Description: There are no words. There is no name. There is only strife, and resolution.
The Kazama Invitational has attracted a wide variety of fighters, from the neophyte hopefuls like Shinya Maeda and Takako 'Who the hell is that tiny shouting girl?' Fujiwa to acclaimed multi-time tournament competitors like Sakura Kasugano and Howard Rust. As yet, however, none of the truly great names have stepped forward and made their mark upon the brackets. One might begin to wonder whether the viral nature of O-Corp's marketing were disguising a lack of genuine interest from the fighters of the world...
Where is Terry Bogard? Where is Ken Masters? Where are the Mishimas?
This afternoon, in the sweltering streets of Osaka's colourful Shinsekai District, the tournament moves one step closer to deserving the interest it has attracted. Wild cheers follow the small, turbulent entourage of musclebound, suit-clad bruisers pushing their way past small-time local ganglords and stylish teenagers wielding expensive cameraphones. A few of the watching cameras have caught a direct shot of the man held within all that bulk: though truth be told, he's not much to look at.
With a rugged physique bound in a tight white t-shirt, sporting scuffed Levis and sneakers - in every respect, right out of the late 80s - it's true that Cody Travers isn't the most imposing or awe-inspiring sight. However, the Hero of Metro City has proven himself several times over, and has a reputation for unrelenting, hard-as-nails street violence that's practically unmatched amongst the upper echelons of the fighting world.
The commentators relaying for international television are quick to explain why he's travelling under entourage; he's not long out of jail, kept behind bars following the destructive swathe he and his compatriots cut across Metro City in search of justice. Branded a dangerous sociopath, Travers has been kept from the limelight in recent months despite his release, but he's made his mark on the circuit anyway, racking up a convincing series of low-level tournament wins. Most of his opponent have looked downright pathetic next to his hungry, no-holds-barred style. And Osaka likes that.
To judge by the noise flooding the 'fight zone', a broad rectangle of filthy street thronged by the local denizens, Osaka likes it a whole hell of a lot. Cody is less thrilled, bouncing against the figurative brick walls of his entourage, and as he gets closer to the 'zone' he only gets more furious.
Perhaps two dozen feet from ground zero, Cody suddenly snaps the bars of his cage. Shouldering aside one lumbering behemoth, he takes another down with a flying knee strike and then spins and lashes out with a devastating cross punch, snapping the chains binding his police-issue handcuffs and laying low the third man in as many seconds. Rounding on the couple who remain, he snarls fiercely, the expression soon yielding to a broad, disarmingly relaxed grin as the men wisely choose to back off, palms upheld.
Leaving Travers to swagger the rest of the trip through the crowd, smacking hands and clapping rough-looking locals on the back like they were his bestest buds as he makes his way to the designated area.
Ducking inside, he asks for a microphone from one of the referees - O-Corp has provided spares for this particular fight - and then makes his public address:
"Hey! What up, Osaka? This is Co-dy Travers comin' to you loud and goddamn clear from the U-S-of-A! Sorry for the little, ah, display back there, but my parole officer told me I had to bring those guys with me if I wanted a visa and uh... well, a guy's gotta get paid, y'know?"
Pausing to shrug, the Hero of Metro City saunters into the middle of the concrete pitch, scuffing a tattered sneaker idly across a bit of loose debris. Might come in useful later, that. Seemingly genuine in his presentation as an 'everyman' despite the theatrics, Cody looks up with a bit of a sheepish grin as he casts his baby blue eyes across the crowd.
"Does anyone even know who I'm s'posed to beat up? I mean..." He scratches his head, further mussing his mop of somewhat greasy blonde hair, "What kinda loser turns up to a big tournament without even giving a name?"
Cheers erupt along the streets in all four directions, and the brawler just looks even more perplexed as he's utterly drowned out. Rolling those brawny shoulders in another loose, lost shrug, he lowers the mic and looks around.
What kind of person turns up in a tournament like this?
Certainly there were the locals, who loved the rough and ready fights like this. The cruel, the petty, and the thrillseekers. But there was a stranger that might stand out amongst the crowd, clad in a full black cloak, a hood concealing his features. There, unmoving, he watches as Cody erupts from his cage. What was the kind of fighter that would come to a place like this
Just nobodies.
There isn't a word as the hooded figure drops into the pit, as Cody finishes his callout. The long, tattered cloak, black as ink, swirls behind the stranger as he rises up from his jump, the cloak continues to swim, each long tatter like a tendril, lashing out as an non-existent wind runs through it. The soles of his shoes clack upon the concrete briskly, the stranger taking a no nonsense pace towards Cody. About halfway from the edge of the pit, the man sweeps his right arm.
And with a smooth motion he tosses the cloak to the ground.
It was just a boy. His figure revealed in full, the cloaked man was a teenager. This was the unknown opponent that was to face Cody, with white and brown hair, and , clad in a tight black body suit. But this wasn't a hooligan. The boy was radiating discipline. he boy was focused, his posture straight. Every thing about his body language was confident. The right hand was clenched in a fist, clad in a black gauntlet. The other? Covered in what looked to be a quicksilver sheen, another gauntlet. He doesn't stop the stride, until he is only 2 meters away from the brash and infamous American. It is there he finally speaks. Or rather, orders, staring impatiently at Cody as he raises the quicksilver'd left hand back. And there, he gives a short, curt command to his opponent.
"We begin this now."
This isn't the first time that Osaka's loyal fight fans have been surprised by the arrival of a challenger to the tournament; and the man previously introduced only as 'Nameless Competitor' on the official card reveals himself to be the most astonishing yet. If only because he looks nothing more than a child overly enamoured with the gothic style. An avid Hot Topic shopper.
