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2004 HAZZARD TOUGH MAN CONTEST


Riddick

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Brian's fist was raw-knuckled and stained red. Despite this, he hit Riddick until his own arm ached from the repeated motion. The exertion of his brutal punishment upon Riddick was finally wearing on his own battered body.

Brian gave thought to changing his hold on Riddick, in order to continue...and in the brief pause where he stayed his hand, fist raised....

...he saw the evidence of his opponent's condition. It didn't seem possible that this was the same man. Riddick looked like an accident victim...

...but the injuries had been caused deliberately. Brian felt the stirrings of cold reality cutting through the red haze in his mind. Riddick was no longer a threat to him...

Brian released the hold his legs had around Riddick's neck, moving off the unconscious man. Now that he had stopped the attack, all the pain and exhaustion of his own body was making itself known as the adrenaline seeped away. He knew full well he had just been beating an unconscious man...nearly to death.

Feeling sickened and weak, and trembling from the change in his emotional climate, Brian forced back the nausea that filled him. But when he coughed, it became a dry, painful heave. He hunched over, motionless on his hands and knees, and let the wave pass. Then slowly, with an agony that was beyond physical pain, Brian crawled to the ropes and pulled himself up.

Looking back at him were the aghast faces of the town. Victory was his, but nobody felt like celebrating it. The crowd had come to see a fight, but no one had expected murder to nearly unfold in front of their eyes.

Brian gestured towards Riddick's motionless body, and in a hoarse voice that struggled through his labored breathing, said: "Help him."

With that, Brian turned away, limping to retrieve his leather jacket which had been left upon the floor. He picked it up, slung it over one bare shoulder, and exited the ring.

He limped through the crowd, ignoring the muttering and the stares....

And in the ring, medical personnel removed a bloody warrior who had refused to surrender...but had lost just the same.

(cue anybody )

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Rosco watched as Brian left the ring and he gestured to Cully to go give Brian a hand if he needed it. Cully nodded and followed after the young Coltrane.

Medical personnel carried Riddick out of the ring and Rosco waited several minutes, allowing a sufficient intermission to pass before he climbed up into the ring. He stood wearing his uniform shirt untucked and unbuttoned over his white t-shirt. Over all that was his uniform jacket. Obviously the look wasn't as intimidating as the spit n' polish image he had tried to maintain when he first arrived. But he wasn't worried about that right now. Instead there was another round to go, although he was a little apprehensive about this one. He had watched Min's fight against Chet and the Sheriff was thinking where one Duke didn't get him, perhaps another would. As the only woman in the contest, Min Duke had certainly proved her worth in that round.

"Awwwwwwright, Min, ya Duke Hellcat. I know yer out there..."

His blue eyes scanned the crowd....

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"Excuse me-- beg your pardon--"

Min worked her way through the bustling crowd finally making it to the ring. She saw the Sheriff peering down at her and she swallowed hard as she climbed the side steps and slipped through the ropes. Though she wore the same fighting clothes she wore when she faced Chet, her face betrayed other intentions than fighting.

"I'm here Rosco--"

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Rosco looked at her across the ring and took a deep breath. It was apparent in the faces of both contestants that neither of them really wanted to fight the other. But Rosco knew that both of them had signed up for this thing, knowing pretty much what they were getting into and he respected her for stepping into the ring to begin with.

But Rosco couldn't help but feel awkward about fighting with her. Maybe it was because she was a girl, but he had seen her fight with Chet. He knew she could hold her own. But still it felt odd.

However, they had an obligation. Rosco turned slightly and removed his uniform jacket, bundling it up and leaving it at the foot of one of the ring posts. His shirt joined it and he turned back to Min.

"I just want you to know Min, that no matter what happens you have my complete and total respect."

Rosco stood and waited for her reply....

(cue Min!)

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Min watched the Sheriff prepare to do battle, his face bore a bit of a sad expression that she no doubt mirrored. She had a score to settle with Chet, it had been no problem at all fighting him but things were different now. She had no issues with Rosco and shook her head taking a step back.

"Rosco--I appreciate the respect and all but I can't. I can't fight you. You're practically kin to me and I respect you way too much to raise my fists against you." She swallowed hard and raised her chin.

"I'm afraid I have to forfeit."

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Rosco stared at her for a moment. He was about to ask if she was sure, but he already knew the answer. From the way she stood and the sureness in her voice, he knew. She was sure.

Rosco drew in a shakey breath and nodded, accepting the forfeit. He then stepped toward her, placing a hand on her shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. He said nothing, meeting her eyes for only a moment before he stepped back.

Now that meant the contest had come down to two. Coltrane vs. Coltrane....

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Min saw the look in Rosco's eyes and a smile came to her face. She had done the right thing, there was no doubt at all about that. Taking a step forward she opened her arms and put them around Rosco in a gentle embrace.

