Vine Hell Championship Round 1

All around the world and in a remote corner of hell a video feed came on. Telling of a tournament with virtually no rules and a promise of the most bloody ruthless combat possible. The prize something that defied possibilities. Most of the world set their DVR's to record the event said to be coming in two days. Many residents of hell and a few cautious souls of heaven bought their tickets to see the event live. Sixteen people though from around the world and perhaps a few from hell however signed the waver willing to partake in the first Earth centered Vine Hell Championship. Untill now the VHC was centered around dezients of the after life. She was near freedom though and wanted this chance to be solidified by blood of the living, or recently living.

Those sixteen combatants were placed on large pirate ghost ships. The crew was nowhere to be seen besides a few ghosts ocasionally, but the boat itself was unmovable in its path. Each contestant was on one of these boats that traveled a vast ocean speced with patches of fire that burned despite being upon the water and having no source. The boats earie as they were atleast had a welcoming captains room. In this room was where contestants were given a bed and a feast of food. A fully welcoming domain regardless of the creeking haunting vibes of the rest of the sailing ship. With each contestant came all their provisions they could call upon in battle so long as it wasn't an extra person. Even vehicles were permitted to come along just not another soul.

In thirty hours the ships had landed along the coast of a strange island. In the distance one could see the many large stadiums that made up the bulk of the island. To get their it looked like one might have to traverse a forest that seamed to scream of damnation. The beach itself was one with skeletons and corpses lingering in the sand. One could see a twitch here and there along with an ominous moan. As the numerous contestants steped onto the sand Reaver apeared before them with a wicked yet welcoming smile. And all along the beach front the zombified beings rose swaying with the wind.

"You will be fighting your opponent right here along this undead tainted beach front. Now if you want to dress down im totally cool with that it'll surely boost ratings." She chuckled at her own joke before continuing. "Im kidding welcome welcome to my little island I like to call it Ravage but you can just call it home if you want its reaallly lonely here." And in an instant however her optimistic joyous persona dropped. "All right heres how it works I tried to give you acess to everything you could put to use in a fight on your boring little planet. The peramiters of your fight are thirty feet up down to the sides your standing of the middle of that. If you push a oponent or move outside of this you will find yourself on one of the ghost ships."

Walls unseen by the eye were held over the designated areas walls that would teleport a target as needed to the Underfold. A cosmic like prison that wouldn't drop untill one of the opponents had been bested. "I apologize for likely getting your name wrong but this is round one people want you to earn the flashy title. The pairings are!....."

@dr_frank vs @regal_rumble_man

@amaranth_strix vs @jaegerjaquez

@xenon_ vs @pyrogram

@marcus_korah vs @darkchild

@lunatic vs @omegablast452

@quintus_knightfall vs @_astrid_

@madame_rose_ vs @feral_nova

@amazingangel vs @icarusflies

LET THE GAMES BEGIN!"

(I understand I added mains in some cases and not the alt in use, was just easier that way. All Round 1 matches will take place here. Comments on battles etc obviously the other thread. You have till midnight next wensday to finish. Have fun)

@omegablast452:

Tournament.

The word meant that there would be people to fight, but more importantly, it meant there would be a prize.

Three-hundred pounds of raw athletic muscle waited impatiently in the rugged watercraft bobbing on the phantom green sea flowing into the endless void. He had not touched a single part of the meal catered to his every whim. His mind wandered. His body twitched. He had popped a small shot of Psycho before coming onto the boat. All he wanted to do was kill something - anything. The tattered remnants of the banner hanging behind him followed the whistling breeze flowing from the broken doors hanging on rusty hinges out the shattered window. His bloodshot eyes focused on something that was not there. He staggered to his feet before charging and attacking his visitor like a wild animal. For the next thirty hours, he would not stop. The invisible and nonexistent opponent had to be crushed. His imagination and blood-greed demanded it.

---

Once the ship stopped, so too did the shadow boxing. His dose of Psycho wore off and he stumbled down the ramp to the shoreline. Covered in bruises and bleeding like a stuck pig, he seemed barely suited to stand let alone fight. Yet the spirit of battle burned brightly in his chest like a roaring inferno. Having drawn first blood before the battle even started, he was a natural candidate for the zombies to shuffle after. He unsheathed blades in the soles of his boots before kicking at some of the closer zombies, decapitating them in a single swipe. Still quivering and twitching due to the combination of his brutal self-training as well as the Psycho fallout, he walked over to the assigned circle for his battle with the werewolf. He assumed a defensive stance, going into his programmed fighting style and waiting for an opportunity to prove himself.

@lunatic:

The entire time Omega was on board the ghost ship he did not interact he remained in his quarters meditating and fasting for the upcoming battle, when the ships reached their destination the Lycan calmly got out. The time is now Omega thought as he looked at all the contestants mentally preparing himself to kill every single one if necessary, the zombies Omega saw did not intimidate him even the slightest however he narrowed his eyes as he saw some undead were mutilated somebody already drew first blood the Lycan thought as he examined his surroundings even more carefully.

