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Boxing Competithion Started by: MikeTyson on Jun 07, '22 11:29

Justices last bout had been close. He was sure he had lost, but somehow amidst all the chaos and crowd interventions he had managed to come out on top. Justice always prevails. He'd never dreamed of being in the final, but now it was a reality. Grabbing the mic from...Mike, he turned to the crowd, singling out his next opponent, the stalwart @JohnnyMcIver. 

Listen here punk, I can dish out a spanking so hard you'll forget that you ever lived a life of crime. All you'll know is my fist coming towards your face, just like your mother only remembers your dads fist. I'm about to visit generational trauma upon your line. I'll knock so much sense out of you that MikeTyson can use you as his next horse. Saddle up cowboy cos you're in for a world of pain. 

Remembering that Johnny had lost both his ears in the tournament, Justice quickly scrambled to get the sign language interpreter so Johnny could understand what had been said. Whispering in her ear, she turned to Johnny. Looking at Justice, he nodded eagerly. She raised her arm, thumb touching fingers like an Italian arguing, and shook it back and forth. The universal sign of wanker. Hopefully Johnny would understand that clearly. 

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Iron Mike was fresh off the golf course dressed in a smart white shirt. He had once again proved Mug City could DOMINATE at any sport as a 1-2 on the leader board of mafia golf by Cork Town's finest demonstrated to the great unwashed masses. He enters the enormous JFMAST arena with mixed feelings. He was happy we were going to get an epic finale to a hell of a competition but was also sad it was coming to an end. What would step up to replace the entertainment & spectacle a good old punch up currently provided. Surely not checkers? (Not a sport) Or even worse the cerebral game of Chess (Again NOT a sport) 

As he enters the commentary studio flanked by HeadCoach & BBB he thinks back to the contestants who had made all this possible. 22 (23 if we include Imperium) brave fighters had taken the risk & stepped into the ring. Laundry impresario & soon to be de-facto leader of Mug City Grin-22 had taken care of inviting all the surviving fighters back for our finals night as VIPs. In their honour Iron Mike had produced a huge banner with the bracket leading to the final which was hung above the ring. 

The VIP area is empty & roped off from the soon to be huge baying crowd. All the names of the VIPs are listed on the seats on small cards.

Fat_Horse had been allocated a double wide chair.

Skidmark had been sat at the furthers seat from the ring, along with Grin-22 & Denis to help calm him down lest he resume his assault on finalist Johnny 'Muff Diver' McIver.

Alina & Hobbs had chairs next to each other given their current life partner / lottery partner relationship. Iron Mike had instructed security to shake them down for the $5M of cash outstanding for the competition winner.

Henson was planned to be seated next to Conqueeftador in the seats of shame for disgracing Mug City with first round eliminations. Iron Mike had set up a chair for FrizzleFry but doubted he would bother to attend given he had been refusing to leave his HQ for a considerable period of time.

Gnoch MidpoinT & LittleBunnyFooFoo were seated near to twigs & Daiquiri in the Las Vegas seating area ready to cheer on finalist & friendth Justice.

Touch of Evil & Nicola Trevisani did not have seats reserved, mainly due to the fact that they were dead & digging them up would stink up the place.

The Chicago leaders were grouped together with seats reserved for Illuminatiated & Jarrick who were joined by Imperium

Iron Mike nods to HeadCoach & BBB "Letth do thith thhit"

A FEW HOURS LATER

The stadium is packed to capacity, the atmosphere is hotter than an effigy of Hobbs. It was go time. Iron Mike enters the ring. 

"Ladieth, gentlemen, friendth, enemies, it is time to crown a champion. What a fight we have for you to enjoy tonight. I am feeling PUMPED! In the red shorts needing no introduction (But I will give him one anyway) the scourge or Mug City, the man who makes the ladieth moitht (Allegedly) the man who has given blood, sweat & both ears for his shot at the champions belt IIIIIIIITTTTTTSSSSS Johnny-McIver."

