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Kristy yells out in fear as she watches her brother being sweeped violently down onto the hard matt. Tears brim her eyes as she watches the blood flow from under his smashed in face as the angry Coltrane violent grabs hold of Garrett through different holds. Rushing protectively to the ring she is once again brushed back, ordered to sit with the rest of the visitors. Anger rushes through her at the gaurd but more so at the Coltrane that shows no mercy. Even angry at her brother for being so stupid as in not surrendering when he knew his chances were shot. That's Garrett for you.

Horrified Kristy stares silently at the matt, at her brother being tightly held down, his face now being shoved angrily down into the matt. She is over come with panic as she forces herself to long breaths, fighting to remember to breath. Watching her brother lie on the matt, showing little use of struggle or any room to struggle, she fights back the thought of how far this fight may take him. Her kids would never forgive her if she had to go home to tell them that they may never see their uncle again. But that's life and she had tried to warn him off, but offer Garrett a fight and he is sure to enter...and not to surrender until the end. The end should have been long ago. "Damn it," she mutters wiping at her tear streaked face.

"Shhh it'll be ok," Kristy jumps in startlement as a strong caring hand lands on her right shoulder. Slowly she glances up to find Uncle Jesse sitting next to her with Luke sitting on her other side.

"It'll be ok?" she snaps looking up at Garrett, "How do you see it bein' OK? Garrett is up there getting his tail kicked...and bad. Who knows how far it will go. Damn him! Him and his damn ego always getting in the way, getting him either hurt or in trouble!"

Both men look at me in amazement to hear my temper through my raised voice before Jesse presses me into him. "I know sweetie," he sighs through, his blue eyes shine in his own worry, "that all is a Duke trait...a negative in most account. Bo is the same way...so was or is your dad. It is up to him."

"One other thing," Luke speaks up besides her, "us Dukes...we all stick together no matter what."

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From the corner of his eye, Brian saw the gathering of the Dukes. He tried not to look at them, but Kristy's wail caused his dark eyes to glance briefly her direction. Her tragic expression broke through the red haze of fury in Brian's mind. A man's life was in his hands, and the Duke family was watching.

"@#%&*!!" Brian gritted through his teeth, slamming Garrett's head down for a final time. He sprang up from the wounded Duke, and delivered the coup de grace', driving a boot down hard on Garrett's injured leg, smashing the boot heel into the back of the unprotected knee.

Brian ground the boot into the back of Garrett's kneecap as if he were crushing out a cigarette. Between the twisting the leg had received, and the blow inflicted to the back of the knee, it was unlikely that Garrett would be able to stand up for awhile. At least, not without the aid of a decent crutch.

Whether Garrett was conscious enough to utter a surrender, Brian didn't know. By the looks of the bleeding and broken Duke, it didn't much matter.

Brian looked over one shoulder at the Duke family. He pointed back to Garrett. "Get him outta here," he growled. "Get him out while he's still breathin'."

(cue a Duke )

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"Garrett!" Kristy jumps to his feet the moment Brian mutters something about getting him out of there. Defensivly she jumps to her feet, glancing over at Luke and Jesse for help.

Silently Luke nods as he takes a couple of steps forward and motions to someone in the back. Glaring back at Kristy, Kristy seeks the worry that drips from Luke's blue eyes as he places a hand on a post. "Go see if you can find a doctor...someone with some medical experience," he says barely over a whisper, "we will need to get him to a hospital as soon as possible."

Silently Kristy nods as she turns around almost running into Bo who walks up with Cooter. "I'm sorry," Bo fights to hide his worry out of his voice as he draws his sister into a tight hug, "he tried."

"Yeah perhaps," Kristy shrugs before peeling loose to search for a doctor to help her brother as thoughts rush through her head. Running a quick hand over her eyes to attempt to dry her tears and to fight back any tears, she searches the crowded arena.

For a short moment Kristy searches frantically for either a phone or some sort of physician in hope of helping her brother. Abruptly her thoughts draw her up short and she turns around to find Bo, Luke, Cooter, and Jesse in the ring, all kneeling around Garrett's still body that leaks blood like a water fall. "Damn," she says out of frusteration as Luke slowly rolls Garrett's twisted and broken body over as they try to find a way to carry him out of the ring. From where she stands, she hears no yell or gasp of pain leave from Garrett as she had expected to hear from them moving his twisted body.

