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177165 No. 177165
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aAxVTw5tVnA

This canvas feels nice.

Nice and inviting.

Could take a nap right on it.

Would be nicer if there weren't so many shouting people.

There's one person who keeps shouting at me, though.

I feel like I don't want to disappoint her, though.

Get up.

But it's so comfortable here. I could sleep here.

Get up!

Look, there's a nice man counting sheep. Three sheep, four sheep.

Get up, you can do it!

Six sheep. Seven sheep.

Get up, Mac!

My eyes snap open and the crash of shouting, cheers and jeers washes over me like a wave, and the tide brings in an entirely new world of hurt. My gut hurts. My jaw hurts. But worst of all, my pride hurts.

“Eight!” the ref shouts.

I put out one glove and lever myself up to one knee, so fast the world spins for a moment.

“Nine!”

Two feet. I'm back on my two feet. I turn to face my opponent, and show teeth and a grin I'm not feeling at all. “That your best shot?” God, I hope it was their best shot. I don't think I could take another one of those.

My opponent just shakes her head, blonde locks obscured by flickering shadows. I've definitely put the screws to her too, at least.

Gloves up, stance squared up, my opponent's panting, but she's still got that crazy gleam in her eyes. This'll be an easy league, Doc said. She said that I've got the makings of a real contender. And it's my first damned bout in this league and I'm nearly knocked out.

You see, this league is unlike any other. There's no Glass Joe, Soda Popinski, or even Mr. Dream.

No, no. All of those are chumps compared to this league- I'm getting my ass kicked by a little girl, for fuck's sake!

The rules are entirely different, too. 'Nothing below the belt' doesn't count for crap. All you have to do is win, and win stylishly. And matches only end in three ways: Knockout, TKO, and going the distance. With the way these girls hit, it's like getting hit by a Mack truck, every time. And here I thought that was my gimmick.

The only thing I have going for me is the fact that my preternatural speed and reflexes have saved me from countless blows that would've taken me out in one shot.

God, I hate feeling like Glass Joe.

I smile once again, spit out a bit of blood, and growl to the girl, “Come get me.”

She flies at me with an earsplitting banshee shriek- but she's tired. She's not even trying anymore, she's just flinging herself at me in a straight line with reckless abandon. And I can deal with that.

She's fast as a bullet, but she's got feet to cover. I merely need to dodge a couple inches to one side, and I do, as she flies past me. She stumbles, having missed her target, and I take advantage of her momentary stagger to land a quick left jab to her face, right jab to the other side. She brings her hands up to cover her face reflexively, not being a classically trained boxer. This is when my left hook slams into her belly like a piston- the wind is knocked out of her, and she staggers back a few steps. I'm starting to feel my druthers again- I hop from one foot to the other, and shadowbox a few quick jabs in her direction.

It feels like taunting, and it feels a little dirty, but this isn't boxing like I knew it.

The rage fills her eyes like a crazy bull, and she's about to charge me again when the end-of-round bell dings.

Three rounds have passed. Three rounds, and I'm almost dead on my feet. This is insane.

I stagger back to my corner, where Doc is waiting for me.

“Mac,” she says. “You can't let her hit you with that again.”

I shake my head. “I don't even remember what she hit me with. I was out for a few seconds there, Doc.”

She grimaces. “Want me to call the match, then?”

I shake my head again. “No. No, don't do that.”

“You got a plan, then, Mac?” Doc asks.

[ ] I'm gonna play bullfighter- bait her into huge attacks that I can dodge. But if I whiff a dodge...
[ ] Play offensively. Give her a couple jabs and good hooks, and I'll make her feel the pressure.
[ ] Write-in.

No. 177166
Looks interesting.

[x] Play offensively. Give her a couple jabs and good hooks, and I'll make her feel the pressure.
No. 177173
[x] I'm gonna play bullfighter- bait her into huge attacks that I can dodge. But if I whiff a dodge...
She's tired, but she can knock us out in one hit. If we go into the offensive, we're gonna get wrecked.
No. 177174
[x] I'm gonna play bullfighter- bait her into huge attacks that I can dodge. But if I whiff a dodge...

