Ben backhands the man across the face, sending spit flying. The man is big, brawny. Ben is bigger. The man thuds to the floor at his feet like a sack of bricks. "That the best you've got?" Ben sneers down at him as he begins to rise, then grabs him by his shirt collar and lifts him to his feet with one arm as he winds up a punch with the other. The uppercut is so hard, it sends the man through a wall. This time he doesn't rise. Ben slams a poster down on the bar with a few twenties as the other patrons stare dumbstruck. "For the wall," he grunts to the barman, turning to address the crowd, "and if anyone else thinks they can take me," he glances smugly at the unconscious bruiser, "now you know where to find me." He strides out of the room, leaving them to huddle round the poster he left: Prizefight - taking all comers, and a picture of Ben in trunks and gloves at the local boxing ring, the same arrogant look on his face, taunting the men to try their luck.
And after a show like that, try their luck they do. Town after town, Ben makes a point of riling men up, going to the busiest pub, picking a fight with the biggest, roughest guy, proving his point by beating him senseless without breaking a sweat. After that they come to him, so mad they don't even think twice before stepping in the ring with him. It makes them more aggressive sure, but he feeds off of it, gets off on it, demolishing each and every one more violently than the last, his aggression outstripping their own by far. Not a single one of his opponents hasn't had to be carried out of a ring on a stretcher, but they count themselves lucky, not to be carried out in a body bag. Rumors spread that Ben punches so hard, a guy in the last town lost a few teeth. That he's so strong his hook broke a guy's jaw. No his neck, almost twisted his head clean off. And with Ben's penchant for cocky exhibitionism, his power on full display, they start to believe. So by the time he's facing down the the local boxing champ, sometimes a rematch with the very guy he pulverized that first night in the pub, he's already nearly won the town over. And when he wipes the floor with their hometown hero, pounding him back and forth across the ring, the cheers say it all: "Ben! Ben! Ben!" they roar. The harder they cheer, the harder he punches, his vicious display scaling in rough proportion to their excited reaction. And having turned the crowd, given them a good show, he knocks the other man's lights out with a hook so hard it does look like it could twist his head clean off. And as he goes limp, head ricocheting side to side, Ben savors his total dominance.
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