, Joe stopped on a dime. Sweat poured down his body in long streams and beads. His breathing was ragged and his arms were trembling from going so fast. He looked gassed out, as if he ran a couple one-hundred meter sprints non-stop. He stayed in that position, straddling his opponent’s waist while he viewed the damage that had been dealt upon Jamal.

Once it seemed appropriate, Joe would get up. If anything, Joe made sure he didn’t beat Jamal to death – probably close to it but he didn’t go that far. He would have to pray this did not wreck the man for life.

But in all honesty, Joe felt good from breaking out of his parameters and opening the floodgates. He was not out here to hurt people, but he was not the person to be messed with. He was a human weapon of Air, Chi, and Martial Arts. He was Joe'mante Avaraje, a young son of a gun here to test his mettle.

The crowd would roar so loud it felt like the air was trembling and the stadium was rocking with madness. The audience was livid with chaotic and ecstatic energy from a spectacle so thrilling, each viewer might have felt their hearts trying to beat as fast as Joe's fists. It was jaw-slacking, eye-popping, mind-exploding exceptional display.