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Python vs TAK - Battlespace 40

$ 25.95

Python vs TAK

First order of business is the weigh-in. Taks taller than Python by a couple of inches and heavier by six pounds. If Taks heard that the taller, slenderer man does not usually have the advantage in mat wrestling, he certainly does not let on. The All American Kid struts and mouths off like it will be easy to give Python a good licking, confident that his superiority in size will be enough to subdue his opponent, a solidly built man who looks harder to move than a fire hydrant. When Python pops a bicep for the camera, Tak nods

appreciatively, saying, Looks like a softball in there, but then he goes on to boast that his biceps are basketballs. For his part, Python looks like he doesnt know what to make of his opponents delusions of brawniness. Like a basketball, Tak strikes him as a lot of synthetic material stuffed with nothing but air, like all the frat boys in college who filled the bleachers, talking big, as if they could do better than the wrestlers and other athletes actually working. Gotta work on your tan, big boy, Tak exhorts. Python is skeptical: Tan? That's all for show. We get off to a brisk start. Tak applies a rear bearhug on Python, with no noticeable effect. When Python gives him a proper bearhug, chest to chest, and belly to belly, he comes close to squeezing the mans lungs free of air. Its not a sustained hold, though, and Tak fights back with a rear naked choke, a failing attempt to drain Python of his power, then a surfboard stretch, his heel planted at the center of Pythons back. He alternates between the holds, with negligible impact on his opponent, who not only withstands the assault but flashes single bicep poses at the camera. When Tak complains that Python has got nothing, Python hoists him up on one shoulder and pops the bicep again for the fans at home. The guys get into some mat grappling, too, which leads to the first sustained hold in the match, a body scissors on Tak that justifies Pythons mat name. There's some of the usual banter about whose mom said what-whatever was good last night, but as his legs and arms sap the juices out of his opponent, Python boasts, That's real muscle for you. Python is in no hurry to let Tak loose, and Tak, his face reddening, neck veins popping as he gasps for air, is unable to push or claw himself free. Get off of me, Tak coughs, but Python only slopes his hips in towards the mans navel, cutting the flow of blood to the legs. Distracted for a second by the size of his own bicep, again on display for the camera, Python lets Tak get into position to land some solid punches to his abs, to no avail. Things remain very Animal Planet for several minutes. You can almost hear Morgan Freeman or else some narrator with a British accent saying, such is the disparity between predator and prey that the usually fleet and agile blue-and-bronze-trunked grappler is unable to outwit and out maneuver his red-trunked assailant. At last, Tak does escape, charleyhorsing Pythons massive thigh with a sharp elbow. Like the natural world around us, the world of Thunders Arena is based on the survival of the fittest not always the tallest, the handsomest, the most popular, or the most ripped, but the fittest.