Re: Battle Royale! Final Round: Chaos Conservatory
10-12-2010, 07:21 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Drakenforge.
Michael charged in, fast and low, throwing as many vector punches as he could. Drae kept a basic defence and blocked every punch, even though he couldn’t see them coming. Each punch just impacted against his arms, seemingly doing no damage whatsoever. Eventually Drae lashed out, grabbing a vector before it had a chance to withdraw. He pulled, starting a tug-of-war with Michael. He fought back by cramming two vectors into the ground and then started pulling. Drae held his ground, pulling with only his left arm. Michael could feel pressure from his skull, and guessed that vectors really did come from his head. He never really wondered about it to figure it out. Realising he was fighting a losing battle; he dropped the grounded vectors and rushed forwards, hoping to take Drae by surprise. He wasn’t even caught off guard. He stepped back and twisted, forcing Michael to lose his step. During that moment, Drae swung the vector in his arms, causing Michael to be flung off of his feet. He was spun around like a carousel in a wide arc around where Drae was spinning. A wave of dizziness assailed him before Drae let him go, tossing Michael through the air until the floor was kind enough to stop his flight. He sprang back to his feet just as Drae connected with a punch to the gut. Michael could only lash out blindly with his vectors, all of them ultimately missing. He tried stepping back but Drae just kept charging in. He changed to a guard, so Drae just hammered him with punches, each strong enough to send a vector out of his way. Michael expected that he could keep replacing them fast enough, but the speed he was getting punched at just kept increasing. Drae was rotating his entire body behind every punch, right down to his feet. The style, even though he hated to admit it, impressed him. Michael’s guard broke, and Drae took the chance to hammer in several punches to both sides of his head. Michael couldn’t comprehend half of them. He felt like he was drifting in and out of consciousness. His knees hit the floor, causing Drae’s punch to fly over his head.
That’s when the screaming started.
Michael didn’t hear it from his ears. It seemed to come from inside his own head.
“You shit face, get up!”
“You make me fucking sick to share the same body with ya!”
“You call that fighting? I bet Gadget could fight better than your sorry ass!”
Michael could feel himself sighing inside and out. He had no idea where he got all that vulgar language from. Maybe it came with the insanity package. Or maybe it was just natural Mike talk.
“You think you can do better?”
“Hah! I could whoop his ass with one hand!”
“What a coincidence, I was thinking of doing just that. I just haven’t gotten the chance yet.”
“That’s because you’re weak! You don’t understand him either! Not like me. Let me kill ‘im. You may be suicidal right now, but I can beat him and live!”
“And then? You’d just keep on killing. I don’t want that, asshole.”
“I’m not the good guy, and neither are you. We win this, I get to fight more strong people. People strong enough to kill me. And in that case, I die happy, against a really strong being. But I can’t stand dying to this prick, and neither can you.”
Michael let out a chuckle. That was some spirit Mike had. He had probably really enjoyed being in this battle, pain and shame included. He had to hand it to him, Mike was a tenacious bastard to his core. Michael really wanted Drae dead, and Mike might just be able to pull it off.
“Alright, you win. It’s your fight now.”
“Damn straight! I’ll beat him before you can say whatever the hell that Japanese bastards name was!”
The transition before Michael could even notice it had started. Now Mike was back in the game. His eyes shot open. He quickly assessed the situation. Drae was throwing a straight to his head. Mike swung his head to the left, and his body to the right, forcing himself to his feet in the process.
“Morning, Susie!”
Mike could see his last horn shattered on the ground. He didn’t care, he was just happy that he was making Michael feel it all right now. Dumbass, as if Mike was taking the body AND the pain from losing the horn. He had managed to hide the fact he was hurting from it during his brief conversation with Michael, and it had paid off.
He threw a right hook at Drae with both his arm and two vectors. The three layers of attack meant that at least one had to hit. Drae put up his left guard, protecting his body. He blocked Mikes arm and the lower vector, but the upper one slammed into his jaw.
‘My first clean hit! How did you like that you prick?!’
Drae’s head flew back as far as his neck would allow, and Mike gleamed with delight. Seeing that head swivelled round so far meant his punch had really hurt him.
Then why… Why had it felt like there was no impact?
Drae’s head started to turn back. His eyes were full of fierceness. He hadn’t felt it. A trick? It must have been. Mike went to try another assault, but was stopped in his tracks by a punch straight into his solar plexus. Mike was forced to keel over forwards as the air was knocked out of him. He gasped and tried to breath, and Drae connected an uppercut to his chin. He connected a series of following punches, each striking with incredible force. Mike could cocoon all he wanted, Drae just always found a way through his guard. Mike could feel the swelling and bruising. His right eye was going blurry, and his brow was swelling over it, almost blinding him. His legs were shaky, his arms were heavy. He could only lash out with the vectors when Drae was creating small pauses in his attacks, and he always predicted them and guarded.
It didn’t make sense, how was he doing it? To be able to predict the invisible, destroy the unbreakable. He was tearing Mike apart, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.
He tried to back off, and Drae kept stepping in, always punching, always hitting.
“Quit it, asshole!” Mike yelled while lashing out for the hundredth time. He aimed a swinging vector to Drae’s knees, intent on severing them. Drae stepped back to dodge, and Mike pushed forwards, throwing punches from all directions. He managed to land another punch to the jaw, and again his head twisted back. Mike didn’t wait to see if it had hurt, he’d already noticed the lack of impact on the vector. He landed a second blow to the gut, and felt it connect. When Drae’s head came back, Mike lashed out with an uppercut, and Drae reeled back, yet showing signs no of hurting.
“Yes, yes this is good. You’re improving. Yeah, this is boxing. Whit used to do it, so it’d be a funny thing to beat him at, don’t you agree?”
“You’re training me now? Bullshit, I’m going to kill you if you hadn’t noticed.”
“Ha, if you can, then feel free to. I can last in this body for the better part of a year without food, water or sleep. And you? You’ll collapse in less than a day at this pace.”
Mike hated to admit it to himself, but Drae was probably telling the truth. In endurance he would most likely be able to keep going long after Mike was exhausted. Mike needed an edge, something he could use against a god.
The music. Mike didn’t know the first thing about music, but this entire place was an amplifier for that kind of thing. Mike only needed to start something, or rather, Michael did.
‘Oi, you still conscious?’