A small pack of zombies walked towards him attempting to engage him, with minimum strength he pushed one of the undead in front of him causing the others to fall down "Not worth my time" Omega said as his Blades Of Blood Lust activated turning to what seemed was his opponent the Lycan walked to his assigned circle and tilted his head respectfully to the smaller being.

@omegablast452:

Switching from defensive to pure offense, the Lunatic lunged at his foe - interested only in spilling blood. Unsheathing a matching blade to the one he sliced open the throats of the now-headless zombies littering the shoreline, he kicked at the werewolf's handsome face twice and with lightning speed. Though perhaps not his equal in skill and most certainly not a contender for experience, the Lunatic brought something to the table that the werewolf could never count for: unpredictability. Swift kicks were only the beginning. Splitting his legs apart at a perfect 180 degree angle, the Lunatic tried a wheel-based spinning ax drop before going into his next phase of attack. He landed on his fingertips, gripping the hot sand and closing his legs in perfect gymnast fashion. Glaring at his foe, the copycat assassin flipped back to his feet, throwing sand in the werewolf's eyes as he dismounted from the beach in the process.

He decided to use the bizarre tricks already in play to his advantage. Swimming through the air like a graceful water fowl, the Lunatic used what vantage point he could assume - whether it be the ground or his foe's flesh - and launched himself into the air about ten feet straight up. Unleashing concealed blades from his fingertips, the Lunatic dove down like a torpedo with the intent to slash the Lycan to ribbons already painfully obvious.

@lunatic: Omega's precognition was useless due to his foe's insanity which surprised Omega at first, the two first kicks barely made him flinch but the fancy acrobatic feats confused him slightly right before he strafed away from the ax drop with ease, before Omega could make a strike he was blinded by the sand Clever Omega thought as he kept his eyes closed relying on his senses, blocking out the moans of the undead he heard the whoosh of his opponent leaping in the air

lets make this a battle to remember by Omega thought as he threw his cape over himself creating illusion of disappearing but in reality he was invisible. Omega wasted no time as he was cloaked and dashed to the side narrowly avoiding contact with his smaller opponent, looking around Omega found the nearest undead beings and picked up two one with each hand causing the illusion of two zombies floating in mid air, with minimum effort he tossed both of them at speeds that would cause their decomposed bodies to explode into red mist with whatever they hit and they were aimed right at The Lunatic.

@quintus_knightfall:

Greed. A despicable emotion. It was always in the backs of minds, with only the most humble servants of god, any god, being somewhat left out of it's grasp. It was a powerful thing. Men fought wars over it, in one form or another. Princes over women, kings over land, and gods over worship. Greed; a powerful emotion, and an even more powerful lure. Bait for the weak, despicable, and desperate. This tournament was just another war to most of the contenders, a way to claim that prize. To Astrid, this tournament was the means. She was tired of base prey, and knew that only with better bait will you catch better game. That despicable wish, the coin being irrelevant, was her bait. Even if she hadn't had the honor of placing it.

She thought about this as she sat on the lonely vessel, her legs hanging over the side, moving as gently as the waves below them. She looked into the waters below, imaging the beasts that lurked deep within. She almost considered leaping in after them, but no, she had greater prey to take down these next few weeks. Warriors, gods, demons, heroes, villains... it didn't matter who they were. They had come to sate that greed in the back of their skulls, to feed the untouchable beast in the shadows of their consciousness. They took the bait. Now was just a matter of bringing them down. With that last thought crossing her own mind, the moonlight crossed her skin. She smiled and let out a ghostly howl that rather fit the setting she was in.

----------------

She didn't sleep that night, or the day before. Her own thoughts were well enough to keep here wide awake. As the ship landed, she darted off of it's surface eagerly. She'd sate her own greed today. She was dressed in very light fur garb, which only barley covered her most sacred regions of her body. This was how she would dress among her sisters when they had tracked a great troll or demon of the night to some lair, back in her homeland. Or, at least as close as she felt comfortable. She carried a skin-woven sack over her shoulder, setting it down once she had entered her own area. She laid out her armory of weapons across the area, every once in a while being forced to throw one of the undead away as she prepared the land for her opponent.

A pack of knives under a rock, a axe in a tree, a sword buried in the sand, and a crossbow with a single bolt laid against the side of her ship. In her hand, she carried a spear, with two more strapped to her back. She had her shield worn on her wrist, to somewhat help in the lack of armor she was accustomed to. She stabbed at the air, or the undead whenever they came near, as she waited; just a small ritual. Training made perfect, or so the dead said.