Punch Out! was always about evading attacks until you see an opening, then unleashing your Star Punches. Pretty much like danmaku, in a certain way.
No. 177175
[X] I'm gonna play bullfighter- bait her into huge attacks that I can dodge. But if I whiff a dodge...

If Mac takes a hit, he's done. But being the dodgy little bastard is his whole schtick, and his opponent seems pretty set in her pattern, so I'm fairly sure he can pull this off.
No. 177180
[X] I'm gonna play bullfighter- bait her into huge attacks that I can dodge. But if I whiff a dodge...
No. 177184
[x] I'm gonna play bullfighter- bait her into huge attacks that I can dodge. But if I whiff a dodge...

As someone pointed out, that's pretty much how you win Punch-out. And danmaku, for that matter.
No. 177189
Hell yeah, a Punch-Out story.

[x] I'm gonna play bullfighter- bait her into huge attacks that I can dodge. But if I whiff a dodge...

Let's try to get a star punch in there!
No. 177193
[X] Counter her punches, if you're fast enough you could stun her while stopping her devastating blows before they can connect; be ready for her signature moves.

Punch Out eh..?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y9jvihnOK5w
No. 177213
[X] I'm gonna play bullfighter- bait her into huge attacks that I can dodge. But if I whiff a dodge...

Don't fix what ain't broke, eh? I've always been a great counter-puncher, and while I hate to say it, not the best at taking punches.

So I dodge. Always have, and this isn't going to be any different.

“Look,” Doc says. “She'll be gunning for you as soon as the bell rings. I know her. She's not the best strategist, but she's used to being underestimated.”

I chuckle bitterly. “Not a mistake I'm going to make.” I rub my jaw. I can still feel her fist where she landed a blow.

“Don't let her hit you again. I know you were putting on your game face at the end of that round, but I saw the way your knees shook. You can't take another one of those.”

“Gotta bait her into it, though, Doc. She's too fast to hit any other way than when she's off balance.”

Doc towels the sweat off my face as she grimaces. “Alright, Mac. Don't go getting yourself seriously hurt out there.”

I give her my winningest smile. “Hey, I ain't the WVBA champion for nothing. I got this, Doc.”

I stand, and tap my gloves together twice, and start rolling my shoulder, in anticipation for the bell. Behind me, Doc grabs the stool, and pulls it out of the ring.

Across the ring, in the other corner, is the girl- small, blonde, little red ribbon in her hair, a conservative black dress, black vest, white shirt, and a red tie. You'd be forgiven for thinking she's a sweet little girl. That illusion was dispelled the first time the bell rang- she came out, screeching like a banshee, attempting to overwhelm with sheer force. And it almost worked.

But now I'm expecting that. And I've got a plan.

The bell rings, and the girl's out from her corner, like a rocket. She's tired, though. Her swings are all looping hooks and wild uppercuts, but they're so fast and so powerful that I can't justify counter-punching or anything other than bobbing and weaving.

She pushes me further and further back to the edge of the ring, but that's the plan. Time for me to play a little rope-a-dope.

She hits so hard, that blocking her punches is mostly an exercise in futility, so I'm tiring myself out almost as much by the leaning and weaving I've got to do. And then I feel it on my back- the ropes of the ring. Exactly what I'd hoped for.

She smiles, showing her canines in a wolfish grin, as she believes she has me on the ropes. Which she does, literally. But not even close, figuratively.

The classic rope-a-dope is a strategy to let your opponent tire themselves out- you don't have to dodge nearly as much, because your blocks work so much better. Normally a block does not give you too much room to roll with the punches and bleed them of their strength- everything has to go down your whole body, as you're grounded by just your two feet.

But now that I'm on the ropes, I can block her punches and let her bounce me off the ropes- bleeding that energy that way, instead of just getting hammered.

This continues- and don't let me imply that it's easy, because it sure as shit isn't- for a good thirty to forty seconds of her whaling on me, me blocking a few, but dodging as many as I can. I get a few quick jabs in, just to make her, and more importantly, the referee believe that I haven't given up on the fight.

