He'd tasted so much dirt in his lifetime the only real problem it presented was that it blinded him. Jake held his arms close to his chest, coughing as quietly as he could as he darted out of the dust. He couldn't hope to hear Dirk either, because enough years of shooting various guns without any sort of protection for his ears has killed his ability to stop any attempts his buddy would make at sneaking up on him.

To say the least he didn't stand a chance against dodging that swinging sword but he held his ground. There is so much mangrit between these two it couldn't possibly be measured.

Jake coughs once, spins on the ball of his foot and uses his momentum to swing his weight and elbow the other. If Dirk dodged (as expected) Jake would continue his efforts to keep their parameters limited, if he could get a clean hit at his bro he stood a chance of knocking him down. Ever closer to the goal of pinning him!

Ever oblivious to the lack of cheering from the risers or the displeased looks coming from the audience. Someone out there knew what was about to happen, but it certainly wasn't Jake. There wasn't an announcer like expected of normal wrestling matches though, this was a detail Jake noticed. As well as a large clock with a minute countdown getting ever closer to the end.