Jack Drummond vs James Mcduffy

[Weonna]

James Mcduffy

James stands near the backstage ramp, his eyes fixed on the entrance to the arena as he nurses a bottle of beer. The echoes of his recent defeats—especially that brutal match against Polaris Mask—still sting like a fresh cut. Tonight, though, he's determined to shake off the past and claim his comeback.

The door opens and a cheerful, looking man by the name of Jack comes in. It's the first time James has laid eyes on his new opponent. For a split second, James's hardened expression falters at the sight of Jack’s easy smile and confident, upbeat demeanor. But then he regains his composure, his Boston grit kicking in.

"Ah, you must be Jack,"

James grumbles, stepping forward with a challenging glare. His voice carries a rough edge, laced with equal parts skepticism and raw determination.

"I don't know what kind of fairytale you're livin' in back in London, but in my ring, it's all about grit and scars. And tonight, I'm fixin' to add a few more to mine."

He takes a long swig from his bottle, his eyes never leaving Jack's face.

"I've been down, and I've been beat, but that ain't gonna stop me any longer. This ain't no charity match—I’m here to show every last one of these fans that a Boston brawler never stays down for long. So, what do you say, Jack? Ready to step into the ring and see if you can handle a real pro?"

[Hexbreaker]

Jack Drummond

Jack is positively brimming with energy as he paces back and forth in front of the mirror in his dressing room. Match two of his hopefully long and illustrious L.A.W. career was happening tonight, this time against quite the large American from what he'd gleaned from the league's roster bios. Should be an interesting match up, or at least he hoped to deliver an entertaining performance. Jack exits the dressing room and heads to the staging area just behind the entrance ramp. He's flagged down by a muscled man sipping a beer who he expects ought to be this James he was scheduled to fight.

"Mmm yea, that's me -- there something I can help ya with?" he confirms and asks as he steps closer for the purposes of their conversation. He stands at attention with hands casually on his hips and takes the opportunity to size up this beefy lad before him. Some cheeky trash talk gets shared his way that makes Jack's smile grow bigger and brighter.

"Is that right mate? Well, in that case I suppose you colonial boys are due a right thrashing then, on account of all that wasted tea in the harbor all those years ago eh?" he jokes with a friendly laugh that shows he's just playing around. He extends a hand and holds it out as an offering. "I'm more than ready to take ya on, bring on your best and I'll do the very same!" He gestures with his extended hand again, insistent on getting a firm handshake out of the man.

[Weonna]

James narrows his eyes at Jack's cheerful banter, his smirk twisting into a sneer as he drops the friendly facade. In a gruff, dismissive tone, he retorts:

"Ah, spare me your colonial quips, Jack. You prattle on about wasted tea like it's some grand insult, but let me set you straight—down in Boston, we didn't just toss tea overboard, we sent your entire British ego adrift. You lot in the old country can keep your stiff upper lip and your royal tea parties. Out here, we're all about real grit, not your prim little traditions."

He steps closer, his voice low and venomous as he continues:

"Tonight, I'm not just fighting for a win—I'm here to show you that your hifalutin' heritage means nothing in this ring. Get ready to learn that history is written by the winners, and tonight, the only crown you'll be seeing is the one I'll be knocking right off your head."

With that, James throws a final contemptuous glance at Jack before turning toward the entrance ramp, every step a promise of ruthless, uncompromising vengeance.

-------

Spoiler

The first raucous chords of "For Boston" by Dropkick Murphys blast over the arena speakers, electrifying the air. James Mcduffy steps out from behind the curtain, his eyes narrowed and his jaw set in a grimace of determination. The roaring crowd blends with the driving beat, fueling every step he takes along the ramp.

James struts down the ramp as the image of a bygone era of rebellion flickers in his mind. With each beat of the music, his presence in the arena becomes undeniable—a storm of Boston pride incarnate.

