Chapter 21: The McKinley Grip

McKinley swung down his axe with lighting speed, slicing across LBJ’s arm before twirling his hatchet around and swinging it upwards, landing another clean hit along his opponent’s chest. LBJ gritted his teeth at the blow and grabbed onto McKinley’s outstretched arm, locking it in place.

“You had your moment to shine with your axes already,” LBJ snarled, bringing back his fist. “Now it’s time for my boxer rebellion!”

LBJ pummeled into McKinley’s chest with his free arm, causing his golden cross to grow ever larger.

“Even if you stop one of my limbs,” McKinley remarked as he jumped into the air, “I’ve still got two more to work with!”

McKinley thrusted out his legs, smashing LBJ’s gut and forcing him to release his arm. LBJ snarled loudly, then thrusted out his arms, shoving McKinley’s airborne body down and pushing him to the floor. McKinley rolled himself away, rising up before LBJ could follow up with another barrage.

“Not bad!” McKinley smirked. “Now try this!”

McKinley placed his axe into the hole where his artificial right arm had been, locking it in place. As he did, LBJ stepped to McKinley’s left side, throwing out a punch. McKinley grabbed hold of LBJ’s right hand with his left and pulled it aside, diverting the attack. McKinley then rotated himself around, cutting LBJ’s shoulder with his axe.

“SHOOOTTT!” LBJ screamed as he readied a punch with his left.

McKinley slid his left hand up along LBJ’s arm to his elbow, then yanked it to the side, pulling LBJ away and causing his strike to miss. McKinley then rotated around again, landing a moderate cut to LBJ’s defenseless side.

“There it is!” Hayes grinned, “The McKinley Grip! McKinley’s signature fighting style allowing him to land continuous attacks while destroying his opponent’s mobility! LBJ is done for now!”

“Are you quite certain of that?” FDR asked.

“Of course I am!” Hayes replied with pride. “I’ll admit that LBJ might be able to pull off another hit or two here if he really pushes for it, but he’d be taking some serious damage in exchange. Even then, his attacks wouldn’t end up doing much because of McKinley’s Protective Tarriff. In short, there’s nothing LBJ can really do now but wait for his inevitable demise!”

“Perhaps,” FDR said pressing her fingers together, “but then again, perhaps not…”

On the ground, LBJ continued spinning around as McKinley cut into him with his axe. Finally, LBJ gritted his teeth.

“Screw this!” he exclaimed, pounding at his chest and planting himself where he stood. “Stop all this turning around and face me head on already!”

“With pleasure!” McKinley remarked, raising up his axe before slashing it down, cutting deep across LBJ chest.

At the same time, LBJ punched his fist into the large, golden cross flailing about McKinley’s rotating body. His fist instantly lost its momentum upon making contact with the ornament, then continued onwards, smashing the cross directly into McKinley’s chest.

For a moment, neither fighter moved.

Then, McKinley coughed blood.

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The McKinley Grip. This was a special handshake developed by William McKinley to shake as many hands as possible without tiring himself out or injuring his hand. Roughly speaking, he would pull someone’s hand to him, give a quick shake, then grab their elbow and yank them away in order to greet the next person.