At least he'll fit right into certain areas of the Shinsekai district! A good deal of the audience at the fore is laughing and elbowing itself, though, particularly among the darker criminal element. Travers is no more awe-struck than they, blinking slowly as he considers his striding foe. There's no flinching from the Hero of Metro City, in line with his reputation. He just stands there, staring and waiting, until he's given that... order?
"Wow, really?" He mutters, idly tapping the side of the lowered microphone before he lifts it up for one last bit of chatter - hey, he's American. Showbusiness is part and parcel of his entire deal. It's not that he *cares* about the fame, but it really does pay the bills. Pays bail, too.
"Man-- uh... boy?" Cody scratches at the nape of his neck and cranes forward slightly, peering at the emo vision before him. Eventually he settles for drawling, "Dude," before whipping out another shrug, "I'm from Metro City."
Cracking a cocksure grin, Travers cracks his neck, then throws out an arm in open invitation, leaving his torso wide and clear for assault.
"Guess you're from Metro Sexual. Go on, kiddo, hit me as hard as you can."
Unceremoniously, he opens his hand and lets the microphone fall, tapping a raised finger upon his chin before letting that hand fall away too. With one arm up, and no semblance of a guard in place, he just goddamn waits.
How bad could the results be, really? Look at the little guy!
COMBATSYS: Cody has started a fight here.
COMBATSYS: Nameless has joined the fight here.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Cody 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Nameless
He ignores them.
He ignores the catcalls. He ignores the laughter. He had a mission. He had orders. And everything that wasn't in his way was nothing. Because he was better than that. He was better than them. The only thing that matter was what was in his way.
And Cody was in his way.
He does not react to Cody's relaxed, gung-ho swagger. He stares back into the bigger man, eyes locked into his own. He is taking deep, steady breaths, keeping control. Cody's words roll off him. He is just waiting, fingers in his gloves rolling slowly. And finally, Cody invites him to take his best shot. He doesn't wait. He doesn't reflect. He doesn't consider. He just leans back.
And just snaps his foot straight for that smug chin.
COMBATSYS: Cody Toughs Out Nameless' Shigure!
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////////////////// ]
Cody 0/-------/---====|=------\-------\0 Nameless
*CRACK!*
"Hngh!"
It's a hell of a hit, it really is. There's a miasmic eruption that starts through the middle of the crowded street beyond the makeshift arena, then blossoms into a thunderous roar as Cody Travers just takes the mysterious, dark-clad youngster's blow straight on the chin without even flinching. That thick, stubble-flecked jaw just tenses and releases, tendons visibly twitching to either side of that rugged American face. Then...
"Nice move," drawls the brawler, whipping his extended arm inward to briefly seize at the Nameless One's striking leg. Closing with brief, but vicelike, power, he attempts to drag his much smaller foe a few inches closer. Once he's sliding toward Travers' flank, the blonde ruffian almost casually vaults that captured limb like he were playing leapfrog in the playground!
"You learn that in ballet class, precious?"
Grinning lazily, he closes his denim-clad legs and thunders sharply downward, dropping his full, bulky bodyweight upon the enigmatic boy below. One sneaker-clad foot smashes into each shoulder, and Cody *rides him to the concrete*, at the last second slamming a palm down toward that pretty face to ensure the resulting impact is as painful as inhumanely possible.
COMBATSYS: Nameless blocks Cody's Bad Stamp.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////////////// ]
Cody 0/-------/---====|==-----\-------\0 Nameless
He was not done.
The kick attempts to retract. But the balance takes its time. Despite Cody not going down, Nameless's expression refuses to look surprised. He doesn't even blink as Travers takes the leg, seizing him. He just focuses, sweeping his right hand to clutch the iron grip. He was moving fast, already positioning himself for the next move. The Metro City brute was not letting Nameless get anything for free. He invited Nameless to take his shot.
And now he would pay back with dividends.
Cody vaults over the teenager, as the quicksilver glove begins to shimmer. The brawler might feel the sudden chill in the air as Nameless throws his other arm behind him and Cody. For a moment, the glove suddenly erupts in size, spreading over Nameless's face as Cody slams Nameless. The shell shatters easily, but it's a buffer, not a shield. The impact on the concrete, however, is taken in full. The teenager musters a grunt of pain, a rib cracking behind him. This was pain. He was not unfamiliar with it.
But he had no kind word for it.
Despite the raw power of the unhero of Metro City, the boy wasn't leaving the clinch, either. The gloved hand remains clung tightly on Cody, holding on to him. He was not as physically strong as the ex-con. Travers could feel the difference right there, if he couldn't see it before. But it was the other hand, still frigid cold, that was the danger. Subtly, softly, and with little telegraph, Nameless places his quicksilver hand on Cody's knee. It's cold, very cold. But it wasn't a lethal cold. It might not even seem like an attack, as Nameless glares up at the larger man, jaw tense.
He might notice, however, when the tendrils appear.
Thin, needle like threads begin to draw off on the glove, long lines of ice, similar to the shield that he mustered up in the wake of the stomp, though obviously much more frail. First there was only a dozen, whipping up in a blink of an eye. And then a full tangle of them, weaving around in a fluid motion. It might be beautiful. But a scrap of fabric falls from the pants. Torn away. That might be when Cody notices a new sensation that would be breaking from the cold. Pain. The threads were now trying to cut into the leg, burrowing under the skin. The glove's ice-like growths were ripping through the flesh and tissue, straight to the joint. The boy was trying to tear his shin off.
With soft, surgical precision.
