Bhudasan vs Deitric

Then..

BEEP - BEEP - BEEP - BEEP

Code: Preliminary Match!

Opponent: Demitrius Bhudasan

Location: Clocktower

GOOD LUCK

Now..

Deitric made his way down the spiral staircase, skipping steps at a time as he descended to the walkways marked off for his preliminary match. Much of the clocktower had been closed off to them, but he recognized it all the same. He had fought in the clocktower two years prior and, unsurprisingly, little had changed. It probably wasn't worth switching an enormous clocktower over from analog to digital.

The stage was unchanged.. it was also empty. A few spectators were willing to bear the heights and dotted the walkways above and below theirs, but they weren't given much of a view one way or the other. Alone for the time being, Deitric walked down one of the narrow pathways, brushing his hands along the wrought steel guard-rails.

With time to burn, the tribesman relaxed his weight against the railing, scrolling through the information on his FIGHTER. As captain of his team, he could see all the other preliminary match ups for his teammates and any relevant information. Garbed in his traditional black leathers, the warrior didn't seem any different than usual. He preferred to save any surprises up his sleeve for the tournament proper.

He also had no idea who Demeetreeus Bhoodahsaan was, or how to pronounce their name, so he was forced to simply sit and wait for someone to show up and identify themselves as such.

"....."

Deitric cocked his head to the side and watched as the pajama'd man rushed down the stairs, only to stumble off to the opposite railing and promptly lose his lunch all over the unlucky spectators on the walkways below. The only reason he didn't have to question whether or not this was his opponent was because of the metal plating that slid abruptly over the stairwells, effectively trapping the pair of fighters on their designated level of the clocktower.

Somewhat suspiciously, the tribesman turned towards his retching opponent. "Are you.. okay to fight? You look a bit ill, to say the least," he queried. Deitric didn't much relish the idea of beating up a man with a hangover, or the flu. The idea of catching some illness from the man was one he liked even less.

He made no move to approach just yet, but instead only watched to see if the man would continue emptying the contents of the stomach onto the crowd, or if he was actually ready to fight.

Deitric quirked a brow.

He didn't smoke. He squinted his eyes and peered hard at Dimitrius.

"Are you really an officer of the law?" the tribesman asked off-handedly, half in derision and half in incredulity. Regardless of his opponent's legitimacy as some sort of police officer or something, this man was his Preliminary opponent. He decided it was best to take "Officer" Bhudasan as seriously as he could. The air around the red-skinned fighter thrummed audibly with power as the officer began to approach him.

"Can't do that - I've got a tournament to win," Deitric responded, reaching out with his left hand to take a hold of the railing while he spoke. It was flimsy, and the metal felt hollow in his hand. The leather-garbed man gave a hard yank on the railing and a piece of the pole was pulled free from where it connected into the vertical slats of the railing. One and a half feet long, it didn't look terribly weighty, being hollow, but it was metal. It was also in the iron grip of a two hundred and twenty-five pound prize fighter wrongly accused of smokin' da Mary Jane and tax evasion.

Assuming that the officer dared to get within striking distance, Deitric took a step forward and make a back-handed swipe at the man's face with the first five inches or so of the metal piping, using the length of hollow metal like a baton of sorts. If Bhudasan didn't get out of the way, a few of his teeth might end up joining his lunch in some spectator's hair.

Somewhere below them, a grown-a man st himself for the first time in three years.

[1]

That worked better than expected. Deitric hadn't really been expecting to actually hit the officer, after all.

He didn't hold it right there, though, and he certainly didn't intend on following any order to cease and desist.

swishswishswishswish

The tribesman's right arm began working back and forth furiously, trying to whip the length of pipe across his opponent's face, hands, or or head; wherever he could manage to hit him. He wasn't putting any of his weight into it; and it gave off a vague similarity to a school teacher rapping a student's knuckles with a ruler. Except a whole hell of a lot meaner.

