Damion vs Shinji

The Clock Tower Wrote:

An hour of terror is upon you in this stage. You're fighting hundreds of feet up a massive clock tower with very narrow walk-ways, flimsy railing, and some very small circular stairs that lead up several more stories, although you needn't worry about that. Once participants step foot in the specified area, a gate is placed upon the stairwell, preventing you from going up or down until the fight is finished.

Terrain

General - Two narrow walk-ways on either side of the stairs and small center area is all of the space you have to work with. Either walk way is 7 feet in length and 4 foot in width, not giving you much room in this arena. Watch your footing.

Natural Element Resource - GONG GONG

Weapons - None

Bonus Effects - None

While Shinji wasn't one to purposely cause his opponent any distress by taking his time, he was one to take his time. And to enjoy it, too. With that notion in mind, he had left his suite at the Crimson Hawk after having slept in for something on the order of an hour or so. Pausing outside the great clock tower where the fight was set to take place, his hazel eyes peered out over the aviators which had drooped down the bridge of his nose. A serene, almost sagely gaze poured over the edifice for a short while, as his fingers fumbled for something in his pockets. He retrieved a crushed pack of slim cigarettes and a small silver lighter, which he promptly used to light up and have a smoke.

Time seemed to pass by slowly now for the one-time monk, as he retained that same stoic gaze, studying the building for a moment longer before shifting his gaze to the heavens above. Things were about to get a little hectic, he thought to himself. He disliked chaos and entropy, and would much rather just "go with the flow", as it were. The thrill of a fight needn't always be so discordant. He hoped his opponent would share this view. Deitric did, during that grand fight some time ago, a fight that Shinji had enjoyed more than any other in many years prior or past.

Eventually, the former monk would flick the burning ember remnants of his cigarette onto the pavement and stomp it out under his booted heel. "Time to get to work, I suppose." He thought aloud as he exhaled one last puff of wispy white smoke. With that last sigh of a breath, he ventured inside and upstairs. Hands slipped into the front pockets of comfortably worn-in jeans as heavy-duty combat boots clunked against sequential stairs. Upon broad shoulders a beaten-up leather jacket rested, pierced and studded his coat was a spitting image of the one worn by the famed Deitric Jocasta. His team captain.

The man's six-foot-four frame was impressive, to say the least, with broad shoulders, a barrel chest and a washboard midsection he was clearly a powerful physical specimen. However, he didn't carry himself with such an air of confidence, and rather, he seemed perpetually slouched and off-balance. A diversion tactic, perhaps. Or perhaps he was simply just that lackadaisical.

Regardless, he would clear one last flight of stairs before finding himself staring down what he assumed to be his opponent. The one-time monk was silent, as he went about his business. Sitting cross-legged upon the catwalk he procured several lengths of cloth bandage from the satchel he carried slung over his shoulder. He proceeded to wrap his fists, wrists and forearms in the supportive bandaging, having already wrapped his ribs and ankles before leaving the suite. He then kicked off his boots, placing them neatly upon the stair behind him where they would remain out of the way. He did the same for his small satchel, but only after retrieving a silver flask and taking a swig of some mysterious liquid. A magical elixir, perhaps, or more likely, liquor. In little time he returned the satchel and its contents to the stair where he had left his boots. Lastly, he pulled away his sunglasses, allowing silver-dyed hair to fall lazily over his brow as he placed the glasses into a coat pocket.

He stood once more, his lazy gaze shifted now to the man who stood opposite him. His eyes weren't cold or emotionless by any means, but there was something off about them. That calm, sagely gaze remained eternally unfettered even now with a fight so close at hand. His eyes were almost kind, aloof from any distraction.

He was an odd man, and an odd fighter as well.

"Well then. I guess we should fight now, friend-o." He announced semi-abruptly. He meandered ahead with a lazy gait, taking a couple short steps, hands still in his front pockets.

"Or. . . if you'd be so kind, maybe you could just call it quits right here and now?"

". . . That'd save me a lot of trouble."

Lips curled into a coy smirk that his opponent would come to know as Shinji's trademark grin.

Shinji extended a hand, a shake was his obvious intention. "I'm Shinji Tawara, and if you won't concede then I wish you good luck."

"I'll take it easy on you if you'll do the same for me."

Could this man really be a serious fighter? He seemed so disillusioned with even the notion of having to exert himself.

He was an odd man, and an odd fighter as well.