"You fight Brian next--I wish you two didnt have to--" She whispered before releasing the hug. It was time to leave the ring but the truth was she didnt want to, especially with the impending battle between the two Coltrane men. A battle no one seemed to be looking forward too, if the tension in the air was any indication.

Finally she turned and climbed down from the ring, taking her seat beside Alex in the first row. She watched Rosco in the squared circle and swallowed hard, soon Brian would arrive and the fight would begin.

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While Riddick was being removed from the ring, and during the intermission that preceded Min and Rosco’s meeting, Brian had retired to nearby facilities to clean himself up…and to assess damage.

The water that he sloughed over his face and body rinsed away with a red tint. His hands would not altogether come clean from the crimson stains that coated them.

A gaze in the mirror showed his face as a map of abrasions. It was the look in his own eyes, however, that startled him. Pain clouded the expression in them, and his pupils were wide with the fixed stare of a wounded animal. And yet, there was something darker than usual about the brown color within…as if his soul had retreated from witnessing the violent acts of his body.

Violent acts had been visited upon him as well, and he shifted his weight on his good leg as he washed at the sink. He couldn’t remember when he’d been hurt this bad in a weaponless fight. His ribs were bruised, and it wouldn’t have surprised him if one or two had cracked. His knee was killing him, and any part of his body that wasn’t burning with pain, simply felt numb.

The sound of the crowd outside was suddenly one of applause. Rosco’s round was over already; and the lack of noise beforehand was indication of a peaceful forfeit. Whoever had won, Brian would face that person in the final round. He had only a few minutes to be ready; but Lord, he could barely stand, let alone fight…

Brian turned the faucet to cold water and dunked his head under it, soaking his hair and shocking himself to try and recover. Turning the faucet off, he shook the water from his hair and hand-combed it. He might be limping into the ring only to fall over on his face, but at least he’d have dignity right up until then.

He limped to the small bench where his duffel bag lay, and took out his last black t-shirt. He pulled it on slowly, his ribs protesting the movement. At one point, his balance shifted to the bad leg, and the resulting spike of pain caused him to give a sharp gasp. Cursing softly, Brian leaned against the wall to get the pain under control…and it was then he noticed that he wasn’t alone….

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Cully had seen Brian seek temporary refuge in those nearby facilities and following Rosco's request, he was going to help Brian all he could. He made a detour to his Grand Prix, parked near the courthouse, and retrieved a small duffel bag from the trunk. He hefted the bag over his shoulder and closed the trunk, turning back in the direction of the facilities Brian had disappeared to.

He had heard Brian's sharp gasp when he entered and when his eyes met the sight, he saw as Brian leaned against the wall.

"Looks like Dr. Cully arrived just in time..."

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"In time for what?" Brian answered heavily. "I ain't done fightin' yet, Cully. I gotta git back out there in a couple minutes. So as much as ah appreciate the thought of medical attention...it's gonna halfta wait."

Brian moved away from the wall, and hobbled over a step to where his jacket lay. He picked it up, but paused before putting it on. Cully was still watching him with a knowing expression. Brian looked over at him again and made a dismissing gesture. He then started pulling on his jacket, speaking with a note of bravado in his voice. "Besides," he told Cully, "When this thing IS over, somebody else is gonna need your medical attention more than me....aaaah!"

The simple movements had caused pain again. With his jacket half-on, Brian braced an arm against a wall, and waited for what he knew was coming. Cully would be telling him to forfeit, more than likely. And somebody with more common sense than pride, probably would.

(cue Cully)

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"That so? What are ya gonna do, beat 'em up with the only thing you got in your whole body that ain't hurtin' right now....yer pinky finger?" Cully put the duffel bag down on the bench next to Brian's. He opened the duffel and removed a couple of items, the first of wich was an ace bandage. The second of which was a small home made med kit. Cully looked up at Brian and saw the look of 'thanks but no thanks' on the young Coltrane's face. "Listen, son, you ain't gonna git out that door with that knee the way it is. You've got a choice. You can forfeit...or you can let me administer a quick fix. I know you're not likely to forfeit, so perhaps you better sit down for a minute here..."

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"Gaaah....." Brian took one look at the length of the needle and gave forfeiting some serious consideration. But instead, he swallowed and said, "Nah, of course not."

One more thought hit him. And when he uttered it, a barrage of questions broke loose. "Um...where, 'zactly, does that lawn dart need to land? What'd you do, break into a veterinary office? I'm in bad shape, but I ain't no horse! Do you have a license for that needle?"

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"Brian, if you were a horse I'd have to shoot you." Cully paused a moment as he prepared the syringe, pushing it up a little forcing any air bubbles out with the small squirt of liquid. "This lawn dart is going to go right into your leg here, so the xylocaine will get to the knee first and fastest..." Cully turned the syringe downward and didn't give Brian much chance to utter a protest. The needle hit Brian's thigh, a few inches from his banged up knee and Cully pushed the vial downward, injecting the xylocaine into the body.

