"Who boxes the Boxer?"

A quiet little corner of ACDC Net, with its little Mets and Bunnies frolicking around playfully, suddenly became the center stage for quite possibly Joey's most embarrassing time connecting a Navi to the Net. An unseen baritone, whose magnificently magnified voice boomed across the Netscape, announced:

"In this corner, weighing in at two hundred and thirty-five pounds, the conquering champion with the considerable cleft, the brawling beast who no one beats, friend to elderly and children alike, give it up for BOOOXEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRR!!!"

The ground rumbled, the inhabitants of the area fled, and a boxing ring just large enough for Boxer to stand in rose from the ground as Boxer appeared in ACDC Net.

"And in this corner, the--" The mysterious announcer suddenly cut off.

"That's enough of that," Joey said, Boxer's obvious irritation at having his custom log-in sound cut short only making Joey feel that much better. Boxer stepped out of the miniature ring as it sank back into the ground, leaving the area pristine.

"Well? What now, bean pole?" Boxer grunted, still upset that his entrance routine stopped short by an 'irritating little punk'.

"What now? This was your idea, ya jerk." Joey retorted.

"And your point? Ya didn't think that Pops stuck ya with me just so I could smack some sense into that thick skull of yours, did ya boy? Training with Boxer's the complete package, baby; training ya to be a top o' the line fighter and Netbattler! Your homework requires network operation. You're an Operator, so operate!" the fighting Navi shot at the 'numbskull behind the computer'.

"Fine. Go that way. Or wherever you want, I don't care." Joey supplied. He was already trying to think of ways to pay for a PeT as fast as possible. Worst comes to worst, I can start charging Mike and Mac a zenny for every punch to the shoulder, five for one to the gut...

Boxer started heading off, just to the right of where Joey indicated. While he didn't say anything out loud, he was already planning new ways to punish the teen in the ring.

((Battle 1, please))
Suddenly, the mysterious announcer's voice sounded once more, but this time, with a somewhat different voice, a bit less of a baritone than Boxer's magnified bellow, it still packed a deep punch. "Sorry for that interruption, we had some technical difficulties. And now, without further ado! In this corner, weighing 30 pounds combined, pure pickaxe power, ladies and gentlemen, the METOOOOOOOL CREEEEEW!!!" And with that, the ring re-appeared, rising up to the occasion, and three Metools stood at the edge of the ring, readying their pickaxes and swinging them around. The imaginary crowd goes wild.

MetoolA: 40HP
MetoolB: 40HP
MetoolC: 40HP

Terrain: 60% Normal (Ring) 40% (Outside the ring)

Boxer.EXE: 150HP

The booming voice of a second announcer left Joey dumbstruck. He looked down to the PeT to see if the log-in sound feature had somehow come back on, but the box was unchecked. Is the Net actually copying Boxer's custom log-in? Can it do that? he mused, looking back to the monitor as a trio of Metools even entered the fight the same way Boxer had. While Joey sat there nonplussed, Boxer was taking a different tact to the situation.

"What the heck is this garbage?!" Boxer roared, the obscenity filter on the PeT, in place for when Pops had children learning to box, clicked on just in time to stop him from using some more colorful language. All this meant, of course, was that Boxer was about to get more inventive in his letting his foul mouth run rampant.

"Some nancy boy programmer thought he could rip off ME off and get away with it?! I don't give two flying sewer monkeys what these guys think they are, by the time I'm done with 'em they'll be runnin' home, crying for mommy and wantin' their blankies and some warm milk and are you just gonna sit there like a rube or send me some chips?!"

"Wha?" Joey stumbled, the question snapping him out of his disbelief that anyone would want to be like Boxer. "Oh, yeah, sure..." he said, slotting a single chip in and pressing down on the heavily worn 'Send' button.

"Right... it's time to teach these small fries an important lesson in rolling with the Boxer," the self titled Navi wore an evil grin has he approached the trio of viruses. A cage of light shone around his head for a brief moment before fading into a cherry red boxing helmet that surrounded his face. His right glove, normally the same color as the helmet, turned a deliciously tacky green while becoming much broader in the front and growing yellow protrusions along the face and back of the glove. Breaking from a menacing stride to a full-fledged charge, the gap between Boxer and the Metools grew ever smaller.

"You mess with the stallion..." he said, drawing back his newly formed glove and singling out Met that looked the weakest to him. "Ya get the HOOF!" he shouted, thrusting the fist forward past his head and straight for the virus's squishy black face. The yellow blocks on the back of the glove rose up a good four inches before, just when Boxer's reach was at its maximum, slammed back into the glove with a resounding KA-THOOM!

Joey nearly covered his eyes with his free hand at Boxer's terrible... he didn't even want to think about it. "Can ya just hurry this up?" he asked, slotting in a second chip. "Without the cheesy dialoge?"

Boxer ignored him, ripping at the strings of the now spent Cannon-glove with his teeth. He cast it to the ground, where it dispersed in a shower of color, only to reveal that he had another glove underneath the first. Turning to the two viruses he hadn't just tried to flatten with a cannon-powered glove, Boxer put his guard up and made way over to the pair.

"You payin' attention, kid?" he shouted back to his Operator. "This right here is your boxing lesson for tomorrow, and I'm gonna give ya a pop quiz on it: for every question ya get wrong, I'm gonna pop ya one!"