Though he had never planned for it to occur this way, Shinji's strange, lackadaisical manner often did unsettle his opponents to a certain degree. Of course, it was never enough to turn the tide of a fight outright, but he could sometimes get the sense that his unorthodox attitudes could set some doubt in the mind's of his opponents. And, for a fighter to fight with one-hundred percent of himself he must be free of doubt. Perhaps he truly was aware that his manner was a bit unnerving for one who was expecting a particular "type" of opponent, a type which Shinji clearly wasn't, but regardless, he just went about his business without a second thought.

He did like to take his time, after all.

Now, however, it seemed that there truly was business to be taken care of. The greetings were over and done with, and Shinji had only put minimal thought into the nature of his opponent. He was a good enough guy, it seemed, but the monk wasn't swayed by his perceptions of people. As before, he would simply go with the flow. They shook hands, and there was a bit of witty banter on his part, but in reality, Shinji's mind was rather void at the moment.

A single thought perpetuated his conscience: fight.

As much as he did enjoy relaxation, the young man did also enjoy fighting.

With that thought in mind, light hazel eyes settled upon his opponent's center body mass, taking in "the big picture" as it were, with no particular focus. He discerned what he recognized subconsciously as a boxing stance displayed by his foe and he had almost-already dropped into a similar stance of his own. Of course, knowing Shinji, his boxing stance seemed somewhat sloppy, or rather, surprisingly flexible. His right side took the lead as his legs remained about shoulder-length apart. His right fist dropped low and his left was clenched at jaw-level as he slipped into an internal rhythm. In little time, he was bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, with surprising dexterity considering both his physicality and his decidedly lazy persona.

The distance between them would shrink, not in an instant and certainly not at a "fast" pace, but as Shinji bounced he closed in like a predator stalking his prey. It was as if all the elements of his personality, stance, timing and fighting style would serve to lull his prey into a false sense of security, because when he struck the speed and precision would be considerable.

Lunging suddenly, the low right fist extended upward and outward in a pawing jab. Of course, there was little real force behind it apart from the somewhat-considerable velocity that the monk had managed to garner. The jab had pep, as it were, and a series of three total jabs would flow together in a neat string of strikes. But, the jabs were of little concern on their own, they were of more danger when one considered what they were setting up. Three pawing jabs were directed to snatch the initiative, but their effectiveness was limited to their surprising speed. The true strike would come from a different angle altogether, for as Shinji stepped ahead to pursue his jabs with his leading right leg, his left would swing 'round like an axe being directed to chop down a tree. The tree, in this metaphor, would be his opponent's leading leg. This was the "real" strike, the one that the monk had been setting up all along.

With his hips pivoting to produce considerable torque, hard shin was directed toward soft thigh as Shinji pressed forward undaunted with a strike he had practiced for as long as he could remember.

The end result would be three quick pawing jabs directed to divert attention from the step-in leg kick directed to cleave his Damion's leg out from under him.

Maybe if he ruffed up his opponent's legs, the fight would be easier on him.

He could only hope.

1 / 10

"Hrm. Close."

The single thought resonated within Shinji's subconscious. Jabs were largely ineffectual, though they hadn't been intended to do much harm. His fists would impact his opponent's gauntlets with little negative effect on his own part. Fist wraps did a good job of negating any abrasiveness posed by the metal gauntlets while Shinji's hardened knuckles, which had grown accustomed to striking hard surfaces like wood and stone, were largely undaunted as they clanged against the metal forearm guards. Like his jabs, it seemed that his leg kick was similarly nullified, by his opponent's own instep.

Damion's counter-attack would strike nothing but air as Shinji, still "going with the flow", managed to duck back enough to allow his opponent's slashing claw to pass him by. He had surged forward, landed his kick and then reflexively leaned back enough to avoid the counter without an overt defensive dedication. The result would be that he could maintain their relatively close distance with his well-timed lean. Shinji did have a knack for avoiding serious harm when he needed to, perhaps the result of an innate survival instinct or some sort. At any rate, that little bit of intuition was enough to allow him to avoid his opponent's counter-attack.

They were close, now, but not so close that Shinji felt threatened.

He had been locked in this close-range-combat in his bout with Deitric and he had stood his ground. In comparison to Deitric, the man who stood before him seemed so much less threatening. With that thought in mind Shinji's lackadaisical gaze followed the movement of his opponent with little trouble, it seemed like those cool, calm eyes could see more, somehow. Of course, it was only in seeming.