As James steps into the ring, the roar of the crowd swells into a deafening climax, and the sound of "For Boston" pounds through the arena like a battle cry. Every muscle is primed, every scar a reminder of past defeats—and every beat of the song a promise of the retribution he’s about to deliver.

[Hexbreaker]

Jack continues to smile at James despite the other's dropped pretenses. It'd take a heck of a lot more than a rough tone to shake his friendly demeanor!

"So uptight mate! Relax a little, we're only having a laugh here" Jack states as he tries to defuse the situation. Doesn't seem like it worked well though, as James steps closer and his tone further darkens. Jack nods along in response and simply shrugs as the American man stomps off. His attempt at a bit of humor hadn't been well received it seems, but that's alright he supposed, he'd come here to win a match not make best friends.

---------------------

Following James's entrance to the arena comes Jack's turn to hit the stage. Compared to the former man's stern and serious expression Jack's entrance was much more lighthearted and cheerful. He waves and smiles as he strolls down to the ring casually. Fresh off his first match there was a comparably warmer welcome compared to his last entrance which brought plenty of relief to his mind. Jack climbs into the ring opposite from James and fans the flames a little by sending the American a cheeky wink. He pops a quick flex and grin for the fans from his corner before making his way to the center of the ring where he waits with hands casually on his hips.

"Let's give these fine people a match to remember, eh mate?" Jack quips hoping to both smooth things over a little but also start hyping the crowd at the same time. He figured regardless of whether James responded aggressively or friendly, the crowd would still eat the interaction up either way!

[Weonna]

James watches Jack’s entrance with a scowl, arms crossed over his broad chest as the Brit plays up to the crowd with that ever-present grin. The warm reception Jack gets only fuels James's irritation—he’s here to make a statement, not to play nice with the fans or some grinning Londoner who thinks this is all fun and games.

As Jack struts to the center of the ring, throwing in a wink for good measure, James clenches his jaw. The crowd eats it up, but James isn’t impressed. When Jack extends his hand in an attempt at sportsmanship, James simply scoffs.

SMACK!

James swats Jack’s hand away with zero hesitation, stepping in close, his forehead nearly pressing against Jack’s as he sneers.

“Keep your laughs, keep your handshakes, and keep that smug little grin to yourself!”

he growls mockingly, throwing Jack’s own words back at him.

“I ain’t here to put on a show for these people—I’m here to win, and I’m here to make damn sure you remember exactly who the hell I am when I do.”

The ref quickly steps in, urging James back to his corner. James holds his hands up mockingly as he backs away, his glare never leaving Jack. He leans against the turnbuckle, cracking his knuckles, eyes burning with an intensity that says he’s ready to start swinging the second that bell rings.

"Ring the damn bell,"

James barks, rolling his shoulders and bracing himself like a caged animal ready to pounce.

[Hexbreaker]

Jack clicks his tongue when his hand is swatted away but his smile doesn't falter, not even when James calls him out for it. If anything it just makes him chuckle and grin a little bit bigger. This in addition to the stark contrast between their attitudes about the match served to increase the crowd's hype and the noise level in the arena jumped up a few levels. The referee steps in before anything unseemly can happen and Jack mimics James's backstep as they create some room between them.

"Bit of a temper on this one, eh?" he calls out to continue working the crowd in his favor.

Back in his corner Jack rolls his shoulders and neck out which causes his loose tank to hang further off his shoulders and expose a little more of his chest muscle. This gets the female fans in particular to release a wave of piercing shouts and Jack nods in response with a wave of his hand too for acknowledgement. Following the little fanservice Jack settles into a comfortable ready position and raises his arms in anticipation of the bell.

DING DING DING!

With the official start of the match Jack stalks forward and heads directly at James. He thrusts his hands forward trying to engage him in the traditional collar-elbow style lock-up. Hrgggh! Jack grunts out as he tests out the American man's strength in the most straightforward way possible!

