Keep your assholes sealed tight, you little shitboats! UNDERGROUND PITFIGHTING is back in town again!
The peak of the Empire State Building is oddly serene as snow hurls itself in droves upon the legendary metropolis of New York City. With perpetually bloodshot eyes, a grizzled man in a blue kurtka and shorts silently stares into the vast blizzarding skyline of his adopted hometown. The unrelenting snow, nor the frigid wind, is able to harm his disposition in any way. He stands there, concrete and immobile, as if he was an extension of the building itself.
"Augusto Korda, Master of Sport, I presume?"
The wizened man turns around. A pallid, gangly kid in a white tank top and black belt steps through the shimmering wall of snow and approaches him on the freezing peak of this mythic superstructure. The kurtka-clad grappler acknowledges his younger foe's question by nodding his head. Despite the profound numbness of his skin, the malproportioned adolescent manages to uncurl a smile on his grotesquely acne-plastered face.
"I knew you'd be here. I requested this fight personally. The apex of PitFighting submission battles shall happen tonight..."
The skinny dork pulls a white belt out from his pants and holds it high above his head for an imaginary audience to see.
"Here me, Mr. Korda, Master of Sport! My name is Tony Wankus, disciple of the legendary Angus Gracie! My mastery of jiu-jitsu is unparalleled, my guard is an endless void of pain and suffering! I swear by God, after I humble you I will make you WEAR THIS BELT!!!"
Augusto Korda responds to this speech with a blank, lethargic stare. Smiling at the tripod and camera set up towards the ledge of the roof, Wankus tosses the belt aside and assumes his oldschool Rickson Gracie stance.
"Feel the wrath of the GRACIE TACKLE, ************!"
With that signal, Wankus ineptly dives forwards with his arms outstretched. He grabs a firm hold of Korda's ass and strains to drive through him on his knees in a feeble attempt to take his opponent to the ground. The elder PitFighter stands there bemused for a moment before realizing the fight has started. After figuring out what Wankus is trying to do, a simple underhook of the arm sends Wankus tumbling off-balance on the concrete. The lanky melvin looks up at his barely-concerned foe from off his back, expressions of both surprise and fury manifesting on his face.
"You're a spry old coot, I'll give you that much! But you better be ready, because now I'm really turning on the heat!"
Korda allows his nimrod enemy to stand back up and reassume his jiu-jitsu stance. With a girlish shriek that's supposed to be some sort of war cry, Wankus monkey jumps his battle-hardened opponent and wraps his legs around his torso. He's trying to pull guard, but because he doesn't really know what he's doing he's not actually able to drag Korda to the floor with him. Panicking as Korda merely stares into space with a look of boredom in his eyes, Wankus frantically struggles to switch up his attack. He attempts to shimmy around his opponent's body to lock up a flying armbar, but ends up slipping off head first to the concrete below. A massive white flash erupts in his vision as warm liquid suddenly spurts down his nose. The will to fight quickly zaps from his body.
"Oh... Oh ****."
Wankus attempts to find his opponent but sees nothing but stars.
"I... Never anticipated how infinitely superior you would be to me. You really are the grappling extraordinaire of PitFighting, as they told me you would be. I concede defeat. Please just let me lay here until the bleeding stops and I can move."
Korda pauses for a moment, staring down at his writhing joke of an opponent as he squirms around in his own blood and urine. Nodding once more, he turns around and begins making his exit from this bitter weather. Just as he's halfway to the door, however, Korda stops dead in his tracks and turns his head to look back at his conquered enemy. For the first time this evening, an emotion can be discerned on his face. That emotion is pure, unalloyed maniacal cruelty.
Charging the skinny adolescent just as he's standing up, Korda heaves the boy above is head in a gorilla press and hurls him straight through the bars surrounding the peak's ledge. Wankus hits the bars with such force that they shatter instantly, sending him screaming to his death below. But Korda isn't done yet, oh no. Without breaking pace, he dives off of the ledge himself and rockets to the ground elbow first. The entire city quakes as a massive crater is punched into 5th Avenue by the sheer force of Korda's impact. Wankus' entrails are spread for miles.