Amidst the thick density in the air that night among fellow Tiger patrons, the smoke traveling throughout the blistered lights seemed to be the only life force capable of foreseeing Dan's fate in this bit.  As the cotton white glove, stitched to perfected failure, risen so high above the two brawlers it perplexed the condensation of time perceived within each man's mind.  The referee statued his arm up longer than usual, considering that the dark brown swimming in his eyes were completely stapled to Dan's ridiculous physical gestures and facial expressions.  Riding along with his continued ligament revolt against Dan's own biology, the words splurting out his now fluffy puff lips seemed by far much more far-fetched than his bodily linguistics.

"aaaaaaeeeeeeerrrrrrooooooooohhhhhwww. . . oh, oh my.  Wow, I mean, WOW MAN!!!  This must be the foretelling, no! the revelation of a forthcoming string of victories for me!  It is here I am obviously presented by the heavens to experience the root of supreme victory!  Until now, I have been merely fighting squirrels for peanuts.  Machines and papers have created an illusive mist to penetrate my pupils and nostrils to convince my mind, by tye-dye surprise, that nothing stands before Saikyo-Ryu!!"

Dan's pre-victory speech rumbled feelings of deep annoyance and deeper confusion in the stomachs of fight-hungry dogs throughout the bar, but the opponent was growing weary of all talk and no beginning to anything.  "Alright, you had your moment in the sun!"  His hand still perfected with the midair pause, in the blink of an eye (before Dan's count) he now slashed to signal "Fight!!"  . . ."Oh crap, I totally forgot about the fight.  Alright action man, you think you can scare me with that cloak shadowing your mamma's ugly bred face and your own tig ol' bitties?  Bring it on!"  Immediately after Dan's last words of cocky uprisal, his opponent clenches his hood only to force his rotten cloak aside like a tossed and beaten hooker after she says something stupid.  At that precise moment, the audience and every patron in the building was reminded intensely who the show belongs to and why the joint is called what it is.  Dan's opponent was none other than the muscular Thai tiger himself, the self proclaimed king known as Sagat.

Rather than allowing for mixed emotions to make the worst of his stung impression, he immediately charged at full force as he ravages through the smoke breathing air with a contemplated (and well executed) series of combo kicks aimed straight at his opponent's bulky face.  Sagat, attempting to make nothing of possessing his opponent by the lid of his skull, suddenly questioned his own motive for a split second as he recognized the flare that followed Dan's charging kick like blood rapidly traveling along the thin side of ice.  His eyes now open to an unapproached attack, completely unexpected from a sever case of underestimating such temporarily displayed prominence.  Instantly, Dan delivered such power without hesitation and with no expectations of any kind through composing a beautiful compassion, in a musical sense, upon Sagat's bubbly face.  The entire human focus was now shifted strictly within the summer hot center of two fighters.  To make this package complete, Dan's feet melody had finished with the face and now it was time to thrill everyone with the finishing Hibiki signature Super Combo finish.

"FOR YOU, FATHER!!!". . . every breathing, standing, gazing collection of flesh stood in awe and twisted sour lemon disbelief.  In the hot center of the building, in where all attention was grounded, there remained a man in pink standing right next to the man who now lays broken and battered in his own pool of blood.  As the air stood silent amongst all patrons, within seconds later the crowd went absolutely electric in chaotic bewilderment.  Amongst all the cheering and crying, the referee hastily jumps in the ring aside Dan, "Ladies and gentlemen, you can't believe it!  I can't believe it!  We have a new winner that is unbelievably more deserving of our praise!  I now proclaim Tipping Tiger's new champion. . . DAN HIBIKI!!"  Turning his head to the new victor, he then queries "Sir, have you any comments?!" as Dan slowly tilts his head toward the referee's chest.  As his body leans further down, with the eyes of everyone else in exact symmetry of his motion, before any word can develop his mouth opens for yet another unexpected surprise as his cheeks fill with what seemed like lava.  The volcano that was his mouth rudely, yet unintentionally, erupted with an extremely distasteful explosion of orangish tang laced with mud brown mounting itself upon the referee's legs like a pouncing cheetah. . . gradually making its way across the ring floor in the mannerism of unmustered jelly.