Copost between "Dawscombine" and "Beta"
"About time we got to fight." said Vincento, again failing to remember that Cyst wasn't very likely to understand him. Then again, the context and tone could account for a lot in regard to what a person said. Pacing back and forth in one corner of the ring, the Italian was clearly excited. His record had been spotty at best since the tournament, but it was hard not to be upbeat when surrounded by friends. Thought that would likely prove to be a BAD thing, as it went to his head a bit.
Despite knowing Krav Maga was a very intense style and that it would be hard to make use of his special ability mid-combat, Vince played up like he was the cool guy and motioned for his opponent to make the first move.
Cyst was almost the polar opposite. Cold, calculating, remaining absolutely still and in control while she watched him. Her mind had already started breaking him down, just as she expected he was doing, under that veil of jovial glee. She knew a few things that made her feel more confident. One, her foe was an analyst, like her. Two, she was most likely faster than him despite being physically weaker. Lastly, his leg had been injured. Her first move was clear to her, but she was already planning one step ahead of that.
By the time he'd given her the first move, she was closing the space with her superior speed, aiming to drive the heel of her palm into his stomach. Not hard, but enough to wake him up, a little. Maybe make him a little sore, if it connected.
By God, she was quick off the line. In seconds, Cyst was already pressing the attack with a swift strike to the midsection. Simple enough to avoid, of course. But the thought of how quick his for was stuck in Vincento's head. Swinging one hand down and out in a circular motion to deflect the blow and simultaneously open Cyst to a counterattack, Vincento stomped down on one foot and thrust his other hand forward in what some would call a Tai Chi strike. Granted, he'd just seen it in a video game and thought it looked effective... but some might erroneously attribute it to his skill at learning new moves.
Much like Cyst's attack, it wasn't made to inflict severe damage so much as briefly stun or stagger the opponent. At this point, the two probably looked like they were just testing the waters, so to speak. But then what was the point of a spar if not to practice and improve while also learning the patterns and behaviors of your sparring partner?
She knew her eyes weren't supernaturally enhanced in any way, but she had pretty good hearing. Once she heard the stomp, she knew the deflection wasn't just to spare himself from harm. Her slim body ducked to the side, leaning back as the close-proximity strike very nearly grazed her chest. If she had been even an inch closer, he would have gotten her... It was thrilling. Oh, her adrenaline was pumping now. Her cold, expressionless face watched his every move as best it could. Normally she would be smiling and laughing. Psychological warfare, like she learned from Viktor. However, she wanted this to be an honest fight. Clean. Pure. No tricks of the mind or anything anyone could call underhanded.
Except for, of course, underhanded strikes. From her position there were two options. Give up the balance and go for a head kick, which would almost certainly put her on her ass and him in the most advantagious position you could put a Krav Maga fighter, or she could drive her palm into his chin. She attempted to go for the latter, bringing one foot back to stabalize her while she did so.
That went about as well as expected. A quick exchange with no damage done to either fighter was about as bog-standard as it got in regard to the start of a match. Then Vincento's opponent did something a bit unorthodox. As she backpedaled and regained her balance, she sent another palm screaming through the air... this time almost like an uppercut. It worked, to a degree. Vince swung his head backward, but a split second too late. Cyst's hand hit its mark on the underside of his nose. Certainly not a BAD injury, but an annoyingly painful place to be hit, for sure.
Stumbling back a couple steps, Vincento clutched his nose and shook his head. It was bleeding a bit, but thankfully the cartilage was not broken. He made an amusing face that meant only one thing... the sting in his nose caused him to sneeze quite forcefully, covering his hand in mucus and blood. "Per Dio, Cyst. Really?" said the Italian as he wiped his hand on his shorts. He wasn't mad, just annoyed that he was the first one to take a shot in this spar. It seemed like the loss in the tournament had really done a number on his confidence.
Switching gears, Vincento launched into a series of quick but fairly straightforward kicks. If he couldn't immediately get his for to mess up, then he would try to tire them out by pressing the attack.
Cyst had just spent the last half hour practicing her footwork, and she had been spending time and time again on her weaving. She did just that, taking a step back to shift her body around the kicks, getting a feel for the rhythm. He was quick. With her weak stamina, he was tiring her out rather effectively, but she had something else up her sleeve. However, as she went to catch the leg, he pulled back for another kick, nailing her right in the side of the head. Thank god they were weak kicks, or she wouldn't be standing.
She backed up, shaking her head once, twice, three times before she could see straight, again. He had one hell of a side kick. Was he wearing boots? Whatever. She took a deep breath and grunted out a quick "Even..." in her rough, damaged, accent heavy voice. It was a work in progress, especially in a fight. That wasn't the main concern, right now. She had to do something about those kicks...
