Fight Club [Open]

Even in the Soul Society, even among the Shingami, there were financial problems. And, given that most of the well-paying Hollow Bounties were taken, and not enough of the lower-class ones could be taken on to provide much, there were times when one had to fall back on less… orthodox… methods of putting cash in the pocket. One way was by participating in an underground fighting tournament, in the world of the living no less – set up by AWOL Shinigami, and if they were trusted enough, the occasional rogue Arrancar. You walk in, you fight, you get paid. It was never about who won, though, it was always about who put on a better show. The audience didn’t pay to see a fight five seconds long.

Adam Taylor was one such participant. He was at the tenth seat – and, despite being in the top ten of the eleventh division, his abilities were mediocre at best. However, his knowledge of martial arts and the fluidity of his body’s movements were exceptional, usually proving more than enough to take on Hollows and the like. And the crowd loved it.

Facing up against a member or division eleven, the two had decided to go fists-only – a mutual agreement. One wanted money, the other wanted a good fight. And, as things were going, both were getting it. But, Adam was tiring – he had to end it quickly. He’d stretched out the fight for long enough. Now, it was time to incorporate something his opponent had underestimated him on – his mind. He was fighting him bare-handed. And, if there was one thing Taylor knew how to do, it was how to win a bare-knuckle brawl.

This must register on an emotional level.
First, fake moving forwards, then block his right straight. Counter with right hook to left cheek.
Hit temples to disorient. Dazed, will attempt to charge forward and engage in grappling. Employ duck, and bodyshot. Dodge left to avoid downwards strike. Weaken shoulders to lower guard. Now fracture. Break cracked ribs. Wind. Dislocate shoulders entirely. Finishing right straight to chest. In summary – vision blurred, shoulders fractured, three ribs cracked, four broken, difficulty breathing. Full physical recovery, six weeks. Full psychological recovery, six months.

Predicting his opponent’s moves – it only worked on those who went by the book. Evidently, his opponent had only learnt how to fight using one style, and his techniques seemed like they were straight out of a textbook. Against a person who would actually be able to come up with tactics and change them in the heat of combat, this little trait of his was absolutely useless, as there was no telling what they would do.

Nevertheless, the predictions were scarily accurate. Adam lurched forwards, making his opponent instinctively attempt to intercept by punching through the guard that had been lowered for but a second. It was not dropped – merely faked being down. The blow was easily absorbed, and for his troubles, the fighter took Adam’s signature right hook into his cheek. While he was still reeling, Adam struck while the iron was hot, and brought his hands to his foe’s temples, thus disorienting him – if only a slight amount.
One must remember that he trained in martial arts for as long as he was able. H could read simple minds like a book, predicting how they were taught, and what to do in what situations.

A guttural roar sounded, and Adam was set upon in his opponent’s blind rage, but this was part of the prediction. He ducked below the outstretched arms, and delivered a brutal right uppercut into the – unsurprisingly hardened – stomach before him. A fist came thundering downwards, but Adam moved deftly to the left, and took the opportunity to attack the exposed shoulders on the taller man. The ribs he had cracked earlier in the fight were now struck to break them, followed up by a strike to his – now softened – stomach. In a simply sickening combination of two moves, he knocked the weakened shoulders from their sockets, and finished his opponent with a simple, yet highly effective, right straight to the chest.

This all happened in around fifteen seconds.

“The Fist of the Western Isle takes down his challenger in a fistfight like no other! He’s going to be eating well tonight! But what about our next contender? Remember, folks, Adam here’s not going to draw his blade until absolutely necessary – but will it be too late by then? Let’s find out! Bring ‘em in, boys!”