Johnny Graves
Nov 28th, 2004, 10:50:37 AM
A cheer went up through the night. Any other day of the week, the unsuspecting warehouse would have been silent as a tomb, but no, not this night. Tonight was fight night. Tonight was the night when the men of Coruscant shook off their shirts and shoes, pulled up a barstool and drunk themselves into a coma. Fight night at the Kaos Klub was one of the most heavily attended sporting events in the whole of the lower city, and not without reason. For a meager entrance fee, each visitor was treated to a real visual feast.
After a warm up fight or two by some amateurs, the local luminaries of shock boxing donned their gloves and got ready to scrap it out. There were all sorts of matches, from one on ones to all out free for all orgies of testosterone, that could last anywhere from a minute to two hours, all depending on the stamina of the fighters involved. Customers regularly got so drunk that they too entered the fights. Coming to blows with professionals was a painful experience, but there was no love lost – what happened in the ring stayed in the ring, and it wouldn’t really have been a night at Kaos if you didn’t pick up a bruise or two. At least, that’s what Johnny Graves always said.
“And there’s another stunner from the Coffin Crew – how do these boys do it!”
The sound of the announcer’s voice boomed through the overhead speakers, but the fighters heard nothing of it. Two newcomers to the shock-boxing scene, recently arrived from Corellia, were currently loosing in a tag-team match up against scene veterans, the Graves Brothers. Johnny and Nero had been (or so they said) virtually raised in the ring, and it showed in their fighting. They moved in well-practiced unison, knowing one another’s intentions without need for words to be spoken. It was this honed skill combined with their outrageous showmanship that had earned them a fan following amongst the regulars at Kaos, and that prompted the roar of applause that followed their inevitable victory over the visiting team.
The referee stepped into the centre of the ring, over the fallen bodies of the losers, and held the hands of Johnny and Nero Graves high into the air. The oddball pair looked as though they would have been more at home in a circo-troupe than a boxing ring, but they did their job well, and shouted just as loud as the crowd around them as they exited the ring – all of their cuts and bruises forgotten, as adrenaline pumped through their veins. Through high-fives and pats on the back, they found their way to the bar, where two tall drinks were waiting for them.
“We’re taking a fifteen minute break now folks, but don’t go away, as the Graves boys will be back for more action soon in the Kaos Klub’s infamous all or nothing free for all!”
Johnny grinned, lifting his glass to his brothers. “Not long, eh? We better get started.”
After a warm up fight or two by some amateurs, the local luminaries of shock boxing donned their gloves and got ready to scrap it out. There were all sorts of matches, from one on ones to all out free for all orgies of testosterone, that could last anywhere from a minute to two hours, all depending on the stamina of the fighters involved. Customers regularly got so drunk that they too entered the fights. Coming to blows with professionals was a painful experience, but there was no love lost – what happened in the ring stayed in the ring, and it wouldn’t really have been a night at Kaos if you didn’t pick up a bruise or two. At least, that’s what Johnny Graves always said.
“And there’s another stunner from the Coffin Crew – how do these boys do it!”
The sound of the announcer’s voice boomed through the overhead speakers, but the fighters heard nothing of it. Two newcomers to the shock-boxing scene, recently arrived from Corellia, were currently loosing in a tag-team match up against scene veterans, the Graves Brothers. Johnny and Nero had been (or so they said) virtually raised in the ring, and it showed in their fighting. They moved in well-practiced unison, knowing one another’s intentions without need for words to be spoken. It was this honed skill combined with their outrageous showmanship that had earned them a fan following amongst the regulars at Kaos, and that prompted the roar of applause that followed their inevitable victory over the visiting team.
The referee stepped into the centre of the ring, over the fallen bodies of the losers, and held the hands of Johnny and Nero Graves high into the air. The oddball pair looked as though they would have been more at home in a circo-troupe than a boxing ring, but they did their job well, and shouted just as loud as the crowd around them as they exited the ring – all of their cuts and bruises forgotten, as adrenaline pumped through their veins. Through high-fives and pats on the back, they found their way to the bar, where two tall drinks were waiting for them.
“We’re taking a fifteen minute break now folks, but don’t go away, as the Graves boys will be back for more action soon in the Kaos Klub’s infamous all or nothing free for all!”
Johnny grinned, lifting his glass to his brothers. “Not long, eh? We better get started.”