‘Barely. The pain only hurts like all hell right now. You hit him, good job.’
‘Whatever, listen. I-‘
‘I’m you, I can hear your thoughts. I’ll get right on making a tune for you. Slow down time right? Just him or the whole world?’
‘The world, and I need to be able to be healed over and over, exhaustion, wounds, all of it.’
‘Yeah, I have no idea how to do this, so don’t get your- God that hurts -hopes up.’
Mike concentrated on Drae again, noticing that his posture had changed. His fists were raised over his mouth, and his legs were stepping around, his body dancing. Mike guessed this was a boxing pose, and copied him. He tried to get the rhythm down, and seemed to easy enough. Drae lunged forward, his leg slamming down, his hips twisting, and his arm extended towards Mike. Mike cheated and blocked it with the vector, but the blow still knocked him back pretty far. Mike guessed that was what happens when a punch has the entire body’s weight behind it. He had just been throwing his arms and vectors around. It was strange that he felt interested in this kind of fight, learning what to do. He wanted to best Whit at something he’d never expect Mike to be able to do. But he was probably seasoned, and Mike was just a kid in comparison. He needed more strength, techniques, and stamina. That was where the music came in. If he could keep revitalizing himself with time slowed down immensely, he could get years of training in. Without rest, that would be impossible, but if he kept getting rejuvenated he wouldn’t have to stop at any point, so his muscles would get incredibly toned by the time he was done. And he expected to last a while. A better part of a year huh? Sounds long enough to get stronger than Whit.
The vectors moved into position behind him. One at a time, they began to slap the floor till a steady beat started to sound.
“What the-“
“Eat it, prick. I’m gonna beat you at this game. I’ll take your year, and then when you’ve stopped being able to fight, I’ll kill ya.”
The air around Mike seemed to get thicker. It was harder to move and even harder to breath. He guessed Michael was sorting out all the molecules or something smart like that. He saw that Drae was slow too, so he charged. Each step seemed to take forever, and Mike wondered if Michael would ever fix the speed. He heard the beat change, and his foot hit the ground. He kicked off; reaching Drae’s chest at a speed that surprised even him. He used his forward foot as a pivot and connected a powerful hook to the body. He could tell that it had hurt Drae, even in his current state his chest and midsection were, unlike his fists and feet, un-armoured. Mike knew that taking hits from Drae hurt like hell since they were un-gloved and covered in scales.
Mike couldn’t complain. If he got used to getting hit by them, then how could Whit’s fists ever compare? It was a painful way to better himself, but he couldn’t change those fists even if he wanted to.
He tried connecting his rhythm into a barrage of punches, but Drae recovered instantly and countered with a right. It smashed into the side of Mike’s head, and he saw stars. He felt like he had lost consciousness for a split second when Michael’s voice pitched in.
‘I’ve stabilized it, somehow. You two are in your own little bubble of suppressed time, or something. If you saw Whit now, he’d probably not even notice you, while you’d see him take a month to move three steps. Maybe, who knows how slow this is going.’
After that remark, Mike kept fighting. He kept thinking to a minimum, if he started to wonder how long he had been fighting for, he’d never stop. Punching, blocking, charging, retreating. Mike steadily built his understanding of how to fight. Countless times his bones broke, his mind shattered as he hit the floor, only to get back up at a hundred percent a second later. He remembered one important fact Michael gave him at some point in the fight.
‘Your bones are more resilient now than when we started. I’ve heard that bones grow back stronger when they break, but with the song playing it seems that not only to they grow back instantly, they keep getting slightly tougher than when they broke. Take your ribs for example. I’ve counted 79 broken ribs since this game began, but lately you’ve managed to withstand the punches that broke them. Don’t ask how I know about the ribs, I’ve had nothing else to do but count your injuries and make sure the beat is working. I may go a little crazy due to boredom soon, just to let you know.’
Hooks, jabs, counters and uppercuts. Dodges, weaves, back steps and blocks. Mike invested hours, days, he guessed even weeks worth of energy into perfecting these. His mind was completely blank, focused solely on the fight. Drae always had the upper hand, and his bones never broke. He kept fighting back no matter what Mike threw at him. But he didn’t care, Drae would falter eventually. Mike just had to keep the pressure on him until he could kill him. Mike was taken completely by surprise when Drae sprinted away, slamming the doors out of his path as he sped down the corridor. Mike gave chase, his mind coming back to him. He wondered what the hell Drae was doing, was he running away? He had nowhere to go, and no reason to flee. Perhaps it was boredom. Perhaps it was madness. Mike just chased at full speed, the vectors continuing to keep the melody going during his run.
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Whit strolled seemingly aimlessly through the network of adjoining corridors and rooms, each littered with assortments of alien instruments. A few human designed items popped up, but none of it interested Whit. He searched for Mike, to put an end to this charade once and for all. An end to Mike’s life and Whit would be free of this battle. It would be an easy fight. No matter what move Mike made, Whit would see it coming before it had even been thought of. Untouchable, that was Whit.
The rows after rows of instruments, not a spec of dust on them, still looked unused, perhaps even abandoned. For the home of someone who loves music, it seemed like a dull place.
Whit was getting frustrated. Mike couldn’t have gone far from where they had both started. Sooner or later he’d end up going in circles.
He was thinking of taking a door on the left when something caught his eye. It was chance. Chance was telling him to shoot. Whit’s eyes saw nothing, but he couldn’t resist. It was complete compulsion, so Whit fired his god-gun straight down the corridor.
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Mike saw Drae take a right, and thundered around the corner. In front of his face was Whit’s air bubble, totally immobile. His instincts kicked in and he threw his head to the side as if dodging a punch. He managed to avoid it, and could see Whit down the hall. Drae had already passed him without even turning his head. Mike wanted to kill Whit where he was, but that wouldn’t satisfy him. He had to kill Drae first, to prove he was stronger. Then he’d have so much strength that he’d beat Whit down with sheer power. His “chance” of winning will be beaten down to zero in an instant. Mike didn’t care how impossible that would sound. He’d do it anyway. There wouldn’t be an impossible when he killed Drae. And everything will end, and Mike will be free. Free to kill and murder and destroy and mutilate and do all those kinds of things he loved doing.
He’d even take care of Michael. Perhaps sever the part of his brain that he was kept in.