Shinji's present mindset was quite calm and collected, and therefore, he wasted no time as he initiated an upwelling of internal energetics. Chi, raw spiritual energy, would surge forth in a ardent ebb and flow until, in little time, it would inevitably combine with Shinji's considerable physical energy to create chakra. This synthesis would happen nigh-instantaneously as the two sources of energy were compounded, but once the combination had begun it would take time to gather the necessary reserves of chakra that Shinji required to execute the technique he had in mind. At the present moment, therefore, he stood well-within his opponent's reach, perhaps too well within reach, compiling chakra from within. It would seem, to one unattuned to such special energies, that he had simply stopped to focus intently within. Of course, he had retracted his hands to create a semblance of defense in front of himself, with his fists clenched in front of his face.

It wasn't as if he had suddenly stopped fighting. Rather, it was as if he were waiting for his opponent to seize the initiative. Or, at least that's what it seemed like.

Initiate Post Charge:

Current Charge: 0 / 1

Post Count: 2 / 10

"I'm gonna need a smoke after this. . ."

Shinji's melodramatic internal dialogue went on undeterred, he was constantly thinking, albeit often-irrelevant topics. Right here and now, he was preparing himself for a considerable hardship to yet to come. He had left himself relatively open, and in close quarters. He could only assume that his opponent would take advantage, but perhaps that was his plan all along. As Damion began his onslaught, Shinji took a step back, and then another, being pushed back from whence he came in the direction of the upward staircase a couple feet or so behind him. Of course, it was still a ways away. Shinji stepped as strategically as possible, using that bit of instinct he possessed to avoid any serious injury. But, for Shinji, the difference between injury and serious injury was slim. To any other, it'd seem he was on the verge of loosing the fight.

In the aftermath of the flurry, Shinji stood stalwart. There was an identifiable moment of silence as neither man made any sudden action. The cameras panned in, zooming frantically to discern just what had happened.

And, the cameras would see a remarkable sight.

Three long, jagged gashes were gauged into the monk's barrel chest. For one surreal moment the silence was deafening, but then:

SPLAT

Blood splashed fourth from the three gruesome wounds, staining the walkway upon which the two men fought. They were by no means fatal, or fight-ending, for Shinji's careful maneuvering had been enough to limit their overall effectiveness just enough to avoid any serious injury. He wasn't fast enough, however, to nullify the attacks altogether. Resultant, blood seeped through his torn white t-shirt, dripping rhythmically at his feet. Throughout all of this, however, Shinji's smirk had returned. What could he be thinking? Was he crazy? Viewers at home could only speculate until it became clear exactly what Shinji had come away with in their little exchange.

The fourth slash hadn't landed for a reason, and in this moment just seconds after the wounds would have registered to any onlooker it would be inevitable to also realize that Shinji now clutched Damion's hand by the wrist in a vice-like grip. How could this be possible? Well, quite simply, Shinji had put himself in harms way to achieve the current scenario. Damion's first slash was fast, and Shinji barely had time to react. The second one as well, was quick, and Shinji had yet to get his opponent's timing down properly. But, at the third wild slashing motion, Shinji had been prepared. As the claw tore into his flesh his own hand reactively snatched it as it had landed. Damion's claw attack had landed but it wouldn't be retracted. An eye-for-an-eye, in effect. Shinji had to take some hits to deliver his own.

The monk's grip was stalwart. He had played this game once before, yet another throwback to that fight with Deitric. He had endured the Brave's fists and his lightning while being locked in this particular hand-hold, never wavering he refused to let go. Now, Damion's movement was subject to Shinji's will.

Blood continued to seep through the decidedly noticeable wounds which marred his chest. Shinji let out a deep breath.

He had almost weathered the storm. Would it be forth it? Only Damion's actions in the next few moments would decide.

For Shinji, he made no further attack. He simply finished the process of gathering what chakra he required. In his mind, he was well on his way to forging a victory.

Current Charge: 1 / 1

Post Count: 3 / 10

As soon as he had committed to the process of enacting his wrist grab, Shinji had been prepared to suffer the consequences. He was well aware of what his opponent was capable, those clawed talons were particularly fierce. However, Shinji simply did his best to retain focus. He would implement two sequential techniques which would hopefully bridge the gap between his admittedly less-than-favorable situation and victory. Two techniques, the first was of a lesser draw upon his chakra reserves and therefore, it did not require prior charge. Shinji would simply enact it now in response to Damion's ferocious "caged-animal" spirit.

