Felix couldn't move fast enough. There was no amount of dodging that would see him through to the end of the fight. It was like Tank could read his every move, even if Tank wasn't quite fast enough to connect.
Without a chance of actually connecting a kick or a punch – or any other attack, for that matter – Felix was down on options. He considered using a chokehold for a little bit before realizing that Tank's neck was almost as thick as Felix's thigh. There'd be no constricting airflow there.
Ducking, Felix saved himself from being bludgeoned by Tank's fist, it having just barely swept above his hair after his desperate maneuver. As fast as Felix was moving, it seemed Tank was content with stalking the ring like a predator on the prowl, waiting for his opponent to make a mistake.
Invariably, Felix wound up on his off-foot, just a bit too unbalanced to react to a sudden attack from the mountain-turned man. In all these cases, Felix utilized the only card he had: his rewind.
He'd traveled maybe thirty seconds backwards, based on the headache he was sporting. With ten seconds left for any future rewinds, Felix knew he needed to try to resolve this fight somehow. Surrendering would get him in trouble with The Ring's organizers – who would take responsibility for an uneventful fight. From what Ivan told him, that was a fate much more certain than just letting Tank do his worst.
Not that Felix wanted that to happen, in any case. He had one last plan: a Hail Mary. Determination that had been too absent from Felix's eyes surged forward. He would do this.
He ran forwards, his hands held in a tight guard around his head. One shot to his torso would be devastating, but one to the head was game over. Felix stretched out his right arm as if to punch, doing his absolute best to make a feint. Tank bought it, catching Felix's fist in the same instant Felix rotated and delivered his hardest kick to Tank's ribs.
Tank suddenly let go of Felix's leg, letting him stumble backwards. It wasn't anything that would end the fight, but it must have been uncomfortable for Tank. Even bruises could stack on top of each other to overwhelm an opponent.
Before Tank could reclaim all of his composure, Felix leapt into the short distance again, this time following through with a jab to the face after Tank didn't buy that his attack wasn't a feint. It was like reverse psychology, Felix thought to himself, fighting back the urge to smile. He had a lot to deal with already, and a making Tank go berserk was not something he knew he could survive.
And then Tank moved faster than Felix had ever expected. "You're not half bad, kid," Tank said as he got close to Felix's ear mid-lunge. A fist threatened to drive a hole through Felix's stomach, courtesy of the big man.
Felix rewound time, hoping that there was something he could do to block or dodge. The latter was impossible; it was like Tank had suddenly acquired the grace of a ballet dancer, or the agility of a runner. He wasn't fighting in the same clumsy sort of way. Which left blocking the attack the only real choice he had available to him.
Felix took the high attack on the right shoulder, feeling immediately that something was wrong and not working as it probably should. It was like dragging around a limp noodle for an arm. He rewound time again.
He failed. Again.
So he rewound time, again.
And he failed again.
This repeated until Felix nearly crippled himself with his headache temporarily, and that was when his hope well and truly ran out. He either lost to himself, or he lost to Tank. And to be honest, passing out for no apparent reason wouldn't look well for him going forward. He'd fight Tank until he could fight no longer.
Tank slammed Felix to the ground, utilizing his excessive weight to completely pin Felix. Felix's muscles strained, veins bulging in an effort to topple his opponent. It was futile.
With a shark's grin, Tank raised his fist, using it like a mace and beating at Felix's head repeatedly. Felix himself as best as he could given the circumstances by trying to curl up, but Tank had the complete run of the arena.
Like a field of weeds, pain just seemed to accumulate all over Felix's body. He took a glance at Ivan, who looked on in complete upset and worry. There was nothing that Felix could discern looked like her was still angry at him.
As a final fist came in, this one packing more weight and power than any other, Felix suddenly found hope. Maybe there was something more to his abilities that he hadn't yet noticed! He focused on his powers, willing anything to happen: anything that could save him.
And yet, nothing did. Felix looked on in horror as something he could not block, nor dodge, came straight for his face. Then, Felix knew nothing but the darkness of dreamless 'sleep.'