Iron Mike waits for the crowd noise to die down. 

"In the blue shorts hailing from Las Vegas, the man who beat the pithth out of Grin-22, LittleBunnyFooFoo & pulled of the fantastical Mug City screw job against friendth Ian IIIIIIIIITTTTTTTTTSSSSS Justice."

"Ladieth & gentlemen for the final time LETS GET READY TO RUUUUUUUUMMMMBBBBLLLLEEEEE"

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Iron Mike is located in the commentary box for the final time (Sniff) 

"Our finalists are making their way to the ring. The usual chants & screams of lustful ladieth ring out as Johnny-McIver shadow box's his way into the ring. Illuminatiated is giving Justice the evil eye from the VIP area as he begins to warm up. At this stage I must confirm to all the thousands in attendance & the millions watching at home on pay per view that Mr McIver indeed failed to trash talk prior to this bout. Maybe he is focused. Maybe he forgot. Letth hope it doesn't effect his performance too much. I am happy to confirm we will be skipping the national anthem tonight as once again frienth FrenchieHorn has refused to grace us with her presence & fine signing voice."

Iron Mike watches the referee tell the fighters he wants a clean fight & is astounded by the primal noise let out by the crowd as the bell for the first round rings.

Johnny-McIver is fast out of the blocks, his new streamlined (By the lack of ears) head is bobbing & weaving. He snaps a jab into the face of Justice & presses his advantage with a brutal looking kidney shot. Justice looks worried but keeps his footwork moving a clears a space between him & his opponent. McIver continues to press but throws a well telegraphed overhand right, Justice hits him with a peach of an uppercut on the counter. McIver is stunned but quickly shakes off the pain.

Both men square off in the centre off the ring, all thoughts of technique or defence are off. McIver throws a hard cross into the face of Justice. Justice responds with a hook. The crowd are going bonkers. The bell has sounded for the end of round 1.

Both fighters return to their corners.

"This is an ideal time to announce our special guest commentator for round 2. He's big, he's round, some say he weighs over 2000 pounds, the tale of his watery demise are greatly exaggerated (Much to DHC Grin-22's chagrin) its the buddah of ball, the messiah of mug city, its HeadCoach."

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Justice returns to his corner. Already this first round was harder than his other fights had been. ThisCharmingMan rubs his shoulders and squirts some water in his mouth. Come on your Honour you've got this. He then hands him tomorrows docket, which Justice sees is full. WHEN WILL I GET A DAY OFF! Justice was angry, his left eye welling up due to a cut. That lucky bastard McIver had caught him good. It was time to go back and commence the beating of the deaf criminal. He would pay for all his misdeeds against Lady Justice. 

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Before round 2 begins, let me just take a moment to say what a wonderful tournament it has been. Though Mike has clearly cheated me out of an easy win, given my natural ability to pummel anyone who stands before me, I understand that my winning yet another mafia sporting championship would have been demoralizing for the many aspiring athletes who now call these streets their home. Such is my will to be the best that just this week I successfully logged the greatest last-place mafia golf performance this world has ever seen. I simply cannot be stopped. 

We have seen it all here at the MikeTyson boxing showdown - blood, sweat, tears, and bitten off ears - and just the remaining rounds of the final fight remain to be accounted for. That's the bell, so let's get to the commentary. 

Both men traded blows quite evenly in the 1st and come out of their corners looking determined. I see a look in their eyes that I recognize and it's the very same one I see in Grin-22's beady, lifeless eyes - like a dolls eyes - when he's ready to slaughter another one of my loyal bodyguards. The punches are coming out heavier than ever; McIver rattles Justice with an overhand right, sending him wobbling backwards, and presses his advantage with a slick combo. 

