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+--- Thread: [02] Mountain Sector FIGHT (/showthread.php?tid=14970)
[02] Mountain Sector FIGHT - DA 2009 - 11-18-2009
MOUNTAIN SECTOR FIGHT
(1) Vad vs. Alexander Trafford
[02] Mountain Sector FIGHT - Vad - 11-19-2009
As the Saiyan inserted his fork into the last piece of medium rare steak on his plate the collar around his neck emitted a high pitched beeping. Just as Vad was about to put the food into his mouth he was whisked away to another quarantined battlefield. He landed on the ground with a thud. Sitting on a finely cut surface of rock he grunted. It was as if someone had cut horizontally across the middle of a mountain. The rock beneath him was littered with loose gravel and bits of iron and metals from within the previously magnificent mountain. Other than that it was flat like an arena for a tournament.
“My fucking steak...” Vad whined as he got to his feet.
The barrier extended past the mile wide arena, but this flat surface was the best bet for him. Out of the corner of his eye he caught his opponent warp in just as he had. Eighty yards yards out stood Alexander Trafford; the telekinetic energy wielding fighter from Mercy. Ace was already facing the ex-assassin; he could see the faint trail of smoke tailing from a lit cigarette in Trafford's mouth. Zulenka turned to face the gifted telekinetic, slowly walking towards him.
Alex is going to counter anything telekinetic beyond my shields. I'll need to stick with my regular blades, the shields, and my wits. Let's hope I can get close enough to trip him up. Beyond that, this is going to be interesting. From what I could see on Mercy, he excels at a range. Considering I'm strictly a melee fighter. I expect this to be a tough fight.
Vad had not reformed his armor yet, but it was done purposefully. His agility was going to be key in this fight. As the Saiyan closed the distance between him and Ace, metal began to form over his healing injuries providing a protective yet mobile covering. His knife wounds were sore, but they weren't going to keep him from operating at full strength. Alex took a puff of his cigarette, the smoke drifting away with the slight breeze blowing over the plateau. As the distance between the two closed Vad formed an orb of metal on his left wrist, readying it for when the time came to use his defense shield.
Trafford tossed his assault rifle to the ground and reached into his Armani jacket; He pulled out a gold plated Desert Eagle. Quickly pointing the weapon at his Saiyan opponent, a smug grin formed on his face. Time slowed to a crawl as Vad took another step toward Alexander.
A strong gust of wind blew past the two combatants and the fight began. Just as Ace's cigarette was extinguished and Zulenka's tattered clothes ruffled they both started. A metal shield quickly burst into existence and was quickly brought into position as a succession of rounds were expelled from the barrel of the hand weapon. The heavy hitting rounds dented the KI reinforced defense and harmlessly detonated into a firework type display of golden energy.
Turning his arm horizontal Vad flung his dented defense item at Ace in an effort to cease his assault. A circle of golden energy quickly formed itself around the heels of the street performers shoes. He side stepped and the ground beneath him burst forth with energy that propelled him to the right of the oncoming projectile. Zulenka charged forward into a full sprint toward the street performer. Planting his right foot into the stone it cracked; the full-blood leapt into the air, his right arm recoiled in preparation for a direct strike. Reacting quickly Ace took the tie from his neck and imbued it. Whipping it toward Zulenka's wrist he jumped forward, tugging on the newly made whip. Vad was flipped head under heels onto his back. Letting his hold on the man's wrist go, Ace let him to the ground only to slide on his back to a stop.
Fuck.
Vad rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself to his knees.
“Did not see that coming.” He whispered to himself while clambering to his feet.
A three round burst was all Vad heard before activating his After Image. The series of Desert Eagle projectiles passed harmlessly through a hologram of the former stationary Saiyan. For the moment Ace was alone on the giant plateau searching for his opponent. Relighting his cigarette he took a puff, dropping it upon seeing a hologram of his opponent appear in front of him. Trafford launched backward thanks to his High Speed Reload Capacity, but was stopped abruptly by an oncoming shield slam to his backside. Alex tumbled forward, his balance shattered from the force of the hit. Pivoting on his right heel he quickly turned to face his attacker, but found he was no longer there.