Slowly she forces herself to turn and search for a phone before slowly finding one. Hurriedly she rushes over there and shoves forcefully on the numbers that connect her to the hospital. As a soft female's voice comes on the line, Kristy explains what happened and where they are in an exasperated voice. With the confirmation that an ambulance is on it's way, Kristy slams down the reciever before she rushes through the path that she had taken.

As she returns to her seat, she finds Garrett laying silently still on the cold floor with Luke and Bo hovering over him. Blood continues to flood from his nose. "H...how is he?" Kristy stutters in fear to hear the answer. "I called for an ambulance."

Luke nods in acknowledgement as he pulls out a handkerchief that is quickly drenched in Garrett's blood as he attempts to put it to his swollen nose. "I don't know...unconscience at the moment," Luke slowly answers, "He's having a difficult time breathing through the blood and his broken nose."

Kristy nods slowly in understanding as a single tear slowly streaks down her right cheek as she weakly finds a seat near by, where she is soon accompanied by Jesse and Cooter; who attempts to comfort her.

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"Alright Rosco you old hound dog. We havent got all day, step up here before I drag my own brother up here an give him a lickin."

Another dark haired Duke had stepped into the ring to try his hand at a Coltrane. Breyer Duke stood in the center of the ring, sweat dripped down his face in nervousness, built heavy an shorter then Chet his twin brother. Chet stood by the ring giving his brother a cold glare whiler holding some ice to the back of his head from his own battle.

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Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane was no doubt the oldest participant in the tough man contest. And he was probably a fool but he had a point to make. Despite his age over his opponent Breyer Duke, Rosco made sure to show up in full uniform, sans his gun belt, as weapons were not allowed in the fight, and Lord knows Rosco wouldn't have wanted his gun to end up in the wrong hands. Although he would have to shed half of it before battle, there was something about the full uniform that was imposing to say the least. Rosco had spent most of the morning shining brass and polishing his boots, and as he pulled himself up onto the apron of the ring he hardly seemed familar to the crowd that had gathered to watch the events.

Rosco stood for a moment, saber blue eyes looking across the ring at Breyer from beneath his black stetson. The Sheriff's expression was serious. He had watched parts of the two previous battles from the window of the courthouse and if those were any indication, he knew he was in for a tough fight. And if he wasn't careful, it could very well end up his last fight.

But any of those thoughts were well concealed under the grim expression he wore. Before he could respond to Breyer's "old hound dog" comment, Cully was suddenly jumping up onto the ring apron. He climbed through the ropes and stood in the middle of the ring, grinning. He had no microphone but his voice would carry just fine.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall!! In this corner, weighing in at one hun'red and ninety pounds, from Hazzard County Georgia... Breyer, the Bruiser, Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuke!!"

The crowd cheered as Cully pointed toward Breyer.

"And in this corner, weighing in at an amazing one hun'red and sixty pounds, soaking wet, from Hazzard County Georgia, Rosco, the Rebel Rouser, Col-traaaaaaaaaaaannnne!!"

A respectable cheer came from the crowd. Cully walked over to Rosco.

"Thought I'd try to lighten things up a little bit...ya sure you wanna do this?"

Rosco looked at Cully and nodded.

"I still think we shoulda swapped and have me take your place."

Rosco shook his head, no.

Cully sighed. "Awright then... remember what I told ya. I've been in enough bar room brawls you could at least take my advice!"

Rosco nodded. "I'll remember."

Cully patted Rosco on the arm and climbed out of the ring. Rosco then removed his hat, uniform jacket and uniform shirt, handing the items down to Cully. Wearing just his white t-shirt, black pants and boots, Rosco climbed through the ropes and entered the ring.

"Awright, Breyer..." Rosco said, looking at the young Duke, every sense alert, every muscle ready for whatever was about to transcribe. "The old hound dog is here..."

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"Come on old man I dont wanna hurt you." Breyer began to cyrcle like the leader of a pack of wolves.

"Forfeit while ya got the chance." Breyer.

He continued his cyrcle around the sherif awaiting the mans move, unlike his wiz-ass brother he chose to wait an let his oppenet strike first. There was no hurry, he falt he had all night to wait.

