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Brawn is in the middle of a fight. The stakes for this are honestly not that high, but there is some money and of course, reputation on the line, so Brawn is still motivated to try his best. He’s up against a Gangrel - a large, hairy man who, unlike Brawn, doesn’t have much in the way of formal fight training. He is physically stronger than Brawn, but Brawn has him on speed.
From the sidelines, Brawn can hear Glassjaw coaching and yelling encouragement at him. “Knock his teeth out! Watch your left! That’s it, now jab!”
Brawn does as he’s been trained. He keeps his feet light, his fists up to protect his face, jabs with his left, and then strikes with a right cross. One, two! One, two! One, two, three hook!
It’s both a good thing and a bad thing that Brawn’s opponent isn’t a classically trained fighter. It’s good in that it gives Brawn an advantage, but it’s bad in that it means the opponent quickly starts fighting dirty. When Brawn winds back to strike at his jaw again, the Gangrel sees it coming and opens his mouth. He strikes and makes contact, biting, drawing blood, and not letting go.
Reflectively, Brawn tries to pull back and shake the Gangrel off, but the opponent only bites harder. Brawn looks to Glassjaw, who is yelling in anger. His sire’s words are drowned out by the roar from the rest of the crowd completely losing their shit. A Kindred fight that doesn’t draw blood is considered boring and barely worth anyone’s time.
Brawn growls and starts to hammer the Gangrel’s head and face with his free fist. His hands are taped, no gloves, so he had some dexterity. He twists his body as the Gangrel tries to claw at him. More Vitae hits the mat at their feet. Brawn grabs onto the Gangrel’s face and pulls upwards while pushing down with his trapped arm to try to force his jaws open. He roars with effort, his blood surging inside him.
Finally, the Gangrel’s jaws open wide enough that Brawn can get his hand out. He’s mad now, and doesn’t give his opponent an opportunity to recover. Brawn pummels his opponent to the mat, ignoring the pain in his fleeting fist. The white wrappings around the Nosferatu’s hands are soon both completely stained red.
DING DING!
And just like that, the fight is over. Brawn has won. He raises his fists to the rapturous crowd. Glassjaw hoots and claps for his childe. “That’s my boy!”
Then Brawn turns and sees his opponent, still on the mat. The Gangrel blinks up at him. He offers a bloody hand down to the Gangrel and helps him to his feet. The Gangrel looks surprised by the gesture of good sportsmanship. They shake hands. No hard feelings.