Reality set in as a right cross planted itself onto the street entertainers jaw. As he was launched sideways he squeezed off a shot that planted itself in the middle of Vad's chest. The two fighters were knocked back; Trafford was on his side and Vad propped up on his back, his torso propped up by his elbows. Smoke was frolicking from his seared flesh.
The ex-assassin felt his adrenaline course down from his neck. His pupils dilated and the rage of battle began to overtake his mind. As Alexander climbed to his feet, his free hand covered his left cheek. Holstering his Desert Eagle he wasted no time in making his next move. A grin crept along the heroin addicts features as the ground beneath Zulenka began to glow. Rolling over and climbing to his feet Vad unleashed a scream toward the sky, lifting his arms above his head. As his voice echoed across the area, a blue aura erupted around his figure. It was violently dancing around his body as the ground beneath him exploded. A blur escaped upward into the sky through the billowing smoke and dust causing the debris to trail behind before falling to the ground.
Picking up a brick sized rock with his mind, Ace imbued the object with a considerable amount of energy. As Vad plummeted downward toward him he sent it upward to meet his attack. Slashing downward the warrior attempted to cut the rock in two, but found it impossible; it exploded in his face. Disconnecting the broken blade from his arm, Vad began to form a new one over his scorched hand. Leaping backward Trafford desperately tried to keep distance between him and the oncoming Saiyan who was now bellowing a roar, his newly bladed right arm poised to deliver a strike.
[02] Mountain Sector FIGHT - Alexander Trafford - 11-20-2009
The all-too-familiar high pitched beeping that emitted from Alexander’s collar echoed in its shrill melody throughout the small, bare room in which he had confined himself. He had no idea as to why he had chosen this section of the massive bunker to brood; it was a miniscule room that was absent of any furniture or any sign of life whatsoever. The tiny quarters resembled a jail cell in its monochromatic emptiness and its dark, depressing undertones. He sat in the corner with his back resting against the ninety-degree intersection of the two walls and with his legs sprawled loosely across the floor before him.
A shaking hand reached towards his face and, ever so gently and cautiously, wiped at the salty stream of tears that dribbled slowly down his defined cheekbone. In his other extremity, held securely between his fingers, was a picture of two people in front of a coffee shop. Alex was one half of the couple who, in the wrinkled, worn and seemingly crumbled photograph, had his long arm securely around the shoulder of a beautiful blonde whose hand rested lovingly across his chest.
He reached for the bottle inside his jacket, but stopped before his fingers could clutch the flask’s cold steel. Confronting his problems meant addressing them, not covering their shallow grave with gulps of whiskey. His hand trembled and he closed his eyes as he gripped the container and twisted off the top. The golden brown liquor slid down his throat with such ease and, after taking a few more swigs, he wondered if he had the will power and the tenacity to confront his issues.
And then he was whisked away.
~~~*~~~
A soft breeze descended down from the surrounding mountains and swept through the flat surfaced valley. The air was warm, unlike the frostbitten, howling winds of the arctic tundra, and was comforting as it ran across his fair skin. His hazelnut eyes shrank beneath the encroachment of his furrowing brow and his traditionally calm and collected visage contracted into taut wrinkles and pursed lips. Inhaling deeply through his nose, Trafford basked in the warmth of the mountain air as it filled his lungs. And then he exhaled, it was time to go.
Alexander gripped the cushioned handle of one of his twin gold-plated Desert Eagles. The menacing saiyan was closing in on his position now and had unleashed an enraged war cry, not that the young telekinetic was worried. He had one goal: to eliminate this obstacle as quickly as possible and continue with his soul-searching investigation of Dante. He could not be bothered by such trifle things as adrenaline fueled roars.
Bending his knees, the well-dressed competitor leapt unfathomably high into the air over his opponent. Vad immediately came to a halt and gained his bearings, tracking his opponent as he arched over the saiyan warrior. As he projected himself, Trafford slowly flipped end over end and rotated one hundred and eighty degrees, so that when he landed he would be facing Zulenka’s exposed back.
Alexander landed in a crouch before doing the last thing that Vad expected, he rushed forward towards the saiyan. Zulenka began to spin around, bearing his elbow deep into the young man’s exposed ribcage, but he would not be in time. Trafford latched his hand around his opponent’s throat and pressed his high caliber handgun into the small of his back. He began to squeeze the trigger, but was interrupted by a strange, foreign occurrence.