She started to edge her way forward. Her stance had changed, a little. Palms more open, eyes more focused. She was looking for something... what, there was no idea to be had. Her hands were off-center, but close. What could she be after...
Even? Had she LET him kick her? This wasn't looking good... was he really THAT off his game? Vincento's eyes went wide as he considered the implications of that single word. Though he was unaware of it, his stance became shaky and he was off-center just a bit. This small but blatant error left a huge hole in his defenses. Even so, he couldn't just stop after one hit. Hopping back and forth a couple times to shake off his nerves, Vince then rushed in one more time. Leaping into the air and torquing his body violently, the young man spun like a top.
Most would think the next move to be a powerful kick, as many martial arts incorporated a spinning kick or two. However, Vince would strike with a spinning elbow brought down from above rather than a spin-kick from the side. Adding that turning motion to the falling albow attack would increase its power AND its speed, and hopefully make it more unexpected and difficult to evade.
She hadn't let him hit her. Far from it. She had intended to get through this match without any injury at all, but he was bleeding and she was getting really dizzy... She had one chance to end this right here, before she passed out. She just hoped that this plan didn't do too much... Because he's in the air now, and she can see an opening so exposed, she's not even considering an alternative...
As he falls towards her, an elbow coming to strike her, she places her hands on his back and attempts to drive her knee into his stomach. Then... she's in pain. Nothing but pain. She slowly turns to her side to see Vince's elbow driven into her chest, just above her breast. Hard. Well beyond what bones would normally allow. As she pulls away, it's clear why. She coughs hard, blood spattering out onto the mat as she dropped. First to her knees, then collapsed altogether. Once again, a fight ends in her unconscious on the floor... Predictable.
Mid-rotation, Vincento felt pain. Searing pain, to be precise. Maybe a spinning elbow wasn't the smartest idea. Especially against a Krav Maga combatant who was likely used to crazy shit like that. Still, he powered through the pain and delivered the elbow... right onto Cyst's collarbone. He felt it buckle and bend, then break. Almost immediately, the girl collapsed in pain and coughed up some blood onto the mat. ... had the fracture somehow punctured a lung? No... that couldn't be. But then, there was no way was she THAT sickly and still able to fight, so that HAD to be what happened.
The attendant in the Rec Center rushed over immediately and dialed the hospital on their phone as they took Cyst's vitals. Vincento on the other hand was having a crisis of faith. Was he so out of control of his techniques? Was he that much of an amateur? First he lost the tournament on a botched kick, now he might have critically injured a classmate with what should have been a fairly simple to evade attack. That, combined with his mounting self-doubt was enough to drive him over the edge, so to speak.
"I think... I think I need to go." said the young man in a panicked tone of voice as he stumbled out of the ring and backed out toward the exit. Once outside, he'd run around to the back of Male Dormitory #1 and dry heave several times. He was completely freaking out. He was once on top of the world at New Peaks... and now he felt like he was nothing but an unskilled poser. First hurting himself, then a classmate. Over and over, he punched the stone wall of the dorm. Knuckles scraped the stone, then bled from the repeated blows. Once he could no longer throw another punch, he stormed inside the building and shut himself away in his room.
He didn't deserve to be here.
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Meanwhile, at Imperius Hall...
Shotaro had climbed into the ring with Amaltheia. A heavy strinker versus a grappler, this was sure to be an interesting match despite the clear difference in skill between them. "You ready for this?" asked Shotaro before quickly closing the gap and sending a kick directly toward Amaltheia's left thigh. Take out a grappler's legs, and you took out a big part of their arsenal. At least that was what Shotaro rationalized. Really, it was true of ANY fighter, not just grapplers.
Man, he was quick... Almost annoyingly so. He didn't even give her a chance to respond before he was tossing kicks at her, aiming for her legs. Smart, but she expected no less from him. She went in low, dashing to close the distance even further and pull his remaining led out from under him. She would take that kick to the shoulder instead of to the leg, but that was one of the touchest parts of her body. It would hurt, but it was worth it to get him down.
Well, Amaltheia had ducked the kick, but took it in the shoulder. Always a plus... but then she grabbed for Shotaro's leg. Well that wouldn't do. As soon as she grabbed for it, a series of rapid punches would rain down on her shoulders and head. Shotaro did NOT want to be taken to ground. COULD he fight there? Sure. But he was far from a masterful combatant from his back. Hopefully she'd back off, but in the back of mind Shotaro couldn't help but doubt it.
Even his punches hurt like a bitch.... she was thinking back to the first time she felt one of his kicks full on. She didn't want that again. She hooked her arm around his leg and tried to toss him backwards in a very, very sloppy suplex. She would have done better, but she knew he would take advantage, if she let go of his leg. It was neat enough to be safe, though, so he wouldn't be in danger of any serious injury. He might be sore in the morning, though... Granted it worked at all, that is.