Her breathing becomes more and more ragged, and the exertion of those crazy looping punches and haymakers is beginning to tell on the girl. Her punches, which once felt like jackhammers every time I blocked them and rattled my teeth and skull, now only feel like regular punches. And they're slowing down.

I look behind the girl to ringside for a moment. Doc's standing there, silver hair in that long braid I've come to know, watching intently. She's not sweating, though- she knows I have a plan.

Finally, the girl throws a right hook, telegraphed as though by the hands of Samuel Morse himself, and I duck under it, and forward. Deep breath, explode from the feet up, and all force into a devastating lightning-quick left uppercut, right to her chin. The force of it lifts her a few inches off the canvas, and she slams back down, still on her two feet.

But she's feeling the blow. I take the time to pop two quick jabs into her face, aiming for the swelling bruise just below her eye- she winces, brings her hands up to block again, and then I let go with a left hook right to the belly.

She retaliates, wind knocked out of her, but still angry, with an attempted one-two left-cross right-hook combination. I duck the cross, and catch the hook with my left hand, batting it away and to the side, and hammer her right in the face with a cross counter.

She staggers back a step, and it's in that split second, that I know that I'm not going to get a better moment. I wind up my left hand, breathe in, withdraw the right from the cross counter, and get my Star Punch ready.

I can almost hear it whistle as it cleaves the air before it- the roar of the crowd has dimmed to a hushed buzz, and my peripheral vision narrows as time slows- but she doesn't see it, either due to the staggering or the swelling- and she takes it right on the jaw. The spark in her eyes goes out, and I know in that moment, that nobody's home anymore.

She doesn't fly back- no, she just crumples to the canvas. Thank God for that, because I don't think I could have taken much more of that fight.

I breathe a sigh of relief, and start stepping away from her crumpled form.

“One!” The ref starts the count for the KO. “Two!”

This is the first time she's been knocked down- “Three!” but I know she's not getting up from that.

“Four!” I spare the effort to turn around and watch her, still crumpled and unmoving. “Five!”

Close my eyes, raise one glove in victory. “Six!”

“Mac!” Doc shouts. Eyes snap open. “Seven!” the ref continues.

The girl's eyes are different. Someone's back home. “Eight!” With a face contorted in rage, and a primal yell, the girl leaps back to her feet, fire in her eyes, fire in her belly.

The ref steps back from her, and brings his arm down, in signal to continue the fight.

The girl screeches again, and then everything goes black.

Oh, shit.

[ ] Back up to the ropes again- she can't circle you that way, and you can play rope-a-dope again.
[ ] Try to counter the imminent attack- she can't possibly have much gas left in the tank after that Star Punch.
[ ] Charge her last known location- she probably can't see in this any better than you can.
[ ] Write-in.
No. 177214
[ ] Charge her last known location- she probably can't see in this any better than you can.

Meta knowledge for the win.
No. 177215
[X]Play Marco Polo with her, while retreating to the rope.
We can't see anything, but we can probably hear good enough to tell where she's coming from.
No. 177216
[x] Charge her last known location- she probably can't see in this any better than you can.
We can't counter her attack if we can't see where she is.
No. 177220
[X] Charge her last known location- she probably can't see in this any better than you can.
No. 177221
[x] Charge her last known location- she probably can't see in this any better than you can.

>telegraphed as though by the hands of Samuel Morse himself

Beautiful.
No. 177246
[X] Charge her last known location- she probably can't see in this any better than you can.

Let's hope she's one of those fighters who can get back up from KO's, but will go right down again if you give them a tap as they return. (Glass Joe did that, and since this is the first fight and against a level 1 boss, let's hope she's got a similar weakness.)


Also, Mr. Dream? Pff! Back in my days we got beat up by Mike "Iron Mike" Tyson and we liked it that way!
No. 177258
[X] Charge her last known location- she probably can't see in this any better than you can.

>>177246
Was that before or after your ear got ripped off?
No. 177262
>>177258
Since it was pre-Mr. Dream, it was while Tyson was still cool.
No. 177267
>>177246
I just can't take Tyson seriously with that voice of his.