Justice forces a clinch to recover, with the sweaty, panting pair beginning to look like the aftermath of my wedding night, and it seems to have done the trick, as he slips out and the fighters square off once more. They're face to face again, Justice lands a few jabs and McIver throws a body shot in return. I'm eating now, press box chicken fingers navigating into my open mouth, as the fight heads into the rearview. I juke my away around the steamed vegetables and straight into the mac & cheese, as I'm sure a couple more punches are thrown here and there, most likely. I wager one fighter is probably doing better than the other but it is difficult to say who, as the crowd ooh's and aahs.

And just in time, the bell goes, a quick check on the ring and both fighters look to be still standing, meaning we're in for an exciting round 3 of this championship fight. Don't go away, folks.

Back to you, Iron Mike. 

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Johnny goes to his corner this fight could go either way and he wanted to win. He sits on the stool and listens to his trainer for some advice.

"Remember hit him with the jab, use the ring show dominance and don't let him corner you. Also be careful make sure to counter don't just swing away be smart with your punches."

Johnny just nods his head then his ears grow back. He sees Alina in the crowd and blows her a kiss and makes a motion with his hand that means call me. He then stands up and looks at all of the female fans in the crowd and sticks his tongue out. He puts his mouthguard back in, his trainer smacks his ass and he gets ready for the next round.

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"Thankth HeadCoach for your wonderful guest commentary. I am glad to see the rumours of your demithe were greatly exaggerated. Now we have a treat lined up for the thousands in attendance & millions watching at home. It is my privilege & honour to introduce our next guest commentator. Rumours have it this beefy boy was recently spotted swanning around Detroit in a fedora, but given his enormous contribution to the world of mafia boxing commentating I will allow it. Its the one, the only, the super beefy jabroni BBB "

Iron Mike hands over the Mic to BBB and gets settled in for our championship final round. He was feeling PUMPED.

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Wow it was a big night. Alina arrived late and the boxers were already in the ring. She wasn’t a sore loser she wished Johnny-McIver the best.  But if it wasn’t for his hard head and her broken wrist she would have kicked the shit out of him.  Nah, she knew he was taking it easy on her.  We will know for sure tonight. 

She made her way down to ring side when she saw an empty seat next to Hobbs.  She waved to him if she could sit there and he signaled her to have a seat.  He was seated almost ringside in Johnny-McIver ‘s corner.  When they caught each other’s eyes he blew her a kiss and made a motion with his hand that meant call him.  She just mouthed back “Good luck”

The crowd started to roar as BBB came to the mic.

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"Ladies and Gentlemen, for one last time with a tear in my eye, I'm a smartly dressed man in a fedora and wearing a black armband to mourn the loss of HeadCoach. Welcome back. Before continuing we have a very special performance from the DHC of DT, the one and only Grin-22. The lights have dimmed and Grin-22 has appeared in the ring alone. He is covered in body paint and in front of him he holds his instrument of choice, the bin. The crowd fall silent waiting with anticipation. Suddenly Grin-22 breaks into tremendous percussion performance. Wow. What a sight. He’s going mental. Looking out at the crowd I see Alina dancing next to Hobbs or is she dancing with him, she's making special eyes at the Muff Diver, clearly enthralled by his nickname and talents. There’s Imperium giving it his best, @Bob_Burgers watching and praying that the booty never quit. MidpoinT is banging his head against the wall and Cobb is praying that MidpoinT doesn’t cramp his style. Illuminatiated if Magic Ian as he now calls himself is practising his card tricks with the hopes of hustling his way to Godfather. 

Grin-22 finishes his performance, and the crowd erupts in a standing ovation. Clearly, this man has regained the love of the people. But you aren’t here to listing to music and listen to me rant. Let’s get down to business and decide who is the champ. 