COMBATSYS: Cody dodges Nameless' Strong Punch.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////////////// ]
Cody 0/-------/---====|==-----\-------\0 Nameless
Awkward as the positioning is, Cody doesn't seem perturbed by the shady youth's adroit defense of his unorthodox street-fighting technique. At least initially. He's seen this shiny sort of nonsense before, and doesn't have much truck with it; why hide behind magic tricks when you can learn to take a damn punch just as easily? Then, it becomes apparent this isn't just HIDING...
"The hell're you--!!"
The brawler's eyes widen with abrupt alarm, and he snaps his seized leg away with a furiously effective motion - an instinctive one, made with the desperate urge of a beast trying to escape the revelation of fire. Thus running the hell away, the Hero of Metro City hops back to land in a rough skid. His arms are thrown to either side, balancing his muscular torso and preventing the slide from becoming much more than a quick evasion.
"Hey, you know," he offers, flicking out his wrists with a gentle jingle-jangle of broken cuffs, "That was pretty fast thinking. If you didn't dress like a Halloween fruitcake I'd be tempted to shake your hand!" Dropping to a crouch, he suddenly scoops up some of that earlier-noticed debris.
"Way it is, I'm just gonna throw this rock at your face, 'k?"
Eliciting a small grunt, Cody bends double and pitches the hunk of chipped concrete like a baseball pro, right for the promised location. It ain't pretty, but seven times out of ten it gets the job done...
COMBATSYS: Nameless dodges Cody's Medium Fling.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////////////// ]
Cody 0/-------/--=====|==-----\-------\0 Nameless
A murmur runs through the crowd.
The ice shield was strange. That was true. But when the tendrils appeared, there was confusion. Was he cheating? Was the teenager cheating? What was he using to cause that ice to appear. As Cody forces back, the icy tendrils actually reach for him, lashing out and clinging on. But the ice does not persist; it evaporates swiftly in the open air.
Nameless rises.
Standing back up, he whips his hand around in an arc, the icy weave recoiling as Cody calls out. The fluid mass swirls around his left hand, a quicksilver solution of metallic ice. Staring across the concrete pit, the teenager remains steady, his focused gaze locked on him. As Cody states that he was going to throw the rock, Nameless believed him.
And he moves.
A trail of ice follows his hand as he charges, dragging behind him through the air. Travers hurls the chunk of concrete straight for the gothic boylita. But he does not slow down. Turning aside on reflex, the chunk flies past only inches from his chest. Nameless's arm tightens, the ice suddenly beginning to swirl faster and faster as it grows. Taking a conical shape, it begins to drill as Nameless recenters, thrusting his arm straight for Cody's chest.
To let the ice drill tear into his ribs.
COMBATSYS: Cody blocks Nameless' Yukikaze.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////////////// ]
Cody 0/-------/-======|===----\-------\0 Nameless
Whatever Travers might make of it, any educated eye watching can surely tell there's more than just an instinctive grasp of chi-manipulation at work within this strange newcomer; Nameless displays the results of dedication and hard training in his reactions and the tactical application of his unusual powers. Cody can see it too, but he'll be Damnd if he's going to let his guard down or treat this as anything other but another dirty street brawl.
That's just the way he rolls. Metro-style.
When the unlikely hero straightens from his straightforward pitch, he's brought face-to-girly-face with the rolling form of his opponent, that canny evasion providing all the momentum the boy needs to drive his violently-oscillating energy spike clear to its target. The thing about that is, Travers has some instinct and training of his own. He's got this.
"How about you quit the fireworks-- er," Cody pauses in mid-quip, his teeth gritting as he fails to take the 'blow' quite so handily as he'd planned. His crossed forearms absorb a great deal of the force, but they're driven back toward his chest nonetheless, the elemental edge to Nameless' brutal ministrations starting to chip away at even Travers' trademark toughness.
"Iceworks, WHATEVER!" Yelling the last hoarsely, Cody drops back to a crouch and then spins to the left, arms unfolding to either side. Slamming his left hand downward, he plants his palm firmly to the floor and keeps on a'turning, kicking out with his right leg into a low-scything kick behind which the blonde brawler throws as much of his bodyweight as he can.
It's not the most damaging strike he can muster-- but if he can connect, Cody should get more than enough force to bring the waiflike chi-spinner down upon his perky butt. It's probably harder to do that energy stuff when you can't channel the power of Mother Earth through your feet, he reasons.
"Fall down, get up, and hit me like a man! Again!"
His command comes over the internal realization--
--that maybe Nameless can channel Gaia through his asscheeks. IT COULD HAPPEN.
COMBATSYS: Nameless interrupts Light Kick from Cody with Yoizuki.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////////// ]
Cody 1/-----==/=======|=====--\-------\0 Nameless
"No."
He speaks again.
The nameless stranger spoke again, after so much silence. The drilling ice is deflecting the assault. As Cody resists the assault, however, it begins to scatter in frosty shards, evaporating quickly in the air. To no surprise, ice was brittle, and Travers was hard.
Metro Hard.
But as the drill weakens, the teenager shakes his hand. The drill softens into gel, melting away as he recoils his arm. His right hand comes around to the quicksilver glove, gripping it tensely as Cody brings his leg around. He winces. But the Cody didn't even made contact yet. As the bigger man hurls the foot into the leather dandy, Nameless takes a deep breath in, before he replies.
"It is fire."
And with a quick motion, he jerks the quicksilver off. The swimming silver glove dances, in the black gauntlet. But underneath on the uncovered hand, flesh ripples. Where there was cold, there was now heat, intense heat, consuming heat. The teenager's hand was radiating with crimson flames now, the blaze exploding violently from his exposed limb. Flames roar out on the concrete, searing the stone... and warping it. Concrete slag pools near the teenager, ignited with open, enduring flames. The teenager face contorts with pain as the foot of Cody finally comes, and with a broad, wild swipe, Nameless responds.
