The Boxer And The Beast

Campeon was doing his normal route around the Lower East Side. He was wearing his usual outfit of a plain white cotton wifebeater, A pair of brightly patterened shorts (today it was start white shorts that were peppered with black stars with each star having pink tips) and of course a Puerto-Rican flag bandanna tightly tied around his head, He would always represent the home island. No matter how far he goes, He happly walked in front of the bodegas each with their own intresting kingdom inside and the food carts parked in the middle of the sidewalk each peddling the smells of their own home country, Campeon managed to pick up a Empanada of thanks after saving a old woman from a group of muggers, As he walked down the street, happly munching on the over-full turnover he stopped to face the Cathedral, It was one of the oldest in the city and so Campeon decided to take a break from his patrol and simply take in the sights and the smells, Happly munching and making small-talk with passersby.

Darryl Jones was undead, and as such, had a monotonous schedule. It went something like kill, kill, kill, etc. It still never got old for Darryl, which would explain why today he was in NY today surrounded by a bunch of Hispanic looking people. Not that he ever really noticed the differences in people, they were all targets. However, other people could not say the same thing about Darryl. Even with his hood on, it was easy to tell something was wrong with him. His clothing was unusual and extremely dirty. His skin was very different from other people; it was discolored and very wrinkled and damaged.

So when someone had insulted what he looked like, he lashed out uncontrollably. His mind only barely understood what insults were, but it was enough of an excuse to cause a scene. He grabbed the person by the shirt and held them up high. Darryl then proceeded to let sharp fingernails grow rapidly until it pierced through the guys neck. Most people fled the scene in the horror of this event. Darryl then proceeded to fully show his horrible undead face. He let the guy go and while he was slowly dying, he told him "The difference between you and me is that, you won't be coming back from that."

Campeon was just about to finish his empanada before hearing a scream and watching a herd of running people mowing past him, most yelling about some kind of freak, zombie thing with nails. That was new. In his few weeks of being a defender of the Lower East Side all he had dealt with was muggers, thugs, pimps and drug dealers armed with automatics. This may turn out to be Campeons first encounter with another being of his ability. This made Campeon excited, Very Excited.

He charged down the street from where the fleeing pedestrians seemed to originate from. Carlos's heart was pounding in his chest. All he knew is that if it was something wierd it had a chance of being a good fight, a really good fight but on top of that a necessary fight. He needed to show the people of the Lower East Side that he was there to protect them for real, They had been nice to him and he needs to return the favor. And what would you know it, He saw a zombie, around his size, He'd figure he would call out to the former man, It wasnt his job to sucker-punch people. "Oye!" He yelled out over his fists as he stepped into the Peek-A-Boo. "This is my Barrio, Not your Playground!"

Darryl looked where he heard the voice coming from. The guy who said it looked average and didn't seem like too much of a concern. Darryl wasn't quite sure what he was saying, but it looked like he was standing up to him. Darryl laughed inside his head and roared out loud. He had his claws retract, because he didn't want to kill this interesting fellow just yet.

Darryl would have some fun first. He needed to see how durable this gut was. Darryl had met people who just would not die no matter what happened. To start off, Darryl quickly dashed towards the brave man at incredible speed. He would then attempt to uppercut the man using not all of his strength, but most of it. Don't die too soon, Darryl thought. I haven't seen anyone fight back in a long time.

Campeons eyes widened from behind the Peek-A-Boo. He wasn't expecting something so decrepit looking to be charging at him so quickly. "Well now I know running away isnt a option" He thought to himself. "I just need to take it and...hopefully dodge it. Yeah." Campeon started to clench his fists and tense his back as he watched the being come closer and closer and finally the big swing. Campeon was able to lean back away from the blow, This Creature did not have the raw handspeed of other combatants he faced in the past, But still a majority of the blow was caught on his arms and the raw pushing power of it moved him backwards with a squeak of protest from his sneakers. "Now...Monstroso. Its My turn."Carlos leaned forward and then used the toes on his back foot as a springboard, He slung out a pair of jabs loaded with dynamite towards the creatures head, Carlos was in the full rhythm now as he bobbed his head and slunk forward as he crouched with his fists up as if he was a nuculear submarine on asphalt. He then swung a low hook at the creatures abdomen after his probing barrage but he took quickly to the defensive again "Como Guerrillo..." He thought to himself as he recalled his Grandfathers technique

Darryl was impressed and annoyed at the same time. He was impressed because, hey didn't looked harmed at all and would be a tough opponent. It will be a well enjoyed kill. However, Darryl was also annoyed for the very same reason. The man should've at least been hurt, and didn't even look like he'd back down. Why would he not be scared and flee.