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Rosco countered Breyer's circling, turning to keep the young Duke within in his sight. "Well, ain't you kind, don't wanna hurt the old man...." Rosco let Breyer circle a couple more times before he lunged toward the Duke, grabbing him around the mid section and knocking him down to the floor. Rosco then quickly grabbed Breyer's left arm and turned it behind the Duke's back, keeping a knee planted squarely in Breyer's back and forcing the Duke to nearly kiss the floor.

"I, on the other hand, ain't so particular. Now, what were you saying about forfeiting?"

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Breyer layed helplessly pinned to the floor of the ring in the sherifs police hold, a hold that there werent many ways out of. He lifted his head as much as he could an tried to put up with his arm that was pinned under him. Then he began to think a moment, what would happen if he went on to the next round? Who would he fight?

After all he had been talked into entering this contest, he was much of a fighter. He had always been known to his family as the lover not the fighter...unlike his sibling. Now the question was forfeit or battle to get outta the sherifs hold....

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Rosco kept the pressure on the hold, keeping his knee firmly dug into Breyer's back and pulling on the arm just enough to be highly uncomfortable for the young Duke. Rosco kept his right hand at the base of Breyer's neck, pushing down and not allowing the Duke any leverage.

The crowd was getting into it, some rooting for Breyer to try to break the hold, others rooting for Rosco to keep the pressure on.

"That's it, Rosco!" Cully called. "You can keep him down like that all day!"

Rosco continued to concentrate on keeping the Duke down in the text book police hold. In fact it was so text book, Rosco couldn't resist giving a Miranda warning, altered for the situation though.

"You have the right to remain pinned to the floor. Any further moves you make will be countered in a very uncomfortable way. You have the right to forfeit. If you chose not to forfeit....well, I can sit here with my knee in yer back all day. KHEE!"

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Breyer wasnt sure what the next round would bring if he could manage to take Rosco out, he considered the other contests. Min Duke, Brian Coltrane an the excon Riddick. In Breyers mind that was some thick carmel, an he wasnt looking forward to battling any of the others. But it wasnt in his Duke blood to give up, exspecially to the likes of the Hazzard County law. A smirk crossed his face barely visible under Roscos hand that pressed his head down.

"You think you've got me dont ya old man...." Breyer said through the uncomfortable hold.

Suddenly he tucked his knees under himself even though Rosco's knee dug into his back painfully, an like a spring he released his legs. Breyer bucked the sherif forward with all his strength throwing the older man off balance an at the same time twisting his arm out of the uncomfortable hold. He grabbed the sherif's arm and gave it a pull causing the unbalanced elder man to be pulled to the floor.

As quickly as possible Breyer got to his feet and kicked Rosco in the side of the ribs, then backed away to allow him to get up off the floor....if he could.

"Nice little song there Sherif...but I got one of my own." Breyer smirked.

"Badboys, badboys whatcha gonna do, watcha gonna do when we get away from you." The young Duke laughed aloud at his own twist of lyrics but kept his eyes trained on the sherif.

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Rosco rolled on the floor, wrapping his arm around his rib and fighting to breathe normally. He closed his eyes hard, his entire face scrunching up at the pain Breyer afflicted from the kick to the ribs. "*%#@!" he spat.

"C'mon, Rosco!" Cully called. "C'mon..." Cully didn't like it. Rosco looked wounded. Badly.

Rosco opened his eyes and looked around the ring, seeing where Breyer was at. Hearing the Duke's laughter, and realing from the kick to the ribs, Rosco realized that trying to fight fair was more than likely going to just get him to lose his teeth. Not only was he going to have to use his police training, he was going to have use old fashioned country fighting skills.

Rosco found Breyer out of the corner of his eye, judging the distance between the two of them. He rolled a little more, appearing to be mortally wounded and found his lungs were starting to work right again. Just when it looked like the Sheriff was going to stay down for good, he suddenly rolled across the floor toward the Duke. He swung a leg out and caught Breyer directly in the knee, slamming the boot heel hard against Breyer's knee cap.

Breyer stumbled and tried to stay standing. Rosco kicked out again, this time catching Breyer behind the knee with the toe of his boot and knocking it out from under the Duke, bringing the young man down to the floor.

As quickly as he could, Rosco sat his weight across Breyer's chest and landed a good punch to Breyer's face, hitting him square in the jaw. Another hit followed and then a crushing blow to Breyer's neck, just below the adam's apple.

It was a move so unexpected that even Cully flinched. Instinctively he put his hand to his own throat and could only imagine the choking feeling such a hit could make.

