Tank Abbott is the kind of guy you'd expect police to find alone in the center of a wrecked biker bar before they called for immediate backup. He looks like the shitty character from every fighting video game who'd somehow reverse-Tron'ed into our world. His face makes it clear that he hates everything that isn't ZZ Top or alcohol poisoning. He bench presses 600 pounds and wore gloves into the Octagon back when you didn't have to. This implied that he knew things about punching skulls that the rest of us didn't. People put on a diaper before they make eye contact with him.
In his first UFC fight, Tank's opponent was 400 pound John Matua. John Matua practiced something called Kapu Kuialau, the "Hawaiian art of bone breaking." If you're familiar with the skeletal structure of the Polynesian people, then you know that's fucking crazy. Hawaiian's have such reinforced bones that even their women solve every problem with a headbutt. The automotive industry uses Hawaiian bones to test high-speed impacts because they're cheaper than titanium, and that's why every Ford Escape is haunted. All I'm saying is that on paper, John Matua was looking alright.
When the fight started, Tank and John went at each other like six grizzly bears versus a river full of salmon. I figured you'd have to do some weird shit to break Hawaiian bones, but I had no idea it would involve so much slipping and slapping. Fifteen seconds into the two great beasts' graceful dance, Tank grabbed Matua by his T-shirt and hit him with a right hand so hard that train accidents thought their father had finally come back home. It was such a terrible injustice against faces that Bono's orbital bone wrote a song about it.
When a person gets knocked out, strange things happen. Sometimes you wake up quickly and have no idea what happened. Sometimes you stay unconscious until the A-Team is done saving everyone in your illegal sweatshop. In John Matua's case, his brain got confused and told every part of his body to go jogging in a different direction. So he hit the ground stiff and twitching. Tank Abbott, with the class one would expect from central casting's idea of a prison movie extra, looked back at the body and mocked his seizure. Mocked his seizure. That's the kind of thing that makes Satan shuffle the papers on his desk and say, "Shit, I don't even think I have a form for that."