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"Bah." Brahm was obviously no longer amused. That last quote was a bit more egotistical than he cared for, and it grated on his nerves. Or at least it would, if his nerves weren't already screaming at him from the blow he just took. His brow furrowed over his goggles as he looked at Raven's parody of his own attack. Brahm however was not foolish enough to repeat his opponents mistakes.

As Raven plummetted towards him feet first, Brahm ducked and took a step forward. Reaching upwards with his right arm in an attempt to grab his opponents right ankle. Given the speed everything was happening at he doubted there'd be time for Raven to jerk it out of the way. Assuming his oversized hand was able to get a grip, a steam powered piledriver device would activate in his right leg, driving a foot long iron spike out of his heel and into the stone ground.

Having secured himself thus, Brahm's grip on Raven's ankle would halt the latter's progress and cause him to snap like a whip. Meanwhile Brahm would be twisting his body and pushing with his left leg into a spin to his right. Using the braced leg as a fulcrum and his own weight as a counterbalance, he'd use the considerable momentum to swing Raven in a wide arc. The centrifugal force alone should be enough to prevent Raven from moving during this interval, which would result in Brahm smashing his adversary headfirst into the wall.

Brahm growled somewhat as his opponent somehow managed to exert enough force to avoid the grapple. If he'd forseen that better he might have found purchace elsewhere on the plumetting figure, but that wasn't the case this time around. Instead he could only whirl around and hope to find some kind of opening. He surprised to suddenly find himself facing his opponents back, from less than a yard away. Fate had smiled on him for one breif, shining moment, and he'd be a fool not to take advantage of it.

Of course, there was the slight chance it was all a trap. But Brahm didn't have time to think about it. Just as soon as Raven landed Brahm took a step forward to cover those two feet between them. This close Raven's kick didn't matter at all as it wasn't a viable position to make such an attack, and only served to shift his balance forward, which was even better for Brahm than if he had stood still.

Brahm himself immediately reached around to wrap both his arms around his opponents waist, seeking to lock both of Ravens arms under the vice like grip as well. If this worked, his hands would pass eachother and each gripthe inside of the opposite forearm. A split second of metal clicks signalled something unusual in Brahms joints. Namely, a locking mechanism. From his shoulders all the way down to his very fingers, every joint in his arms was now locked in place.

Between Brahms strength and the locked joints, it'd be an incredibly difficult hold to break out of even for Raven. Not that he'd have really any time, as Brahm would immediately go into his planned attack. Namely, using his planted feet as an immovable base from which to throw all the strength of his legs and back into a german suplex. The pile-driven spikes would ensure he could use his full strength without fear of losing his footing. Brahm knew better than to think he could get past whatever the insane body armor his opponent was wearing. Instead he would have to do his best to find a way to injure the man inside of it without a direct impact to the body. At the moment this meant smashing Raven's head against the ground with enough force drive it straight through the stone if everything went off without a hitch. Metal spine or no, this was going to hurt.

Brahm was not someone who was used to telepathic communications. Having no psychic powers whatsoever it simply was not a common occurance for him. In a way this was actually very good for Raven, as it made Brahm react almost instinctively before he could conciously come to a decision about what that Tom Waits-ish voice in his head actually was or meant.

All the joints in Brahms arms unlocked in an instant, immediately followed by both arms spreading apart. The result was Raven being flung, rather than suplexed. He was still going to hit the ground. He was still going to hit it incredibly hard, in fact. The upside was it still wouldn't be nearly as hard as it would have been otherwise, and he likely wasn't going to hit head first. Brahm, on the other hand, was in danger of eating the power of his own attack now.

Now having gotten a clear awareness of the situation, Brahm could make a concious decision on how to run with it and come out decently okay. Thankfully, it wasn't just the joints in his arms that could lock in place. Every last vertebrea from his tailbone to his skull suddenly clamped down and fused his spine into one solid peice. While one would originally think this'd be MORE dangerous, it was useful in that it ruined the curving of his back neccessary to make a german (or "bridge") suplex work. The power of the move was cut in half instantly, and Brahm managed to keep his head up while doing it. His shoulders slammed into the ground with a low thrumming noise first. The impact scattered the loose sand that covered the floor (which was in fact stone according to the brochure) completely and layed the stone beneath bare for several feet around. His exhaust pipes were completely destroyed at this point (they'd already been pretty well beaten up by the impact with the wall earlier). Both arms continued to slam into the ground afterward to absorb the rest of the impact. Each of Brahms gigantic palms were framed with a tiny halo of cracks, spreading away from his fingers like spiderwebbing.

Afterward, when the dust had cleared and he finally and fully realised what just happened. His spine seperated itself once again into it's component parts while the rest of his muscles relaxed. The foot spikes were retracted, allowing his feet freedom of movement once again. He lay there and simply focused on breathing for a minute before unsteadily lumbering to his feet.

Everything hurt.

He was feeling pain in places he didn't know his body had until now. And that wasn't entirely meant as a cliche turn of a phrase. His own body is fairly unusual and his post-traumatically addled mind still wasn't entirely sure of everything that was in there. He did know that his body was a complete mess now, covered from head to toe with small abbrasions and cuts. The skin on his right knuckles was now missing entirely. Oddly enough, the bone that was revealed was not the typical off-white of "normal" people, but rather a dark and unpolished metal. It seemed Brahm and his opponent had more in common than either of them even knew. Regardless, Brahm looked at his opponent now and spoke in a tone that reflected the utmost respect, despite how irritated he had felt earlier.

"It looks like I misjudged you sir, and I believe you have a promising future. I hope to face you in a fair fight again sometime."

Brahm was suddenly startled by just how loudly and clearly his voice sounded. The stadium itself was completely silent now. Even the children who had been screaming and chanting him on this entire time were now shushed by the tense atmosphere. Then it hit Brahm, Raven had surrendered to him telepathically. Nobody in the stands knew what was happening!

"Heh... no, that's quite all right. I think I'll make it on my own..." Brahm chuckled with a slight wince. The cuffs around his metal ankles clinked and began slowly venting the remaining buildup of steam he had left. He waited a moment for his engine to drop down a couple gears and expelled a deep breath. Wincing again afterward, he put his hand to his chest and began limping slightly to the gate. "I just hope there's a skilled metallurgist there, I think I cracked a rib-plate..."

He chuckled and winced yet again. Brahm Dragos was obviously not one to hold grudges.