Rosco didn't waste any time on gloating this time. He held his fist against Breyer's neck, applying the pressure for a moment. Breyer gagged and tried to move to break Rosco's hold and leverage but the Sheriff wouldn't let him. Despite the pain in his side, Rosco stood up and yanked Breyer up by his arm. He then threw Breyer across the ring, sending the Duke into the ropes in a heap and then collapsing onto the floor of the ring.

Before Breyer could recover, Rosco returned a kick to the ribs and then got down on his knees and pushed Breyer out of the ring under the bottom rope, sending him crashing down to the ground.

Rosco stepped to the ropes and looked down at Breyer. "Well now bad boy... what are YOU gonna do?!" Rosco flicked the top rope with his hand and backed away to the middle of the ring and waited...

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Breyer Duke crashed to the floor stomach down a tight hand aorund his battered throat, coughing an gaging. He layed on the floor for a moment an then pressed himself to his hands an knees raises his other hand to the sherif in surrender. Unlike his brother and uncel he would not fight until he was beatin bloody an unconcious. He had more brains then that.

"I forfeit!" Breyer said through a choked voice sitting back on his butt on the floor his chest heaving an a hand to to throat an the other to his ribs.

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After watching Garrett Duke get hauled away in the ambulance, Brian had turned his attention to the fight between Rosco and Breyer. He witnessed the battle in silence, standing near Cully, offering his presence in support of Rosco's efforts.

It was with grim satisfaction that Brian watched Rosco apply some brutal cop-tactics against Breyer. Ol' Rosco had a mean streak that was making itself known in short order. When Breyer surrendered, Brian felt pride in his cousin's victory, and also relief that Rosco was leaving the ring intact.

Garrett had not been as fortunate. In fact, every round had contained a savagery that was beyond expectation. For himself, Brian felt no stirrings of guilt for what he had done to his earlier opponent. Humanity was locked away, forced aside by the need to fight and survive. There were no half-measures in these situations.

As Rosco left the ring and met up with Cully, Brian stayed with them long enough to make sure Rosco was alright. Their eyes met for a moment, each expression holding congratulations and concern to the other. Then, as the next rounds were announced, Brian gave a single nod to Rosco and turned away. They each had another battle to face, and each of them had to prepare for it.

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Mean while a darkly dressed muscular figure stood in the back of the crowd near the anouncers booth preparing to work his way through the crowd. He looked down at the ring, empyting his pockets into a duffle bag an taking a long drink of water. Dark colored stiches stood out on his cheek against his unusual white pupiled eyes that staired seriously towards the ring.

Riddick placed his water bottle into his duffle bag an tucked the bag away out of sight, it was intermission time. The crowd was in the middle of getting there refills of beer and snacks, the sound of people talking an moving around echoed through the building. But Riddick didnt hear them his mind swirled with thoughts an he concentrated on what he was about to do an wondered what would come of it. He streached his arms high above his head listening to his sholders an back crack, bending his elbows he pulled his black muscle shirt off over his head. His chest scared an tattoos scattered about here an there, a fresh tattoo of an outline of a red rose stood out the most, placed directly over his dry-ice cold heart.

Tossing his shirt with his bag he shook the thoughts from his head an began to make his way through the crowd slowly but not hesitantly. Some people who had been contestants or family of contestants lingered around the ring awaiting the next round an conversing with whom ever.

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Brian spent a few minutes washing up and replacing his tattered wardrobe. A fresh black t-shirt was pulled over his chest, and he put on his black leather jacket. At some point, he would have to take it off again...but he preferred to make his entrance with it on.

The jacket's weight was reassuring as it hung open over his shoulders and covered his back. It was a part of him, and it had seen him through many fights and deadly confrontations in the past. Therefore, he wore it now as he approached the ring.

His boot steps were even and sure; his spine was straight and his shoulders high. His bearing was one of cool resolve as he walked through the crowd. Though is body contained some aches from the fight Garrett had given him, Brian felt ready to face his next opponent.

An opponent he knew well. He and Riddick had clashed in Hazzard for a long time; they had fought at nearly every opportunity. Eventually, a peace had been agreed upon between them...but perhaps the peace just wasn't meant to be. For the moment Riddick joined him in the ring, they would be enemies once again. And every blow exchanged was capable of opening old wounds.