He sprinted past the still body of Whit without much more thought. He’d get his soon enough. Well, soon for him, Mike knew he still had a while to go yet.
He forced himself into autopilot and kept running after Drae, his eyes focused on the back of the god he needed to kill. He managed to figure out why he was running. It was stamina. Mike’s lungs, legs and muscles burned with agony quickly as he ran. Even with the song keeping him fresh, he was running out of fuel quickly every time. He was building up Mike’s stamina. Why? Mike wanted to know why Drae was doing all this. Every time he punched he could kill Mike, in fact, Mike knew Drae probably had other powers that could kill him instantly. But why was he building up Mike’s strength just in case he survived the fight with Drae. It didn’t make sense. Not a bit. But Mike was used to that by now. Sense just never seemed to exist when Mike was around.
It was peaceful for a time in the halls of the conservatory. No punches were thrown, no bullets were shot. Just a lot of running happened. Mike was sure Michael had lost every shred of sanity he had by now. He couldn’t remember the last time he spoke. Mike himself felt crazier than usual. He was definitely more restless. He kept murmuring death threats about Drae to himself. Every now and then he regained his mind long enough to recognise how long it was taking for his body to get tired. His legs and body had bulked up. Mike could also see the difference in his real arm. Mike hoped that Drae never noticed the difference and made the connection about his left. It was his trump card. Sure, he had no idea how he was going to use it effectively, but he would wait until the opportunity arose to use it. He was really sick of waiting.
Drae took a right into a large room, and Mike followed the same as he had done for so long. It took him a few second to realise that Drae was gone. He stopped, and his mind flooded back into a recognisable state. He scanned to room and saw that Drae had just hid behind the wall next to the door. The room was the same one they had started in, and Eda was still collapsed against a wall. Mike stared Drae in the eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to speak. He just wanted to use his fists to kill him.
So he started fighting again. Countless times he battered into Drae. He threw hundreds, even thousands of punches. Drae’s guard couldn’t stop him anymore. His reversals still hurt like hell, but they couldn’t stop him anymore.
It happened suddenly. Drae’s knees buckled and hit the floor, causing Mike’s punch to hit the air above his head. Mike saw the scales on Drae’s arms start to shake and fall off. It made him realize that time must have ran out for him. It was time to kill him. He took one more fix from the music before letting time flow normally again.
“This is the part where you die right? I don’t have to wait anymore, right?!”
“Actually, this is the part where I test your skill for survival. I was only wasting time with this form. If I kill you, I’ll get myself killed by that Composer. She hates this kind of thing. On the other hand, you’ll kill me if I give you the chance. So I’m betting my life on this little thing.”
Drae held his hand upwards, and a small, brightly lit red orb appeared on his palm. It seemed to buzz with energy, and Mike could feel warmth emanating from it. Was that it? One small orb was the end of the fight? Mike smirked, but Drae’s expression didn’t change. He held the orb above his head, his arm stretched to the limit. Mike has a sudden bad feeling about it was.
His feeling proved true when the orb grew explosively, larger than any person would ever be, it was at least six feet across. Drae had an expression of pure glee, and Mike knew why. Any normal person would deem it impossible to be able to take on something as destructive as that orb and survive. But Mike wasn’t normal, he was barely even sane. He took several steps back, and braced his legs. He wasn’t taking it on alone. He’d need the vectors. Not only that, but he had a plan for once.
Drae began to laugh, before launching the ball of death towards Mike. It flew an inch off the floor, completely destroying a path in its wake. Mike braced the vectors for the impact, not all in the same place as he usually did, but placing three vectors at different points to take the impact. It slammed into the hands that were placed in front of it, and Mike felt the hairs on his skin burn from the heat. The stinging sensation hurt like hell, and already Mike was sweating profusely. He could barely keep the ball at bay; he was slowly being pushed back, even with his toned legs. He needed to act fast. One vector was up top while the two others were at positions creating a triangle. Then they twisted, forming a whirl in the centre. As the twisting continued and caused tension to build up, the fourth vector plunged into the whirl and grabbed the energy in its palm and ripped out a small palm sized orb. Satisfied, Mike put on another burst of tension, before tipping his body backwards. The ball shunted forwards, but Mike pushed away with the vectors and let all the tension go. The resounding release bounced the ball upwards towards the ceiling. It totally obliterated it, yet it seemed to hit a force beyond the ceiling itself. It slowed, and seemed to compress till it was totally oval shaped. Suddenly, it burst through, leaving a black hole in the ceiling. Mike focused on Drae, whose eyes were drawn to the hole. He wasn’t concentrating on anything else. He had the look of awe on his face. Mike guessed that there was something really strange about what was beyond the ceiling. In fact, since this place belonged to the bitch that organised the battle, there was most definitely something up there mortal eyes shouldn’t see.
It was all the chance Mike needed. He closed the gap between himself and Drae before he recovered. Mike was within breathing distance when Drae’s eyes finally managed to lower. Without a moment’s hesitation, Mike plunged the red orb into Drae’s right section of ribs. The skin just bubbled away, but when the orb hit the bones it exploded. The heat singed Mike’s face and forced him to cover his eyes. The vectors managed to deflect the rest of the blast away. When Mike could finally reopen his eyes, he was actually shocked at how much damage he had inflicted. Drae’s right arm and half of his chest had been blown away. Organs spewed blood and bile from the mess of flesh that remained. That was the chance Mike needed. He could even see Drae’s heart beating inside his chest. This one chance was too much for Mike to pass up. He used the vectors to grab Drae’s limbs, and the fourth to grab his head.
”Y-ou ba-bastard…won’t… k-kill me tha- that easily”
“I wasn’t planning on it. I’ve been waiting, you know. You made me wait an entire fucking year for this, so it ain’t going to be some lame ass attack you messed up that kills you. Oh no, I’m going to kill you with my own hand,” Mike raised his left arm in front of Drae, “This hand, to be precise.”
He plunged it into Drae’s chest and grabbed hold of his beating heart. He felt each pulse it gave out, knowing they would be Drae’s last.
“Tell me, do you remember my life in that facility? I was a quiet boy, even with the torture I received. That was back when that other personality existed. Back before insanity gave way to me. Do you remember when I was ten? A certain accident happened when you introduced me to him. Oh yes, I see you remember now.”
