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 Posted: Sat Feb 10, 2007 3:59 am
"I know, boy."
Sutiiven would turn to see John smiling sadly at him. "I dont know what this place is really called...obviously you've never been here before."
He lifted his arms, as if to show off the tulminous sky. "This is Det Evig Renons...The Eternal Void. Nothingness for miles and miles and miles. The only way out...is to fight."
He lowered his arms before pointing a giant fist at Sutiiven, his finger stabbing at the smaller man. "Fight me. Defeat your opponant and you can leave. It's always worked for me in the past."
As he spoke John took off his jacket, the thick leather slipping off his massive frame to reveal his large arms, scarred from years upon years of battle. He was dressed casually, having been more prepared to watch a fight then participate in one. Thick jeans covered his legs, a black tank-top revealing the muscles on his body.
He was a massive man, covered in muscle, simply oozing strength. He cracked his knuckles with practised bravado, his neck cracking simultaneously as he twisted his head to the side.
"My name's Tomorrow. Forberede du selv - prepare yourself."
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Posted: Sat Feb 10, 2007 11:20 am
Tomorrow It didn't matter. Balling his fists, John roared as he suddenly skidded forward, coming in close to #387 with his fists up. His first attack was a jab - which feinted left, allowing for his hard right to swing in toward's #387's head whilst he tried to block or deflect the left jab. There were no more wasted words. While voicing the situational directives was a useful method for reinforcing them in the mind, and thus had been ingrained in UGH #387 since the first levels of his Personality Reconditioning Program, doing so was inefficient and reduced combat efficiency. Priority conditions in close quarters combat included communications silence. His right hand moved only a few inches to intercept the jab that never came; not moving far from the center but only just enough to protect from the jab if it were to follow through. His cold, unwavering stare remained fixed, however. To control the body the center must be moved, and despite that John's first strike had been executed perfectly, it did not move his center at all... the second attack did. #387 brought the back of his left arm across to deflect the hard right outside. Immediately his right hand came across and reached over it, grasping the arm and pinning it against the outside of his left; then simultaneously twisting his hips and body counterclockwise to pull John Tomorrow along the line of his hard punch. The directive was to subdue the target: instead of a punch he would receive a takedown.
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Posted: Sat Feb 10, 2007 12:04 pm
Tomorrow "I know, boy."Sutiiven would turn to see John smiling sadly at him. "I dont know what this place is really called...obviously you've never been here before."He lifted his arms, as if to show off the tulminous sky. "This is Det Evig Renons...The Eternal Void. Nothingness for miles and miles and miles. The only way out...is to fight."He lowered his arms before pointing a giant fist at Sutiiven, his finger stabbing at the smaller man. "Fight me. Defeat your opponant and you can leave. It's always worked for me in the past."As he spoke John took off his jacket, the thick leather slipping off his massive frame to reveal his large arms, scarred from years upon years of battle. He was dressed casually, having been more prepared to watch a fight then participate in one. Thick jeans covered his legs, a black tank-top revealing the muscles on his body. He was a massive man, covered in muscle, simply oozing strength. He cracked his knuckles with practised bravado, his neck cracking simultaneously as he twisted his head to the side. "My name's Tomorrow. Forberede du selv - prepare yourself." The present Sutiiven grimmaced. Apparently he was getting a name for himself - I mean, what kind of moron would summon someone to The Eternal Void for a presumable fight to the death if that summoned someone were a nobody who didnt know the buisness end of a broadsword? At least, that was his precteption - there could be a million reasons as to his being here, but hey, he was being attacked - less thinking, more action! He drew the blade from his back, twirled it in his hand for a moment, then shifted into an en-guard position. "I dont know who the hell you are, or why I'm even here... but dont think I'll back down!"
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Posted: Sat Feb 10, 2007 5:13 pm
((#387))
Tomorrow blinked as his punch was intercepted, his massive frame being pulled forward by the right arm - as his left reached up to grab #387's throat. Instead of fighting against the throw, he followed it, actually pushing himself forward along his trapped arm - and taking his opponant with him, the two men crashing to the ground.
But John had the advantage of weight, and using his momentum, he twisted himself around as #387 fell along with him to land atop the machine-man. Not totally - but enough to have the advantage.
He pressed his palm into his opponant's throat, threatening to crush his larynx.
If #387 let go of his arm, no problem. All it meant was that John was in free-fall. He'd grab one of #387's arms and take him down with him with his weight.