If his opponent wasn't going to attack, the Khasmin tribesman didn't see any reason to just let him back away - not when he could slap him around with the pipe. He might have felt bad for the man since Bhudasan was apparently ill with something or another, but any sympathy was lost on the man after (wrongly) accusing Deitric of several crimes.

Fortunately for Dimitrius, the piece of railing hadn't gotten any heavier, and the brave wasn't swinging any harder. Unfortunately for him, he was still being swatted at with a piece of metal. But at least he wasn't being electrocuted yet, although the longer Deitric went without using his powers, the worse it invariably proved for his opponents past and present.

Reverse police brutality at its finest.

[2]

Click-click.

?!

Well, that wasn't good.

Deitric was surprised, to say the least, but he retained enough of his fighting composure to know to tuck his chin, feeling Bhudasan's forehead crack sharply against his own. The fighter recoiled bodily and dropped the length of railing, but didn't retreat a single step backwards, ignoring the flash of pain searing its way through his skull and behind his eyes. His right arm raised immediately to try and guard that side of his upper body and face as best he could to make sure another attack didn't get through nearly as plush as the first.

It was this sort of situation that he worked best in. Up close, where he didn't need seeing an opponent, or judging timing and distance mattered less than simply lining up and pulling the trigger. If Officer Bhudasan thought that invading the dark-skinned brave's personal space was the best idea, then Deitric would do his best to prove otherwise.

Abilities Wrote:

CNS Enhancement - This is a specific technique revolving around Deitric's central nervous system, specifically the motor nerves that deal with muscle control. Using his ability to manipulate electricity, Deitric "jumpstarts" his central nervous system's muscle fiber recruitment, allowing him to recruit every muscle fiber possible for a short amount of time [1 post]. This gives Deitric a tremendous physical boost in all attributes [2x his stats], but heavily taxes the body over time if done more than once or twice during a fight.

The warrior railed against his opponent's attack, coming back from the physical recoil of being headbutted with his own retaliation, electricity coursing through his body as he acted on pure fighting instinct. The fighter torqued his body to the right as he hammered a left hook forward, aiming to catch his opponent squarely in the body.

In any other case, he might have been kept at bay by the handcuffs. With his already impressive physical capacities doubled the railing didn't stand a change, and the handcuffs keeping him tied to the piping didn't slow him down in the least. The railing was pulled out of its sockets in the horizontal railing and the walkway, bent and ruined; tumbling from the handcuff's hold. The swing of Deitric's punch didn't jerk or slow at all.

If anything, the element of surprise might have been on his side -most people never expected a punch from the handcuffed hand, and at least for the moment, the black-haired tribesman's speed and strength were both doubled. The punch was as much of a push as it was a hard strike - if at all possible, Deitric intended to smash his fist home in the right side of Dimitrius's torso and shove the man back across the walkway.

Assuming he had some room to breathe, the warrior rose to his full height again, blood running down from his nostrils, a slice visible just centimeters below the spot right between his eyes; the headbutt had struck low enough to hit home, if only barely. The now-useless handcuffs hung from his wrist, limp and dead, with several of the chain links warped from the pressure of Deitric freeing himself.

Officer Bhudasan's stomach problems had only just begun.

[3]

Deitric straightened up and gave a roll of his shoulders as if he was loosening himself up. He listened to the offer talk, his arm shifting two and frow as he spun the handcuffs 'round and 'round by the cuff that was strapped around his wrist. He slipped his fingers through the free loop on the other end and caught it in his hand. The handcuffs suddenly took on a more sinister appearance; a ring of metal projecting out in front of his fist like a pair of brass knuckles.

"We still have a fight to finish," the brave retorted, although the last syllable of 'finish' was likely cut out by the sound of retching from Officer Bhudasan as he threw up a second time. Deitric refused, on his basic principles as a warrior, to attack a man while his back was turned if they were separated and not in the middle of combat.