The ring is cleared, both fighters return and the bell rings. Both men come out fighting. There’s fire in their eyes. Both men want this. Justice clatters McIver with a heavy right hand. The crowd roar. Justice hitting lefts and rights. Alina shielding her eyes by burying her head into Hobbs shoulder. Hobbs recoils or does he. I cant tell. Bad to the action. McIver stubbles backwards. The LV crowd baying for blood. The NY crowd recoiling in horror. Justice goes for the kill. One more big hit. BOOM. McIver is down. McIver is down. The place has exploded. The ref calls for the bell. It’s all over. Justice has done it. Justice has prevailed. His cornermen flood the ring to celebrate with him. What a sight. McIver has been vanquished. Ladies and gentlemen, I can’t hear myself. But I will shove the mic to MickTyson. All that remains is for me to thank you all for being a part of this journey, your kindness has made me one very proud Big Beefy Boi. Thank you very much and goodnight. 

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Looking over at his downed opponent, Justice can't quite believe his eyes. It'd been a tough fight and he was panting heavily from the physical exertion. ThisCharmingMan rushed into the ring and lifted him upon his shoulders. Or that had been the plan but he was too weedy. That's what you get when you put all your stats into charisma and nothing in strength. They both ended up sprawled on the floor in a rather erotic pose that would surely get the tabloids talking. Justice quickly rose and grabbed a towel, wiping the sweat and blood from his swollen face. Not only had he proven his martial worth to the world, but he had proven that Las Vegas had more physical prowess than the obese nation of Detroit who thought mass was equal to strength. Posing for the cameras, he lifted his gown slightly to show his ankle slightly. That's one for the ladies. Bending down to Johnny-McIver he whispered a quick well done to him and gave him a hug. Strange how he could now hear, such were the magical properties of being pummelled by Justice I suppose. Justice did a few quick victory laps of the ring whilst playing up to the baying crowd, a mix boo's and cheers. 

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Johnny gets up shocked at what has happened. He felt that there was something extra in Justice gloves. He grabs the mic and expresses his disappointment with how the fight went.

"Oh hell naw, I was robbed check his gloves! He put some shit in there! He's cheating! I demand an automatic rematch immediately in the next few days. We cannot accept an illegitimate champion!"

He is greeted by boos from the crowd and some throw trash into the ring.

"What the hell you mad for?"

Suddenly someone smacks Johnny's trainer and then Johnny smacks the ref. It's absolute chaos now Justice's trainers are fighting with Johnny's trainers. What is this? Johnny is beating up the announcers and then the judges! Oh no he's gone into the crowd and has started fighting with the fans. This is a malice in the palace!

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The smartly dressed man was done with this shit. He pushed back his chair, stood up and slowly removed his headset. He undid his tie and removed it. He had already removed his jacket. He spotted Conqueeftador in the crowd and gestured to get involved. Conqueeftador ripped off his shirt, let out a roar and started laying in punches on the New York scum. The well-attired gent began heading out into the crowd to remove this degenerate from the building. How dare he disrespect all the hard work Detroit had put into this wonderful work. 

As he walked, he rolled up the sleeves of his white collared shirt. He made eye contact with Deathbecomesme. Nodding she understood. She nailed the nearest person to her with a solid right hook and she was off to the races. He smiled to himself. The Detroit way was strong within her. He pasted Hobbs and Alina. Removing his fedora, he tossed it to Alina. He was a man on a mission and didn’t need some Chicago bullshit hat getting in his way. Turning back to Hobbs, he smiled. 

"Void is over there, why don’t you get to work"

The well-dressed chap continued on his way. Looking back to the ring he smiled to see MikeTyson clearing house. No New York scumbag comes to Detroit and makes a scene. Even some of the newer beefy boys such as Kow, Vin and Darkguest were getting involved. Bobs_Burgers stood looking confused beside FrankCastiglia

"For god’s sake, Bob hit someone." 

Bob happily smacked frank in the head with a meat tenderiser.  

Johnny-McIver was cheap shooting people left and right. The stylish man walked up behind him and slide on a set of knuckle dusters that were a gift from MidpoinT. Quickly and fluidly like only a Detroit baller, he cracked McIver in the back of the head. Standing over him he smirked. He grabbed McIver, hauled him to his feet, and got into his face. 