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"AAAAAAAH!!! SONofa....@#%&*!...GAH!!"

It was over before Brian knew it, but needles of that size tended to leave a lasting impression. "@$%&*! What the hell was that stuff?! Xylophone?! Have to admit, it took mah mind off the pain in my knee, 'cause now my thigh hurts like hell ! Next time, just leave the acupuncture to the Chinese and I'll...."

Brian paused in his triade as cool relief eased the muscles around his knee. The pain was fading, and he stood up slowly, taking an experimental step. The leg didn't feel entirely sound...but the pain was duller, and he managed a few pacing steps without bracing himself. The limp was still there, but less pronounced.

Heaving a deep sigh, Brian finished putting his jacket on, and looked back to Cully with a smile. "Thank ya, Cully. Yer awright."

Brian took a step toward the door, then turned back to ask a last question. "Who am I fightin', anyway?"

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While Brian had been sputtering, Cully had quickly wrapped the ace bandage around Brian's knee. It would offer a little more support than going without, alhthough Cully knew what Brian really needed was to be off the knee completely. But he knew better than to suggest it.

He watched as Brian took the first cautious step and then saw as Brian was able to steady himself better.

When Brian turned back to him to ask who he was fighting, all Cully could do was shrug. "I dunno," he said. "When I left, Rosco and Min were about to step into the ring. I don't know who won that battle." Cully paused. "You be careful awright?"

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"If I'd of been careful, I woulda nevah entered this contest," Brian replied. He gave Cully a nod of appreciation. "Thanks again, tho'. I'll see ya afterwards."

If I'm concious, Brian added silently. He stepped out into the daylight and looked past the crowd towards the ring. He didn't relish the idea of facing either of the two possible opponents. From here, he couldn't quite see the the occupant of the ring. No one had called him out yet, though.

Maybe if he was lucky, both Min and Rosco had forfeited to each other, leaving him the last one standing. Even if it was with a slight limp.

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No, Brian was not the last one standing. Rosco stood waiting in the ring, his back facing the direction Brian was in. The Sheriff's expression was grim but there was no telling what the thought process was behind it. Little could anyone tell, he would have liked to have just forfeited right then and there, and then when Brian arrived he could be declared the winner. It would be all over. Everybody could just go home.

But Rosco knew he couldn't forfeit. He cursed his Coltrane honor and turned around, scanning the crowd outside the ring, looking for Brian.

(cue Brian!)

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As Rosco turned, Brian caught sight of him in the ring.

For a minute, Brian debated slipping away through the crowd and taking an extended vacation in Atlanta. But taking the sneaky way out would be a disservice to Rosco; Brian had to either forfeit in front of God and everybody, or fight.

Stepping forward, Brian threaded his way through the crowd towards the ring. Upon sight of him, people melted back, allowing him room to pass.

Brian kept his head high and his back straight, but he could not keep the limp entirely out of his walk. The expressions on the faces of spectators seemed to be filled with silent calculations. If the two men fought, the odds would be anybody's guess.

Brian paused at the steps to the ring. There was something about the sight of the Sheriff waiting for him on the raised platform that gave him pause. This would be the third and last time either of them entered the ring...and only one would leave as the victor.

Placing a boot on the steps, Brian marched up them, and gingerly climbed through the ropes to enter the ring. He kept his jacket on, and the expression he wore on his battered face was neutral. He walked slowly towards the Sheriff, and gazed at his elder cousin with dark, serious eyes. Finally, he limped to a halt just in front of him.

"Sheriff," Brian said with a respectful nod, "It looks like it's down to you n ' me. "

(cue Rosco....)

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"Oh hell...." Seeing the look in Rosco's eye, Brian did something he had not done in the initial moments of any fight thus far.

He backed up a step.

"Sheriff, it's not to late for ya to end this thing peaceful-like. I sure wouldn't think any the less of ya for it..."

Brian took another step back, getting himself out of arm's reach. He kept talking as he moved. "An' if you quit now, you'll be better off than quittin' later. Less painful, ya know?"

(cue Rosco!)

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Rosco stood where he was, watching Brian. He knew, with the way Brian was backing up, his comment had been misinterpreted. "Well, that's true," the Sheriff said. "The same goes for you too. I would think no less of you if you wanted to end this peaceful like. Afterall... if you quit now it would be less painful too..."

(cue Brian)

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Brian considered it. "We're Coltranes," he answered with a sigh. "And since givin' in would be the smartest thing to do, ah got this forgone feelin' that we're gonna fight. Not that I want to, mind ya. It just that we both come from different sides o' the law....n' yet we're kin....an' some part of me, Rosco, has got to know which one of us would win."

With this said, Brian fell silent. He stood at attention, and raised his right hand in a solemn salute, holding two fingertips to his temple.

(cue Rosco!)

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