All the same, he slammed his right foot's boot into one of the vertical uprights of the handrails, making the entire length of railing shake violently, as if he were trying to dislodge Dimitrius from his metal crutch. It wasn't exactly an attack, but it probably didn't feel good to hang onto something that was wobbling around shortly after emptying your stomach.

"If you're going to fight, let's fight. Otherwise stop throwing up all over the crowd and go see a doctor," Deitric demanded. Although he was unwilling to attack the man while he was busy throwing his guts up, he still looked as if he might give the railing another kick if Bhudasan continued to cling to it for support. The constant, electric thrum had died after Deitric threw his punch, but it was beginning to grow anew while he waited for his sickly opponent to show some signs of being okay to continue the bout.

[4]

PLING

Deitric turned aside to his right instinctively, the bar cracking across the upper, left side of his skull, rather than his face. It wasn't heavy, but it still managed to hurt quite a bit. The momentary twitch at having something flying at his face forced him to take his eyes off of his opponent.

!!

Deitric felt the improvised garrot around his throat and tighten like a noose. The muscles in his neck immediately flexed, standing out like cords of iron beneath his dark skin. Being choked from behind was never a good position to be in, but there was a dangerous glint in the tribesman's eyes. He had been here before, in Heaven or Hell two years previous. In the same building, even. He could practically feel Dimitrius behind him; choking someone required a level of closeness that only grappling could afford.

The tribesman's left hand fell to his belt even as the right rose to try and tug at the cloth in an attempt to give himself more breathing room. There was a momentary glint of steel in front of the fighter before he exploded into action.

shhkkk

A sliver of silver whipped through the air as Deitric swung behind him, aiming for where he knew his opponent was given the invasion of his personal space. In his hand was a single-edged knife designed to cut and stab with a blade of nearly eight inches or so of steel. And it was heading right towards his opponent's hip and upper thigh, tip first as he held it in the typical "stabbing" reverse grip.

If he had to, the long-haired fighter would yank the weapon up or down to turn the stab wound ragged, or stab again if needed, but chances were that Dimitrius would get the point after the first stab when/if he found several inches of metal embedded in the meat of his leg.

If worst came to worst and Dimitrius didn't let go, Deitric could simply slash the cloth and free himself - but his first instinct as a fighter was to hurt his opponent and to turn his advantage into a disadvantage. Choking someone out versus being stabbed wasn't much of a winning situation for the choker, usually.

[5]

Deitric's eyebrows needled together in annoyance while he tore his knife through the fabric of Dimitrius's shirt, tossing the ruined garment aside as he turned to face the officer. The cloth of the shirt had absorbed any blood left on the blade, leaving it clean again. The light in his eyes had grown, until it burned away any shadows across his face, leaving the warrior's face clearly illuminated.

"Every competitor knows the rules - weapons are allowed. If you aren't prepared to deal with that, why are you here?" the tribesman responded callously. Every manner of melee weapon and a broad assortment of superhuman abilities were brought to bear in the tournament, year in and year out. Deitric didn't have an answer for all of them; such a thing was impossible, but he wasn't going to hold it against an opponent if they had an advantage over him. He would do what he always did - adapt.

"Stop, if you want. I'm not going to tell you to keep fighting if you can't handle the pressure," the brave said chidingly. Deitric didn't have any respect for the officer, with the way the man constantly carried on. Slipping the toe of his boot under the rod Dimitrius had beamed him in the head with, the warrior flicked it into the air with a kick, sending it in an arc to the other man.

"Now you have a weapon, and no one will say I won unfairly. Now fight, or get out."

[6]

"....."

Deitric watched in what might have been awe or disbelief as his opponent managed to somehow fumble himself over the railing, only barely managing to save himself from falling a couple of stories to the next set of walkways below.

The warrior walked over to where his opponent hung by a single hand and faced the man from the opposite side of the rickety walkway, the opposite set of railing just behind him. His face was a mask, but behind it he was balking at how ridiculous his opponent was - the man could barely manage to keep himself on his feet long enough to fight, never mind doing anything else.