Hurling the unquenchable Kusanagi upon the Metro City Hero.
He falls. Oh does he fall. Nameless stumbles blindly, the flames scattering further in the pit. But he was trained on this. He knew what to do, despite being blinded by the pain. With a sharp motion, the quicksilver glove is slipped back on. The heat suddenly gives way, smothered. The stranger takes heaving breaths, turning back around to stare at Cody through the still burning scarlet flames scattered across the pit.
Expression now blank.
All of a sudden, our hero is on fire! Cody Travers has been through a lot during his tenure as an international fighting superstar, and even more as a prisoner of the state. More than a few detractors have found out the hard way that there's not much you can do to the Hero of Metro City that hasn't been done a handful of times already. Being set ablaze? Not entirely original, but it's probably the first time anyone's done it quite like Nameless.
The gift of the Kusanagi bloodline burns and scalds. Cody's not faced the scion of crimson flame in direct combat, and he's not felt anything close to it-- except for the literal fire caused by ignited petroleum, or a molotov.
It would be humbling, if he weren't already the *most humble*. As it is?
"Son of a bitch!" Bellows Travers, swatting frantically at his blonde mop, broken handcuffs warbling a sing-song counterpoint to the spit and crackle of burning hair. Somewhere in the course of the messy, thoroughly unimpressive reaction to his opponent's flaming counter-assault, Cody somehow finds a way to jolt an elbow toward that self-same boy's mid-section. From there he flops onto his back, by some crazy misfortune driving both feet for the ankles.
Incidentally, this hurts like hell too. The concrete is like LAVA!
Nonetheless, onto his shoulder goes the brawler, over and back up into a half-crouch with one last swat at the smouldering remains of his barnet. The hand not busy swatting instead occupies itself attempting to plant a palm atop his hopefully-doubled opponent. Then, he hops up with a grunt, hauling his knees upward to bring both feet down firmly upon the shoulderblades.
From there it'll be another rocky ride, this time face-first into that same ugly mess that's already seared Cody's shirt to his back. Ka, and BOOM.
"Maaan," Cody moans in the aftermath, crinkling his nose and rolling baby blues to glance at his blackened fringe as he simultaneously rolls off his opponent's back, "That stinks worse than Mike's jockstrap!"
COMBATSYS: Cody successfully hits Nameless with Guilty Stamp EX.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////// ]
Cody 1/---====/=======|=======\-------\1 Nameless
It -does- stink pretty bad.
As the concrete slag seeths all around, the crowd begins to roar. The teenager was not feeding on this. But the crowd was. They saw fire. They saw ice. And they saw blood. Oh, how they saw blood. The violence was spreading like the chi flames all over. And that violence was surging towards Nameless.
Who was still wincing.
Shuddering all over his body, he sweeps his gloved hand again, attempting to throw up another shield. But the glove is slow. The quicksilver doesn't spring to life fast enough. As the fluid half forms into a defense, Cody smashes through. Mounting on the shoulder blades of the teenager, the boy is quickly slams face first into slag. There is a groan of agony as he takes hot concrete. Smashed down, he writhes, before rolling out of the hot mess. The fire was now on him now, on his face, in his hair. But the ice comes to life to now, spreading up his arm, up his body, smothering the flames.
Healing him.
Nameless mutters to himself. It was almost like a 'thank you.' But what is there to thank. Surviving the slam? As he twisted back up to a stand, the ice was still spreading off his body. The fires were quenched on him for now. And in its place, was restaint. The fire was restrained for now. But as Cody recovers, the teenager looks at his opponent, face twisted in pain and rage. But both is swallowed back to that neutral stare. He had to give up both, he thinks, as he unleashes a swift kick right towards Cody's ribs.
He had to give up both for her.
COMBATSYS: Cody interrupts Light Kick from Nameless with Crack Kick.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////// ]
Cody 1/--=====/=======|=======\===----\1 Nameless
Violence. Sweet, sweet violence.
When the chips are down, and pain casts an iron tang upon the tastebuds, Cody Travers is at his absolute peak-- he thrives on it, devours it morsel by delectable morsel, and therein lies the eternal quandary at the heart of the man. Can a creature so low and terrible truly be a hero? Does he deserve the status that he shares with his more respectable fellows, is he the black heart of heroism, or no more than a vile pretender to the heroic throne?
Nameless stands there afflicted by the agony and soothing delight of his own condition, and Cody rolls to his feet with a brashly-careless grumble fresh from his lips, but a weight settling on his shoulders. Is this where he belongs, really? There's a hesitation as the two meet one another's eyes, during which Travers is forced to make a decision...
Stand firm, or keep on keepin' on. Keep fighting. Keep the violence on, thick and fast, layer by excruciating layer. Entertain the crowd. Earn his keep. Never stop being what he's always been, and never have to think about what he might be-- about WHY he's doing it. It's for a fast buck. It's for survival.
So, with a coarse yell and a fiercely-martial grin, Cody Travers launches himself into a short hop, chambering one denim-clad leg and spinning through the scraping impact of Nameless' own limb. It doesn't really hurt; how many times has he been hit harder and still gotten up? But it does spur on the countering blow, the 'Hero' unleashing his strike right into that pretty, conflicted face. Right into the hopes and dreams of his sinister foe.
Cody gave everything up for a woman, too. Now here they goddamn are.
"OHYEAH!" Yells Metro's champion, landing with fists raised and expression bloody to the core, "Now we're findin' that old pepper! Hit me harder!!"