Drae’s eyes seem to fill with dread. He looked down at Mike’s arm. Mike’s left arm, so much smaller compared to how his right had grown in the last year. The artificial arm that replaced the one that had been ripped off years ago. The arm that the scientists had put a bomb into, in case they needed him dead.
"Oh... R-right. Your... arm g-got ripped off... by your Tw... Twin bro. Yes, I forgot... about that." He was huh-human, yet had… the st-strength of…of y-your vect…ors. And…. evil too, y-yeah. His eyes eve-… even cr-creeped me… out. Sh-shit. T-that thing is r-rigged to… to blow. Aw…man th-this… sucks.”
It was true. Just sat in a room with some guy he was told was his twin. Tried to get acquainted with someone who was in the same situation he was in. And then he saw those eyes. The eyes of a hawk. Next thing he knew his left arm was halfway across the room and he was losing blood.
His mind back to the present, Mike pulled on his arm until something clicked, setting off the auto self-destruct sequence that was put in place in case he did such a thing. He guessed the scientists had thought that Mike would believe his vectors would be enough to save him and upped the explosives, so he was sure this was going to hurt him just a bit.
He collapsed his knees, causing his body to tip backwards as the arm detonated with Drae’s heart still in its grasp. Hot shrapnel sprayed into Mike’s face, and he felt the force of the blast in his gut. He felt his back hit solid flooring as bits of Drae splattered around in wide radius. Mike gingerly touched his face with his hand. There wasn’t much blood, so Mike guessed there hadn’t been that much shrapnel to hit him. Just the odd ounce of metal. He glanced at Drae’s corpse. The head and neck were still connected to the left arm, and the waist and legs had fell over a small distance away. As Mike picked himself up, cheered up by a job he decided was more than well done, he heard Drae speak.
”Don’t suppose you’d like to wish for a new arm? Supposed to have given you one but I forgot, and I thought I’d at least make a suggestion now that I have remembered.”
Mike was too tired mentally to question what he had just been asked, or how Drae was even speaking. He wanted to celebrate for a bit and go kill Whit, go home, loot some food and drink, murder a city of people, and take it easy for a month or two.
He silently nodded, and felt something snap into the place of his left shoulder. An arm identical to his right was there. He turned to see Drae’s remains turning into… something small and kinda glowing.
”Oh, one last thing. You won’t exist for more than, say five minutes. Have fun!”
Mike knew it would be impossible for him to hate Drae or anything he had said or done. It seemed like pissing him off was just something that had to be done at every turn. But now he was dead. Dead. Damn dead! Mike felt pretty pumped.
He knew he had to win now, with how great he was feeling. He tested out his new arm, which was easier than he would have thought. Everything connected, and while different with the arm he had been using for seven years, he wouldn’t have forgotten how to use a flesh and blood one. And it was stronger than his false one too. He could actually get a good punch out of it! Oh, how Mike couldn’t wait to see Whit.
He stepped out of the door and headed to where Whit had been last. He turned the corner and stood face to face with the man he was looking for.
His first instincts pushed away the gun that was instantly pushed into him, the vectors ripped into Whit’s clothes and took all the guns they could find. Before Whit could pull the trigger of his God-gun, it was torn off of his wrist and flung away with all the other guns.
“So Whit time to die huh.”
Mike could see Whit was taken completely off guard, which was really unnatural for him. Regardless, Mike put up his guard and started throwing jabs. Whit had good instinct, even if he was surprised, and managed to get out of Mike’s punching range.
Mike charged in, and connected a punch to Whit’s liver. His face contorted with pain, and Mike was actually taken off guard with how it had worked. Whit was hit. And even better, Whit was hurt. Mike had no idea what the hell was up with his luck all of a sudden, but he was glad that Whit was getting a beating long overdue. He hammered away at his body and face, not letting Whit have time to rest. A counter smashed into Mike’s face, but it wasn’t enough to stop him. He punched and punched and knew he couldn’t stop even if we wanted to. He wasn’t even using his vectors because of how much enjoyment he was getting from it. He was getting punch-drunk from the excitement. He saw Whit’s head loll about, and knew he could KO him with just one more punch. He slammed his heel down, swung his hips and stopped suddenly. His foot… His foot hadn’t slammed at all. He looked down, and there was nothing. There was no foot connected to his leg. In fact, his leg was starting to disappear.
“Oh fuck no. Not now! I was winning! NO! FUCK YOU!”
Mike struggled to move his body. Just one punch more and he’d win! But he could see Whit had regained his composure. A busted lip and a swollen eye were visible on his face, but he could see that he was conscious from his eye. He managed to sway his body and start walking towards his guns. Mike breathed a remorseful sigh. So that’s how it is, huh. Kill the guy that created you and you cease to exist. Fucking hell, that was just the kind of thing that would happen to him.
“Don’t bother. I’m screwed as it is. Shoot me an’ I’ll just block it anyway.”
Whit looked back at Mike as if he didn’t care, and picked up his guns off the floor.
“So I guess I don’t exist anymore. I killed the guy that created me. Guess that means luck didn’t recognise me? Heh. It serves you right, that beating. Stop trusting that shit man.”
“No.”
Mike couldn’t feel his pulse anymore. His heart was gone. His arms didn’t respond. Hell they didn’t exist anymore. Mike was going to end. Just like that it was going to be over. The thought would have made him shudder if he could. But one fact popped into his mind, and he grinned as his neck phased away.
“Oh and Whit, I’m not dying by your hand. In fact, no contestant did. You didn’t kill them, nor did luck. You didn’t survive due to luck, I killed three, Cobra got offed in an accident, Zeke killed Itzal and I’m sure as hell you didn’t manage to kill Zeke. Whit, fuck you and fuck your luck straight to hell. I’ll see you the-“
The Composer had watched the losing contestant leave the room. She wasn’t happy with how this side of the battle had gone and was just glad to see the end of it. Having to embarrassingly skip that little time stunt Mike had pulled, she wasn’t in a great mood. But she knew there was just one small detail that needed to be taken care of. One last continuity that had been ignored, yet still managed to piss her off. Eda stirred, finally waking. As she tried to stand, The Composer grabbed her head and slammed it violently against the wall with a sickening crack. As Eda’s skull split open and the blood spilled onto the wall, the creator of the battle smirked as a weight was lifted from her mind. No more creators making a mockery, no more annoying contestant, just the victor to congratulate.
