Timmy Gun's main man Lt. Angelo can change forms when he powers up his chi. He transforms into his combat form and has long brutal hand to hand combat with a Grabbatiti Weasel. Write the whole fight without using a single cliche ChatGPT In the depths of the urban sprawl, where darkness reigns supreme, Lt. Angelo, a master of chi, steps into the scene. His form shifts and bends with the flow of his power, Prepared to face the weasel in this defining hour. The weasel, cunning and swift, eyes gleaming with malice, Steps forward with lethal intent, ready for the challenge. No cliches here, no words of false bravado, Just two warriors locked in combat, in this shadowed grotto. Their movements are a dance, a deadly ballet, Each strike and counterstrike, a story in the fray. Angelo's chi-infused fists meet the weasel's claws, In a clash of wills and strength, with no time for pause. The fight is brutal, raw, and unrelenting, No room for cliches, just the sound of bodies venting. With every blow exchanged, the tension grows higher, As the fate of these warriors hangs in the fire. But in the end, it's Angelo who stands tall and proud, His chi-fueled form victorious, amidst the silent crowd. No cliches can capture the intensity of this fight, Just the raw essence of combat, in the dead of night. User who asked for a poem, bb, write like a screenplay? ChatGPT INT. DARK ALLEY - NIGHT Lt. ANGELO, a stoic figure with an aura of power, stands tall as he faces off against the GRABBATITI WEASEL, a wiry and cunning opponent. The alley is shrouded in darkness, illuminated only by the flickering light of a distant streetlamp. ANGELO's muscles tense as he channels his chi, his form shifting and morphing into a combat-ready stance. GRABBATITI WEASEL snarls, baring its sharp teeth as it lunges forward, claws extended. ANGELO meets the attack head-on, dodging and weaving with grace and precision. Each blow is calculated, each move deliberate. There are no cliches here, no words of false bravado. Just the sound of fists meeting flesh, the scrape of claws against pavement. The fight is intense, a brutal exchange of blows that sends echoes reverberating through the alley. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, ANGELO gains the upper hand. With a swift and decisive strike, he incapacitates the GRABBATITI WEASEL, sending it crashing to the ground. ANGELO stands victorious, his chest heaving with exertion as he surveys the scene. No cliches can capture the intensity of this moment, just the raw essence of combat in the dead of night.