It's easier this way.
Harder.
Hit him harder.
There is a sick crack as the kick is met with a kick. Nameless staggers backwards, curling into a ball as he grips the offending leg. Writhing on the ground, the pain returns, the rage returns. Smothered again. Return. Smother. Return. Smother. He wasn't like his brothers. He wouldn't let himself be like the failure of his brothers. He would be what his masters would believe in. He wanted to be the dream.
He was the dream.
He limps upright, body weak. Form weak. Stance weak. But still driven. He keeps the weight off the weak leg, leaning in a jagged way. He clutches his ice-covered arm, gripping at the wrist. He strains, breathing hard. But he looks at Cody. And he watches. He studies. He wasn't going to let himself lose to this thing. He wasn't going to lose to a brute like this. He had dreams. He was a dream. He had more important things to live for than this man. He takes one last deep breath. Inhale in, and inhale out.
"Yes."
And delicately, he tries to remove the glove.
He begins to pry at the glove, the ice clinging on to him harder. It refuses to come off. It had to fix him. It had to save him. It needed to protect Nameless. Anger finally surges up, and the teenager grits his teeth, tearing the quicksilver free from his hand. The ice turns to steam, as his hand begins to dance from the intense heat radiating off it. Holding the palm open, he clutches his wrist. Deep breaths had fallen away to shallow gasping. He looks up to Travers, wincing in pain as his frame begins to grow distorted from the magnifying heat. And there, he issues another command.
"Come here."
COMBATSYS: Nameless charges his next attack!
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////// ]
Cody 1/--=====/=======|=======\====---\1 Nameless
Commands. Orders. Not something Cody has ever been in the least inclined to heed; hell, he's not even inclined toward friendly advice. But as he cracks a devilish half-grin and runs a hand swiftly back through his unruly mop of hair, the Hero of Metro City feels absolutely and utterly compelled to stride forward. It's not the nature of the delivery that does it, however...
It's the fact that he can see what's coming. He has to know. Not just how strong this surprising and devastating emo kid is, but whether he can take the full brunt of that force-- whether he's worthwhile in the face of that. Travers never won much in life. He's lost his girl twice over, probably has no actual friends left, and at some point is going to have to answer for the crushing and humiliating defeat of three state-supplied enforcers.
All that Cody has is his strength and endurance. He has to know he's BAD.
So he obeys, a saunter in his step - because there has to be, because anything less is the little death - and a low whistle on his lips, the feigning of absolute and total nonchalance going some way to disguise the sudden quickening of his step as he draws close. To that source of heat, to that brewing blaze within the heart of the unknown, Cody Travers throws himself. A lunge becomes a dash, and then he sets his footing and twists, right hand chambering at his collarbone before it's UNLEASHED!
There's nothing fancy in it. Nothing pretty. Nothing but the firm, decisive destruction of a hand that's already ruined its owner's life. Cody just has to know-- can it ruin this kid's face, can it win this battle?
As he hurls the spinning backfist, his heart skips a beat. There's an instant where everything is uncertain, where the edge is found.
Where Cody finds himself. Fist. Face. Pain. Glory.
Come here?
WHAM.
COMBATSYS: Nameless blocks Cody's Fierce Strike.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////// ]
Cody 1/-======/=======|=======\======-\1 Nameless
It hurts.
It hurts.
Nameless's entire body shudders, both physically and visually. He had to control the flames that wanted to surging over him now. To set him aflame inside and out. The fire that consumed so many of his weaker brothers. The Kusanagi flame was all consuming. The weak. The strong. The teenager was always close to being another notch in its belt. Shivering, he tightens the grip on his wrist. But he had to hold on for her. He could barely see anything, between the pain, the flame, and the heat.
But he is still aware of the figure ripping through the haze.
The hand releases his own wrist. A burst of flame billows out, quickly cutting short as the boy groans in pain. As Travers rolls in, the boy slams his arm into the punch. He can't stop it. He can deflect it. But he can't stop it. But at this point, there isn't anything that can be stopped after this point. The boy's arm swells up, the non-stop train from Metro City catching a emo under the tracks. He can't feel the pain now. Up close, Cody might get to see the sores now breaking open on his exposed hand, as creases of red flames rolls through them. He might even see a brief image of a young girl flash before his eyes.
As Nameless cries out in pain, the flames suddenly erupting all around him.
Fire. Fire everywhere. The audience can feel the waves of heat like an exposed oven. But up close, the heat is more than that. Concrete turns to slag, turns to thin steam, as he sinks into the pit. The crimson fireball spreads out, expoding from the teenager, enveloping his frame. He holds his hand in the air, as the fire finally dies down, leaving only the leftover pyres around them all.
And Nameless falls to his knees.
COMBATSYS: Nameless successfully hits Cody with Empowered Rinkou.
[ \\\\\\\ < > ////////////// ]
Cody 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|===----\-------\0 Nameless
Punching through fire. It was never likely to succeed, in retrospect, but Cody does his level best not to look back-- wherever the mind wanders, keep the body moving forward. Keep the heart pumping and the blood racing through the veins. Every motion now draws him closer to this desperately-wavering inferno, and as he sights hardened baby blues down the length of his own, heavily-calloused fist, past the glint of cuffs that couldn't restrain him, past the shoulder that couldn't hold the world's burdens...
Travers can feel it. He draws himself inward, manipulating instinctively his own control over the earthly energies. Chi hardens his muscles, toughens sinew and empowers that very blood hammering down the tiny, all-important passageways that link brain to vitals, muscle to the means to use it.
