Re: Battle Royale! Final Round: Chaos Conservatory
07-15-2010, 01:19 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Drakenforge.
Michael had thrown caution to the wind with his assault, he was betting his life in following through with his anger. He couldn't help but compare himself to Mike. No, he didn't enjoy the feeling of bloodlust, or the thought of killing. But Mike had enjoyed fighting those who were strong, because it gave him purpose. Michael understood that now. This battle had made even him want to live, just a little bit longer. He was going to use that time and defeat this monster, here and now. He ducked under a jab and kicked out at Drae's legs. He didn't move, and Michael's foot connected. It didn't faze him. He knew, better than Michael, just how weak he really was. He needed to be stronger. He cursed at how his vectors still shone. They were his one shot at winning. He slammed them into Drae's block, forcing him to be sent back a few feet. Michael stood firm, and sighed.
"Eda. Let's see what else we can do. Change reality. Cause my vectors to no longer be bound by truth. That'll be enough. Take five after that."
Eda, panting, rose up off the floor. She had been pushing herself past extreme levels. Michael couldn't pity her. She was another one of Drae's mistakes. Michael planned to finish her after this. It would be merciful. That was the best thing he could do for such a creation. Once again she shouldered the violin, and attempted to figure out how to do what he asked.
"Visualise it. Force yourself to want that to be reality. The music is just a tool for your desires to be created with." Michael didn't know how he knew this. It was just simple guesswork. The vectors had wanted what they saw as their master. They didn't much care for Michael or Drae.
Drae tried to get past Michael to stop Eda, so he stopped him. He kept swing the vectors in random patterns, forcing Drae's to return to his defensive strategy. Then the first note rung out. Michael dropped to his knees, feeling as though his heart had skipped a beat. But then he felt as though a small weight had been lifted off his mind. The vectors were gone. No, they were there. They simply couldn't be manipulated by the documents Gadget had messed with in the first round. Michael grinned. Now he could fight seriously.
Eda feinted onto the floor on the other side of the room. Or perhaps that last excercise had killed her. Either way, Michael didn't have to worry about her getting in the way. Drae could only guess where he would be hit now. He could still be outside the radius of the vectors, but Michael would be out of his.
"Time out."
Drae motioned with his hands to signal a half time break.
"What the hell. What are you up to?"
"Not much. Just, advancing to the next level, is all."
Drae charged forward, right into Michael's face. He reached around behind Michael's back, and swiped his gun. Michael vector punched him in the gut, and drove him back.
"You know a gun won't do much against me."
Drae laughed. "It's not for you, boy." He propped it against his own head, and pulled the trigger, spraying gore across the clean floor. Michael gawped in awe of his suicide. He stared in disbelief that this was how the fight would end. He would get to live. He tured to walk out of the room, to find Whit, when he heard what he very dearly didn't want to hear.
It was laughter. Drae's laughter.
Michael spun round as a piano smashed into his vectors. They still noticed these things faster than he did. It was annoying how they never warned him though. Drae was standing like a puppet on strings, his arms weren't spread eagled though. A thin crimson crust was enveloping him slowly, starting from the bullet hole in his head and working its way down. It reminded Michael of how a volcano looked when the magma runs down the sides. Michael could feel the power from him. It chilled him to the bone. He couldn't move, he was scared. He wanted to yell. It wasn't fair. He had to kill Drae, and if he had succeeded, this would have happened anway.
The crust was beginning to break. Drae's face was the same, but the wound was gone. He also now sprouted a pair of horns, unlike Michaels own, they seemed generic in shape. His chest was now bare, and his back had massive hollow spikes, ending in gaps instead of tips. His arms were armoured like a dragons after his elbows. Red scales and black talons. His legs were similar. He let out a deep chuckle.
"Ah, much better." He examined the state of his body, seeming pleased.
"You wanted to see the power of a god? Well, here it is. Satisfied?"
Michael shook his head, and wiped his face with the back of his hand. What had he gotten himself into now? Just challenge after challenge. But he had survived this long. To die now, would just be pointless. He even chuckled at the thought of it. What would Mike do? Charge forward. Fight. Live. He'd give anything just for the joy of fighting something strong, and revel in victory. Anything huh? He stared at his hand. His left hand. Barely responsive anymore. To think that the power had lasted this long. He thought of the bomb it carried. Yes, Michael had his arm removed as a child. They kept this one on him at all times. If he went rogue, boom. But now he could use it against Drae. In this state, Drae wouldn't remember. He had never payed attention to the fight, or to Michael's existance. He had left it all to Eda. That would be his fatal mistake.
