Well, a stalemate probably worked just fine for Gamma. With the inability to feel pain, having an eye tore apart or otherwise made useless didn't bother him, nor did the discharge of electricity into his face. It wasn't doing much, so he might notice it ended prematurely - no need to waste. The man's face was pretty tore up, skin and flesh ragged where Deitric had dug to try and keep a hold on Gamma's face. He sure wasn't any prettier.
For Deitric, a stalemate really wasn't what he needed. What he needed was a way to beat the man beneath him into a pulp and stop him. Simple flesh damage - even to important organs like the eyes - didn't immediately stop the eliminator like it might have someone else. Someone who wasn't quite on the same level of batshit crazy as Gamma.
If it meant sacrificing even more than he had, so be it. He had a lot to lose - and that meant, to some extent, he had a lot to give, too. He wouldn't sacrifice his ambition, or place in the next round - but flesh, blood, sweat and tears were all things he was more than willing to part with to put the beast of a Greek beneath him down for the count.
In both arms, the Khasmin warrior had been pumping out considerable amounts of his own brand of energy to try and either keep Gamma pinned down, or force him into unconsciousness. One had worked thus far, the other hadn't. In his left arm, the energy had pooled, so to speak, and built up. While this had locked his arm as intended, it also did some damage. The skin inside the jacket sleeve was blackened and burnt, and some of the muscles were so taut they were likely to tear themselves out of strain against Gamma's strength and even Deitric's own.
But all that energy pooled up also gave Deitric something to put to good use. With his hand since removed from the eliminator's face, Deitric forced all his energy to reroute to his left arm, ignoring the roiling, burning sensation that lit up his nerves with white-hot pain. Every metaphorical ounce of power that he'd pooled, and every ounce that he could draw forth and channel was put into his arm--
--and it abruptly straightened, slamming down like a jackhammer for Gamma's face, across the scant foot or two that might've separated fist and face. Sure, it'd free Gamma's arm - but he wouldn't get a chance to use it.
With his one still functioning eye, Gamma might see something - a very bright light.
Abilities Wrote:
►Maelstrom Spiral - Deitric's only true "finishing" move, is similar to the Thunder Drum attack in that it only requires the use of one hand. The main difference is the expenditure of energy and exactly how it manifests. Assuming he has enough energy generated or enough to expend, Deitric can pool it all into a single fist before attacking. Once the attack has started, the energy begins to spiral in a cyclone fury from his fist and backwards, spilling over the warrior and the area around him. The attack hurls Deitric forward, enveloped in a swirling tempest of power. Anything in the way of the attack will usually be knocked back, and anything directly struck by the punch will feel the sudden reversal of the spiral, abruptly pushed back with an explosion of force and electricity.
On the way down, Deitric's entire arm ignited with an electrical maelstrom that lit up and hid the entire left side of his body in a spinning vortex of lightning, hurtling the fist downward, hopefully right into Gamma's face with the impressive speed and force that could only be supplied by the supernatural - in his position, the tribesman simply wouldn't of been able to generate that sort of physical force otherwise. The left sleeve of his leather jacket shredded and flew away in smoking ribbons.
When (or if, more likely) the attack struck, Gamma would be assaulted with a tumult of electricity. It could of been more, or just as much as what he had received before, but instead of over time, it was being delivered in one, big lump sum. No small, partitioned payments here. Beyond that, a good bit of his not-quite-human power was used to power the blow, which was going to make it a whole lot meaner than the blow the Greek had taken on the chin earlier. This punch was going to bounce his head off the concrete like a basketball and probably do some serious damage to the back and front ends of his skull.
FWOOSH
After that, they wouldn't fight anymore - at least not immediately. The Maelstrom Spiral reversed itself (even if it hadn't had quite the "flight" it normally had when Deitric used it), looking almost like a shuttle's engines on take off as the two men were torn apart with astounding force, leaving the right sleeve of Deitric's jacket and his bracelet in Gamma's hand while the Achaean was smashed down and the desperate brave was flung back.
Flying through the air like a ragdoll, the tribesman - who was now smoking from more than one place - was smashed into a metal container and dropped to the ground in a heap with a cry of pain. He hit the concrete on his greaves and knees, slumping back against the metal container.
The sacrifice had been costly, and the cost of winning - if he had won - was high indeed.
Deitric's left arm was mangled, it was hard to tell black ink apart from blackened, singed skin. Acrid, gut-wrenchingly disgusting smoke rose from the limb as his entire body shook and twitched, his fingers clenching and unclenching without any command from his brain, which was swimming in a ocean's worth of pain.
Blood leaked from his right ear and left palm where his nails had dug into his flesh, and now he had no glove. Glove? It went the way of his jacket sleeve, except for one pleasant note - the metal insets over his knuckles would be burnt into the flesh of Gamma's face. With the axe strike and hitting the iron storage bin, the arm was useless, even if he hadn't struck it dead on with that side of his body. The limb hung limp over his legs.
More blood poured from both of his nostrils and both his eyebrows were blackened and singed. Burnt leather, flesh, and hair combined in one horrid smell that could only be found on the field of battle and no where else in the world. Tremors went up and down his spine and through his body - shock, adrenaline, pain, no telling what else was the cause. His right arm hurt too - Gamma had a pretty damn strong grip, and even if they'd been pulled apart, it had pulled his back and side delts to the extent of injury. Still usable, but not exactly in any way that'd be enjoyable. He wasn't Gamma - pain wasn't his thing.
The warrior hacked up a weak cough, bile and bloody spittle splatting on the concrete as he picked himself up weakly, using the metal container that had softened his landing to support himself. Even if, by some strand of uncontrollable fate, he hadn't struck Gamma down, he'd still stand. He didn't really have much of a choice?
As for Gamma? Well, Deitric hadn't tried to kill him, at least.
But even monsters had to fall at some point, and if not felled by death, then at least by the dreamless sleep of unconsciousness. Or a coma. Whatever.