Instants later, that blood burns with a fierce heat that it's never known. The concrete around the fighting pair is now little more than a mulch, the crowds have retreated hundreds of feet away to safety, and the howl of ambulance sirens announces - were the 'hero' and his foe paying due attention - that casualties have been made. Dominoes have fallen. More can only fall, now.
Nameless drops first, as Cody Travers still burns, flesh blistering into bursting pustules, hair now nothing but blackened straw atop his head. The cuffs upon his wrists melt away entirely, the shattered husk of once-mighty steel laying in the superheated mud underfoot. Aroundfoot, even. He's aware, dimly, through the pain, that his sneakers aren't just scuffed.
They're gone. Smoke. Ash. Is he even wearing anything?
Though every atom screams for release, for surrender, Cody looks down. He's fallen to his own knees opposite Nameless, and his shirt is gone, revealing the torn and bloody expanse of flesh sizzling like steak upon a skillet. His jeans have been scorched down to a blue-black nub, barely offering the modesty to appear on evening television. Jesus H. Christ, the PAIN! He's only resisting because he doesn't know how to do anything else.
"Fuckin'..."
His cracked lips move, and that prompts his hands to do the same, slapping down into the bubbling murk of the once-street. Cody pushes himself up with a titanic effort that he doesn't feel himself make. It's like watching a movie he can't see or hear, starring himself. Except he doesn't know who that is.
"...keep getting the feeling..."
The Hero of Metro City is standing, moving forward, first at a hobble then a stride. Then a sprint. He covers the small distance to Nameless, slipping and sliding across the ruined road, falling at the last only to end his progression with an instinctively-made horizontal leap.
Just as thoughtless, the chambering and driving of a flying side kick to the chest of the kneeling man-- boy-- *thing* that stands between him and his destiny. Is that what it is? He finishes that thought in mid-air, speaking distantly as he lands with a second kick from the opposite leg, smashing down into the boything's scrawny chest. From there he opens to a flurry, stepping and spinning, then sliding into a violent, ludicrously-high soccer kick.
"...I gotta stop you...!!"
For what? Why does he have to do that?
The world seems to not be telling him something. Something important. But Cody drives on anyway, whipping his muscular torso around and around, repeating his earlier kick to the chest over and over as he strives to carry this Nameless combatant aloft, over the ruin he's made, up amongst the skyscrapers of Osaka. And then Cody delivers the final kick, seeking the lost brutality within the pain and confusion of this beatdown-gone-critically-wrong.
He's really not sure why, but he has to stop this kid. Now!
Something to do with being a hero...?
COMBATSYS: Nameless blocks Cody's Dead End Irony.
[ \\\\\\ < > //////////// ]
Cody 0/-------/<<<<<<<|====---\-------\0 Nameless
Bits and pieces.
The boy's own clothing survives the flame. A NESTS secret; the test subjects might not survive the experiments, but the wardrobe always will. As the energy's fallout crackles, smokes, and burns all around him, the wasteland of his assault still devours the concrete. Feebly, before the flame rises again, Nameless forces the glove on him. He didn't see her this time. As his breaths become more and more shallow, rage breaks through by him. Searing survival, roaring forth. Nameless stares at the quicksilver glove. And as Cody flies in, the boy closes his eyes.
"No."
One word is all it takes. With that one word, he is already upright. The glove flows force, icy shells enveloping Nameless's form, protecting him, soothing him. As the maddening assault pours into the mysterious teenager, the boy catches every blow with an ice covered limb. Where bones would shatter, ice splinters. Despite the size, despite the rage, despite his heroic urges, Nameless stood stong against the onslaught. But it wasn't the ice that held him together. It was the resolve that was steeling him, as Nameless stares into the furious American, catching the last kick with both hands and his gut.
"I must stop you."
Ice envelopes the boy's left hand, lengthing it into a single spike. Winding the icy blade back, he keeps a grip on the leg. He could kill him here now. There were many ways the enraged man could die. But he didn't need to die. He simply need to stay out of the way. This was different when he tried to tear a leg off. Because of what he stood for. What all of them stood for. With a thrust, he drives the icy spear into Cody's leg, to bring the enraged beast down, eyes locked. And he speaks again, more and more passion building in the back of his throat.
"I'm the hero here."
COMBATSYS: Cody interrupts Medium Punch from Nameless with Criminal Upper.
[ \\\\\ < > /////// ]
Cody 0/-------/=======|=======\-------\0 Nameless
"G--!!"
How many words are left, when the measure of the man is made? Cody sees everything his opponent does - doesn't, honestly, see much else - and likewise, he hears the repeated echo of every utterance. He doesn't comprehend a boy any more, doesn't discern gender or size or questionable sexuality; all he knows is that this is a fight he's got to win. That's enough.
"Goddamn..."
It comes out in a niggardly grumble, hardly befitting the weighted drama of the situation. Grappled in mid-air, his striking leg forming a lever by which Nameless can easily unbalance his bare, burned but muscular form, Cody can't do much else than bemoan his situation for the opening instant. Baby blues lock on to the hand causing his predicament, then follow one arm to another, finding the spear of ice rising rapidly toward his own limb.
They're falling, aren't they? He doesn't know or care any more. He grits his teeth against he coming pain, and the lance of chill agony finds his flesh. It doesn't hurt. Not even slightly. Cody even twists with it, wrenching scorched and scarred flesh around, looping around the form of his foe as they descend. He's no longer a man bound by gravity, only by the gravity of his uncertain cause, his torso twisting and - for want of a better word - rising, carrying with it the firmly stated propulsion of one powerful arm.