Darryl's slight fondness of this character went straight to anger when he actually punched him multiple times. It wasn't necessarily that the punch angered him, but that the punch actually hurt. Fueled by anger, Darryl tried to trip the man by stretching his arm and attacking his legs. If that trip worked, Darryl would follow it up with a flurry of punches.

Carlos stood low to the ground with his back muscles rippling and almost oversize for a man his size, More than often he had been described as a aircraft carrier compared to some of his opponents but this was a different manner altogether from the mostly sterile enviroment of a boxing ring. His opponent was much larger than him a seemed to weigh a great deal greater than him. But Most importantly was that this man will be attempting to kill him and it was his role as a protector to defend himself and to protect the neighborhood altogether, otherwise there would of been no reason for him to leave the island and Grandpa's house.

Oh that and He didnt have to follow the rules, As Carlos stood waiting for a return punch no such thing came, Instead his opponent stretched his arm out and tripped him, He just wasnt expecting that. As he was falling to the ground he thought to himself This is the difference between him and me. I'm sticking to what Abuelo taught me and I'm not going to stoop to his level. I'll Prove his is the Best in the World!. Carlos didnt have much more time to ruminate on this because as soon as he hit the asphalt brutal , crude punches starting flying in at great volume knocking the breath out of him and creating bruises and welts from the sheer volume of punches but Carlos was able to get a Guard up quickly to protect his head and body but the punches kept on coming. "Nobody puts me to the ground! Nobody!" He shouted at the beast from behind his guard as he pulled his knee's up to his chest and quickly rocked backwards as the punches rained against him then suddenly lurching his feet towards the ground to propel him upward and leaving him at arms length at the beast. He quickly snaps his right fist up towards his own ear and places his left arm across his abdomen, The Hitman Stance, "Now Monstroso...This is how you throw punches" He whips out his left hand from his adbomen starting a brutal barrage of flicker jabs

Other than being dead, Darryl wasn't sure what his problem. Darryl was just naturally angry, or happy, depending on you look at it. He actually enjoyed being angry. However, some violence was good too, and he enjoyed letting loose with all those punches. He still didn't die though, so that was a problem but if it made things any better he could see some injuries on the man. Darryl noticed he started to block, so he was about to strike a finishing blow but he then got out of the way.

Darryl was satisfied, he didn't think he could retaliate, but was then proven wrong. Once again, he was bombarded by punches that hurt his undead body and synthetic nervous system. Darryl has never felt this much pain before, except for the last few moments after he was killed. It needed to end as soon as possible, and Darryl had a plan, utilizing his freaky zombie talents. He had his cells on his stomach rearrange themselves into a a giant mouth with sharp teeth, and continuously tried to chomp on his arm. Darryl decided the bold fighter needed to know something, so Darryl told him, "Remember, not everyone comeback from dead."

Carlos had a solid reign of piston like blows on the beasts head and body, He made sure to whip his elbow and throw his shoulder with each flicker jab to makeing his arm appear like a whip but his blows to feel much more solid than that. Carlos was confident in himself, Some of the jabs were landing rather solidly but this still wasnt the fight he would ideally like t-. Carlos pensive thoughts on this fight were quickly cut off with sharp pain in his arm.

As he was bringing his arm back from the jab, somehow, the creature had turned its stomach into a mouth with particularly sharp teeth and caught his arm between them. Small puncture wounds and rivulets of blood drop from his arm onto the pavement as his forearm is caught in the maw. It had been the first time Carlos had seemed himself bleed in awhile and he didnt exactly enjoy it. He made a slight jerk to free his right hand but the slightly increased pain told him not to. So he decides to even his feet with the beast and starts to wail on him, slightly awkwardly but still full of power, with his left hand

Darryl laughed as the boxer was actually bleeding. For a split second he laughed in his mind as he saw the blood of this almost invulnerable man until he started the barrage again with his other had. Darryl was in no shape either...his old costume was badly torn and there was many bruises, cuts and bleeds on his body. He probably didn't notice them because he didn't even need the blood. However, Darryl did need for this guy to die and was gonna make sure that happened.

Darryl focused on a spot that wasn't under fire. His legs were pretty much unharmed during the entire fight, and the man probably wouldn't aim for them. He focused on his kneecap and had the nanobots in his cells splice from the cells, and then arranged themselves into a small RPG. It fired a grenade point blank towards the boxers chest. When the kneecap returned to normal, Darryl fell backwards from exhaustion.