Michael charged in, fast and low, throwing as many vector punches as he could. Drae kept a basic defence and blocked every punch, even though he couldn’t see them coming. Each punch just impacted against his arms, seemingly doing no damage whatsoever. Eventually Drae lashed out, grabbing a vector before it had a chance to withdraw. He pulled, starting a tug-of-war with Michael. He fought back by cramming two vectors into the ground and then started pulling. Drae held his ground, pulling with only his left arm. Michael could feel pressure from his skull, and guessed that vectors really did come from his head. He never really wondered about it to figure it out. Realising he was fighting a losing battle; he dropped the grounded vectors and rushed forwards, hoping to take Drae by surprise. He wasn’t even caught off guard. He stepped back and twisted, forcing Michael to lose his step. During that moment, Drae swung the vector in his arms, causing Michael to be flung off of his feet. He was spun around like a carousel in a wide arc around where Drae was spinning. A wave of dizziness assailed him before Drae let him go, tossing Michael through the air until the floor was kind enough to stop his flight. He sprang back to his feet just as Drae connected with a punch to the gut. Michael could only lash out blindly with his vectors, all of them ultimately missing. He tried stepping back but Drae just kept charging in. He changed to a guard, so Drae just hammered him with punches, each strong enough to send a vector out of his way. Michael expected that he could keep replacing them fast enough, but the speed he was getting punched at just kept increasing. Drae was rotating his entire body behind every punch, right down to his feet. The style, even though he hated to admit it, impressed him. Michael’s guard broke, and Drae took the chance to hammer in several punches to both sides of his head. Michael couldn’t comprehend half of them. He felt like he was drifting in and out of consciousness. His knees hit the floor, causing Drae’s punch to fly over his head.
That’s when the screaming started.
Michael didn’t hear it from his ears. It seemed to come from inside his own head.
“You shit face, get up!”
“You make me fucking sick to share the same body with ya!”
“You call that fighting? I bet Gadget could fight better than your sorry ass!”
Michael could feel himself sighing inside and out. He had no idea where he got all that vulgar language from. Maybe it came with the insanity package. Or maybe it was just natural Mike talk.
“You think you can do better?”
“Hah! I could whoop his ass with one hand!”
“What a coincidence, I was thinking of doing just that. I just haven’t gotten the chance yet.”
“That’s because you’re weak! You don’t understand him either! Not like me. Let me kill ‘im. You may be suicidal right now, but I can beat him and live!”
“And then? You’d just keep on killing. I don’t want that, asshole.”
“I’m not the good guy, and neither are you. We win this, I get to fight more strong people. People strong enough to kill me. And in that case, I die happy, against a really strong being. But I can’t stand dying to this prick, and neither can you.”
Michael let out a chuckle. That was some spirit Mike had. He had probably really enjoyed being in this battle, pain and shame included. He had to hand it to him, Mike was a tenacious bastard to his core. Michael really wanted Drae dead, and Mike might just be able to pull it off.
“Alright, you win. It’s your fight now.”
“Damn straight! I’ll beat him before you can say whatever the hell that Japanese bastards name was!”
The transition before Michael could even notice it had started. Now Mike was back in the game. His eyes shot open. He quickly assessed the situation. Drae was throwing a straight to his head. Mike swung his head to the left, and his body to the right, forcing himself to his feet in the process.
“Morning, Susie!”
Mike could see his last horn shattered on the ground. He didn’t care, he was just happy that he was making Michael feel it all right now. Dumbass, as if Mike was taking the body AND the pain from losing the horn. He had managed to hide the fact he was hurting from it during his brief conversation with Michael, and it had paid off.
He threw a right hook at Drae with both his arm and two vectors. The three layers of attack meant that at least one had to hit. Drae put up his left guard, protecting his body. He blocked Mikes arm and the lower vector, but the upper one slammed into his jaw.
‘My first clean hit! How did you like that you prick?!’
Drae’s head flew back as far as his neck would allow, and Mike gleamed with delight. Seeing that head swivelled round so far meant his punch had really hurt him.
Then why… Why had it felt like there was no impact?
Drae’s head started to turn back. His eyes were full of fierceness. He hadn’t felt it. A trick? It must have been. Mike went to try another assault, but was stopped in his tracks by a punch straight into his solar plexus. Mike was forced to keel over forwards as the air was knocked out of him. He gasped and tried to breath, and Drae connected an uppercut to his chin. He connected a series of following punches, each striking with incredible force. Mike could cocoon all he wanted, Drae just always found a way through his guard. Mike could feel the swelling and bruising. His right eye was going blurry, and his brow was swelling over it, almost blinding him. His legs were shaky, his arms were heavy. He could only lash out with the vectors when Drae was creating small pauses in his attacks, and he always predicted them and guarded.
It didn’t make sense, how was he doing it? To be able to predict the invisible, destroy the unbreakable. He was tearing Mike apart, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.
He tried to back off, and Drae kept stepping in, always punching, always hitting.
“Quit it, asshole!” Mike yelled while lashing out for the hundredth time. He aimed a swinging vector to Drae’s knees, intent on severing them. Drae stepped back to dodge, and Mike pushed forwards, throwing punches from all directions. He managed to land another punch to the jaw, and again his head twisted back. Mike didn’t wait to see if it had hurt, he’d already noticed the lack of impact on the vector. He landed a second blow to the gut, and felt it connect. When Drae’s head came back, Mike lashed out with an uppercut, and Drae reeled back, yet showing signs no of hurting.
“Yes, yes this is good. You’re improving. Yeah, this is boxing. Whit used to do it, so it’d be a funny thing to beat him at, don’t you agree?”
“You’re training me now? Bullshit, I’m going to kill you if you hadn’t noticed.”
“Ha, if you can, then feel free to. I can last in this body for the better part of a year without food, water or sleep. And you? You’ll collapse in less than a day at this pace.”
Mike hated to admit it to himself, but Drae was probably telling the truth. In endurance he would most likely be able to keep going long after Mike was exhausted. Mike needed an edge, something he could use against a god.
The music. Mike didn’t know the first thing about music, but this entire place was an amplifier for that kind of thing. Mike only needed to start something, or rather, Michael did.
‘Oi, you still conscious?’
‘Barely. The pain only hurts like all hell right now. You hit him, good job.’
