Double Dragon Challenge (Open Fight)

Downtown Phoenix, Arizona

Two siblings stand in the middle of Main Street, patiently awaiting their first challenger with sly grins. One glows red, his eyes alight with pure power, smoke curling from his form. The other wears a gray hoodie and sweatpants, casually tossing a short sword from hand to hand. The normal hustle and bustle of Phoenix, Arizona, has grown eerily quiet as people stop to gaze at the mysterious duo.

"I suggest anyone who wants to stay 'safe' should leave the area. Anyone wanting a good show, however, should stay," announces the swordsman, smiling as he eyed the crowd. Some left, while others stayed, intrigued. Let's give 'em a show.

The Challengers:

Think you can beat both at once? Alone or with a friend, challenge the legendary Aurelius brothers in a no-holds barred fight to the finish. The Double Dragon challenge is officially open.

Rules:

This is non-canon. It won't be part of the regular Vine universe.

First to show up is first to fight.

You can fight us alone or with one allied writer.

Be reasonable with who you choose to fight us with. Nobody super-duper powerful, y'know?

This thread will function as both the OOC and IC. Please mark OOC comments with a spoiler block, like so:

That's about it. Who's ready for the fight of their lives?

@vici_aurelius: (Can't spoiler block on mobile :/)

Might do this. I'll let someone else have it if they wanna go, though. Not quite sure who I'd use.

Lemme think on it.

I would want to do this....

With Armory AKA Average Man.

@vici_aurelius: @fraga

Y’s lips curled, she heard the swordsman declare the area unsafe. Her oriental russet eyes focused on the Snow Lotus, her involuntary partner; his will guided by the intoxicating allure of her curse. “I suppose you fcking me will have to wait.” She hissed, her head tilt in the direction of two would be combatants. Based off what she could see; one was a combatant, the other an enigma. Her expertise in blood allowed her to see somewhat of a familial tie, probably brothers or cousins.

“Well we accept your challenge…” she said slowly sauntering under the streetlight. As she brought her sheath forward, The Cocaine Goddess, slowly began to remove her insidious “Flower of Carnage” from its slumber before shifting into a fighting stance.

“I hope you fight better than you fck” her words directed towards her own partner; it was not by his own merit that he chose to fight, but because Y could increase the effects of his curse. “Shall we begin?”

@vici_aurelius: @y_intercept:@raleigh_aurelius

What was a slave? A slave was one whose basic human rights were no more. One who was to, by the will of their master, forsake individuality, and accept the only role presented before them; that of a tool. A means to an end. A tool to facilitate their master's goal without reward. And whether the goal was sex or battle, Sosuke, mind held captive by her curse, was the means Y-Intercept now used to accomplish her goals. Gone were his Gucci adornments of contemporary flair. The earphones, Skullcandy and onyx, that accompanied him into every bout, relaxing his mind and harmonizing his spirit with the sounds of indietronica melodies courtesy of FKA Twigs, Glass Animals, Yeo, Cherub etc.

Now, what relaxed his mind and harmonized his spirit was Y-Intercept. Her voice, its feminine timbre, was like an aphrodisiac. Bent to the will of her curse, Sosuke was no more. In his place stood, the Snow Lotus. Clad in arctic white, garments inspired by the celebrated legacy of Eastern martial arts, the Snow Lotus' gaze, crystal blue, exuding the cool confidence of the legendary samurai of Japan, rested on both their adversaries. He thought nothing. For he was nothing. He was Y-Intercept's. And so as her hand unsheathed her blade, so too did he. Fingers coiled around the hilt, he drew his sword, smooth and without blemish in his style. His blade, his new blade, was Grandmaster Yin's merciless 'Acid Katana'.

@y_intercept: @fraga: @raleigh_aurelius

As their opponents stepped forward, Vici rolled his neck, eying the approaching combatants. Both of Asian descent, they moved with a synchronized grace that suggested they had fought together before. He flashed them one last arrogant smile before placing his mask upon his face, the lenses rotating and whirring rhythmically as they adjusted to his eyes. He telekinetically tightened the straps to a perfect degree, so as to ensure both that the mask would not come off and to maintain absolute comfort, like it was part of his face itself. It clicked and hummed, the perfectly clear lenses sharpening his surrounding environment. His half-brother Raleigh stood at his side.

Vincenzo's loose-fitting, casual clothes were in stark contrast to both his personality and his combat techniques. While he was a disciplined master in many forms of battle, and extraordinarily efficient in carrying through with any threat he may make, the simple sweats that adorned his form gave away his true intentions today. He wasn't taking this fight too seriously yet.

