[attr="class","textie"]Up above, it was already pretty obvious which man would face Comic next. He had been watching Marisa fight for the past hour, out of either intrigue, or boredom. When her last fight ended he had already signed up to enter the pit. Many people had already bet on him, some based on appearances, as he was tall, well built, and appeared to be a hardened fighter. Others, though, knew him. Knew what he actually was.[break][break]

He was massive. Easily six foot six, broad at the shoulders, with thick arms that spoke volumes of history. Normally, this man wore armor, carried a sword, like a knight of old. Tonight was different, tonight he went without. Tonight, Comic would have to battle Ruin in his raw, unaltered state. While disarmed, he was nonetheless lethal. He had been known to break spines with a single blow to the abdomen. Right now, the swordsman was clad only in a black hoodie, with the sleeves rolled up, and athletic shorts. He came to the door to the cage, staring Comic down.[break][break]

He prepared to fight. First, he stripped off his jacket, throwing it to the ground. As expected, his torso was extremely toned, a body built for bloody, intense combat. He stepped into the pit, cracking his neck. "Are you ready to fight, Red?" he asked, making a jab at her bright ginger hair- or possibly the color that filled her vision. He grinned, raising his fists, ready for blood.[break][break]

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[attr="class","tagsie"]Comic

[attr="class","textie"]Ruin used the time similarly. His breathing was even, controlled, and from any angle it would be nearly impossible to see if his chest was moving at all. It was as though a statue stood there instead of a man. But even then, he was not really a man. Not many knew where he had come from, but his appearance had been sudden. There existed little records that could hint at his identity. Murmurs about a police officer who had mysteriously disappeared more than twenty years ago. Some say it made no sense, he was not that old, this monster that stood before them now. But it didn't matter.[break][break]

For now, Ruin and his fists were in this ring. He used the next ten seconds to really study his opponent. She was smaller than him, both shorter and slimmer by great margins. But he had already been watching her fight. She had taken down larger opponents than she with ease. He would be foolish to underestimate her. He rarely fought cautiously, and even in this ring he may let loose. It was what the girl wanted, he thought, watching her tear into other fighters like an animal, thirsting for blood. She'd ruined her own knuckles in search of it. Perhaps he ought to give it to her.[break][break]

While her opponents had been hardy and tough, most hadn't done much damage to her. Most of the blood that coated her skin was not her own. She was fast, and strong, far beyond what her physique implied. Although, Ruin was the same, so it was unsurprising. But those betting men were not privileged with such knowledge. Many wee driven with their eyes rather than their brains. So many had bet against her in the beginning. Ruin's reputation merely preceded him. All the rumors painted him as a destructive force that paralleled natural disasters. A one man army. [break][break]

The bell rang and towards him she came. Her movement would be hard to follow, but it was mostly predictable. Ruin didn't move even as she got closer, hands still up, eyes focusing like some sort of bird of prey's. Comic had a look that told Ruin she was just going to fight, without thinking, an animal. He would do the same, then. As the fist came towards him, Ruin still did not move as it came in, closer, closer. He allowed it to strike. Normally, someone would be toppled by a hit like that. Ruin's cheek was marred by blood, some hers, some his, some from her previous matches. But he did not move. His head did not even move.[break][break]

Ruin took a step forwards, lifting his fist to bring it up in some kind of uppercut. He was at the perfect distance to pull the move off, using his glaring height as an advantage. The crowd was yelling, louder and louder, they wanted more blood, more chaos.

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[attr="class","tagsie"]Comic

[attr="class","textie"]Concrete was probably accurate. While he wasn't the most durable man alive, he certainly had faced so much in the past that normal fist-to-fist combat could no longer faze him. So when the punch hit him, he wasn't sure what to expect, but at the same time was unsurprised at the results. He had hoped for more.[break][break]

Perhaps he would get it.[break][break]

Comic was doing something strange, something he had not seen her do in prior battles with the other cage fighters. Biting herself, growling, as if inciting some reaction in her body. At first, Ruin just believed she was insane, which still may be true, but the way her muscles reacted, tensed and grew furious, he knew that something else entirely was happening. Perhaps she was similar to him, and rage or pain acted as a medium with which she boosted her natural abilities. For now, he'd fight as he was. He might need the challenge- although there was the possibility that, in the end, Comic, would prove not to be one.[break][break]

Perhaps the best course of action was to quickly take her out. It seemed that, currently, Comic was waiting for a certain level of rage to build within her. He'd have to strike before she was ready for him. And so, he quickly jolted forward. Before, he had shown only sturdiness, physical strength, and brute size as his attributes. It seemed that speed was another. Moving more like a blur than a man, he crossed the distance that took her seconds to cross in far less time, in the blink of an eye. Suddenly standing right in front of Comic, a strike came in for her head from the left.[break][break]

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[attr="class","tagsie"]Comic