**********
((Sutiiven))
Tomorrow rolled his eyes. "I just told you my...ah forget it. Kids these days...
Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew the coins he'd been digging out to pay for the binoculars. There were several, and he slipped them about in his fingers. He smiled over to his opponant - before tossing one up into his mouth, his teeth crunching down on the coin as if it were gum.
He looked the boy up and down, chewing on his coin quietly. as he placed his free hand into his pocket. "You look like one of those quick-types..." John said with a grin, still crunching on the coin, feeling it fold and press together in his mouth. "...Lets see how quick."
He suddenly stopped shifting the coins arouind in his hand, lifting his arm to show the boy the coins, his palm open. They looked fairly innocent enough - two Gaian gold coins.
With the sudden flick of a wrist, John's index finger and thumb suddenly held one of the coins, his other fingers curled in to hold the other coin to his palm. His index finger drew back on his thumb, the coin's edge being pulled into his skin...
...Before Tomorrow flicked his finger forward.
The coin erupted from his fingers, shooting through the air at such speeds to almost be unseeable. The gravel before them flew apart like Moses parting the seas as the coin disrupted the air around it, bearing straight towards Sutiiven...
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Posted: Sat Feb 10, 2007 5:42 pm
Tomorrow ((#387)) Tomorrow blinked as his punch was intercepted, his massive frame being pulled forward by the right arm - as his left reached up to grab #387's throat. Instead of fighting against the throw, he followed it, actually pushing himself forward along his trapped arm - and taking his opponant with him, the two men crashing to the ground. John Tomorrow had the advantage of weight, that much was clear, but weight is as much a disadvantage as it is an advantage. In their current situation, it was much less advantageous than he would have hoped. As he was pulled forwards along the path of his arm, UGH #387 was twisting it. If John pressed forwards, trying to fall into the soldier rather than past him, #387's right shoulder would strike the center of Tomorrow's chest. What this meant was, as much as he would try to control the fall, he really had no control over it whatsoever - his feet were no longer supporting his body. The only difference John's press made was that #387 would drop back his left foot two feet in order to control the fall better. Tomorrow would still find himself with his shoulders out of line with his legs, and with #387's shoulder against his chest like a fulcrum and John's right arm in the lock, he would spin straight off from his feet and land on his back on the other side of the soldier. As for John's left hand, that was really a matter of whether his grip upon the skin at the back of the neck was strong enough to pull a man down from stable footing without slipping. Unless Tomorrow wrenched his hand free of the soldier's grip, the next move would be to capitalize on the arm lock while John was still recovering from the fall. #387's left hand would slide up against John's, pressing palm to palm, or palm over fist if his hand was balled. The right hand would slide up a few inches during the fall, letting John's own weight and momentum do the work for him so that the soldier would not even need to release the other man from the arm lock. If successfully executed, #387 would have his right hand upon Tomorrow's wrist, and his left hand pressed against John's own; pressing the hand back against the wrist with angle and pressure enough to cause debilitating pain and threaten to break the wrist. "Stand down, citizen."
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Posted: Sat Feb 10, 2007 7:41 pm
((#387))
John smirked up at the man as he tried to perform the hand-lock. #387's hands were surrounding John's, pushing down and against with equal force...
"Make me."
...As John simply arched his wrist back up, his hand slowly coming out of the lock, his face not showing any sign of strain or pain.
It was a question of strength. John felt no pain - his electrical system saw to that - so all #387 was doing was debilitating his hand. But even then, a strong man can withdraw his arms from arm-locks if he was strong enough. And John had oodles of strength.