‘Whatever, listen. I-‘
‘I’m you, I can hear your thoughts. I’ll get right on making a tune for you. Slow down time right? Just him or the whole world?’
‘The world, and I need to be able to be healed over and over, exhaustion, wounds, all of it.’
‘Yeah, I have no idea how to do this, so don’t get your- God that hurts -hopes up.’
Mike concentrated on Drae again, noticing that his posture had changed. His fists were raised over his mouth, and his legs were stepping around, his body dancing. Mike guessed this was a boxing pose, and copied him. He tried to get the rhythm down, and seemed to easy enough. Drae lunged forward, his leg slamming down, his hips twisting, and his arm extended towards Mike. Mike cheated and blocked it with the vector, but the blow still knocked him back pretty far. Mike guessed that was what happens when a punch has the entire body’s weight behind it. He had just been throwing his arms and vectors around. It was strange that he felt interested in this kind of fight, learning what to do. He wanted to best Whit at something he’d never expect Mike to be able to do. But he was probably seasoned, and Mike was just a kid in comparison. He needed more strength, techniques, and stamina. That was where the music came in. If he could keep revitalizing himself with time slowed down immensely, he could get years of training in. Without rest, that would be impossible, but if he kept getting rejuvenated he wouldn’t have to stop at any point, so his muscles would get incredibly toned by the time he was done. And he expected to last a while. A better part of a year huh? Sounds long enough to get stronger than Whit.
The vectors moved into position behind him. One at a time, they began to slap the floor till a steady beat started to sound.
“What the-“
“Eat it, prick. I’m gonna beat you at this game. I’ll take your year, and then when you’ve stopped being able to fight, I’ll kill ya.”
The air around Mike seemed to get thicker. It was harder to move and even harder to breath. He guessed Michael was sorting out all the molecules or something smart like that. He saw that Drae was slow too, so he charged. Each step seemed to take forever, and Mike wondered if Michael would ever fix the speed. He heard the beat change, and his foot hit the ground. He kicked off; reaching Drae’s chest at a speed that surprised even him. He used his forward foot as a pivot and connected a powerful hook to the body. He could tell that it had hurt Drae, even in his current state his chest and midsection were, unlike his fists and feet, un-armoured. Mike knew that taking hits from Drae hurt like hell since they were un-gloved and covered in scales.
Mike couldn’t complain. If he got used to getting hit by them, then how could Whit’s fists ever compare? It was a painful way to better himself, but he couldn’t change those fists even if he wanted to.
He tried connecting his rhythm into a barrage of punches, but Drae recovered instantly and countered with a right. It smashed into the side of Mike’s head, and he saw stars. He felt like he had lost consciousness for a split second when Michael’s voice pitched in.
‘I’ve stabilized it, somehow. You two are in your own little bubble of suppressed time, or something. If you saw Whit now, he’d probably not even notice you, while you’d see him take a month to move three steps. Maybe, who knows how slow this is going.’
After that remark, Mike kept fighting. He kept thinking to a minimum, if he started to wonder how long he had been fighting for, he’d never stop. Punching, blocking, charging, retreating. Mike steadily built his understanding of how to fight. Countless times his bones broke, his mind shattered as he hit the floor, only to get back up at a hundred percent a second later. He remembered one important fact Michael gave him at some point in the fight.
‘Your bones are more resilient now than when we started. I’ve heard that bones grow back stronger when they break, but with the song playing it seems that not only to they grow back instantly, they keep getting slightly tougher than when they broke. Take your ribs for example. I’ve counted 79 broken ribs since this game began, but lately you’ve managed to withstand the punches that broke them. Don’t ask how I know about the ribs, I’ve had nothing else to do but count your injuries and make sure the beat is working. I may go a little crazy due to boredom soon, just to let you know.’
Hooks, jabs, counters and uppercuts. Dodges, weaves, back steps and blocks. Mike invested hours, days, he guessed even weeks worth of energy into perfecting these. His mind was completely blank, focused solely on the fight. Drae always had the upper hand, and his bones never broke. He kept fighting back no matter what Mike threw at him. But he didn’t care, Drae would falter eventually. Mike just had to keep the pressure on him until he could kill him. Mike was taken completely by surprise when Drae sprinted away, slamming the doors out of his path as he sped down the corridor. Mike gave chase, his mind coming back to him. He wondered what the hell Drae was doing, was he running away? He had nowhere to go, and no reason to flee. Perhaps it was boredom. Perhaps it was madness. Mike just chased at full speed, the vectors continuing to keep the melody going during his run.
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Whit strolled seemingly aimlessly through the network of adjoining corridors and rooms, each littered with assortments of alien instruments. A few human designed items popped up, but none of it interested Whit. He searched for Mike, to put an end to this charade once and for all. An end to Mike’s life and Whit would be free of this battle. It would be an easy fight. No matter what move Mike made, Whit would see it coming before it had even been thought of. Untouchable, that was Whit.
The rows after rows of instruments, not a spec of dust on them, still looked unused, perhaps even abandoned. For the home of someone who loves music, it seemed like a dull place.
Whit was getting frustrated. Mike couldn’t have gone far from where they had both started. Sooner or later he’d end up going in circles.
He was thinking of taking a door on the left when something caught his eye. It was chance. Chance was telling him to shoot. Whit’s eyes saw nothing, but he couldn’t resist. It was complete compulsion, so Whit fired his god-gun straight down the corridor.
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Mike saw Drae take a right, and thundered around the corner. In front of his face was Whit’s air bubble, totally immobile. His instincts kicked in and he threw his head to the side as if dodging a punch. He managed to avoid it, and could see Whit down the hall. Drae had already passed him without even turning his head. Mike wanted to kill Whit where he was, but that wouldn’t satisfy him. He had to kill Drae first, to prove he was stronger. Then he’d have so much strength that he’d beat Whit down with sheer power. His “chance” of winning will be beaten down to zero in an instant. Mike didn’t care how impossible that would sound. He’d do it anyway. There wouldn’t be an impossible when he killed Drae. And everything will end, and Mike will be free. Free to kill and murder and destroy and mutilate and do all those kinds of things he loved doing.
He’d even take care of Michael. Perhaps sever the part of his brain that he was kept in.