From below... from the real below, Cody's latent energies summon a tremor of earthly force. Chi emerges in a coarse, lashing spiral, a tornado uncoiling upward like the ferocious crack of a half dozen whips at once, meeting the pinpoint precision of his fist as it catches Nameless flush in the jaw.
"Heroes don't choose themselves!!"
Cody's bellow is passionate. More than any bar a chosen few would have any reason to expect. It comes as his feet hit the ground, his uppercutting fist still raised and windy chi still billowing to a stop around his broad shoulders. Breathing hard, Travers fixates blue eyes on his opponent, across the molten and ruinous expanse of Osaka's entertainment district. With a shudder, he lowers his fist and stands there, shaking, for a moment.
"...*asshole*," he spits out, petulantly scuffing a toe through the lava.
He shouldn't be standing.
Nameless expected a clean finishing blow. Cody was half dead. He -looked- half dead. The teenager knew what half-dead looked like. And despite this, Cody was acting like he was half alive. What was supposed to be a clean finish was rudely broken as he suddenly takes an explosive spiral, breaking the ice and sending him knocked back. Landing in a puddle of burning slag, he writhes in pain, pulling himself out of the lava. This was not what he anticpated.
He was -stronger- than this rabble.
Nameless refuses to go down. Like Cody, he was stubborn. He was angry. Despite all the flash, and all the flare, he was just a boy. And he could bleed, and he could break. But broken and bleeding, he had convinced himself that he would move on. He would not let Cody stay in his way. And having risen up, he lunges into the American.
A flame breaching through the glove.
Fire and ice mingle as he pounces towards Cody, staggering more than running. He rage stayed in one eye, haughty arrogance finally showing in full force. Red flame scattered in his hand as he unloads a punch. The red fire sputters, far less powerful than before, thanks to the glove, but no longer a risk to ingite the teenager. He wanted Cody down now. He could not believe he could keep resisting his inevitable victory.
He would not believe it.
COMBATSYS: Nameless successfully hits Cody with Amagiri.
[ < > /////// ]
Cody 1/---====/=======|=======\-------\1 Nameless
There's the difference between them.
Not in heroics, not in the intensity of their underlying emotion. Hell, on a clear head Cody would be forced to admit they've got FAR too much in common, and he's not sure there's such a thing as 'heroes' and 'villains' anyway. It's all relative. One man's demon is another's angel. One woman's Cody...
Suddenly the Hero of Metro City is cracking another grin, blood oozing from both sides of his mouth as scorched lips peel apart to reveal dark-stained teeth within. Nameless is exploding toward him, each step laboured but somehow unstoppable. At the last instant, Travers weaves backward like a boxer, barely shifting his feet but bending his torso just enough to--
To get clocked right in the damn chest. The stolen flame erupts, ripping a sizable chunk of flesh apart, blood spitting and hissing in the heat and a couple of ribs quite audibly breaking beneath the impact. Cody goes flying, tumbling, spinning like a fucking Power Ranger on his axis, over and over, before he slams with full force into the ground. He shouldn't be standing, no; this is where he belongs, this is where he--
Oh, goddammit. Even HE'S getting annoyed now. Cody feels himself move like a puppet on its strings, jerking from his chaotic stumble to a roll that brings him into a wavering, uncertain crouch. One knee burrows into molten concrete, the other raised just beneath his chin. In his hand, a chunk of crumbling, oozing once-road. It's hot. It burns. He needs to get rid of it.
So he does-- tossing it without due ceremony right at Nameless' seething, disbelieving mouth. It's one last retort, one last...
Wait a minute...!
COMBATSYS: Cody has reached second wind!
[ \\\\ < > /////// ]
Cody 0/-------/---====|=======\-------\1 Nameless
"Oh, give me a goddamn break," grumbles Cody as he pushes himself slowly, swaying, to his bruised and aching feet. Disgruntled, he nonetheless finds that 'pepper' again, popping both sets of knuckles and then, with a loud *crack*, his neck. In spite of himself, in spite of everything, he grins. "Alright, kid. Let's finish this shit properly, 'k? You hit like a girl."
COMBATSYS: Cody successfully hits Nameless with Sudden Fling.
* Attack Of Opportunity! *
COMBATSYS: Nameless refuses to stay down!
[ \\\\ < > ///// ]
Cody 0/-------/--=====|=======\=------\1 Nameless
He would not go down.
As the flare of the flame strikes again, Nameless thought he finally pinned down his opponent. If he had anything worth self-reflection anymore, he might find this an embrassing display. But as far as his mission was, that was not important. He was taking care of what was important now. Finish off Cody. And move on. And yet, as he knocks the man flying, he turns around.
In time to take the concrete block to the head.
Nameless collapses in a heap. He was at the end of his endurance. He was at the end of his strength. He had been there before. But not like this. Not because of an ex-con, a mere street thug, to him, just pounding him into the concrete. Cody should have been dead ten times over. And yet, he wasn't. The teenager lays prone on the ground, a trickle of blood coming from his head. This was the end of him? An insult to his masculinity, and a boot to the head?
And then the scraping sound begins.
With a jolt, the nameless fighter rises again. He is refusing to stay down, just like Cody. He is refusing to fall, just like Cody. Whatever is causing these two souls to keep going, it is leaving them both at an impasse. One cannot move on without the other falling. He knew that. The boy is back up. The arm is swept to his side. Blood is pouring down his face. And yet, his gauntlet is coming alive. Morphing. Lashing. Surging to defend its owner. A drill is formed again. And again. And again. Growing larger and larger, the thing is moving in itself in itself in itself. A whirling cone within a cone within a cone, the cyclonic drill nearly shrieks as ice scrapes against ice, the fluid -thing- tearing through the air. Nameless stares down his opponent, as he only has stared down before. Cody was all that was standing between him and his goal. As he brings the massive drill upon Cody, he speaks again.