Suddenly, he twisted his legs, slamming his knees into #397's shins as he wrenched his locked hand down, pulling #387 off-balance - and straight into a fist to the gut, impaling the other man on his fist. It would feel like someone had stabbed a thick log into his guts
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Posted: Sat Feb 10, 2007 7:57 pm
#387 did just that. His left hand pushed back and his right pressed up against the back of the hand; properly executed it would place an inordinate amount of strain upon the wrist. Only... it wouldn't move. Tomorrow John simply arched his wrist back up, his hand slowly coming out of the lock, his face not showing any sign of strain or pain. His shoulders twisted, applying more force. Even going so far as to apply a significant portion of body weight onto the hand to force it down. UGH soldiers underwent a rigorous training regiment, both in muscular strength and close quarters technique. There was nothing human that would be able to resist. Tomorrow It was a question of strength. And John had oodles of strength. Tomorrow Suddenly, he twisted his legs, slamming his knees into #397's shins as he wrenched his locked hand down, pulling #387 off-balance - and straight into a fist to the gut, impaling the other man on his fist. It would feel like someone had stabbed a thick log into his guts Despite everything, the soldier's face never changed. He was struck so hard that he was literally thrown back several feet before his boots touched the surface of the tree limb again; leaning against the momentum to stop short as the balls of his feet dragged across the bark. His stance immediately dropped lower as his legs bent to absorb the rest of the motion, and his stance immediately raised after that to resume the same form it had at the start of this all. He did not feel pain. His body had been conditioned for damage, but it was the personality reconditioning that was responsible. Pain existed only in the body, he had long since forgotten how to understand it. Like wearing two different colored socks, it was something that threw off the perfect balance, but at the same time was completely meaningless. "Situation 4," he said in a voice that seemed completely untouched by the blow to his midsection. Situation 4 - Hostile action by civilians. Use of Force recommended to restore order.
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Posted: Sat Feb 10, 2007 8:20 pm
Tomorrow rolled onto his feet as #387 landed coming up as the other man did. He was impressed - not many people could take a straight blow from him and still stand.
His eyes conveyed the information around him as he looked at the enemy. The information being processed was triple the speed of a human's, and he saw everything - the landing, the obvious lack of pain, and the automatous reactions to everything.
This boy was obviously not human.
But it made no difference.
Tomorrow scratched the palm that #387 had caught indifferently, chuckling with slight mirth as he looked at him. John seemed...uncertainly optimistic.
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Posted: Sat Feb 10, 2007 8:36 pm
#387 did not advance. The individual had recently shown that he had superhuman faculties, and this needed to be taken into account. Traditional tactics would not work as they were intended if this was the case.
The soldier's fists loosened. His stance slackened slightly. If the individual possessed abnormal bodily strength then a new method of dealing with the situation needed to be assessed. Directives, lists, training manifestos were called up and skimmed over until proper procedures were found in dealing with the situation according to the book.
Then the soldier would advance with a shuffle-step, leading with the left.
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Posted: Sat Feb 10, 2007 8:45 pm
themightyjello #387 did not advance. The individual had recently shown that he had superhuman faculties, and this needed to be taken into account. Traditional tactics would not work as they were intended if this was the case. The soldier's fists loosened. His stance slackened slightly. If the individual possessed abnormal bodily strength then a new method of dealing with the situation needed to be assessed. Directives, lists, training manifestos were called up and skimmed over until proper procedures were found in dealing with the situation according to the book. Then the soldier would advance with a shuffle-step, leading with the left. John allowed the man to advance slightly, waiting till he'd gotten close enough - "Briste av lyset!"Before suddenly thrusting the palm he'd been scratching forward, a glyph having been scratched into the palm of the gauntlet he'd been wearing. #387 would suddenly be engulfed in blinding light, so brilliant it made the heavens light up, blinding him to all that was around him, the light encompassing them both... ...Before Tomorrow suddenly skidded forward, the light-bearing hand grasping #387's head to pull him forward, yanking him off his feet - before being slammed into the wooden platform on which they stood, so hard the wood buckled, shards flying in all directions.
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Posted: Sat Feb 10, 2007 9:02 pm
Tomorrow ...Before Tomorrow suddenly skidded forward, the light-bearing hand grasping #387's head to pull him forward, yanking him off his feet - And the steel toe of #387's right boot would slam against the underside of John Tomorrow's chin. Though the light may have temporarily blinded him, he still remembered the length of Tomorrow's arms and adjusted appropriately as soon as he felt himself being lifted. It wasn't just one leg, though: both hands gripped onto John's forearm and #387's entire body swung upwards along it as he threw his weight to the inside. The soldier's left leg came up over the outside of the arm and locked itself with one boot over the other at John's shoulder. With the light blinding the both of them he wouldn't see it coming, and even if he was intending on slamming the soldier down into the ground he would find his balance completely thrown when the soldier swung himself up and over the arm. With both hands holding the arm and John's chin between his boots, the soldier's maneuver would throw the center of weight far off of Tomorrow's right side and drive the man's head into the ground several feet from where they started. Of course, the first action following that would be removing the enveloping hand by using his firm grip upon the arm to push off from.
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Posted: Sat Feb 10, 2007 9:24 pm
Dammit! Tomorrow growled to himself as he felt his balance start to go. He's done it again!