He sprinted past the still body of Whit without much more thought. He’d get his soon enough. Well, soon for him, Mike knew he still had a while to go yet.
He forced himself into autopilot and kept running after Drae, his eyes focused on the back of the god he needed to kill. He managed to figure out why he was running. It was stamina. Mike’s lungs, legs and muscles burned with agony quickly as he ran. Even with the song keeping him fresh, he was running out of fuel quickly every time. He was building up Mike’s stamina. Why? Mike wanted to know why Drae was doing all this. Every time he punched he could kill Mike, in fact, Mike knew Drae probably had other powers that could kill him instantly. But why was he building up Mike’s strength just in case he survived the fight with Drae. It didn’t make sense. Not a bit. But Mike was used to that by now. Sense just never seemed to exist when Mike was around.
It was peaceful for a time in the halls of the conservatory. No punches were thrown, no bullets were shot. Just a lot of running happened. Mike was sure Michael had lost every shred of sanity he had by now. He couldn’t remember the last time he spoke. Mike himself felt crazier than usual. He was definitely more restless. He kept murmuring death threats about Drae to himself. Every now and then he regained his mind long enough to recognise how long it was taking for his body to get tired. His legs and body had bulked up. Mike could also see the difference in his real arm. Mike hoped that Drae never noticed the difference and made the connection about his left. It was his trump card. Sure, he had no idea how he was going to use it effectively, but he would wait until the opportunity arose to use it. He was really sick of waiting.
Drae took a right into a large room, and Mike followed the same as he had done for so long. It took him a few second to realise that Drae was gone. He stopped, and his mind flooded back into a recognisable state. He scanned to room and saw that Drae had just hid behind the wall next to the door. The room was the same one they had started in, and Eda was still collapsed against a wall. Mike stared Drae in the eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to speak. He just wanted to use his fists to kill him.
So he started fighting again. Countless times he battered into Drae. He threw hundreds, even thousands of punches. Drae’s guard couldn’t stop him anymore. His reversals still hurt like hell, but they couldn’t stop him anymore.
It happened suddenly. Drae’s knees buckled and hit the floor, causing Mike’s punch to hit the air above his head. Mike saw the scales on Drae’s arms start to shake and fall off. It made him realize that time must have ran out for him. It was time to kill him. He took one more fix from the music before letting time flow normally again.
“This is the part where you die right? I don’t have to wait anymore, right?!”
“Actually, this is the part where I test your skill for survival. I was only wasting time with this form. If I kill you, I’ll get myself killed by that Composer. She hates this kind of thing. On the other hand, you’ll kill me if I give you the chance. So I’m betting my life on this little thing.”
Drae held his hand upwards, and a small, brightly lit red orb appeared on his palm. It seemed to buzz with energy, and Mike could feel warmth emanating from it. Was that it? One small orb was the end of the fight? Mike smirked, but Drae’s expression didn’t change. He held the orb above his head, his arm stretched to the limit. Mike has a sudden bad feeling about it was.
His feeling proved true when the orb grew explosively, larger than any person would ever be, it was at least six feet across. Drae had an expression of pure glee, and Mike knew why. Any normal person would deem it impossible to be able to take on something as destructive as that orb and survive. But Mike wasn’t normal, he was barely even sane. He took several steps back, and braced his legs. He wasn’t taking it on alone. He’d need the vectors. Not only that, but he had a plan for once.
Drae began to laugh, before launching the ball of death towards Mike. It flew an inch off the floor, completely destroying a path in its wake. Mike braced the vectors for the impact, not all in the same place as he usually did, but placing three vectors at different points to take the impact. It slammed into the hands that were placed in front of it, and Mike felt the hairs on his skin burn from the heat. The stinging sensation hurt like hell, and already Mike was sweating profusely. He could barely keep the ball at bay; he was slowly being pushed back, even with his toned legs. He needed to act fast. One vector was up top while the two others were at positions creating a triangle. Then they twisted, forming a whirl in the centre. As the twisting continued and caused tension to build up, the fourth vector plunged into the whirl and grabbed the energy in its palm and ripped out a small palm sized orb. Satisfied, Mike put on another burst of tension, before tipping his body backwards. The ball shunted forwards, but Mike pushed away with the vectors and let all the tension go. The resounding release bounced the ball upwards towards the ceiling. It totally obliterated it, yet it seemed to hit a force beyond the ceiling itself. It slowed, and seemed to compress till it was totally oval shaped. Suddenly, it burst through, leaving a black hole in the ceiling. Mike focused on Drae, whose eyes were drawn to the hole. He wasn’t concentrating on anything else. He had the look of awe on his face. Mike guessed that there was something really strange about what was beyond the ceiling. In fact, since this place belonged to the bitch that organised the battle, there was most definitely something up there mortal eyes shouldn’t see.
It was all the chance Mike needed. He closed the gap between himself and Drae before he recovered. Mike was within breathing distance when Drae’s eyes finally managed to lower. Without a moment’s hesitation, Mike plunged the red orb into Drae’s right section of ribs. The skin just bubbled away, but when the orb hit the bones it exploded. The heat singed Mike’s face and forced him to cover his eyes. The vectors managed to deflect the rest of the blast away. When Mike could finally reopen his eyes, he was actually shocked at how much damage he had inflicted. Drae’s right arm and half of his chest had been blown away. Organs spewed blood and bile from the mess of flesh that remained. That was the chance Mike needed. He could even see Drae’s heart beating inside his chest. This one chance was too much for Mike to pass up. He used the vectors to grab Drae’s limbs, and the fourth to grab his head.
”Y-ou ba-bastard…won’t… k-kill me tha- that easily”
“I wasn’t planning on it. I’ve been waiting, you know. You made me wait an entire fucking year for this, so it ain’t going to be some lame ass attack you messed up that kills you. Oh no, I’m going to kill you with my own hand,” Mike raised his left arm in front of Drae, “This hand, to be precise.”
He plunged it into Drae’s chest and grabbed hold of his beating heart. He felt each pulse it gave out, knowing they would be Drae’s last.
“Tell me, do you remember my life in that facility? I was a quiet boy, even with the torture I received. That was back when that other personality existed. Back before insanity gave way to me. Do you remember when I was ten? A certain accident happened when you introduced me to him. Oh yes, I see you remember now.”