"You have had your fun, now get the hell out of here. You aren’t the champ, you are just some New York chump"

He quickly backhanded McIver with the brass knuckles and let him fall to the floor. Picking him up, he put him into a half nelson, dragged McIver out of the building, and dumped him on the streets. Squatting down he patted McIver's arm.  

"Thanks for taking part"

He returned inside to the arena where the Detroit ballers had regained control and things awaited MikeTyson

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Iron Mike watches the malice in the palace unfold into a full blown riot. He smacks a few people foolish enough to come close as he watches BBB throw out beaten finalist Johnny-McIver

As peace is restored Iron Mike enters the ring & holds Justice's arm aloft. A huge novelty cheque is presented to the champion, made up of all the generous tips dropped into Iron Mikes bucket during the competition. "Huge congratulations to Justice, I am almost 99.999% (No maths geekth) sure that your training at Iron Mikes Muscle Maker has contributed to this win!"

Your accountant makes note that $2,460,000 has been wired to Justice from your account. The note "Boxing Prize Money" was included.

"Thankth to everyone who has helped make this the most thucceththful boxing competition to ever grace the USA. Thankth to our competitors, our amazing guest announcers & thankth to our event sponsor Squishy. I hope everyone has enjoyed it as much as I did. Prizes will be distributed shortly. Please do not be a pest & come chasing them! Now its back to the drawing board for old Iron Mike. Watch this space for our upcoming AMAZING CONTESTS including mafia tick tack toe & a logistically tricky, but not impossible mafia sudoku! I will close out the show with a HUGE GRAPHIC showing all of our fantastic fights on the road to our winner."

Iron Mike exits the JFMAST arena to a rousing cheer from the crowd of 'IRON MIKE, IRON MIKE, IRON MIKE'.

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Mike you put on one hell of a show here, and I'm not just saying that because I won. Congratulations are in order. I might let you sit on my new diamond encrusted chaise lounge that I'm ordering for my chambers with my winnings. I might even treat myself to a nice new gavel as well. Heavens knows my old one has taken a beating with all the criminals around here. 

Justice tucks the giant cheque under his arm, and makes off like a cartoonish villain, retreating into the nights to covet his spoils. 

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Sniffler strolled down towards the ring. The sound of his cane clicking as he walked was the only noise amongst the deafening silence of the arena. An arena that once knew such drama and action that could only be rivalled by that on the silver screen. Using his lighter held in front of him he illuminated his way. As he reached the ring Sniffler closed his flip lighter and placed his hand upon the warn canvass. As he slid his hand across the blood and sweat stains images began to flicker in his head of lives past. A playful prince, a peace-loving pervert, and many other indomitable icons. Images of bouncing balls, beaten bodies and bruised bodyguards. Sniffler began slowly making his way up the stairs into the ring. The clang of his footsteps rang out in the seemingly eternal silence.

Stepping through the ropes he smiled as he looked at the empty and dust-covered commentary desk. A tattered headset sat upon the dilapidated leather chair. A chair that had been sat in my many greats. Sniffler made his way to the centre of the ring. He spins in place looking at the broken lights above him. Many dreams have been broken in this ring, but many memories made.

Sniffler had made his way to Detroit and this boxing arena to reconnect with the past. To reconnect with his past. A past which moulded his present and his future. Sniffler sighed to himself as memories he couldn’t quite place filled his mind.

Pulling about a tattered handkerchief Sniffler mopped his brow. An embroidered B could be seen as Sniffler placed the handkerchief back into his pocket. He pulled out the goat book and opened it to a routinely thumbed page.

At the top page was a picture of a rather rotund man in a leisure suit. Below this was a small note. Sniffler took the page and placed it in the middle of the ring. He then took his lighter out of his pocket along with a candle. He placed the candle alongside the note. Smiling to himself he left the arena. As the candle flickered in the gentle breeze these words could be seen upon it.

“Once ever present, their hearts still beat to the bounce of the ball, their names changed but their passion burning, soon it begins again”.

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