Night 41: M51-60 Hallway
Recluse had used his uneventful dinner as time to hammer out and sharpen a new blade for Scourge, and do maintenance on the rest of his own weapons, then changing into his black Arachnos officer's uniform, ready for the night. Then, it had simply been a matter of waiting, impatiently as always, for the doors to unlock
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Snarling, he drove his heel down at the man's foot and tried to jab him in the side with his elbow, twisting as best he could to try and break free. Fuck, the burns didn't help at all but Jason wasn't about to let something like a little pain stop him. Not when some bastard thought he could pin him that easily and start interrogating him.
As he fought he snapped back, "Or else you'll what? Deafen me on both sides? You're going to have to do better than that shithead!" Even if this was some sort of misunderstanding, Jason could do with a fight after the shit he'd had to go through earlier.
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And yet...they did.
The sudden surge of pain that shot up from his foot and side sent Sechs stumbling backwards. A gruff gasp rumbled out from his chest as he lost his hold against the stranger. The hell?! Stepping back slightly with his hand clutched upon his side, Sechs' eyes caught a glimpse of the other man's face. From what Sechs could tell, the stranger he was facing wasn't a cyborg in anyway. The softer flesh he briefly felt under his hand when he slammed him against the wall indicated that the man was probably human.
But...how was that possible?
Sechs' eyes briefly flickered down to find that he wasn't in his armor. Ah right... He had his outfit removed for his tune-up...but, wasn't his casual clothing white though? What was up with the grey get-up?
Ah the hell with it... Sechs' ever-growing rage shortened his self-observations. The lack of armor still didn't explain why this plain 'ol human was able to hit him back like that. If he had only given himself another second to see that his skin was no longer metal...
But at that moment, Sechs didn't care. The mixture of pain, anger and adrenaline threw his mind into a one-track path. He was gonna get his answers outta that asshole, even if it meant pounding them out through his bloody head!
"Shut up!! Don't play dumb!" Sechs snarled. Ignoring the throbbing pain from his foot and side, the enraged Replica posed himself for another attack. Sechs' fierce yellow eyes glared at his opponent through messy stands of hair. "If you don't tell me why I'm not back at my team's base getting ready for the next match..."
Feeling that he had a much better assessment of his enemy, Sechs swiftly moved in for another forward strike. A human verses a cyborg in a Fizziroy body? Heh. Sechs couldn't help but grin to himself at the thought. The guy didn't stand a chance. All Sechs had to do was manipulate his body to move at a speed faster than the blink of an eye. He would easily dodge the other youth's attacks while planting a punch right between the bastard's eyes...
At least that was what Sechs planned on doing. It was only at the very last moment when Sechs realized that his body wasn't moving the way it normally should. In fact... It was a lot slower...
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He was obviously confused about where he was - asking some shit about a team and base. A new arrival then. Someone who'd just been kidnapped and woken up here. Figured the bastard would get dumped on him but he was almost grateful for the opportunity. No toothed, acid-spewing sacks of guts here, just a good brawl with something he could actually hit. Jason could try and explain things to the moron, since they might just be expected to share a room from now on and if they tried to kill each other every night - well, that could be a bad thing. But he wasn't any more in the mood to be reasonable than this idiot and he sure as hell wasn't going to start trying to reassure someone who'd slammed his face into a fucking wall.
"Dumb seems to be your area of expertise so I'll leave that to you," he replied jeeringly. Grinning eagerly as the moron took a swing at him, Jason twisted out of the way, dodging the punch and getting his back away from the wall. He needed some space to move if he was actually going to enjoy himself here.
"But if it's a match you're after I'm sure I can find someone on your level. I hear there's some tough kids 'round here." As he spoke, he spun into a high kick, aiming to slam into the back of the bastard's head and see how he liked getting his face slammed into the wall.
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The realization of his failure to punch his target hit Sechs just as hard as his fist slammed into the wall. Sechs' knuckles drove into the wall with a loud thud. The Replica gave out a pained grunt as he withdrew his now-bruised fist, his eyes widened as he stared down at his limb.
It wasn't the pain that bothered Sechs; it was the unimpressive damage he made to the wall and the reason behind it.
His limbs! They were drastically different! They weren't even cybernetic anymore! The metallic joints and anatomical patterns of his Fizziroy body's surface were now replaced with skin! Human skin! ...Well that certainly explained why he wasn't moving properly before... But how could this be? And more importantly...why?!
The Replica's fervid mind immediately clicked to another conclusion. It was now obvious that he had been kidnapped and removed from his former cybernetic body. Sechs and his team must have scared some higher-ups of the Z.O.T Tournament. He and the others already had that run-in with Trinidad... He must have wanted to stop Sechs from winning... If that were the case then Sechs would have felt flattered... if it weren't for the fact that his Fizziroy body was stolen from him! How was he supposed to have fun fighting in this crappy form?