More...they were each capable of destroying the other. This fact resounded through Brian's mind. His dark eyes were fixed forward and his face was emotionless, but those who knew him well caught the brief glimpses his eyes made in the direction of friends and kin.

Finally, Brian entered the ring. He was alone in it, for the moment, and he paced around slowly, restless like a caged panther. He soon noticed Riddick finishing his own preparations and moving towards the ring.

Brian stopped pacing. He now stood motionless, except for the breeze that caught his hair and gently stirred it. His turned his face to the wind and held his head high, basking in the warmth of the sun and in the caress of the wind. It was a last moment of peace.

For one of them would not be leaving the ring under their own power.

(Cue Riddick.)

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Stepping through the crowd alittle at a time Riddick slowly made his way towards the ring, he could see Brian his opponent already standing there. Riddick glanced at the ring only for a moment then returned his eyes to the crowd that he was making his way through.

He wasnt gonna lie to himself, he knew the chances that he was taking stepping into that ring in a few minutes. An he knew what it could coast both of them, but he had never backed down to anyone even in the face of death without question. So with that in mind he took a deep breath an let it out cracking his neck from said to side coming down to the ring so that he was only a few feet from its edge.

There was truely no telling what was going to happen when he stepped into that ring, wisely he walked around the outter edge coming to the fartherest corner away from the one that Brian stood in. He raised his eyes taking the ropes in his hands an pulling himself up into the ring by ducking under the first rope of three.

The sun beat in warm on his sholders an he half turned towards the sun to get the rays outta his sensitive eyes. The sun was going to complicate things for him an make everything alittle more uncomfortable. But he wasnt here for comfort an he wasnt there to have fun, he though to himself forcing himself to turn towards the light and towards the Coltrane. Riddick leaned in the corner of the ring flexing alittle and warming up his cold muscles with some small movement.

When he felt ready he stepped forward with purely serious eyes, his dark eyebrows low an his white pupile eyes slightly narrowed. He stood with his back strait, the muscles in his arms, back, chest an stomach taught an tight with antisipation.

(cue: Brian)

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"Fancy meetin' you here," Brian drawled. He gave a smile to Riddick and took a few steps closer, pacing around just short of arm's reach. Keeping an eye on Riddick, Brian spoke to him casually.

"This reminds me of the old days, when you were bound n' determined to get the better of me. I guess nothin's changed, man. I think a part of ya was nevah gonna be satisfied until you went for it one more time."

Chuckling ruefully, Brian shook his head. "An' now it's come down to this, after we've learned how to get along. You know damn well I can't surrender to you, Riddick. No more than you can surrender to me."

Turning away slightly, Brian took off his jacket. His motions were slow, almost reluctant. "Ah didn't want this fight, Riddick...." He held the leather jacket in his hand and hesitated, as if on the cusp of a last decision...

Suddenly, Brian spun in place and whipped the leather jacket at Riddick's face, hurling it with an open-handed pitch with all the strength of his arm behind it. Immediately, Brian pounced, the jacket no sooner hitting Riddick's face than Brian leapt upon him with a high tackle, knocking the big man over and keeping the jacket pressed over his face.

Brian sank a knee into Riddick's chest, pushed the jacket hard against Riddick's face, and denied the man air....but only for a few seconds, just enough to let the instinctive panic of the blinding, suffocating move unnerve his enemy. Riddick was now giving struggle, and this was no more then the opening feint....

Brian whipped the jacket off Riddick's face abruptly and let the sunlight glare down without warning into Riddick's white eyes. Such was the dramatic change in light, that Riddick didn't immediately see the coiled fist Brian had ready...

...and the fist was unleashed heavily into one eye of Riddick's and then the other with rapid, snakelike strikes. "YIELD!" Brian snarled, sending another blow to hammer down on the sensitive eyes.

(cue Riddick....)

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The sudden sunlight had stunned Riddick and blinded him, it had nearly impossible for him to see Brian's fists until he had stricken him two or three times. Riddick raised his fists and protected his face with his lower arms struggling to dodge the Coltrane's blows. He had struggled emeditly an panicked for aie when the lether jacket had covered his face.

An now Riddick had regained control an come out of his panick still dodging the fists of Brian Coltrane. He risked a glance at his attacker opening his eyes for a moment, a moment was all he needed. Now he knew the exact position of Brian head, neck and chest.