The flesh on Vad’s neck began to retract and seize violently and the skin grew taut around the bulging muscle. The jugular artery underneath the flesh on the side of his throat began to pulse exponentially faster. Alex recoiled, not understanding what had happened. As he pulled back he could see the vibrant blue aura of the saiyan warrior wrapped around his left hand and arm, before it flashed to gold and receded within his body.
Trafford immediately flashed his gaze towards his enemy, who seemed visibly fatigued after the unexplained event. Alex, on the other hand, felt surprisingly refreshed. He felt so revitalized that he failed to notice the saiyan’s enormous fist closing in on his face.
As the flesh-and-bone hammer crashed violently into his check, the young telekinetic, on instinct and blind reaction alone, finished squeezing the Desert Eagle’s sensitive trigger.
Trafford stumbled backwards from the blow, tripped on a rock, and fell, without any trace of grace, onto his ass. A cut opened on his cheekbone, and began to vehemently cascade blood. Vad, on the hand, took the explosion from the energy augmented slug directly in the stomach and, as the fire and smoke tore away at his clothing and his skin, was sent onto his backside in a very similar manner.
“You punch pretty well for someone whose -,” Alex mocked his opponent as he lifted himself off the ground, but was quickly cut off by his foe . . . or lack of one. Vad had gone and vanished again.
“What were you saying?” The saiyan snarled in Trafford’s ear. Why was it when someone disappeared they were always guaranteed to reappear behind you? And why was it that you never noticed this transition? It defied the laws of physics.
“Shit . . .” Alex whispered. He didn’t even attempt to dodge the attack. Zulenka laced his hands together and rained the meshed bone against the back of the younger man’s neck, consequently causing him to stumble forward and double over.
Vad moved again, this time manifesting himself in front of the injured competitor, and drove the tip of his knee into Trafford’s exposed face, landing directly on the previous wound. Alex ignored the immediate consequences of the attack – specifically the immense amount of pain that raced through his damaged skull – and leapt backwards, the ground beneath his feet providing a minute explosion that shot him into a safe retreat.
The saiyan didn’t advance, but instead remained in a combative stance, his glare locked on the smug grin of his bleeding opponent, the young telekinetic. Trafford’s eyes met his foe’s unblinking stare. He noticed the warmth of the breeze once more, but he didn’t let it distract him. He was beginning to respect the ability of his enemy to seemingly warp from place to place, leaving holograms of his former self behind as a diversion. If he let his attention divert from this saiyan for a moment, he allowed this foreign warrior the opportunity to strike – and that was something he could not allow.
He had to win. He did not understand why, and he did not understand how, but, in his gut, he knew that there was something on this island; some presence that would help him confront the darkest depths of his soul.
Trafford dropped his gaze from Vad Zulenka, the menacing saiyan warrior, to the ground before him. Slowly, he raised his hands and, as they became parallel with the ground, with his palms facing the sky, every loose object within the battlefield radius rose in accordance with his command. His opponent rushed forward, but was met halfway with an exploding boulder that, as it struck him, dropped him immediately. He leapt to his feet, but opted to not try the same tactic twice. Instead, he vanished once more, but, as he reappeared and found there to be no safe ground, he vanished again, and continued to flash around Trafford’s peripheral vision.
Every pebble, every grain of sand, and rock, and boulder that had once lay strewn uselessly across the mountainous regions sole flat surface now began to hum and glow a bright shade of gold. Random segments of earth began to glimmer as well; faint orange circles seemed to appear across the spectrum of the battlefield.
“Dodge this!” Alexander shouted, and, as if on command, everything exploded. The risen pieces of earth began to jet around the innards of the stasis dome, searching illogically and continually for their target. The ground beneath their feet erupted like a thousand miniature geysers, sending billows of smoke to the roof of the energetically charged and protected stadium. Fiery tongues of red, orange and yellow leapt up around the arena, trying desperately to reach the clever saiyan.
