Wigi vs Grimm

Clattering metal rang throughout the hallway from the establishment's barren entrance and a long, scraping sound of blunt friction rose from the tattered floor. Bright, incandescent light flickered with a rhythmical buzz overhead as a low, joyful whistle began to join the misplaced chorus amongst the dull colored postings and lousily shaded walls which oddly reminded the changeling of a distant little nook which he once called home. Loud, heavy footsteps began filling the gaps in-between the sound which belonged to a rather towering, heavyset figure whose form would come into view for all to see.

7'3" and looking grimy as ******, the fat b***d of an ogre reared himself into view, his crisscrossed eyes panning the halls with an unusual sense of exuberance often found in mere children. His clothes all clung loosely to his body, fluttering about slightly with each step, and all bore off-shades of grays and blacks here and there, nothing that really looked too interesting or promising to say the least, save for the few accessories clinging about him. A tattered bat hung loosely from his right hand, seeming sturdy enough to go for a good few years of harsh abuse before giving out, and a pair of metal knuckles clattered at his side, held to his dark jeans by a tightly-fastened string and obviously customized to fight the ogre's large hands. Most interesting of all, however, was the crayon-drawn hall pass which hung from his neck which was held together by a bit of technicolor yarn adorning the picture of a crudely drawn self-portrait in vibrant colors and complete with a set of simple words around the circular boarder.

'Wigi Ouiji's Hall Pass'

Placing himself squarely in the middle of the board, the large, pale man would pan across the board lazily as he hummed to himself, tapping his bat across the linoleum floors and waited patiently for what's his face to arrive.

Wigi spun his bat around and laid it across the side of the billboard, letting out a little thunk as it hit the chipped drywall. He didn't part with his knuckles, however, mostly because he liked the jingling sound they made as he moved around. The brightly colored hall pass would stay as well, mostly because the changeling was far too proud of his work to simply toss it aside. He took another moment to muse over the billboard, seeming to ignore the guy moving his way for a second or two as his hum shifted into a whistle.

"Ahhh...." He groaned for a moment as he slipped his finger in his mouth, opening it wide enough to give Grimm a look at his large rotten canine hanging on his upper gum-line. After a short moment a small spurt of blood gushed up from his mouth and within his clenched fingers a wriggling leach could be seen, still tearing away at a small chunk of his inner-cheek as it wiggled about. "Someone's gonna miss you lil guy."

Smack! Slurp! Ahhh!

The ogre would slap that sucker right back into his mouth for the final swallow as he turned to face the oncoming man with a fit of glee, ripping the nearby papers off the bulletin board to crunch between his hands haphazardly. When Grimm came about 5 feet away or so Wigi would throw the wad of paper in a lazy arc at the man's face before sliding in with a quick jab with his right towards Maxwell's sternum. Nothing fancy or proportionally strong, but it was a decent way to get the ball rolling.

[2/10]

Dodged outta the way, the lil punk. It didn't fluster the changeling though, not even slightly. He'd follow his opponent with his eyes as Maxwell danced outside the jab to prep for the counter. Wigi wasn't going to have that though or at the very least, not without some fight. He'd catch sight of the hook and thrust himself forward for the counter, taking the hook in his side as he used his right arm to overhook Grimm's attack, pressing his arm over his opponent's bicep and underneath his tricep to get a firm clasp on the arm. Naturally it wasn't going to feel pleasant to take the hit, but the fat b*****d was built to take a good bit of punishment before caving in.

That and what sort of pansy gets torn up after a single punch to the side?

Regardless, the thick-headed ogre charged in, throwing his knee into his opponent's crotch for good measure. Not so much because he didn't like the guy or because he had something against him, but the changeling was just a damn dirty fighter who just didn't give a ********. If his knee was successful then Maxwell was sure as hell going to feel it no matter where it landed. For Grimm's sake lets hope it didn't hit its mark.

[3/10]

The changeling grinned nice n' broad as Grimm got all worked up and started shooting his mouth off about some bullshit he didn't pay much mind to. After nailing enough guys in the john he noticed the slur of witty counters all started to sound the same, so he generally tuned the rambling out with a few notes of some kind. He stood there for a moment imagining a few lines from some old cartoons, finding himself yearning to start busting out with some Jetsons or some s**t. He did well enough not to show it of course, other things were going on after all. So he did well enough to keep at least lightly focused on the fight.

Alright, so he'd do two things after Maxwell's majorly telegraphed headbutt, the first being spit off to the side. This was mostly because a leach bit into his cheek during his afternoon snack and the little b***d left a trace bit of flesh and blood behind, not to mention he was leaking a little bit from the chunk that the little b***d tore out. So draining that sucker on a regular basis was generally a good idea, not to mention it gave the janitor something to do as he came out for his rounds.

Second was intercept the headbutt as it came in. The spry little ****** would be spending a moment to get his footing under him, giving Wigi plenty of time to readjust. So as Grimm shot himself up, the ogre was slamming his head down, planting his forehead smack dab in the middle Maxwell's dome. Was it going to hurt? ****** yeah it was! But it was sure as hell going to hurt a lot more for Grimm hitting that forehead instead, what with the forehead being thicker than the top of the skull and all. But that wasn't all that was going to happen. As the brawler came rushing in Wigi would throw his left arm underneath Grimm's right armpit, putting him into an underhook. That's two clinches the ogre would have on the man, as he would maintain the overhook with his right.

If all went as planned, Maxwell would headbutt Wigi's forehead and get himself into an over-under clinch topped off with one hell of a headache while somewhere in between thoughts Betty Rubble was rocking it to some jazzercise and her buns of granite exercise.

Not very good, to say the least, though Wigi's head would be pounding after that last shot to the head. He's a tough b***d, but a head to head conflict hurt like a b*h no matter what end anyone was on. A bit of blood would drip from a split which formed across the top of the changeling's head, a good sign of the intensity of the impact the two had. He saw a few stars, to say the least, but if the ogre was good at one thing it was trucking through the pain.

Grimm's overhook grapple to his left was the standard counter to being grappled with the underhook and vice-versa, so it wouldn't really do much in terms of stopping the ogre's clinch from finding its mark, though it certainly wasn't a bad idea to try to get some leverage. Either way the ogre wasn't going to stick around for long. Once he got the clinches set he'd instantly go body to body with the slugger, pulling Maxwell in as he pressed forward and...

He'd go in for a ****** Mike Tyson on his b*h a**! Ah... the changeling would do his idol proud and rip into Maxwell's ear cartilage with full intention of tearing off a chunk of good ol' fashion human flesh. If/when he got that chunk of meat he'd be more than happy to shove the fighter off and make a bit of space for the two, munching and crunching on the bit of ear all the way with a big ol' stupid grin plastered across that smug face of his.

Needless to say, getting in so close with his opponent was going to make it difficult to get the nutshot off, less space between the bodies and all. Regardless if Grimm went for it he'd possibly get some leg but that's about it.

Now if all went as planned, Wigi would be munching on some ear, Maxwell would knock against his leg, and the two would be spaced apart once more.