Riddick lowered his arms suddenly and leashed out with both hands taking hold of the front of Brian's shirt. Although Brain's knee pressed against Riddick's chest holding him down he bent his head forward veering away from one of Brian's fists. He drew the Coltrane down by the font of his shirt and bent his head forward with a quick forcefull head but.

Riddick's forhead came down on the upper part of Brian's nose as hard as he could. Knowing that the sudden blow to the face would throw Brian off course momentarly. Riddick twisted his body in a hurry tensing his stomach muscles against Brian's knee. He forced him off to the side and onto the floor.

Furiously Riddick raised his foot and kicked Brian away while raising himself up to his hands and knees. He blinked his eyes still seeing spots and feeling pain in them as he got to his feet taking up a fighting stance with his fists raised high to potect his face.

(Cue Brian~)

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Brian rolled away with the kick and sprang to his feet. His nose stung painfully, and he gave a deep intake of breath to sniff back the blood. But his expression bore a jackal's smile, and he laughed low and deep in his chest as he circled Riddick.

Brian remained out of arm's reach, pacing quickly, lunging in with jabs only to dance back without landing a blow. A whiff of air could be heard as Brian's arm shot forward in another feint; there was both speed and power being demonstrated in the moves. Yet he didn't close in on Riddick...not yet. He was keeping the larger man on guard, keeping him on the defensive, forcing him to protect himself from a threat that never landed....

Unexpectedly, Brian jogged backwards a couple of steps and abruptly pulled off his black t-shirt. He twisted it lengthwise between his hands, then dove forward and snapped it like a whip, striking Riddick's unprotected stomach. Instantly, Brian jumped back, twisted the shirt and snapped it again. It was maddening, distracting...the blows landed with a sting on Riddick's bare skin, irritating as hell. The shirt snapped towards Riddick's face, cracking an inch from one eye, making the big man flinch.

The strategy seemed unfathomable, however, from a physical standpoint. The snapping shirt caused Riddick's skin to sting, but it couldn't possibly knock him out, and sooner or later he'd be successful in grabbing it away. In fact, Riddick was reacting quickly, on to the game....

....and Brian snapped the shirt at Riddick's face once more, and Riddick's white eyes were fixed upon it, ready to grab it....and this was exactly when Brian jumped forward and issued a fast snap-kick with his left leg into Riddicks’ gut, lashing it out with the snap of the shirt in a synchronized move. The kick sent Riddick falling down once more.

This time, Brian didn't follow him to the floor to complete the attack. He simply found Riddick's right hand and stomped down on it with his boot heel, as if trying to drive in a nail. There was a short, sickening crunch that spelled cracked knuckles.

Brian sprang back and moved away, still holding the black shirt. He put distance between himself and Riddick and waited for his enemy to stand again.

He no longer invited him to surrender.

(cue Riddick...)

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There was nothing Riddick could do to pull his hand out from under Brian's boot heal. Pain shot through his hand an he released a cry of agony an hung his head between his sholders grimacing in pain. He could hear the bones in his hand crackle and feel them break through his skin. Only as Brian stepped away was Riddick able to pull his hand away and hold it close to his chest not emeditly raising to his feet. Riddick looked at his wounded hand, he found know movement in it, he would have to finish out the rest of the fight one handed.

Riddick glanced at Brian outta the corner of his eye knowing that he was being carefully watched. He brought his knee under himself slowly as if he was simply going to get to his feet. But suddenly he rolled over onto his side, kicking out a carefully aimed foot an stricking Brian in the side of the knee. The quick move hadn't given Brian a chance to escape the the direct force of Riddick's kick and his knee gave way cracking as Riddick's hand had.

In a hurry Riddick gained his feet an dashed forward tackling him to the ground face first onto his chest. Riddick waisted know time in stradling Brian and holding him down with his masive weight. He pinned Brian's hands at his sides with his knees and took hold of his hair on the back of his head. Riddick smashed Brian's face into the floor twice as hard as he could one handed then locked his muscular left arm around Brian's neck. He tipped Brian's head back putting pressure on his jugular and threatening his neck. Riddick held him there breathing out a hot breath in his ear.

"Move a muscle...an I'll snap your neck faster then you can blink...." Riddick's Yankee voice growled low and lethely.

"Thats not a threat....thats a promise..."