It's just a game. An exercise. How irrational...and yet, it seems like an unnaturally fun time.

Random combat was not usually his style. Everything he did had a motive, more often than not one he regarded to be noble. But today would be a day spent in the glory of martial clash, the rhythm of two pairs of evenly-matched foes against one another. He could have passed for any random jogger, were it not for his unique sword or his intimidating mask.

He spun the handle back and forth, feeling the weight of one of his custom blades in his hand. He preferred to wield only one at a time, and while he had been experimenting with holding one in each hand, he still found the freedom that came with such an open one-handed style to be invigorating, and more effective.

He released the blade, willing it to hover in mid-air before him. He smiled as it spun, reflecting the faces of his adversaries and the surrounding area. The bright Arizona sun beat down upon them, but he didn't feel the heat. The blade, sharp on an atomic level, was crafted by none other than his own uncle, Marte. His metalworking powers resulted in an unnatural level of sharpness; there was practically no air resistance on the blade, and no target that it had as of yet failed to pierce. The sword ceased its rhythmic spin, abruptly stopping in mid-air as quickly as it had begun the circular motion.

It moved back and forth, the silver blade angling at both of his foes. From left to right, it slowly pointed from the woman to the man, who had drawn his own blade. Vici suddenly extended his hand, expertly clutching the grip with a practiced discipline. Entering a fencer's stance, he placed his left hand on his hip, miming a jab at the man in white.

"En garde," he called out, stepping from side to side as though he were battling an invisible foe, dancing with an unseen opponent. A succession of quick jabs ended the imaginary battle. Raising his sword once again to the "ready" position, he laughed as he inclined his head, bowing it respectfully, if slightly, to his future opponent.

My, my, how different my demeanor is today. Not like me atall, he thought with a smile. It felt good to change things up a little.

I'll do this

Will throw up a post

@fraga@y_intercept@vici_aurelius

Completely oblivious to his half-brother's 'display of skill' or the arrival of their challengers, The Aurelian Phoenix was sitting calmly on a bus-stop bench with his onyx Xiaomi Mi3 smartphone held horizontally in his hands. Connected to the technological pinnacle were matching in-ear headphones that seeped the beat of Hopsin's Ill Mind 7 into the suburban surroundings. He was clothed lightly for the occasion. Raleigh's usually attire was replaced by forest camo shorts, a black tank top revealing his parkour chiseled musculature and his signature red beanie.

"Oh c'mon!", this angry proclamation followed by a fiery hitting the bench as he lost another life in the swipe-based fighting game that he so furiously focused on.

Suddenly he notices feet scurrying behind his smartphone's display and unplugging his headphones Lono is finally enlightened into the situation. Shortly evaluating his opponents as he puts his phone into one of his shorts many pockets, he cannot help but to feel an odd vibe coming of the Asian duo.

"En garde.", his ears transcribe his Pine green eyes switch their attention towards his brother.

"Really, Zorro. Really?", Raleigh speaks in an earnestly embarrassed tone, his left eyebrow curled. They were brothers, bound by blood and hardships, but their old rivalry never dies. "So you leave me to fight the chick, but open up with that?", there was no intended sexist context in his words, he just found such a first impression rather...feminine.

Following the question he immediately shakes his head from side to side whilst smirking in disbelief. It was odd for the usually brooding and utterly serious Vici to slip back into the days when they played knights in the Nest's elaborate gardens.

"I'm sorry for Jason here, lady.", he mockingly likened his brother's choice of apparel and mask to the old slasher before resuming: "But I'm sparing you a whole lot of silence randomly interrupted by heavy panting from behind that creepy mask."

@y_intercept: @raleigh_aurelius: @vici_aurelius:

Shinobi. Eastern traditionalism. Words, with clarity and perfection, that describes the Snow Lotus' garments. Without flaw, they hugged his frame. Detailing, enthusiastically and smoothly, the lean, sculpted proportions of his tall, conditioned frame. Their color, arctic white. And the samurai's flair, effortless. Swagger, wicked and cool, his every movement, every mannerism, dripping with the cool, the mystique, the gelid edge and cold confidence that women found seductive, and men intimidating. The air and its particles, they hung in anticipation of a bout that tales would, in the future, tell was an exhibition of martial perfection. Sosuke's performance, would ensue with clarity of mind, conservation of stamina, and physical stability. Deep breathing.