Drae’s eyes seem to fill with dread. He looked down at Mike’s arm. Mike’s left arm, so much smaller compared to how his right had grown in the last year. The artificial arm that replaced the one that had been ripped off years ago. The arm that the scientists had put a bomb into, in case they needed him dead.
"Oh... R-right. Your... arm g-got ripped off... by your Tw... Twin bro. Yes, I forgot... about that." He was huh-human, yet had… the st-strength of…of y-your vect…ors. And…. evil too, y-yeah. His eyes eve-… even cr-creeped me… out. Sh-shit. T-that thing is r-rigged to… to blow. Aw…man th-this… sucks.”
It was true. Just sat in a room with some guy he was told was his twin. Tried to get acquainted with someone who was in the same situation he was in. And then he saw those eyes. The eyes of a hawk. Next thing he knew his left arm was halfway across the room and he was losing blood.
His mind back to the present, Mike pulled on his arm until something clicked, setting off the auto self-destruct sequence that was put in place in case he did such a thing. He guessed the scientists had thought that Mike would believe his vectors would be enough to save him and upped the explosives, so he was sure this was going to hurt him just a bit.
He collapsed his knees, causing his body to tip backwards as the arm detonated with Drae’s heart still in its grasp. Hot shrapnel sprayed into Mike’s face, and he felt the force of the blast in his gut. He felt his back hit solid flooring as bits of Drae splattered around in wide radius. Mike gingerly touched his face with his hand. There wasn’t much blood, so Mike guessed there hadn’t been that much shrapnel to hit him. Just the odd ounce of metal. He glanced at Drae’s corpse. The head and neck were still connected to the left arm, and the waist and legs had fell over a small distance away. As Mike picked himself up, cheered up by a job he decided was more than well done, he heard Drae speak.
”Don’t suppose you’d like to wish for a new arm? Supposed to have given you one but I forgot, and I thought I’d at least make a suggestion now that I have remembered.”
Mike was too tired mentally to question what he had just been asked, or how Drae was even speaking. He wanted to celebrate for a bit and go kill Whit, go home, loot some food and drink, murder a city of people, and take it easy for a month or two.
He silently nodded, and felt something snap into the place of his left shoulder. An arm identical to his right was there. He turned to see Drae’s remains turning into… something small and kinda glowing.
”Oh, one last thing. You won’t exist for more than, say five minutes. Have fun!”
Mike knew it would be impossible for him to hate Drae or anything he had said or done. It seemed like pissing him off was just something that had to be done at every turn. But now he was dead. Dead. Damn dead! Mike felt pretty pumped.
He knew he had to win now, with how great he was feeling. He tested out his new arm, which was easier than he would have thought. Everything connected, and while different with the arm he had been using for seven years, he wouldn’t have forgotten how to use a flesh and blood one. And it was stronger than his false one too. He could actually get a good punch out of it! Oh, how Mike couldn’t wait to see Whit.
He stepped out of the door and headed to where Whit had been last. He turned the corner and stood face to face with the man he was looking for.
His first instincts pushed away the gun that was instantly pushed into him, the vectors ripped into Whit’s clothes and took all the guns they could find. Before Whit could pull the trigger of his God-gun, it was torn off of his wrist and flung away with all the other guns.
“So Whit time to die huh.”
Mike could see Whit was taken completely off guard, which was really unnatural for him. Regardless, Mike put up his guard and started throwing jabs. Whit had good instinct, even if he was surprised, and managed to get out of Mike’s punching range.
Mike charged in, and connected a punch to Whit’s liver. His face contorted with pain, and Mike was actually taken off guard with how it had worked. Whit was hit. And even better, Whit was hurt. Mike had no idea what the hell was up with his luck all of a sudden, but he was glad that Whit was getting a beating long overdue. He hammered away at his body and face, not letting Whit have time to rest. A counter smashed into Mike’s face, but it wasn’t enough to stop him. He punched and punched and knew he couldn’t stop even if we wanted to. He wasn’t even using his vectors because of how much enjoyment he was getting from it. He was getting punch-drunk from the excitement. He saw Whit’s head loll about, and knew he could KO him with just one more punch. He slammed his heel down, swung his hips and stopped suddenly. His foot… His foot hadn’t slammed at all. He looked down, and there was nothing. There was no foot connected to his leg. In fact, his leg was starting to disappear.
“Oh fuck no. Not now! I was winning! NO! FUCK YOU!”
Mike struggled to move his body. Just one punch more and he’d win! But he could see Whit had regained his composure. A busted lip and a swollen eye were visible on his face, but he could see that he was conscious from his eye. He managed to sway his body and start walking towards his guns. Mike breathed a remorseful sigh. So that’s how it is, huh. Kill the guy that created you and you cease to exist. Fucking hell, that was just the kind of thing that would happen to him.
“Don’t bother. I’m screwed as it is. Shoot me an’ I’ll just block it anyway.”
Whit looked back at Mike as if he didn’t care, and picked up his guns off the floor.
“So I guess I don’t exist anymore. I killed the guy that created me. Guess that means luck didn’t recognise me? Heh. It serves you right, that beating. Stop trusting that shit man.”
“No.”
Mike couldn’t feel his pulse anymore. His heart was gone. His arms didn’t respond. Hell they didn’t exist anymore. Mike was going to end. Just like that it was going to be over. The thought would have made him shudder if he could. But one fact popped into his mind, and he grinned as his neck phased away.
“Oh and Whit, I’m not dying by your hand. In fact, no contestant did. You didn’t kill them, nor did luck. You didn’t survive due to luck, I killed three, Cobra got offed in an accident, Zeke killed Itzal and I’m sure as hell you didn’t manage to kill Zeke. Whit, fuck you and fuck your luck straight to hell. I’ll see you the-“
The Composer had watched the losing contestant leave the room. She wasn’t happy with how this side of the battle had gone and was just glad to see the end of it. Having to embarrassingly skip that little time stunt Mike had pulled, she wasn’t in a great mood. But she knew there was just one small detail that needed to be taken care of. One last continuity that had been ignored, yet still managed to piss her off. Eda stirred, finally waking. As she tried to stand, The Composer grabbed her head and slammed it violently against the wall with a sickening crack. As Eda’s skull split open and the blood spilled onto the wall, the creator of the battle smirked as a weight was lifted from her mind. No more creators making a mockery, no more annoying contestant, just the victor to congratulate.