(Cue Brian )

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"Does it LOOK like ah can move?" Brian coughed out. Dazed from the hard blows of his face to the floor, and with Riddick's weight pinning him, Brian concentrated on the main objective...which at the moment, involved breathing. He gave another cough, and uttered a low moan of pain. The situation felt hopeless.

Surrender wasn't an option. Brian knew if Riddick snapped his neck...a possibility very real at the moment...then Rosco or Min would be forced to face this big goon.

Brian shut his eyes for a moment, drew in a slow, shuddering breath, and gave himself a final moment to think. His enemy's weight was heavy on him, and his arms were pinned to his sides by Riddick's legs...his neck, dangerously trapped by Riddick's strong left arm...

But Riddick's right hand was broken and he couldn't be bracing his balance with it all that well....it was going to be risky, tho'....

Brian opened his dark eyes, gritted his teeth, and with a furious snarl, turned his right wrist and made a clawed grab for the hamstring muscle in Riddick's right leg, gouging it and twisting. At the same time, Brian raised his right shoulder up and tilted Riddick to the left, forcing Riddick's left elbow down into the floor.

Brian broke free of the neck-hold at the same time Riddick pulled the hamstrung leg loose, but this was fine. The progressive momentum of the roll to the left had done the job; and Brian, now rolling with his back over Riddick's chest, backhanded his right fist to smash into Riddick's face. Brian followed this up instantly by rolling off the big man...but not before he drove his left elbow hard into Riddick's groin.

This made Riddick roar in pain, and curl forward in an attempt to protect the area....which was what Brian wanted. He shoved his left elbow back square into Riddick's right eye, knocking Riddick's head back, and gauranteeing a swollen eye that would be hard to see with.

Brian scrambled away on all fours, hauling himself upright with the aid of the ring ropes. The knee Riddick had kicked was screwed up and giving him trouble; he couldn't completely put his weight on the leg. But he could limp, and this is what Brian did, getting as far away from Riddick as possible. He stayed to the inside perimeter of the ring and used the ropes to aid his orderly retreat. He had to regroup and evaluate the damage...

His leg hurt, his face hurt, he ached all over, and Riddick had made a promise to kill him. Other than that, he was fine...

But on Riddick's part...the right side of the big man's body had taken much damage. A broken hand, an injured hamstring, and a fast-closing eye...all on the right side. Riddick may not have realized it yet, but he was effectively cut in half. The hit to the groin had been a bonus.

"You...shoulda...called it...off..." Brian panted, watching his enemy struggle to get up.

(cue Riddick.)

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Like wise to Brian, Riddick crawled to the corner of the ring as far awar from his oppennant as he possibly could. The pain in his groin was subsiding enough for him to get to his feet and take in the other damage he had suffered. Riddick pulled himself up with his left hand, tightly gripping the ropes. On his feet he found his right leg in pain and his vision blurred from the blow to his right eye. Riddick growled to himself, he was at even more of a disadvantage even though Brian too limped.

Riddick looked at the Coltrane, blood oozing from both of there wounds, both of them in deep pain an agony. But Riddick knew that he couldnt stop, he couldnt let Brian win, a million moves ran through Riddick's head. He could feel the blood dripping down his right hand, the hand that was completely useless to him now and possibly for the rest of his life.

Slowly a curled smirk crossed his face, a dangerous wild eyed look of a pleased idea and plan forming in his head.

He limped forward towards Brian until he was only two feet away and he looked him directly in the eye stairing hard. His right eye swelled into a narrowed slit, his left eye wide with wildness. Suddenly he brought his left fist up into Brian's chin without warning, connecting with his jaw at the same time bringing his knee up into Brian's groin.

Brian doubled over in pain covering his groin with both hands. Riddick took a limping step forward and put his left arm tightly around Brian's neck again, this time a new plan other then trying to strangle the Coltrane. Riddick stood off to Brian's side slightly so that Brian's sholder pressed against the base of Riddick's left arm. Weighing 260lbs Riddick threw his own weight backwards colasping onto his back, taking Brian face first into the hard floor with him.

The floor colided with Brian's face, Riddicks weight driving them together with brute force. Releasing the hold on Brian's neck Riddick rolled over once an onto his back again raising his strong left foot with a carefully aimed boot. He struck out releasing his coiled foot with all his strength smashing Brian in the side of the head an then again in the ribs. Again Riddick rolled away this time pulling himself to his feet again with the aid of the ropes, watching Brian an catching his own breath. Sweat mixed with the blood on own his face from his now open stiches and ran down dripping onto his sholders.