"Sure, just let me break out my super powered gloves and--" Joey's derisive comeback began, but was cut off by a yell from Boxer as he engaged the remaining viruses. Activating the most recent chip data, no drastic physical change overcame either of his gloves. That is, until he started a right hook just when the virus was out of arm's reach. His glove suddenly looked as hazy, as though there were some kind of graphics glitch that was making too many gloves on top of each other and trying to force them into the same spot. It was once again at the apex of the swing that the chip fully activated and a cone of arms erupted from Boxer's own, stretching well beyond the length of his normal arm and filling the air with a cloud of leather, padding and fists.

He hopped back, lightly bouncing his weight from one leg to the other as he started to circle the carnage. Though he seriously doubted that anything could withstand these gloves of his, Pops Sangrelli didn't win those championships by making himself a sitting duck, even if he thought he match was won. Boxer wasn't about to argue with what worked.

1. Cannon (40 damage + knockback. Targeting MetoolA).
2. Shotgun (50 damage + spread 1. Targeting MetoolB and MetoolC).
3. Dodge

"AAAAND Boxer hits a Met with a SOUND right! Oooh, that does not look pretty. Those others don't look too happy, folks. And they both unleash a double pickaxe attack! Oh, Boxer dodges that sucker real easy! And another right, whoa, that looks like a doozy! Another Met out of the ring for now!" the announcer boomed, attracting somewhat of a crowd, the same that Boxer had driven away some time ago.

MetoolA: RIGHT
MetoolB: HOOK
MetoolC: 40HP

Terrain: 60% Normal (Ring) 40% (Outside the ring)

Boxer.EXE: 150HP
"HEY! SHUT YER MOUTH BEFORE I DO IT FOR YA!!!" Boxer bellowed at the invisible announcer, snapping his head over his shoulder with enough speed to release an audible crack to look where he thought he heard the voice coming from. It was bad enough that the announcer voice he had uploaded to the PeT to let anyone and everyone know that he's taking time out of his busy training schedule to come to this dump of a network was being pirated, supposedly by the very same network, but if it kept on narrating everything loud enough for Joey to hear, then...

"So... favoring your right a little bit there, huh?" Joey remarked, taking indescribable pleasure at the visible twitch, followed by an almost inaudible "Irk!" that announced he had struck a nerve with the Navi. "You know what they say about a Boxer who can only throw a punch with one side..." he implied, a knowing tone in his voice.

"Oh, don't worry Sasquatch," Boxer snarled, turning his head back to face the remaining virus, the bones in his neck popping as they realigned from their whiplash inducing turn about earlier. He was still ruffled by a little punk like Joey, still wet behind the ears, criticizing him on his technique. "Tomorrow, you'll get to see this Right up close and personal. Now, send me something to beat face with." Joey rolled his eyes and slotted in his last chip; he was more than used to Boxer's threats from back before he got his now defunct PeT.

Similar to before, Boxer tugged at the strings near the base of the glove with his teeth, loosening them enough for the glove to fall off. Instead of the normal red lying underneath like last time, however, a nasty looking black and blue glove featuring a good deal of spikes, exhaust pipes and a burnished steel plate with three evenly spaced slits across the knuckles now adorned the boxer's favored hand. A particularly fierce smirk played across Boxer's sizable jaw as the sound of a muscle car engine roaring to life erupted from the new glove along with the plume of roiling black smoke.


Boxer rushed the Metool, reaching punching range in only a few running strides, his now tri-bladed glove raised to deliver yet another right hook... when out of left field rocketed a glove-shaped blur, streaking from where Boxer's left, and lower, hand had been only half a second before and striking for the virus's body... or face... it was kind of hard to tell with this guy. Before the surprise of the unexpected blow could wear off, Boxer followed up with a bladed, engine powered right straight/left jab combo.

1. Sucker Punch (30 damage + stun. Targeting MetoolC.)
2. Rage Claw (40 damage + Slashing. Targeting MetoolC.)
3. Buster Attack (2 damage. Targeting MetoolC.)
The final virus was quickly struck with the heavily spiked glove, immediately seeing stars as the shock of the hit was too much. "OOHH! WHAT A NASTY PUNCH BY BOXER! But the ref's aren't calling it! THIS IS IT, LADIES AND GENTLEMAN. THE FINAL BLOW!" The clawed fist instantly cut through the Met's helmet like a piece of paper, shredding it into pieces and left nothing but salvageable data!

MetoolA: RIGHT
MetoolB: HOOK

Terrain: 60% Normal (Ring) 40% (Outside the ring)

Boxer.EXE: 150HP

200z + [Guard1] Battlechip

Quote ()

Effect: (1 Hit Shield) + (Reflect up to 60 + Piercing + Line Attack)
Accuracy: S
Description: Generates a 1-Hit Shield upon activation. When this shield blocks one hit from a non-Break attack, it responds with a hyper-fast damage ray.
Duration: Until broken or overridden.
Element: Null
Special: Negated by Break. Ignores Impact.
Special: Reflect: Damage returned is equal to the damage of the attack blocked or the damage cap listed, whichever comes first. Reflect is not subject to negation by Impact.

The bell on Boxer's emblem-belt rang out twice at the end of the match, signaling his victory, and obvious "superiority", to the gathered crowd. After all, none of them had their own bell, did they?

"Well, that's round one." He said, trudging further into the net and leaving the announcer mimic (hopefully) well behind him.

"Only umpteen more to go..." Joey sighed to himself, collecting the spent chips as Boxer removed the Rage Claw glove, his normal red sliding out from underneath of it.

((Round 2 please))
A couple of docile looking viruses barred Boxer's path as he continued along. They kinda stared at him lazily and then went back along their business.

PowieA: 60 HP
PowieB: 60 HP
BunnyA: 50 HP
BunnyB: 50 HP

Terrain: 100% Normal

Boxer.EXE: 150 HP

[Battle 2 - Begin!]