"Ladies and gentlemen! We are live from the beating heart of Gotham's underground! Welcome to the Iceberg Lounge's annual cage fighting championship!"
The announcer, a wiry man with a slicked-back haircut and a microphone, bellowed into the roaring crowd. He flashed a grin that was all teeth, basking in the energy. "A special thank you to our generous benefactor, Mr. Oswald Cobblepot, and the many other equally gracious men and women who make these bloody nights possible!" The crowd, a mix of mobsters, gamblers, and bloodthirsty Gothamites, erupted in a frenzy.
"Now! The moment you have all been waiting for! For the title and a winner take all prize of five thousand dollars! In one corner, he's a walking riot with a record of 23 wins and 3 losses! Weighing in at a terrifying 210 pounds of pure muscle and malice, give it up for... 'MAD DOG' LESTER BLOOM!"
The crowd's cheers became a bestial roar as a hulking figure emerged from a darkened tunnel. Lester Bloom, a brute of a man with a scarred face and a shaved head, walked with an animalistic swagger.
His bare knuckles, wrapped only in tape, were raised to the ceiling as he let out a guttural bark that sent a shiver through the cage. He was trailed by a trio of imposing men in suits who watched his every move.
Mad Dog shrugged off his heavy cloak, revealing a colossal, chiseled frame, his muscles bulging and knotted like old ropes. He pounded his chest and snarled at the crowd before lumbering to the center of the ring, giving the announcer a menacing nod. The announcer quickly nodded back and stepped away.
"And in the other corner, the dangerous new contender who burst onto the scene this year with a precision and a ferocity that's earned him a fearsome reputation! With a record of 16 wins and 0 losses, all by knockout! Weighing in at a lean 167 pounds... DANTEE DEEEELUUUUCA!" The announcer pointed a hand to the opposite tunnel.
The crowd went wild, chanting Dante's name. A young man, barely 6 feet tall, walked out with an athletic robe pulled tight over his head. He exchanged a quick, confident dap handshake with a few shady figures in the crowd, then made his way to the cage door. The security guard, a burly man with a crooked nose, clapped him on the back.
"Give 'em hell, Dante!" the guard yelled, a grin splitting his face.
Dante simply nodded, pulling off the robe and tossing it over the top of the cage wall. He revealed a lean, wiry frame, all sinew and corded muscle, built for speed and agility, not brute strength.
His olive skin, dark hair, and sharp features gave him a sharp look under the harsh lights. He walked to the center, his bare feet making no sound on the canvas.
Mad Dog grinned, a jagged sneer across his lips. "Jeez, DeLuca, you are just a kid. How old are you?"
Dante's brown eyes met Mad Dog's glare. He gave a relaxed smirk. "Old enough to fuck your wife, Lester. Keep that mouth shut."
Mad Dog's grin vanished, replaced by a murderous fury. He stepped forward, getting directly in Dante's face, spittle flying from his lips. Dante simply laughed, a low, confident chuckle that only infuriated the brute more.
"Good boy, Lester," Dante whispered, a taunt that made Mad Dog snap. He threw a wild, haymaker punch, but the announcer was already between them, holding Mad Dog back.
"Enough! Save it for the fight!" he yelled as the referee stepped in, holding the two men apart. "You both know the rules. Everything goes, except eye shots, low blows, and killing. Touch knuckles."
Dante and Mad Dog did as they were told, but as their knuckles met, Mad Dog's fist tightened. Dante's grin widened as the bell rang.
DING!
Mad Dog didn't waste a second. He lunged at Dante with the ferocity of a starved pitbull, but Dante was already moving. He weaved to the left, gaining distance. "A little eager there, Mister Lester!" he taunted. Mad Dog followed up with a heavy leg kick, but Dante caught it with a quick leg block, the sound of shin on shin echoing through the cage.
Dante spun and planted a hard front kick into Mad Dog's chest, a blow that sent the big man stumbling backward. "I'm afraid I'm too young for you, Lester! Plus, I'm not gay!" Dante pushed forward, peppering Mad Dog with a couple quick jabs.
