Zangief’s eyes widened when the fox suddenly disappeared into a blur. It hadn’t been the first time Zangief had scrapped with such an agile opponent. Most of his opponents were agile.
The fox kicked his knee, causing the giant’s leg to bend, dropping his right knee to the solid stage.
The creature followed the kick up with another to the back of his head, causing the wrestler’s head to tip forward a little.
Fast didn’t always mean strong, and strength was collected on the Russian’s massive body like stones on a mountain. His counter had been just as swift, and more than likely catching the fox off-guard. The fox had been greedy in his offense, and Zangief had many moves in his repertoire that punished overzealous fighters. The assault was instantaneous. If one were to slow down time, they would have seen the Russian pivot to the left on his grounded knee. Zangief’s head turned with his body, Fox’s foot inches from making contact with his right temple but not quite reaching the mark. The wrestler pushed off his left foot, using the strength to stand as he continued to turn in the same counter-clockwise direction he was already pivoting in. The hand that whipped around like a fly swatter was enormous and bathed in blue flaming ki (Banishing Flat). Zangief violently slapped the fox out of the air, his body momentarily pausing to allow his momentum to halt before he rocked forward to lunge after the fox.
Zangief roared with excitement, his teeth clenching into a wicked grin as he swung his right arm in a downward motion. The strength of the swing caused his body to turn mid-lunge. Spreading his tree-trunk arms, the wrestler oddly continued to turn, and he turned faster and faster and faster. His turning created a sucking current much like a cyclone (Cyclone Lariat) that would pull the opponent into what could only be a twister of serious pain if they weren’t careful.
Fox Lv. 4 – 35/40 HP
First: Hit, Second: Hit, Third: Miss
Zangief Lv. 4 – 33/40 HP
The blonde swordsman frowned across the stage at Mitsurugi in concentration. Instead of rushing at each other like unskilled warriors, the two studied each other. Cloud lowered his buster sword, bringing the blade diagonally to his left, the edge inches from dragging along the floor. He walked in a wide counter-clockwise circle, while Mitsurugi also walked in a counter-clockwise circle, clutching the obi of his katana while his face bore a cocky smile. Cloud could tell right away that the samurai wasn’t just some rookie with his blade. They were both looking for an opening. While Cloud attempted to bait him by appearing wide-open, Mitsurugi hadn’t quite taken to it. At that moment, Cloud was regretting having demonstrated to the swordsman how fast he really was with his giant sword. If he had left his strength a mystery, then the match might had started in his favor.
Mitsurugi then rushed toward Cloud, turning his katana toward his right before he lashed out in a horizontal swipe. The ex-SOLDIER stepped back to avoid the blade swing, feeling it cut across the purple material of his old uniform. As Mitsurugi’s blade sliced the air beneath Cloud’s ribs, Cloud’s massive sword swung overtop of the katana, and the resounding bang! of skull meeting steel made a few of the audience members wince. Mitsurugi’s eyes shrank as his head snapped to the side from Cloud striking him with the non-lethal edge of his sword. The samurai tipped over and seemed to vanish under the sword until it passed. Mitsurugi emerged just after the buster sword had passed overhead and greeted Cloud with a vertical slice from his blade. The sword cut from the ex-SOLDIER’s hip, up his ribs to his shoulder. His katana had been like a painter’s brush, rising with a red, glistening ribbon of blood. Cloud’s greenish-blue eyes were glimmering beneath a shocked frown.
Mitsurugi followed his slash up with a kick from his wooden sandaled foot, striking Cloud where his sword had just cleaved. The ex-SOLDIER flew back, his one hand still stubbornly grabbing his sword. He thrust his arm back to stop himself from sliding into the ropes and released his sword to leave it lying at his feet. Mitsurugi was already leaned over and swiftly sprinting toward him.
Cloud bore his teeth—mostly in pain—as his blonde hair started to rise. An eldritch gust pulsed about his booted feet before chains of electricity started arcing about his legs. Thrusting his gloved hands in Mitsurugi’s direction, the samurai’s advance was halted by a lance of lightning firing down from the ceiling. The bolt passed through Mitsurugi, causing his body to flicker as he cried out in pain:
The samurai staggered over to settle upon one knee. Smoke rose off his body as the smell of burnt flesh and hair wafted in Cloud’s direction. Mitsurugi was slumped momentarily, arms dangling weakly. Raising his shoulders, the samurai rose back to his feet and through the black blades of his hair, he grinned arrogantly.
“Is that your best shot?” he taunted.
The scowl never seemed to leave Cloud’s face. He had seen what he wanted to see. His physical attacks didn’t seem to affect the warrior as much as his magic, and he wasn’t about to dance around the arena throwing bolts all over the place. He didn’t have to inspect his wound to know that the samurai’s blade cut deep. Cloud reached down to pick up his buster sword as Mitsurugi’s grin widened eagerly. The ex-SOLDIER walked backwards toward the ropes, earning himself a confused look from the samurai.
Without a word, Cloud held his hand out for Naija to tag it.
Cloud Lv. 1 – 6/10 HP
First: Hit (No Effect), Second: Miss, Third: Hit
Mitsurugi Lv. 1 – 8/10 HP
First: Miss, Second: Hit, Third: Hit
Jack unloaded three shots at the cyborg as the yellow bot charged toward him. The initial round had missed but the second and third round caused the borg’s knee to spark and leg collapse just as a slot in his chest had opened to send a hot green plasma net flying like a web toward Jack. The cyborg hissed, but he didn’t let the stumble discourage him as he pushed off the ground to allow his robotic speed to restore his advance. If Jack dodged the net, the borg would be on him, pushing off his left foot to bring his right leg swinging around with enough strength to lift himself. The kick was aimed to collide with Jack’s hand, which clutched pistol, if he wasn’t still clutching it with both hands.
Jack Lv. 1 – 9/10 HP
First: Miss, Second: Hit, Third: Hit
Cyrax Lv. 1 – 8/10 HP
First: Miss, Second: Hit
Isaac’s grip increased on the hilt of his sword as he sank a little in his stance. The purple-haired girl rushed right at him, and with the whip of her head, her hair lashed out to crack against the hand he had about the hilt of his sword. The sharp pain had managed to cut through the leather of his glove. The swordsman’s hand spasmed as he released the sword and quickly stepped away from her. He didn’t run or jog. His walk was swift and almost on the balls of his feet as though he were controlling his movements. Isaac had been lucky to had not even drawn his sword from its sheath. Otherwise, he was certain the girl would have disarmed him from the beginning with her surprise assault.
The warrior instead studied her for a few seconds. She didn’t seem to have any other weapons on her person and she seemed more of a dancer than a fighter. Isaac frowned behind his scarf. Opening and closing his hand to get the feeling back in it, his hand went for his sword again and this time he drew it from its sheath.
Somebody needs a haircut, Isaac mused as he quick-stepped toward Shantae. He brought his sword arm across his chest and swiped out at her in a diagonal motion. The blade had cut chest level, and it hadn’t been as lethal. Isaac had actually been testing her with every intention of exploiting any other tricks she might have.
Shantae Lv. 1 – 10 HP
Isaac Lv. 1 – 8 HP