Sechs' brief pondering over the situation was cut short when the other youth called him that blasted "d" word. Sechs' head whipped away from his trembling limb towards the bastard. He wasn't stupid! Damn! That jerk was gonna pay for that insult...
"I'm not dumb!" Sechs retorted with a snarl, "but I'll tell you what is! Taking me away from my Fizziroy body that's what! Don't you know who I am?!"
And then that jerk's foot came whooshing in towards Sechs' head... Again, another slow pathetic attack against him... At least it would have been if Sechs wasn't stuck in this lousy body... Sechs tried to move out of the way of the impending kick but he wasn't fast enough. Before the Replica knew it, he was receiving both a bash to the head and a wall-slam to the face.
Ugh! More of that damn exaggerated pain! That was gonna leave a mark...
"ARGH!! DAMN YOU!!" Sechs shouted, his teeth gnashing from the fresh affliction to his head. He stepped away from the wall to face his assailant. The Replica's furious stance resembled an infuriated wolf, posed and ready for a bloody fight. Wild strands of black hair hung over his face while a trace of blood could be seen trickling down from his nose. Ignoring the blood, Sechs gruffly blew the hair away from his glaring eyes. Fine, they were both even when it came to attacking each other from behind, but now it was time to get serious…
"Thanks for the offer but I don't fight small fry like you! Hell, I've killed guys who destroy warships in their spare time!" Sechs barked back, his lips parted to reveal grinding teeth. He stepped to the side slightly as his yellow eyes sized up his opponent.
"Is that why you got me here like this? Did that jackass Trinidad give ya the order? I'm sure me and my team must have scared him shitless what with how well we were doing in the tournament so far! Here! Let me give you a sample!"
Since that asshole used a spin kick against him, then Sechs was going to show him a bit of his own spin-based attacks. That was his specialty after all.
With that Sechs decided to warm up his newfound body with a single flip towards his target. The Replica threw himself forward, pitching his head downwards within a mid-air side flip while his lithe legs swung through the air towards the other man's upper torso.
"TAKE THIS!"
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The idiot was pathetically easy to piss off, reacting violently to every insult out of Jason's mouth and he was more than willing to use that. Snorting, Jason feigned a yawn and answered lazily "Are you hoping to bore me to death? 'Cause all that bragging isn't doing much when you can't even hit me unless my back's turned. I'd offer you a handicap but the only thing that's going to even the odds here is if I don't fight back at all."
He hadn't expected the moron to launch himself at him in what would be an impressive display of acrobatics to anyone who hadn't seen Nightwing at work. Most metahumans didn't bother to learn how to fight without their powers but this one might just be smarter than the average meta. Not that that was hard. Too bad then that he wasn't the only one who could put on a show.
Laughing again, Jason threw himself sideways into a handspring. "You're going to have to try better than that, I'm falling asleep here!" he taunted, landing in a crouch in the centre of the room. Rising he used the momentum from the move to swing at the meta's head. This asshole might have some moves but Jason wanted to see how the meta did in an actual fist-fight. He'd seemed pretty shaken by hitting the wall earlier, would he do any better when Jason's fist met his face?
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Maybe if he used his Sechster Angriff technique... Wait... No, the room was too small for such a frontal attack, plus he needed his Titan Blade for that style. Damn... Sechs felt a pang of distress at the thought of his beloved weapon. If only he had his blade... or his Solenoid gun... or even Mini-Sechs... Heh, if his robotic doll was still with him, she'd already be gnawing the flesh off that bastard's smug face by now...
Sechs' amber eyes swiftly scanned the room and the other youth's position. He couldn't risk anything too spectacular, he still wasn't totally sure of his current body's capabilities; so far Sechs had the impression that it was a pretty lousy model to occupy. He was going to have to be quick in his movements and remain mindful of the room and his opponent.
And speaking of which... The other youth was laughing at him! So he thought this was funny?! His taunting only switched on more anger valves in Sechs' mind. Who did this guy think he was? Sechs wished he had some of that fun in this fight, but this whole situation just plain sucked for him. The mixture of fury and adrenaline brought fluidity into his limbs as his mind grew more focused.
Then the bastard attacked again with a punch and this time Sechs was better prepared for it. Sechs' former Fizziroy body was capable of performing long distance punches, but now it appeared Sechs was going to need closer proximity to land any hits... and he had just the thing he needed to pull that off. Within a split second before the fist could connect with his face, Sechs recalled his earlier battle with Niz in his Railman suit; Niz's mechanical arms were made to launch materials into orbit from asteroid docks, but their power was compromised by their elongated structure, thus any punches Niz threw were rigid and predictable. In the end, Sechs' used Niz's straps to ricochet right back and blast him to bits.
