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A heart of gold. Fighting to the finish. Making it all twelve rounds. Boxing is a canvas to paint one’s emotions. What are you fighting for?

Acts 1-3:

Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=FINAL+ROUND+-+Act

Twitter (for updates, to ask me questions, and generally you'll know when I'm whipping shit up.): https://twitter.com/qstMoofin/

Current stats and information: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1DXhzCTez2sELVIH25N6UdJqurF0grk9SIuotAbGiT54/pub

Last time: >>339231



The bell rings. It’s like a cold seat waking up for a day you never prepared for. In a flash, you shake yourself loose from the strangeness of the day, and while you thought Becca was going to show you her coworkers, here you are trying your damndest to save a life in a back alley.
And you STILL need groceries.
But now’s not the time or place. You got some shit to handle. You feel your body surge with energy, and things slow down to a halt it feels. Every single second feels like a fuckin’ eternity.

In this clarity of mind, being driven on by those who love you, being fueled by this rage and passion you’ve unlocked, you see this weak chain coming at you. Fuck that. Easy.


You grab the chain coming right for your ribs, and like a pair of nunchucks in some classic Bruce Lee joint, you wrap it around your arm in an instant. You yank him towards you, all while the second bozo whiffs his chain right under you.

And hits the guy you just pulled.

He’s fucked.


Time seems to speed up. You see the freshly tripped motherfucker’s face hit concrete. The guy who hit him lost control of his chain and is disarmed. He’s getting ready to bolt, taking steps away from you.
You kick the chained man out of the way, a rough sandpaper skid sound follows.

The big man in the back has a look liked he ain’t goin nowhere, and he’s about to show you why, though he’s so fucking smug he’s just standing there.

You get ready to attack, but then he says something that fucks you up a little.

“You attack me, what’s that make you? Huh? A fuckin’ punk. Go ahead. We get what we want anyway. You OUT OF THE PICTURE.”

This stops you for a moment. You look back and Becca is crying with a pleading look on her face. Amy is standing.


>Fuck that. Fuck him and his stupid face up and get to carving with that knife.
>Finish this shit without a knife. Maybe use it to interrogate later, but we can’t be pinned for shit.
>Bolt. You don’t need to be there. You did what you needed to do and the cops can clean up the rest. Plus Becca and Amy’s not safe.
Tell Becca and Amy to GTFO, then rip and tear this guy's huge guts.

"Punk? Who's the bitch ass nigga here that thinks 4 on 1 is a fair fight? Cause where I'm at it looks it ain't...FOR YOU!"
Cutting off at 10 PM Eastern
Actually I'm going to extend this. Will check on this by tomorrow afternoon.

Mostly because this decision is pretty important, and this thread is fresh. Want to be fair here.
Don't worry about that! You have two witnesses on your side!
Also, I doubt we can run faster than that big guy, or a truck. If the big guy's down, that's one less problem in the future.
Cutting off in about an hour. Will write then!

Exciting shit, yo.
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You snap. It’s over for this fucker. He’s gonna feel some real pain and fast.
He’s gonna hurt in ways he never even knew.
He’s going down.

“Heh, the fuck you gonna do about it, ya little fuckin’ rodent. You’re nothin’.”

You wait. And wait. And ever so slowly he turns around and begins to walk away.
You signal for Amy and Becca to look away. Shit’s about to get real ugly.
They look away.

You jump at him, knife in hand, and plunge the knife directly into his back.
He stops and bends down as if in a squat. You’re directly behind him, but with how loud he says the next thing, you might as well have been in the front fucking row.


Knife still in his back, a trail of blood coming from the corner of his mouth, he shakes around and pulls a 180 and you’re front and center to this goliath.
He swings his arm around, pushing you back. He’s slow, but man you’ll get crushed if he makes contact. He stops for a moment, collects his breath, and slips on a pair of brass knuckles.

Oh fuck.

It starts simply enough, but as the fight goes longer and longer, your jabs don’t seem to matter.
His face opens up a bit, and the knife is still there after a full 30 seconds of you dodging and retaliating, him looking for any opening, but then you feel something.

No no no. NO. Your right leg, in an instant, has given out for a second. You have to look and see.
It’s the guy with the chain that got fucked up. He grabbed your foot and swept you slightly.
You’re still on your feet. You shake loose.
Looking back, there’s a fist with spikes coming to make sure you go horizontal.





Bracing that is gonna hurt way too much.
Big guy like that might be clumsy.
Lets go

We need a tie breaker!

Test your might, or channel some fury!
Changing vote. Counter Cross, sweep leg.

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Oh fuck this guy. He thinks this is gonna stop you? Fat fucking chance, come-

Everything stopped.

And you’re back.



You remember in the halls between class, Sam would hang out with you and Richard.
Things were much simpler, and one day, before all this gang mess, you got stopped by some asshole grades higher than you.
You were gonna ignore him and walk by, and as you did that, you heard Sam.