Lester, already enraged, swung a clumsy counter, but Dante grinned and weaved to the side, letting the fist whiz past his head. He came back with a lightning fast right hook that smacked Mad Dog squarely on the cheekbone, a shot that made the brute's eyes water and sent him stumbling back a few steps. Blood welled up from a fresh cut on his lip.
From outside the cage, Mad Dog's trainer yelled, "Don't let him rile you up, Lester! Keep your head clear and use those combos! Let him hit you, he's all speed, no strength!"
Mad Dog nodded, but as he swiped at the blood on his mouth, his mind was screaming. 'All speed my ass. That last hit almost knocked my teeth out.' He closed in again, with more caution this time.
Dante shifted into a southpaw stance, right foot forward. Mad Dog threw a series of heavy jabs, but Dante blocked each one with ease, keeping his distance. Mad Dog, growing frustrated, feinted with a jab before sending a brutal overhead hook that connected with Dante's jaw.
Dante's head snapped back as he was driven into the cage wall. Mad Dog followed up with a vicious kick to the head, but Dante twisted, his body moving like a snake, and dodged it, the kick hitting the metal bars with a dull thud.
Seizing the moment, Dante landed a powerful body shot to Mad Dog's ribs. The big man doubled over in pain, groaning. Dante kept the pressure on, hitting him with a barrage of quick jabs before feinting right and delivering a devastating spinning back kick to the same spot he had just hit.
The kick connected with a sickening crack, and Mad Dog cried out. He instinctively grabbed Dante's leg against his side, trying to regain his balance, and landed a heavy punch to Dante's chest. Dante gritted his teeth, his back hit the floor, and wrapped his other leg around Mad Dog's neck, locking him in a tight triangle choke.
The crowd roared, a mix of cheers and gasps, but Dante's focus was on the fight. He wrapped Mad Dog's arm in an armbar to tighten the choke, his legs squeezing like pythons. Mad Dog, desperate for air, staggered to his feet, driving Dante into the cage wall in a desperate attempt to break the hold.
The choke loosened just enough for Mad Dog to slip his arm between Dante's legs, giving him a precious few seconds to breathe. Dante gritted his teeth and started raining down short, sharp elbows to the side of Mad Dog's head. A large, gushing cut opened on Mad Dog's forehead, and blood streamed down his face. Mad Dog let out a roar, landed a shot to Dante's side, and then threw the young man to the floor.
Dante rolled to his feet in a flash, a crimson smirk on his face. "I'm gonna fuck you up, kid," Mad Dog panted, his nose now gushing blood.
But before they could exchange any more words, the bell rang, signaling the end of round one. They both walked to their corners. Mad Dog collapsed onto his stool, taking a gulp of water as his trainer ripped into him. He stared across the ring at Dante, who didn't sit down. He stood tall in his corner, his teeth flashing in a taunting grin.
After the short break, the bell rang for the second round. Almost perfectly timed with the sound, Dante charged, a blur of motion. He launched himself into the air, a flying knee aimed directly at Mad Dog's head.
Mad Dog barely had time to raise his arms as the knee connected with his nose, a horrifying crunch echoing through the cage. Mad Dog staggered back, but Dante didn't stop. He unleashed a furious combination of lightning fast strikes, a jab, a right straight that sent more blood flying, and then a series of kicks to the body that made Mad Dog grunt with every hit.
They exchanged more blows, with Mad Dog landing a few heavy shots on Dante, but Dante returned them with more ferocity. Finally, Dante spun and delivered another kick to the head, a heel to the temple that landed with a sickening thud. Mad Dog's eyes rolled back in his head as his body went limp. He collapsed in a heap, motionless on the blood soaked canvas.
Dante rushed over to him and delivered the necessary shots to make sure he was down as the referee pulled him off.
Dante stood over him, breathing heavily, a trickle of blood from his own cut lip. The crowd went silent for a moment before erupting in a deafening roar. Dante simply looked down at the unconscious Mad Dog and shook his head.
"Shut up, Lester," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the noise. "By the way, who names their kid Lester? Sounds like a pedofile."