It corrected the combatant. Increased air exchange prepared the body, for its next movement by using oxygen for metabolism. Then, then the New Age Samurai's eyes, relaxed pearls of pale, crystal blue, rested on his adversary, the masked swordsman. It was misleading, for where Sosuke's gaze seemed to focus, was not where it was. The apple of his eye, in that moment, was 'Mai-ai', the distance between two swordsmen. It is the correct distance one establishes that enables the execution of a successful strike. Footwork, reach, and speed, the fundamental trinity to controlling distance. Sosuke however, blessed with a most unorthodox power-set, could control distance with authority. Photokinesis, the power to manipulate light and its quanta, photons.

Eyesight. It was a sense that man possessed by virtue of their optic organs. Organs that, once subjecting the back of their retinas to the presence of photons, processed the physical information in light, to then correctly interpret visual stimuli. It was an irreplaceable sense. One that, Sosuke, with his command over photokinesis, had become a master at disrupting. By stopping the photons bouncing off of him from reaching the back of his masked foe's retinas, the New Age Samurai had, simply put, rendered himself invisible. And it was crucial. For, unless his opponent possessed some kind of extraordinary sensory perception, he literally wouldn't see the samurai coming. He darted forward, using his speed and a quick two-step hop to glide into range. And once on the inside, Sosuke would seek to exercise his undisputed, martial brilliance.

How? First, by attempting to neutralize the masked man's sword-hand. With his free hand, Sosuke attempted to secure a thumbs-down wrist grip on the wrist of his opponent's sword-hand from the clinch. Why a thumbs-down grip? Because in order to break a wrist-grip, one must yank the arm in the direction of the thumb of the opponent's gripping hand, otherwise, it was impossible. And should he find himself in the Kenjutsu King's wrist-grip and, yank his arm downwards, the masked swordsman would be moving his arm and sword away from his upper body, and leaving it, with no arm and sword to block or parry, completely exposed to a sword-strike across the top. It was in that moment, if it came, that Sosuke would attempt to capitalize, opportunistic and with the predatory flair of a viper, with a swing towards what he hoped would be his adversary's exposed midsection.

His elbow joint would extend at the final instance, intent on popping his sword into the strike without flaw. The motion was smooth, mildly twisting his grip on the sword to impact the masked man's midsection with a sharp, kinetic force designed to break the initial resistance that his adversary's garments and flesh would provide. If successful, from there, the Kenjutsu King's strike would continue smoothly along the horizontal motion, his arm following, dragging the sharp edge of his katana, clean, across his opponent's midsection, with the objective of leaving behind, the deepest laceration possible. While having yet to activate his Acid Katana's fluoroantimonic acid micro-capsules, he followed the failure or success of his strike with another.

Hopping off his front-foot with a spin, harnessing its momentum and centrifugal force, adding torque from his hips, Sosuke sought, to cover his retreat, by whipping his sword with a spinning back-strike that threatened to cut, cleanly, through his masked adversary's neck. Meanwhile, his photokinesis, still active, not only worked to maintain his invisibility, but to command the photons bouncing off of his master, Y-Intercept, to refrain from reaching the back of her opponent's retinas, hopefully rendering her invisible to him.

@vici_aurelius: @raleigh_aurelius: @fraga:The cocaine goddess watched intently, but silently as her opponent started with his pre-battle rituals, he seemed like a combatant; well versed in the art of sword play. The match-up between him and Sosuke would be an interesting one. Her opponent appeared much lax; she couldn’t properly gauge the level of skill; he tended to be a bit satirical—at least in regards to his own brother. As her oriental “sand streaked” met with Raleigh; she prepared herself to combat a plethora of different skills and abilities.

“Shall we?” Y finally asked ending her brief period of silence. Pushing her “Flower of Carnage” forward, the cocaine goddess uncharacteristically presented the tip of her blade in respect; before closing the distance between them with a full on sprint.

Y-intercept was the personification of a human viper; every one of her blades were laced with venomous poison for the sole purpose of wearing down her opponents interior; promoting decreased speed, critical thinking and reaction time.

Once she closed a considerable amount of distance, her feet planted in a halt just a few feet away; with a quick flick of the wrist Y released a scattershot of poisonous stars aimed toward the left side of her unknown’s foe body.

Through the lessened density of her bones, Y moved swiftly to close the distance between them, pushing her blade forward, the flower of carnage launched his sword towards the Acrominon located on the shoulder. It hoping to limit the use of his upper body.

Settling quickly, she churned her feet in front of him, swinging her right elbow back increasing the density in her own bones in an attempt to send her powerful elbow crashing into his face.

(Sorry again, on mobile.)

I think I could actually do this alone with General Draco. Maybe throw some fodder at you.

@raleigh_aurelius: I was going to leave that up to you