Going by that memory, Sechs quickly leant away from the punch, treating it as a singular attack with a designated path of movement. He then firmly clutched onto the wrist before the punch could be withdrawn. With the other man's limb still in his grip, Sechs immediately pulled himself closer to his target and then threw his free hand forward with the heel of his palm aiming for the jerk's face.
"Here's your wake-up call!" he snapped back, his grimace now a toothy grin.
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The palm strike connected soundly, snapping his head back painfully. Jason's grin grew sharper as he shook off the ringing in his ears. Now it was getting more interesting. It wouldn't be a decent fight if he wasn't forced to take a few hits himself and there was nothing like an adrenaline rush to remind you that you were alive. "That's more like it, I was beginning to think you were trying to dance, not fight!" Driving a knee up towards the meta's gut, Jason used their proximity and the grip the bastard had on his arm to try and yank him into the blow.
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Attacking at such a close range had its inevitable set-backs, but Sechs was willing to risk receiving a rebound. When the Replica was dragged downwards towards the other guy's knee, Sechs quickly released his grip and twisted his lean body back as much as his new spine would allow it. His maneuver didn't totally save him from the knee's impact though. Sechs wasn't able to lean back fast enough before the kick got him near the pelvis. The hit just about knocked his balance off but he stabilized himself by shifting his foot behind him. Thanks to Sechs' reversal, the kick didn't cause as much damage as it would have if he were still pulled closer to his opponent.
Barely repressing his pained grunt, Sechs' battle-charged mind was too focused to let the hit stop him there. Before he could lose balance again from his arched posture, Sechs twisted forward and then spun around to gain momentum for a roundhouse kick. "Oh yeah? Well I'm just getting started!" His leg swung around at the bastard's waist, aiming to knock him over in the process.
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For a metahuman, the bastard wasn't bad. For all Jason's jeering, the fight wasn't as one-sided as he'd expected from some meta who'd just woken up without any powers. Jason's knee had connected but the hit didn't even slow the asshole down and he immediately retaliated with a kick of his own.
Backflipping out of the way of the kick - he might not be Dick but he was still good at this sort of thing, better than the baby bird was that was for sure - Jason landed by one of the desks. He grabbed the chair there and swung it at the meta's head.
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"The hell am I supposed to have a decent fight with someone who keeps flying around like some stupid circus clown?!" Sechs shot back. The last time he fought a clown, he chopped the sick bastard in two...
Sechs had nearly straightened up after finishing his kick when the chair swung in at him. The Replica instantly reacted with a defensive motion. Knowing he couldn't duck down in time, Sechs threw his arms up to block the chair from hitting his face.
The chair legs slammed against his shoulder and arms with a loud bang. Sechs growled with pain and rage from the impact. The blow just about knocked him over when he grabbed unto the legs of the chair. Using the furniture for support, Sechs swiftly steadied himself before using all of his new body's strength to wrench the chair away from his assailant. Determination flashed in his eyes as he glared at his rival, his teeth still bared like a snarling dog. If Sechs could pull the makeshift weapon away from the other youth, he'd be sure to give that cocky bastard a taste of his own medicine...
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The chair hit his target with a satisfyingly loud noise. It might not have hit his head - not that that would do much against some thick-skulled metahuman - but the bastard sure didn't appreciate it for all that it couldn't have really hurt him. His opponent was tough but he was also getting angrier. Good. Jason returned the meta's snarl with a cocky smirk when he grabbed the chair, pulling back for a moment to - hopefully - make the other man start pulling harder. Abruptly releasing the chair, he dropped to the ground to try and sweep the man's legs out from under him while he was off-balance.
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Like a deranged game of tug-o-war, Sechs heaved harder on the chair when the other man gained more leverage on it. Amidst the struggle over the chair, Sechs didn't take his narrowed eyes off his opponent; his lip flickered at the sight of his damn smirk. Suddenly the chair was released into Sechs' hold. The Replica's eyes widened slightly, for a minuscule moment he thought he had won the chair himself. He was quick to realize that wasn't the case.
Even though he now had the chair in his possession, the price for it was almost too steep to pay. All the energy he put into pulling it back now worked against him as Sechs found himself stumbling backwards. Damn!! Pull a trick like that on him well he?! Sechs then caught the sight of the man's leg swinging below to trip him over. DAMN HIM!!
Having no desire in giving that jerk any satisfaction, he used the momentum of the chair to his advantage. Swinging the piece of furniture lower down in front of himself, Sechs used its weight to bring equilibrium to his posture before his backward stumble could throw him off his feet. After he skidded to a stop, Sechs managed to jump over the kick just in the nick of time. Once he landed, Sechs wasted no time attacking his opponent while he was still crouched near the floor.