Michael had thrown caution to the wind with his assault, he was betting his life in following through with his anger. He couldn't help but compare himself to Mike. No, he didn't enjoy the feeling of bloodlust, or the thought of killing. But Mike had enjoyed fighting those who were strong, because it gave him purpose. Michael understood that now. This battle had made even him want to live, just a little bit longer. He was going to use that time and defeat this monster, here and now. He ducked under a jab and kicked out at Drae's legs. He didn't move, and Michael's foot connected. It didn't faze him. He knew, better than Michael, just how weak he really was. He needed to be stronger. He cursed at how his vectors still shone. They were his one shot at winning. He slammed them into Drae's block, forcing him to be sent back a few feet. Michael stood firm, and sighed.
"Eda. Let's see what else we can do. Change reality. Cause my vectors to no longer be bound by truth. That'll be enough. Take five after that."
Eda, panting, rose up off the floor. She had been pushing herself past extreme levels. Michael couldn't pity her. She was another one of Drae's mistakes. Michael planned to finish her after this. It would be merciful. That was the best thing he could do for such a creation. Once again she shouldered the violin, and attempted to figure out how to do what he asked.
"Visualise it. Force yourself to want that to be reality. The music is just a tool for your desires to be created with." Michael didn't know how he knew this. It was just simple guesswork. The vectors had wanted what they saw as their master. They didn't much care for Michael or Drae.
Drae tried to get past Michael to stop Eda, so he stopped him. He kept swing the vectors in random patterns, forcing Drae's to return to his defensive strategy. Then the first note rung out. Michael dropped to his knees, feeling as though his heart had skipped a beat. But then he felt as though a small weight had been lifted off his mind. The vectors were gone. No, they were there. They simply couldn't be manipulated by the documents Gadget had messed with in the first round. Michael grinned. Now he could fight seriously.
Eda feinted onto the floor on the other side of the room. Or perhaps that last excercise had killed her. Either way, Michael didn't have to worry about her getting in the way. Drae could only guess where he would be hit now. He could still be outside the radius of the vectors, but Michael would be out of his.
"Time out."
Drae motioned with his hands to signal a half time break.
"What the hell. What are you up to?"
"Not much. Just, advancing to the next level, is all."
Drae charged forward, right into Michael's face. He reached around behind Michael's back, and swiped his gun. Michael vector punched him in the gut, and drove him back.
"You know a gun won't do much against me."
Drae laughed. "It's not for you, boy." He propped it against his own head, and pulled the trigger, spraying gore across the clean floor. Michael gawped in awe of his suicide. He stared in disbelief that this was how the fight would end. He would get to live. He tured to walk out of the room, to find Whit, when he heard what he very dearly didn't want to hear.
It was laughter. Drae's laughter.
Michael spun round as a piano smashed into his vectors. They still noticed these things faster than he did. It was annoying how they never warned him though. Drae was standing like a puppet on strings, his arms weren't spread eagled though. A thin crimson crust was enveloping him slowly, starting from the bullet hole in his head and working its way down. It reminded Michael of how a volcano looked when the magma runs down the sides. Michael could feel the power from him. It chilled him to the bone. He couldn't move, he was scared. He wanted to yell. It wasn't fair. He had to kill Drae, and if he had succeeded, this would have happened anway.
The crust was beginning to break. Drae's face was the same, but the wound was gone. He also now sprouted a pair of horns, unlike Michaels own, they seemed generic in shape. His chest was now bare, and his back had massive hollow spikes, ending in gaps instead of tips. His arms were armoured like a dragons after his elbows. Red scales and black talons. His legs were similar. He let out a deep chuckle.
"Ah, much better." He examined the state of his body, seeming pleased.
"You wanted to see the power of a god? Well, here it is. Satisfied?"
Michael shook his head, and wiped his face with the back of his hand. What had he gotten himself into now? Just challenge after challenge. But he had survived this long. To die now, would just be pointless. He even chuckled at the thought of it. What would Mike do? Charge forward. Fight. Live. He'd give anything just for the joy of fighting something strong, and revel in victory. Anything huh? He stared at his hand. His left hand. Barely responsive anymore. To think that the power had lasted this long. He thought of the bomb it carried. Yes, Michael had his arm removed as a child. They kept this one on him at all times. If he went rogue, boom. But now he could use it against Drae. In this state, Drae wouldn't remember. He had never payed attention to the fight, or to Michael's existance. He had left it all to Eda. That would be his fatal mistake.