You turn back with Rich and see him being hoisted by his backpack, dangling and helpless.
You felt terrible.
You felt small and useless and couldn’t do shit.
Sam was pretty short at the time, and these fuckers were trying to get a kick out of picking on you. And judging from their laughter, it was working.

“What are you gonna do, SHRIMP?”

And he waited and didn’t kick, didn’t panic, he just relaxed himself.
The dick that picked him up? He didn’t much care for the fact that Sam wasn’t playing his shitty game. So he rears back a punch.

And lets it fly.

Sam, watching this happen to him, blank face, made sure to have patience.
He waited.
And waited.
And as it was about to connect, he slams his right palm leftwards, catching the right jab, while at the same time, applying force on the jabbing arm’s elbow.


Sam was dropped immediately, and the stupid motherfucker who did this started crying and ran away to hide his tears. You didn’t see him ever again, him or his friends.
Sam kept walking like nothing happened. We tried to ask later,

“What the FUCK was that!?! Oh my god dude that was fucking nu-”

He put up a hand. He didn’t want to explain. We left it at that.

Soon enough you got home.

Soon enough you went to your room.

Soon enough you went to sleep and the next day.






You see the blow flying and you’re back. And channeling some crazy shit inside you, you feel like the way Sam countered that punch is perfect.
And it one swift motion, you feel such a magnificent energy and clarity.

And all at once, his arm pops out of place.
His back bends, his body contorts and he lets out a leviathan scream. It shakes and echoes off the walls of the lot.


The sudden WOAH FUCK being from when you dipped low and tripped that fucker, making him land on the man that tripped you initially.


The bell rings.



Jesus christ. Again? Looking around, Becca and Amy are gesturing for you to get going out the back alley. And looking into the container for the man that scurried away, you don’t see much.

Fuck, yeah it’s time to bolt. Not trying to explain all this shit to cops and-

“Hey kid. Heh heheh. HAAAAHAHAHAH”

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The man face down on the ground, knife in his back, crushing some other poor motherfucker starts laughing, bloody mouth and bloodshot eyes.

What’s so goddamn funny.

You pause on the way out.




WHAT? What’s this motherfucker got to tell me about Sam?

Sirens are getting louder.


>He’s lying. How the fuck he knows Sam is whatever, but there’s no time. Bolt.
>>He’s lying. How the fuck he knows Sam is whatever, but there’s no time. Bolt.
Oh boy, we're in the personal circle now. God if only the cops were this quick when you needed them.
>>He’s lying. How the fuck he knows Sam is whatever, but there’s no time. Bolt.
Get the fuck out of there. We've spent 2 counter crosses already, don't want to hang around and use more.
Will write tomorrow.

Happy to see some new players!Hope you enjoy.
Twist the knife and yank it out before you leave just in case the poleeps show up and find a bloody knife with our fingerprints on it.

If enough people second motions like these I try and incorporate them.

IT'S YOUR QUEST PEOPLE! I'm just writin' it.


Will write tomorrow at 5 PM EST.
Oh yeah. Taking the knife is a good idea. I think we should take the knife in a safe manner and GTFO.
Cutting off and writing now!
Thirding, although running from the police with a bloody knife is going to raise suspicion. Ditch it somewhere.

Already cut off and have been writing for the better part of two hours, but I think you'll like where it's headed.
Right sorry. I'll wait patiently.

Oh no worries, dude. It's all good.
I love conversation in my quest. I encourage it!
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Parties over. Police are here.

Fuck this guy.

You give Becca the international sign for “one sec” and run over to the fatass who nearly caused some damage to your skull.

“I’ll take that.” You grab the knife from his back with a twist. He screams again, coughing blood this time. You kick him in the ribs as you run off.
Stupid fuck. Goddamn it just makes you so mad that he’d even TRY to speak the name of your best friend. What fuckin’ scum.

You run out the back alley with Amy and Becca, you hear cars rolling around to the front entrance and through the market, and as one passes, you duck behind a dumpster out of view.
Becca clinches your hand and gives you a look like she feels safer.

You take a right turn out the alley, toss the knife in a storm drain after wiping it, and try to wind down. You feel like you’ve been on edge for a fucking hour, but it’s only been a matter of minutes.
So many emotions flowed through you. You channeled some shit Sam did once, you felt like you were being supported. You feel alive, but tired.

When you’ve gotten a few blocks down, you start to ease up on the throttle and come to a walk. Becca hugs you and kisses you an abundance of times.

“Thank you so much for saving me. I don’t know how I can pay ya back.”
Amy says this with a sense of fear still there. She’s lookin’ real shook up.

“My man’s a hero.~” Becca squeezes you tight. You hold her.

“It’s alright now. I promise, y’hear me?”


Looking back to the market, sounds like the cops are clearing it out for the scene.
Becca assures you that when the market’s cleared she basically has the day off.
West Central being so touristy means that even the smallest shit causes an alarm.
This doesn’t happen too often, though.