[Weonna]

James doesn’t flinch as Jack plays up to the crowd, his smirk unwavering as he watches his opponent soak in the cheers. The fact that the Brit’s charisma has the fans eating out of his hand only fuels James’s irritation. He rolls his shoulders, jaw tightening as Jack acknowledges the audience like some kind of showman. James doesn’t care about showmanship—he cares about winning.

DING DING DING!

The second the bell rings, James surges forward, meeting Jack in the center of the ring. Their bodies collide as they lock up in a classic collar-and-elbow tie-up, muscles straining as they jockey for control. James can feel Jack testing his strength, pushing hard, but the Boston brawler has no intention of playing fair.

With a sudden twist, James shifts his grip, yanking Jack’s arm into a tight arm wrench that torques the shoulder and forces Jack off balance. Before Jack can fully react, James would attempt to follow up with a brutal, knife-edge chop across his opponent’s exposed chest!

Spoiler

[Hexbreaker]

Jack's brows raise with excitement as James meets him in the center with equal fervor. The American proves to be as sturdy and capable as his stature suggested as he stalemates the Brit while both men vie for control of the lock-up. Jack does his best to maintain his ground while looking for an opportunity to change the status quo and upset the balance, however James beats him to the metaphorical punch. There's a sudden twist in the grapple as James forces Jack's arm around and wields his anatomy against him in order to destroy his balance.

"Hrgggh!" Jack grunts as he stomps his boots and attempts to squirm his arm back into a non-irritating position. James then comes in hot with his other arm and slices Jack across the chest with a brutal chop. Jack shouts out in pain as he is staggered by the powerful blow and he stumbles backwards. One arm clutches at his partially exposed pec while the other swings out to his side trying to retain a sense of balance. Should he have enough time to collect his thoughts before James came at him, Jack would try to use the forced momentum to throw himself backwards into the ropes in order to pick up speed when he was flung back into the center of the ring. This would propel him even faster into an attempt at a counter clothesline attempt.

[Weonna]

James watches with satisfaction as Jack stumbles backward, clutching his chest from the sharp sting of the chop. The sound of flesh meeting flesh still lingers in the air, a testament to the impact. But James isn’t one to waste time admiring his work—he knows Jack isn’t just going to take this lying down.

Sure enough, Jack recovers quickly, using the momentum to propel himself off the ropes. James sees the Brit charging back at him, arm extended for a retaliatory clothesline. But James, ever the seasoned brawler, is ready for it.

At the last second, James ducks under Jack’s arm, sidestepping just enough to avoid the impact. As Jack turns around, James plants his boot into Jack’s gut, forcing him to double over with a grunt.

“There ya go, right where I want ya!”

James snarls as he wastes no time grabbing Jack by the wrist and yanking him into an Irish whip toward the opposite ropes. The moment Jack rebounds, James takes off, barreling forward with his own clothesline, aiming to cut Jack down mid-stride with his raw power!

[Hexbreaker]

Jack's arm is swung with all the intended force of a big opening move, but suffers the consequence of most big clotheslines in that it fails to land on target. Big as he is James is still able to dodge him by ducking and swerving to the side in time to avoid the arc, and he punishes the opening the missed swing leaves by delivering a good solid boot to the gut.

"Gunghhhh!" Jack grunts in complaint as his momentum is turned sideways by the force of the kick. His right arm drops down to shield over his gut while he turns to face his aggressor. James catches him by the wrist and flings him into the ropes, but this time he doesn't have the chance to try and spring himself into a counter as the American meets him midway on the rebound with a strong armed clothesline of his own.

THUMP! the American's arm slams into Jack's chest and the Brit goes skittering back before ultimately dropping onto his back. His chest and throat burn for air as he coughs and groans, turning partially onto his side as he struggles to breathe. He'd never been hit by a car before but he imagined it had to feel something like that, a sudden strong force that upended your world! He was going to need a second to catch his breath properly before he'd be able to get up, and so he attempts to buy himself that time by scooting himself back with slow boot pushes and dragging himself away with long elbow sweeps along the canvas.