He considered his opponent's plea for a moment, peering down at the man. The tribesman wasn't a mean or hurtful man by nature - but he was proud. Of himself, and, to an extent, of his opponents. And at that moment, he wasn't particularly proud to call Dimitrius his opponent.

So, Deitric promptly plopped down onto his bottom, his legs crossing smoothly in the same motion. The walkway shook ominously in response to having a concentrated 220 lb human weight drop onto it, but nevertheless remained stable.

He looked at Officer Bhudasan and scratched at an itch beneath the mane of black hair.

"I help he who helps himself."

[7]

Deitric frowned at his opponent, and then checked the FIGHTER on his wrist. Their allotted fight-time was nearly up. The warrior picked himself up off the ground and sheathed his knife, crouching down to grab Bhudasan by the wrist with both his hands to help the man up, standing far enough back that he was out of reach of his opponent's hands should the man try anything.

"Everyone gets one favor," he warned.

Special Abilities Wrote:

CNS Enhancement - This is a specific technique revolving around Deitric's central nervous system, specifically the motor nerves that deal with muscle control . Using his ability to manipulate electricity, Deitric "jumpstarts" his central nervous system's muscle fiber recruitment, allowing him to recruit every muscle fiber possible for a short amount of time [1 post]. This gives Deitric a tremendous physical boost in all attributes [2x his stats], but heavily taxes the body over time if done more than once or twice during a fight.

With a sudden, surprising amount of force that should not at all have been possible, Deitric yanked upward, straightening himself up as he heaved Officer Dimitrius not only away from the precipice of falling, but up into the air, releasing his grip on the man's wrist.

High into the air, unless the ill police officer tried to stop him. With superhuman strength, the black-haired tribesman had practically tossed his opponent straight up into the air like a play-thing, using his stance to bring as much of his bodily power to bear as he could.

Muscles seized and locked in Deitric's back and his legs, letting him walk stiffly backwards, trying to roll his shoulders an alleviate the onset of cramps and burning that came with the abuse of his skeletal muscles. Constantly recruiting 90~ percent of his muscle mass didn't ever feel good; it was the same way someone could use all of their power in a life or death situation, minus the adrenaline; the adrenaline that made sure the person didn't feel like hammered s**t afterward.

Ignoring the straining, pulling pain flaring up throughout his body, Deitric craned his head to keep his glowing, luminescent eyes on his opponent. He'd hurtled them an up a good twenty feet if everything had gone off without a hitch, and he intended to make sure he didn't get landed on. With any luck, he'd have caught Dimitrius off guard with his over-enthusiastic "help" and gotten the throw off - not that getting your arm yanked by a man who could suddenly deadlift two thousand pounds ever felt good, either.

That was what Bhudasan got for asking for help from a man who didn't like compromise.

[>:{/10]

"Tch."

Deitric crossed his arms loosely over his chest and looked over at his opponent, who was righting himself after his tumble through the air.

"I'm not one for quitting. But I won't attack someone when they won't fight back - so sit there, if you want."

The brave didn't look particularly happy with an opponent who just gave up, but their time was nearly up. There was no point in pushing the issue now.

"Is this.. how you actually catch criminals? By sitting around asking them to meet you half way?" he asked. Deitric felt it was a legitimate question, given the situation at hand.

[9]

"Whatever," Deitric shrugged, hearing the telltale beep-beep-beep coming from the small device on his WRIST. He checked the flashing display and looked back at his opponent. The stair-wells that capped off each end of the walkway rumbled open.

"That's the time limit; fight's over. I guess you get off lucky this time. Good luck," the warrior said off-handedly, waving a hand at Dimitrius as he turned and began to walk away. The fight's end was a relief - had it gone on any longer, he might have just knocked his opponent off the walkway and then be done with the whole matter.

[10]