And Trafford stood still, letting chaos violently consume the world around him. He brought a Marlboro to the corner of his lips and lit the tip with a wink of his eye. As the smoke filled his lungs he could only think of two things. First, that he must win this battle with the blood lusting saiyan, and, second, that this situation, this circumstance, it was beautiful in a poetically tragic way – all this destruction, all this violence, and for what? Did it accomplish anything? Was it necessary? He could not be sure, but he knew one thing . . .
It felt damned good.
[02] Mountain Sector FIGHT - DA 2009 - 11-20-2009
Ace grinned, flicking the cigarette to the corner of his mouth with his tongue. That little boy, that…younger-looking version of Alex…had caught a lucky break, but he’d make sure that the saiyan didn’t get the same escape rope. Vad was out of close range now, giving Trafford the advantage once again. As long as he didn’t let his opponent get close, the Armani-clad youth would do exactly as he planned, and that was win. He whipped out his gold-plated Desert Eagle, planning to finish things in style.
As the attack died down, a cloud of smoke surrounded the area in the fallout. Vad stumbled through the devastation, stumbling in the potholes left behind from the exploded debris.
Alex could faintly hear his opponent and raised his pistol, squinting an eye closed and trying to pick out the source of the noise. It wasn’t quite like shooting fish in a barrel, but all he had to do was get even a little bit close, and detonate the bullets, and that would suffice for now. He almost considered repeating the attack he’d used on the kid, as it had been quite fun, but it hadn’t really worked, and it would be boring to do the same thing over and over again. When he felt like he had a good lock on his opponent, he squeezed the trigger and let off a few rounds.
A few moments went by, and nothing happened. Not even an explosion, or a ricochet. It was as if his bullets had disappeared into the ether. Finally, the smoke cleared, and Vad stood strong, his arm held steady in the air. Alex clenched his teeth down on his cigarette in annoyance: the bullets were held frozen several feet from the saiyan.
Vad’s eyebrows furrowed, and his face curled into a snarl. When would they learn? When would they learn not to attack him with metal? The bullets were energized with psychokinetic energy, but they were still metal. With a flick of his wrist, the bullets flew off into a face of the mountain, where they exploded harmlessly.
Well, almost harmlessly.
The rocks dislodged from the natural structure slid down, directly into the path where Alex was standing. He realized this and retreated, although he simultaneously reached out to the rocks with his telekinetic powers and rerouted them towards Vad. The saiyan crouched down into a ready position, smashing each one into dust with just his fists. Seizing a temporary pause in the battle, Vad used his metal binding to snatch the gun from Ace’s hand before the heroin addict could stop him. The pistol flew to Vad’s hand, and the saiyan looked at it in disgust.
“Real warriors don’t need guns,” Zulenka chided viciously. He tossed it away, sending it over an incline and tumbling out of sight.
Alex snorted, and instead pulled the other one out, firing a single bullet in a lightning quick draw, just like Clint Eastwood. “Guess you didn’t know I had two,” he smirked.
Vad froze the bullet in midair, but this time, Alex was on to him. The telekinetic thrust forth his free hand, and the two became locked in a duel of what was stronger: pyschokinesis, or metal binding?
Both refused to lose; Alex had a score with himself to settle, and Vad had a will that could not be broken no matter how hard he was knocked down.
At the moment, it seemed like Alex had the upper hand; his energy encompassed the bullet, giving him the edge he needed to overcome the metallic component of the bullet. Slowly but surely, the slug inched its way towards the saiyan, headed directly in the center of his forehead. The bullet touched Vad’s skin, who even with his most valiant effort, could not push it back.
“That’s close enough,” Alex admonished. He closed his hand into a fist, and the bullet exploded. Vad dropped like a stone.
Ace blew on the barrel of his gun and twirled it expertly with his fingers, pretending to holster it. He reached out towards the ledge where Vad had thrown his gun, and made a come hither motion. The Desert Eagle quickly returned to his awaiting palm, and Trafford returned the pistols to their rightful places. He strode over to the fallen saiyan, inspecting the body. As he gazed upon his opponent, he couldn’t help but feel a wave of disgust wash over him. It was like the fun of it had been completely sucked out as he looked at his own gruesome handiwork.
“You shouldn’t have gotten in my way,” Alex quickly excused himself. “I wouldn’t have had to do that if you had just given up.”
He walked off, trying to rationalize the brutal act he’d just committed.