Tomorrow felt himself toppel again, falling to the ground with a forceful boom -
- But he would not let go.
His fingers dug into the soldier's head, his massive palm pressing his face into his skull. Lying on his side, John gripped #387's left leg with his free hand, slipping his fingers around the ankle before untangling it from his arm...
...And began to pull.
Now #387 had a conundrum. John's hand was gripping #387's head, without any sign of being able to let go. He'd grasped #387's leg and was pulling on it hard, his fingers wrapped tightly around his boot to stop it from slipping. In effect, John was beginning to stretch #387's body, stressing his neck and his hip, crushing his skull at the same time. Which would go first - would John pop #387's skull off his neck, or would he wrench his leg from it's socket?
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Posted: Sat Feb 10, 2007 9:51 pm
Tomorrow Dammit! Tomorrow growled to himself as he felt his balance start to go. He's done it again! He had indeed. Though John Tomorrow had an overpowering physical force behind him, there were still the natural laws of movement to consider. No matter how strong a man is, if his feet aren't under him he will still go down. As long as Tomorrow was off of his feet and incapable of putting that massive strength to use, UGH #387 still had the advantage. However, this inhuman individual's resistance to injury was not making the task any easier. Tomorrow Now #387 had a conundrum. John's hand was gripping #387's head, without any sign of being able to let go. He'd grasped #387's leg and was pulling on it hard, his fingers wrapped tightly around his boot to stop it from slipping. John Tomorrow had grabbed the soldier's left leg, the one that had been hooked up around his arm and over the shoulder, coming around to the left side of his head in the earlier takedown maneuver. Because of this the force that he applied to the leg would directly effect the knee long before it managed to do any damage to the neck. However, pulling do hard upon the leg would also require the inside of the soldier's leg to apply pressure to the back of his arm. #387's next move only made this worse. Rolling slightly onto his side, he applied pressure down onto the forearm with both arms and his torso; with his left leg beneath the arm and Tomorrow laying on his side, the pressure from both of their body weights would be applied onto the back of John's elbow, as the only joint that existed between them along the arm. Maybe he felt no pain, but arms still aren't meant to bend that way.
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Posted: Sat Feb 10, 2007 10:01 pm
((Damn. Wrong leg. sweatdrop Oof, you're better then i realised!!))
Tomorrow blinked as something suddenly went pop.
Releasing #387's leg, John started smashing his fist into the soldier's exposed groin as his other hand went limp, releasing #387's skull from the crushing pressure threatening to squash it. Again and again he pounded the other man, slamming his fist into him, trying to get him off his arm.
He'd gotten careless, and had dislocated his own arm because of it. He needed to relocate it - and to do that, he needed #387 off him. Unless #387 wanted to walk again, he would have to move fast, before the relentless barrage pounded his hips into dust.
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Posted: Sat Feb 10, 2007 10:19 pm
Tomorrow ((Damn. Wrong leg. sweatdrop Oof, you're better then i realised!!)) (( #387's better than I'd realized. I've never done takedown style before, I'm basically making it up as I go. I should really get around to taking martial arts again. Most of this is just a basic understanding of physics and an obsessive curiosity in medical knowledge. But yeah, wrong leg... sort of a crossover at the shoulder to lock one over the other. I could have thrown in some type of foot choke with that but it'd be stretching it too much when he can't see and is reaching over things... )) Tomorrow Releasing #387's leg, John started smashing his fist into the soldier's exposed groin as his other hand went limp, releasing #387's skull from the crushing pressure threatening to squash it. Again and again he pounded the other man, slamming his fist into him, trying to get him off his arm. He'd gotten careless, and had dislocated his own arm because of it. He needed to relocate it - and to do that, he needed #387 off him. Unless #387 wanted to walk again, he would have to move fast, before the relentless barrage pounded his hips into dust. With his left leg hooked over Tomorrow's arm and his right leg over the shoulder, the arm was running between #387's legs, so any attack made against him would need to be made against the side or the back. Obviously being punched in the back by a superhuman is a bad tactical decision to make, but with the elbow joint dislocated and the hand released from the face, #387 was finally free of the grip and John Tomorrow was the worse off between them - with one arm that had been more or less incapacitated. Even if he reset the joint, the arm would be in far from perfect shape. Finally free of the superhuman's grip, #387 unlocked his leg and rolled off of Tomorrow to the left before kicking up into a crouched stance with his hands open and held in front of him. "Second warning," the soldier said in a clear, monotone voice, "stand down."
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