Quote:

Tetsushikō - Iron Finger:

A particularly lethal technique which uses chakra gathered into the user's hand, usually the fingers or palm to make them as hard as iron, allowing them to punch through muscle and puncture internal organs. Once the fingers are reinforced with chakra to take on their iron-strong nature, the user will form a precise, piercing blade of solid chakra energy which coats the iron-strong fingers. Constructed similarly to a medical ninja's Mystical Palm and/or Chakra Scalpel technique, the user of the Iron Finger technique doesn't concern himself with avoiding damage to particular organs or systems, and rather, they use the concentrated chakra to bypass the defenses of an opponent to pierce straight through into their flesh and vital organs. Using this technique a skilled taijutsu practitioner can cause grievous injury to an opponent with only minimal physical contact.

Well, of course Shinji didn't know his opponent on a personal level. He didn't know his techniques or abilities, only the cold, hard fact that a caged animal is an animal that fights its fiercest. Though he didn't know his opponent personally, he did feel he had a good idea of the type of fighter that Damion was. It was clear so far, based on his opponent's displayed mannerisms, that he was one to get all caught up in the emotional side of combat, the "heat of the moment" as it were. Shinji never was such a man. As his opponent displayed a surprising clarity of mind, enough to think to protect his exposed back while he had seemed just moments ago dead-set on freeing his arm, Shinji could only offer the slightest sigh of discontentment. He had hoped that his strike would have put an end to this troublesome man, Damion. But, it was not meant to be, it seemed.

"What a drag. . ."

These two men were polar opposites, with Shinji simply going about his business with that same lackadaisical expression which stood in stark contrast to the easily detectable aura of pure rage and bloodlust which his opponent exuded in excess.

Disappointments aside, it was not in his power to stop Damion from dropping to the floor, and Shinji didn't offer any real resistance to the maneuver. He would retain the hand-hold, for the moment at least, the six-foot-four man straining only slightly in order to reach downward enough to comfortably retain his hold. His rapid-fire punch had been avoided but it would have been instantaneously retracted, true to the monk's practiced form. His fist, therefore, was fully prepared to act once again.

Moving in fluid motion with mechanical, business-like speed and precision Shinji wasted no time now as he followed Damion to the ground, dropping a heavy knee unceremoniously onto his opponent's solar plexus. It would be his right knee that would take the lead and come crashing down onto Damion's chest, the knee that was opposite to the hand which held his opponent's wrist captive, the left. Though potent, this was less of an "attack" and more of a maneuver motivated by the situation. But, regardless, the two-hundred and two pound man dropped his full body-weight into the point that was his knee, as he retained his hand-hold he did his best to make sure Damion couldn't roll to either side.

Shinji, in his usual cool, calm manner, simply continued going about his business. Though he seemed like little more than a lazy brawler with little talent beyond his ability to punch and kick, he was, in fact, surprisingly bright. Well-aware that, with his knee dropping to deliver a particularly powerful blow, it was also a prime target, he was therefore even more well-aware that it would warrant protection. And so, it was already in his head that his somewhat-vulnerable leg could come under attack and in the same regard, he simply kept that free hand free.

Now, it would only be fair to note that there would be no hiding of his newly-generated forearm gauntlet-spike for Damion. As Shinji loomed over his opponent it was clear to him what was going on as his stoic gaze gleaned the nature of his opponent's free arm. Presumably, Damion wouldn't be falling onto his side and concealing his arm if Shinji weren't actively holding him in the air by the wrist, which he wasn't as he dropped to his knee. In this way, Shinji would become aware of the threat that the newly-generated spear-hand posed, but not so much so that he'd venture to stop his dropping knee, not that he could, as the action had already been initiated. Though he couldn't stop the knee upon taking note of his opponent's fancy new gauntlet, Shinji's own free hand was, in fact, free, and therefore ready and able to deter any attempt his opponent might make with that nasty spiked gauntlet of his.

He didn't think that in the small distance between the two men that Damion could manage to simply manage hold his spike up into the air for his knee to fall upon, for that would be Shinji's great fear. He was confident that in slightest few seconds between Damion falling and him following after that his opponent couldn't hope to truly obstruct the falling knee. He could, however, freely attack it from another angle. But, as these thoughts raced about his head, Shinji's thought patterns remained clear and focused, for, whatever attack his opponent sought to execute, he would have an answer. He had chakra welled up in reserve, a sturdy wrist-lock, a free hand to defend with and he had his opponent on the ground. He had undeniably suffered some notable harm, but the resilient fighter was, well, particularly hardy and resilient.