NOW!!
With his hands clenched tightly on the chair, Sechs swung it high above his head before hurling it down hard against the top of asshole's skull. He gave out a cackle as his mouth split in a huge triumphant grin. Sechs raised the chair again and swung it right back down, this time to the side of the bastard's head for good measure.
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But the idiot surprised him, recovering his balance in time to avoid his sweep and Jason was left defenceless for the seconds it took him to recover from the failed attack. As fast as he was, it was still too slow. Before he could even raise an arm to protect his head, the chair crashed painfully against him. He was still blinking the stars from his vision and trying to make himself move, get out of the way, when it crashed into his head again.
Falling back dazed, he stared up at the figure standing over him, his ears ringing and spots still dancing before his eyes. The situation was suddenly, sickeningly familiar. Someone standing over him, laughing as the crowbar smashed into him over and over and he was fucking helpless, couldn't fight back, couldn't stop them....
No, no, nonono! Not again!
Letting out a wordless, animalistic shout, Jason launched himself forward to tackle his opponent, all finesse consumed by the desire to survive, all humour gone in the face of the surge of fear. He'd tear the man apart with his bare hands if that was what it took but he wouldn't, couldn't go through that again!
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Speaking of which...
Once his opponent fell over from the chair's bombardment, Sechs grinned with satisfaction at the dazed expression on his face. The Replica figured now would be a good time to ask the idiot what happened to him. He wouldn't answer him the first time Sechs asked, so maybe after having two good knocks to the skull would encourage him to talk...
Having no need for the chair, Sechs casually tossed it away to the side of the room. The furniture loudly tumbled and clattered down the floor before crashing to a stop against the wall. Sechs then bent over to grab the other man by the collar of his shirt...
It was then that Sechs found himself abruptly pounced on by his now berserk rival. The strident roar deafened Sechs as he was plowed down to the floor with his adversary on top of him. The Replica received his own share of stars in his vision when the back of his head slammed down upon the ground.
"Damn! I start landing some hits and you freak out at me? What a poor sport!" Sechs meant to bark out his taunt with an insulting tone, but the look of terror in his opponent's eyes caused a tint of surprise to seep into his voice instead.
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When he found himself suddenly on top of his opponent he immediately tried to wrap his hands around the bastard's throat, intent on squeezing the life out of him once and for all. This time there was no one to stop him and he wasn't going to fail again.
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Suddenly under the mercy of his delirious opponent, Sechs gave out a guttural gasp as he struggled to free himself from the other man's stranglehold. The Replica's hands fiercely clutched the strangling fingers in attempt to tug them away from his windpipe. Yet no matter how much Sechs fought to free himself, the other man's hands were like an impossible vice-grip locked around his neck.
Within a fit of coughing and growling, Sechs thrashed even harder under his enemy's hold when he began to experience panic surging through his system. What made the situation even worse was the glazed look in his attacker's eyes. It was as though the man wasn't really there anymore, like his mind was somewhere else... It was greatly unnerving for Sechs to see his once cocky rival suddenly change into someone so hell-bent into mindlessly killing him. He snarled between his desperate wheezing, "GET OFF ME!!"
He had to do something to get this guy off him before he suffocated! Having left his Panzer Kunst attacks as a last resort, Sechs knew that now was the time to use them. It was sure to kill the other youth, but within his own fierce need to survive Sechs didn't care. Wait... Sechs was in a different body now, would he still be able to pull it off? Damn! The guy's death hold on Sechs' windpipe was getting worse! There wasn't any time to think about it! He had to do something now!
"URK!! Ahh!! Hertz-- HERTZA HAEON!!!" Through his suppressed throat, the Replica's words came out as a strangled yell. As he cried out his attack, Sechs slammed his right palm against the side of his attacker's rib cage with the intention of sending a high-frequency tremor into the heart, stopping it in the process.
Instantly several things happened at once for Sechs. The Replica managed to knock his opponent off him, but he knew something had gone horribly wrong with his attack as soon as his palm landed against his target. None of his attack's familiar sensations surged through the sinews of his arm, nor did it inflict the damaging effects he intended. Instead he heard a muffled snap emitted from his wrist as it was immediately followed by an intense storm of pain that engulfed his entire limb.
Free from the suffocating hold he was suffering just a moment ago, Sechs was now overcome with the inconceivable agony burning in his right arm. With a yowl of pain, Sechs scrambled away from the other man until he was backed up against the side of his bed. Clutching his trembling arm, the Replica panted and snarled like an injured predator. Sweat trickled down his face and past the dried trail of blood from his nose.
"Arrgghh!!! DAMN!! Why didn't that kill you?!"
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