(Cue Brian....if ya think ya can handle it.)

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The edges of Brian's vision went black. The velvet drapes of unconsciousness were threatening to shut, drawing the last act to a close with no encore.

There was a ringing, roaring sound in his ears, and the floor felt as if it were slowly spinning beneath him. It was impossible to draw a breath without pain; his ribs were battered, his face was beaten, and his breathing, when he recognized it as his own, was a low rasp.

Riddick was killing him. Somehow, the big goon wasn't as affected by his injuries as Brian would have expected, and seemed to be throwing him around at will. Coltrane stock was looking bearish and it was time to sell.

Brian used his arms to push his upper body off the floor. He drew his good leg up beneath him, then reached out for the ring ropes to help pull himself upright.

He stood there, staring at Riddick through swimming vision, breathing through his teeth. His body rocked slightly with the exertion of his own breath. His dark hair was disheveled, matted with sweat and blood, and the adrenaline surged through him with such force as to make his muscles twitch and quiver.

Standing a few feet away was Riddick, who was eyeing him with a look of wariness but also expected victory. Having pancaked the Coltrane like a Sunday breakfast, Riddick looked ready to clean the plate. All he needed was to hear was Brian's surrender...

...and Brian knew Riddick was waiting for those words. Brian could read the thought on the big man's face plainly....and he gave an audible answer.

"Nevah!" Brian heaved out, as the fire his dark eyes flared anew. "Do you hear me, you @#%&* mis-be-gotten @#$%&* corn-fed @#$%* !!?"

Brian braced his weight on his good leg, leaning back against the springy ropes of the ring. He bent the knee of his good leg, coiling up the muscle...and then he rocked himself back against the ropes, letting them throw him forward, as he powered his weight from his good leg, flying forward into a handspring. Both his palms slapped the floor and he pushed his arms against it for all he was worth, swinging his legs up overhead into a forward flip...sending the boot heel of his good leg to connect into Riddick's face with the descent.

Riddick fell and so did Brian; but Brian's momentum carried him forward to land advantageously, while Riddick was knocked flat on his back. Riddick's broken right hand and weak right leg were not going to permit him a quick recovery to his feet. Brian didn't need much time anyway...

...he scissored his upper legs around Riddick's neck, clamping his thigh muscles into a vice-like lock. He grabbed Riddick's left wrist and pinned it back against the floor, leaning his weight down, his upper legs squeezing Riddick's neck...and this left Brian a free hand to do the damage with.

With calculated brutality, Brian drove a fist hard into Riddick's left eye, sending several quick blows in rapid order, blinding his opponent by abrasing the eye and making it swell shut. Depriving his enemy of vision had been Brian's tactic at the outset; and now, he completed that mission. He kept Riddick in the hold and pummeled the face, the temple, the jaw, slightly slower now, with a heavy, hammering fist meant for knockout.

Brian didn't stop to see what this was doing to his enemy. The red haze was thick in his mind, the fury of battle possessing him. He was not going to stop. He couldn't stop...he couldn't take the risk. Was Riddick still breathing? Brian didn't know. His legs were still tightly clamped around Riddick's neck. Blood was on Brian's fist...

And he didn't hear anything but the sound of his own heart, beating furiously, echoing in his ears and drowning out the crowd. He was aware of nothing other than the pain in his own body and who had put it there. He was beyond reason, control, and restraint, having been maddened by this enemy more than once. He had been fighting him forever, the reasons no longer mattered....


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Hazzard County's old boxing ring fell silent, and the world all around it seemed to do the same. The boxing ring floor turning slowly to crimson around Riddick and Brian. A sickening sound could barely be herd over Brian's heavy breathing, but his oppenant did not breath out heavly. Riddick simply lay still, his neck pinched tightly between Brian's thighs. His shattered right hand lay as still as did his hole body, at his side.

Riddick's face that was still being hammered on by Brian's fists. His face a complete smear of blood, small thick streams of blood streamed down his face. Deep laserations on his forhead, face and sides of his head. His nose slit up the side around his notril an his lips cracked open.

His chin tipped back as far as his oxygen deprived throat would allow. But deep inside his big dry-ice cold heart pounded against his thick chest and his thick blood still pultsed through his veins weakly. All the same he lay still not moving, his head and mind dark with unconciousness.

(Cue Brian...)

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