Things were looking up.

Shinji put on a wry smile, as he looked down at his seemingly infuriated opponent.

He almost felt pity, for one so consumed by the ravenous emotions of rage and bloodlust. Almost. To Shinji, his opponent really did seem like little less than an animal, now. With that fearsome scowl, all he could think of was a scared dog baring its fangs.

Current Charge: 1 / 1

Post Count: 5 / 10

Sensing that this position would prove perhaps more troublesome than was worth it, Shinji resolved to best make use of the situation before rescinding whatever slight advantage he had at present.

His plan was simple. He would punch his opponent. Just once, the heavy blow he had in mind would be both exceedingly powerful and exceedingly quick. As Damion kicked and flailed his feet, Shinji shifted his weight forward enough to accommodate the hay-maker of a punch his balled right fist was prepared to deliver. In the process, he would endure a kick or two or three, a cut opening upon his rugged jaw but little else in the way of physical harm. His opponent's flailing was certainly a distraction, but not a limitation. Shinji would simply go about his business, biding his time and taking an opportunity when it presented itself. He wouldn't waste time with Damion's kicking feet. He would, rather, push the pace and lunge forward, forward enough to make his strike. Forward enough to be out of range of a kick to the face. His right hand, the free one, would therefore form a fist and he would waste no time delivering a crashing downward blow onto his opponent's face, directed to smash a cheekbone or clip his jaw at the least. With his positioning being what it was, Shinji could put considerable weight into his downward strike, making this hefty punch particularly powerful, most assuredly a "knock-out blow" by the standards of mortal men. What's more, for all of the movement he had retained with his lower body, Damion's ability to roll and dodge with his upper body would be inversely limited as Shinji remained in such a high mount, making it somewhat more complicated for his opponent to avoid the punishing blow.

It was as if Shinji's right fist were a tremendous sledgehammer, crashing down like Thor's great weapon Mjöllnir. Sure, Damion's free hand was free and in theory it could still produce a modest blocking maneuver but all in all, Shinji's crashing downward blow wouldn't, couldn't, be entirely set off simply by his opponent's raised forearm. Damion's feet posed a similar problem, but if Shinji had timed his blow correctly his forward-moving punch should put him out of range of his opponent's flailing lower limbs. Shinji's plan was, apparently, quite blunt and straightforward: power through his opponent's defense and subsequently, his face, to deliver a knock-out punch. Even if it didn't yield an instant K.O., the hefty strike could still prove fight-ending, such was its great power.

With a strike of such magnitude, Shinji would do his best to prevent Damion from avoiding it. As previously mentioned, his high mount would make it particularly tricky for his opponent to dodge or roll out of the way of the blow, though it wasn't impossible. To further limit his opponent's overall upper-body movement, Shinji would keep his grip on his opponent's wrist steadfast, pulling back enough to ensure that Damion could hardly roll away from that side, to his left or Shinji's right. If Damion couldn't properly roll to the left, moving away from the direction in which Shinji was tugging, he could still potentially roll the other direction, with the steadfast tug of Shinji's wrist-lock. However, with such a roll, it wouldn't be nearly as hard for Shinji to correct his fist's trajectory, as his punch would originate on his right side and could easily continue its path further to the right if Damion chose to roll in that direction.

Shinji would, in an attempt to better maim his opponent into submission, use a bit of his internal reserve of chakra to produce his Iron Finger Technique once again. Resultant, that striking fist possessed those same iron-strong qualities that it had when Shinji implemented the technique just a few short moments ago, complete with piercing spines of chakra erupting from his knuckles like an invisible set of iron spiked-knuckles. The iron-strong, bludgeoning force of his fist would significantly supplement the "sledgehammer" behind the blow, while the spiked-knuckle effect of the Iron Finger Technique would allow Shinji some amount of piercing-power. If Damion managed to block, even with that special gauntlet of his, the result would still be dire. Or so Shinji hoped. He would power through any block, regardless of how "sturdy" it was, and with this one punch he sought to inch the fight one step closer to being over.

He had done all that he could to limit his opponent's defense while simultaneously putting up a fearsome offense. Damion's kicking would take its toll, eventually, but Shinji had only suffered but a taste of the full barrage his opponent attempted before powering forth to deliver his blow. Surely he would have more than enough time to deliver one single punch before Damion's feet could prove a serious hindrance.

Maybe that was all he needed. One single punch.

Well, hopefully. At least.

Current Charge: 1 / 1

Post Count: 6 / 10