Mon Sep 24, 2012 6:13 pm · id 343922735 · page 1
Music started up from seemingly no where. The source? One of those nifty FIGHTERS...
The year had been a good one thus far for Bishop. His skills had climaxed to the next level, he had gained more freedom from the giver than ever, his boy was out of jail, and he was bangin' all the hoes he could manage. Then of course was the fact that he had put the beef between him and Streea on ice, made new business transactions, and landed a ton of more money. But the giving God wasn't done blessing him. Oh no. He gave him the best possibly venue to stage his fight out of the four random options. A wicked a** carnival. For the past several months, that had been exactly where this man resided, a carnival....HIS carnival. This one was more strange, though it was one in the same.
As he came into plain view, those lucky enough to be around for the madness to ensue would be thrilled to see a new face in HoH, but a familiar one in the world of fight. His arms went into the air as the small crowds gathered, clapping and cheering on the Russian Meta in all of his glory. Today his swag was loud. He wasn't arrogant nor cocky, but always head strong. One could say he was highly confident at most. The s**t eating grin worn upon his showed off his chrome teeth as he began to bounce around before leading himself into doing the Crip Walk. This lasted for a matter of seconds before he bounced around a few more time, finally planting his feet into the ground again, at which point he shadow boxed a bit to rile the crowd up that much more. Needless to say, he was hyped up.
Here he was. Tzakery Elijah Bishop, also known as; ACHERON, Tzak the Ripper, or the most common name since anyone on this planet met him, straight up Bishop. Standing at 5'11" and weighing in at approximately 173lbs, he didn't look like much. Though what muscle was seen on him was athletically defined, and the unseen strength behind said muscles was tremendous. By the time the crowd cleared him a path to his opponent and lost their max volume, it would be noting that the song playing had ended. For those wondering why they heard music but lacked seeing the fighter, it was because he wore it on his ankle like a house arrest anklet.
Today he was fresh to death, like a million bucks. Sporting all white and red. White denim jeans along with a red and white shirt matching red and white boots. These specially made boots were like his other, cleat soles coated in steel. His hands hugged in fresh boxer's tape. The rose tinted sunglasses on his face blocked his hazel eyes from view, though they looked straight at the odd man with claws in front of him. Pulling his spiked cestus' from his hip, he pulled them on one by one. Securing the leather straps one at a time.
Once secured, his right hand retreated to his hip once more with gusto, pulling his custom morning star free from it's grip. He was going to waste no time with formalities as the as his opponent was down on all fours, watching him like he was prey. Little did this animal realize that Bishop was the true apex predator. And with home field advantage, he was going to make this a good one. So many choices for mode of combat, so little time. Pivoting his body to face his opponent with the right side of his body, his right arm raised and aimed the top of the mace head in the scientist's direction, his left hand pulling his glasses from his face and tossing them to the crowd before his head turned to the right to look at him. With a light chuckle vibrating from his chest he mused in delight at his opponent. Meanwhile a small group of five fan girls began to tussle over Bishop's shades.
"Come at me bro."