Amy, heads back to her car, parked a few blocks away.
You walk her half the distance, then head back to the trains.

Oh yeah, so much for getting groceries.

Time seems to fly by, as you make your way back to the station.
It was only morning when you got there, but by the time you make it back to the trains it’s around noon.

A popup dog adoption van is outside the station and a few of the dogs really take a liking to you.
Talking to the man in charge, he explains he’s there almost every day at this time. He’s just happy seeing the dogs go somewhere they’re loved.

Shit, that resonates.

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Becca begs you for a dog, but since he’s there every day, you decide to pass for now.
Maybe something for the home would be nice, as you can’t be there all the time, and a big dog like that Mastif looking one in the back would do great for protection.
Becca wants the Chihuahua. She wants to call it buddy.


You’ll probably be back.

You make your way to the trains with Becca. She pleaded to go home with you.

“You saved my life today! And my friend’s life! You deserve a reward. This is supposed to be your day off, remember? I got you all taken care of.”

You were too burnt to argue, and being taken care of sounded pretty okay.

On the train, you start to feel the aches and strains that come with fighting and training multiple days in a row.
You decide to relax and doze off. Becca strokes your hair.
You’re putty in her hands.

By the time you wake up, it feels like you’ve already left the station and are almost home again. Roughly 1:30 PM. Lunch time.

You walk through the door, plop down on the couch.
Becca fluffs your pillows and heads into your kitchen.

“Where’d you learn to fight like that? That was crazy!” She calls out from the other room.
You’re more surprised she’s into the whole fighting aspect of your life.

“I’ve been training, remember?”

“Well yeah, but I mean, that was nuts! You snapped that dudes arm. So sick!”

So sick?

“You liked that? You were in danger!”

“No I wasn’t. I had you there. I knew I’d be fine.~”

Oh jeez.

“How’d you get Amy loose?”

“Oh that was easy enough. In the toolbox next to her, there were some scissors. Plus, you know, survival tech. and stuff.”

She goes on to explain, while making lunch for two, that she loved watching action movies and stuff as a kid.
Her family moved a lot due to her father being in the Army, so the movies provided a sort of comfort.
She ended up learning survival techniques online because she wanted to be self-sufficient.


She brings out two plates, both with some nice looking spaghetti and meatballs.
It tasted kind of bland, but you didn’t say anything about it to her.
Mostly because she said she’s half Italian.

After, you decide to take a shower. She decides to take a shower too. With you.

Things get pretty steamy for a bit, as she teases you. Soap is fuckin’ everywhere. She makes sure to make contact in various ways. But then she rinses off and leaves you there, soap covered and alone.

As she exits...
“Just wait until tonight, babe.” She gives you a wink and a yank.

Damn that woman is fantastic.

Very supportive woman.
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You plop down on the couch and let Becca lay on top of you.
You’re both in comfy clothes, flipping through channels when the news comes on and it caught your eyes.

The large man in the alley. His face plastered on the screen.


You and Becca both freeze.
Apparently, according to the report, the man’s name was Osiris del Rio.
He was wanted for a fuckton of armed robberies and assaults.
He had a huge rap sheet with next to no pattern.
Some police guy pops up on as part of a live conference for the public.
Becca leans over as he walks up. “Holy shit. You beat up a real bad man, Gerardo.”
She says this sort of jokingly, but you both know this is some real shit.

“This is the latest in a series of arrests. Your concerns for these streets we share. This lieutenant to the scum of Chiford known as the Don has been taken into custody and will be tried immediately. We thank you for cooperation. No further comments, direct questions to…”

He steps off podium and hands it to someone else.


Jeez. All this is so out of control. You lean your head back and announce that you’re gonna take a nap.

“Don’t worry tough guy. You deserve it. I’ll protect you.~”

So sweet.

You think of all the people in your life as you drift asleep.

You breathe in deep and feel Becca’s head rising and falling as your chest does.

You dream of...

>El Desmadre


I’ll be going out of town real soon, but I wanted to keep up with my quest as well.
So whatever you choose for this prompt, I’ll make a thing for it.
Pretty sizeable. Might be some info, some fluff.

You know, the good stuff.

Hopefully it’s enough to keep you all onboard. I appreciate you all for sticking with me. To keep up to date, follow the twitter in the OP. twitter.com/qstMoofin

Any questions? Comments? Critiques? I’m available here, or on the twitter. Thanks.
Oh thank god, they're off our back for now.

I really like how you write and your patience in this quest. The action segments feels right, with tempo and style with good music thrown in as well. It's very atmospheric.
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Also here's the map, updated thanks to recent events.

Thank you so much. Appreciate ya.
Cutting off when I wake up tomorrow in over 12 hours.
I love your writing and your quest! Although I'm kind of bad at making decisions and rolling dice.
Cutting off.

see you real soon. New thread in a day or two. Will post updates on here and my Twitter. Never say die.

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