Several more punches struck, but that didn't stop Shotaro's foe from hefting him into the air and slamming him backward onto the mat. Shotaro landed a bit awkwardly, putting a great amount of the impact on his elbow. Pain shot through the arm, but he didn't think it was quite broken. Thankfully, his opponent was off-balance from the maneuver as well. Putting almost his full weight on the sore arm, Shotaro pivoted and swung one foot downward to hopefully drive Amaltheia out of grappling range. Well, either that or to hit her with said kick. Either one worked for Shotaro.
She was in a bad position, and he knew it. Just as she was getting herself off the mat, he was trying to drive his heel into her. She backed off, only realizing afterwards that that was exactly what he wanted. He couldn't possibly have produced the power to to any real damage from that position. She could have caught the kick and put him into a submission hold like that, but no. She had to back up like a fool. Well, no matter. She closed the distance yet again and tried to stomp on his chest, if he was still on the ground. If not, the chest kick would come in the form of Pankraton's signature step kick. Proven to be able to break ribs, though this one was toned down. This was just a spar, after all.
Not dumb enough to remain on the ground, Shotaro was actually forced on the defensive by the aggressive attacks of the school's biggest Pankraton enthusiast almost the instant he got to his feet. A stepping kick was her next move, but kicks were where Shotaro excelled. Snapping his own kick into the air, Shotaro chose to target the very leg she was sending his way. Kicking a kick? Not really a traditional way to do things, but still an effective one. Even should her attack strike true, the force would be reduced and pain would be rocketing up the limb from Shotaro's counterattack.
She tried not to grit her teeth as he kicked her. Right in the leg, and right in the leg she was kicking him with, no less! Didn't he respect priority? Oh, well. She had already gotten another opprotunity. The kicking leg came down between Shotaro's, and she was going low again. This time, instead of getting into a shitty suplex, she went for a simple hip toss. One that would leave her standing, this time, should it hit. She hooked her arm around the inside of his leg and pulled out, attempting to pin the kicking leg between her chest and his. If all went well, she would lift him up and toss him back first onto the ground. Hopefully he didn't hit her head, but she had learned her lesson about holding back...
Well, Shotaro's 'kick the kick' plan worked, but it once again left an opening for his opponent to exploit. Granted, he was half-assed leaving openings on purpose. It was a spar, after all. Just beating the hell out of each other does nothing. Still, it wasn't very amusing to be grappled and tossed like a toy. Grabbing hold of Amaltheia's arm and swinging his feet down and backwards with the rotation as he was thrown, Shotaro actually bridged the landing and avoided being slammed on his back. "You wanna call it here? I've had my fun and don't think we need to bust each other up. Not with the tournament coming up and all that shit."
Granted, it must have been quite amusing to see the school's top fighter in such an unusual position... but he wasn't being unreasonable. The FUNNIEST part, though... was that depending on how Amaltheia ended the spar, Shotaro would either be helped back to a standing position or dropped on his back. Either option had pros and cons, least of which being a laugh at his expense.
The transition from a perfect front drop to being offered to end the spar was quick, surprising, and a little unnerving. If this had been a real fight, she wasn't happy knowing he could nullify her strongest techniques with no issue. She had almost contemplated using the Shield of Aigis, but he knew about that trick already. Only newcomers got fooled, and they didn't get fooled for long. She smiled and pulled him back up, taking a moment to shout, "Theoí, afierónoume aftó ton agóna sas!", which translated to "We dedicate this fight to the gods". A traditional ending to a great bout. She looked to Shotaro with a smile before hopping out of the ring and grabbing one of her dummies, hefting it over her shoulder.
"I'm gonna go to that sicilian place. The one run by the kickboxer. You wanna come?" It was an offer she had made before, but not to him. Generaly to people she beat. Help point out their flaws and failings over a plate of pasta. This time, she just wanted the food. Perhaps it would help if she put on more clothes than nearly none, first...
"I STILL don't know what the hell you're saying half the time. It's all Greek to me." Oh, such a bad pun... using a figure of speech like that when the person is LITERALLY speaking Greek. In any case, Shotaro hopped over the ropes and out of the ring before responding to Amaltheia's invitation. "Nah, I'll pass. I got some shit to do here before I take any time for myself." What that WAS, he wouldn't say. But the fact he was passing up a meal meant it was probably important.
Oh, well. Not like she could make him come with. She hoisted up the other dummy and nodded to Shotaro. "So be it. At least you'll know where to find me, if you need me." She turned and headed out the door, first heading towards her dorms. This was a fancy resteraunt, so she wanted fancy clothing. She disappeared into her room, setting the dummies down and getting dressed, ready to head out to her fancy dinner. Alone.
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