"Yes."
"Lets finish this."
COMBATSYS: Nameless successfully hits Cody with Rasen.
[ \\\\ < > //// ]
Cody 0/-------/--=====|-------\-------\0 Nameless
There's absolutely no part of Cody Travers that has any intention of moving as he watches this curious vision of androgynous blood and death come inexorably toward him once more. Like a repeated nightmare, he sees and hears it in 7.1 surround, that stare from within the face of a boy. That horrible, unstoppable weapon that seems to be at once so slow and so impossible to resist. Cody wonders again, for neither the first nor last time...
How far can he push himself? How much punishment can one man take?
"Go ahead, punk," he grits out, losing himself in the abandon of painfully-overlaboured cliche. How much worse can it get, right? "Make my fuckin' d--HRGBLKSHFFFFFFLGGHHH!!!"
It would be wrong to say that Cody feels the excruciating, overwhelming pain of having his already-ravaged body turned inside out by the monstrous manifestation of icy destruction. He can feel his organs twisting around one another, feel a lung tearing and his heart palpitating madly in what amounts to the closest he's ever felt to honest, genuine FEAR. It's interesting.
Even moreso that he seems to still be standing, baby blues pricking with tears - because part of him knows they should be - and so bloodshot they seem fit to burst. But the fact remains. He stands. Undefeated. Unfinished.
"Is that really..." He groans, and coughs up a mouthful of dark, purplish blood. It spatters down the torn-tissue remnant of his bare chest. "...the best you got? Here, let me--" Every muscle tensing, he reaches to seize hold of the whirling, deathly contraption, cringing instinctively as he attempts to tighten the grip and then turn the whole, terrible appendage around.
Against its owner.
"--show you how it's done back in Metro - *kaff* - City...!!"
COMBATSYS: Nameless dodges Cody's Huge Random Weapon.
[ \\ < > //// ]
Cody 0/-------/-======|-------\-------\0 Nameless
Nameless stares into Cody.
He studies him. Watches him. He couldn't feel the pain of others anymore. But he could understand it. He could see that someone like Cody should be in incredible pain. And yet, as he levels the drill upon the American, he sees that he struggles to fight it. To turn it against him. As he pushes the drill harder and harder, he just stares at Cody. How much of him was bleeding. How much of him was falling to pieces. How much was... how much was gone. Cody doesn't get a chance to turn it on the owner. As he hefts the drill against Nameless, his palm erupts in flame, the glove pulling back to let him sweep aside the ice. Hissing steam fills the air, a cloud billowing across the pit. For a moment, there is silence. And then, as the fog dies down, the teenager is standing amongst the mist. And looking into Cody, he shakes his head.
"This fight is over."
He just turns around.
And he begins to walk.
Passing the cooling pits of concrete slag, passing the waning pyres. His back is turned to Cody. He doesn't even look back. He doesn't leave the pit yet, no. He has something more important to deal with. He was done with this fight. In his mind, the mission was complete. It was just a matter for time to catch up with him. The teenager stops beside his cloak.
He needed this.
COMBATSYS: Nameless takes no action.
[ \\ < > //// ]
Cody 0/-------/-======|-------\-------\0 Nameless
"Don't you..."
What shouldn't he do? Cody lets that question crumble through his fevered mind, searching for any meaning beside the back he can see slowly drawing away from him. He coughs again, and doesn't even notice the fresh ichor that erupts. Reaching up with one hand, shaking as though in the midst of a fit, he tries to run it through his hair only to scrape it through ash and cinders.
"Don't you walk away from..."
Growling from the pit of his punctured belly, the Hero of Metro City forces himself to stand. Up he rises on legs like so much drained marrow, not even the consistency of jelly to buoy him up. Willpower alone can only get a man so far - and he starts to fall immediately, forced to slam out both hands. Even on all fours, there's almost too much load to bear. Dimly, he becomes aware of his life's fluid spattering beneath him. Pitter patter, pitter patter.
"It's not over, you-- you asshole..."
He laughs, and he's not sure why, but cautiously, with the care normally reserved for crusty antique dealers handling ancient glassware, he reaches to the burnt husk of his belt, burrows in the hemline of jeans that have all but entirely gone. There's a muted thump as a ten-inch blade emerges upon a handle too weighty to hold, now, and his hidden trump, his illegal and downright un-heroic combat knife falls into the molten concrete.
"Come back here, I'll-- I'll--"
With another dying giggle, Cody Travers falls onto his side in the scorched dirt and the sticky, half-dry blood, unable to see even the retreating back of his opponent as he loses himself in the pure, awful hilarity of life.
"I'll bite... your legs..."
He closes his eyes.
"Off..."
And he sleeps, where he falls.
COMBATSYS: Cody takes no action.
COMBATSYS: Cody can no longer fight.
[ \\\\ <
Nameless 0/-------/-------|
The teenager doesn't even look back.
Scooping up the cloak, he doesn't even listen to Cody's last words. It's the assassin's eye. Sometimes you let people burn themselves out. Boos fill the audience, as Nameless walks away. But once the American collapses, the boos are accompanied by thrown deep-fried skewers, and octopus balls. A riot was nearly erupting from the crowd. But for the teenager? Broken, bleeding, and limping? He doesn't hear any of it. He just tosses the cloak over him, and with a pained leap,
Jumps back out of the pit, fading away into the outraged crowd.
COMBATSYS: Nameless has ended the fight here.
Log created on 20:25:12 07/11/2014 by Cody, and last modified on 05:15:15 07/12/2014.