@omegablast452:

One of the walking corpses hit him in the chest like a 150-lb water balloon, exploding on impact and showering him in intestines. The bones pierced his body, each one still hard enough to act as temporary bullets before shattering inside his muscles. The second zombie flew overhead as the Lunatic collapsed from the sheer and awesome pain welling up inside of him. Desperate, he popped some Psycho to null the pain and bring him closer to the werewolf's level. His muscles forced the bone fragments out, but not without bleeding profusely first. Like grenade shrapnel, the foreign objects had lodged themselves deep within his flesh. He would have to undergo extensive surgery to remove some of those closer to the inside of his body. For right now, he was able to move. That was all that mattered.

Now, doped up and ready to continue, the Lunatic extended blades from his elbows, kneecaps, the toes of his boots, as well as the heels and the knuckles on his hands. Having transformed into a walking blender, the Lunatic charged headlong in battle. No strategy. No plan of attack - just attack. Blind bloody murder. He followed the footsteps in the sand - perhaps the only sane part of his various unpredictable maneuvers - and did not relent.

@lunatic: Still blinded by the sand Omega levitated up with his cape The Shadow Of The Pack, quickly he managed to clear his vision and stared at the walking bladed man that was charging. Omega was unsure of whether the bladed man detected him or not the Lycan looked around his environment and saw a heard of zombies all grouped up together I'll use them to take him out Omega thought while turning to the Lunatic, with a lion like roar Omega uncloaked and flew towards The Lunatic planning to bear hug his opponent and lift him up into the sky and crash into the zombie horde.

@omegablast452:

Intimidation. A common strategy to worm insecurity and fear into an enemy force. Yet when that enemy knew nothing besides the mental impulse to rip and tear, fear did not matter. It became inconsequential. It became less than nothing. It became just like mercy.

Worthless.

Grabbing onto an opponent with such monstrous strength was a good move. The Lunatic felt his bones start to bend and break under the pressure. Yet for all his tactical wit, the werewolf forget one simple thing: what he held in his arms was not a normal opponent. Now that he had his enemy in close quarters, the Lunatic opened his mouth wide and bore down on the werewolf's jugular with twice the jaw strength of a fully-grown Tyrannosaurus Rex - about twelve to fourteen tons of jaw strength.

Whether or not that broke the skin did not matter. He wanted to create a discrepancy in his enemy's plan. Enemy. No longer an opponent in an honorable tournament. This was war confined into a small space. Popping more Psycho into his veins, the Lunatic dislocated his own arms and shoulders, becoming more snake than man, and slithered out of the werewolf's grasp. He fell to the ground with a limp thud, relocating his sockets and snapping them back into place methodically and with agonizing sounds coming out of his skin. Staggering back to his feet, he answered the werewolf's wild battle cry with the sound of dull defiance. He would not move in any direction his enemy told him to.

Starting to whirl around at a mind-boggling speed (especially for something that seemed to be human at first), the Lunatic kicked up a dust storm of epic proportions, obscuring sight and sound for both parties involved. He had vibrated his molecules through the beach's lovely dunes so much so quickly that the sandstorm started to lift up zombies off the ground. Standing in the midst of it all, his cells taking a monumental amount of pressure from the ordeal, he still vibrated - waiting for his opponent to move so that he could track said movement and strike. Psycho filled his veins. He could not be stopped, killed, or destroyed. He simply lived for the moment to feel skin carving under his razor-sharp fingertips.

@lunatic: Had the Lunatic been able to bite any harder Omega would have surely been in deep trouble, fortunately the stranger being slipped away from Omega's grip like a fish allowing his healing factor to instantly repair the minor damage "What is this?" he murmured as his opponent began do speed feats greater than any ordinary human could, the Lycan slowly glided to the ground All I have to do is outlast him Omega thought remembering how his opponent began acting irregular as the battle began is he using some sort of alchemy ingredient? the Lycan pondered as he started walking towards the Lunatic confident prepared to tank any attacks he would dish out,

@omegablast452:

His muscles began to expand and contract exponentially, much more than any normal human could withstand. Moving at near the speed of sound had such detrimental effects on his body. Still, he did not show any signs of pain or suffering. Instead, he started vibrating even more. Using the formidable power Psycho bestowed upon him, he continued to move at speeds that would kill normal human beings. Bursting forward through the sandstorm, he threw bladed punches and kicks that - combined with his already bone-crunching strength - were augmented even further by his vibrating cells. Such an effect could turn thick metal blocks into pellets.

Damage on a molecular level.

@jaegerjaquezOn the boat Amaranth made sure he was well fed, to keep his healing factor at its strongest. Checking all of his ammo, making certain each bullet was charged to the fullest. His armor was checked, and his psychic link with Albert double checked.

After all those tasks were complete he took some time to meditate upon his techniques, keeping them fresh in his mind and performing the basic mental maintenance his powers required.

--

Eventually he arrived at the zombie covered beach. He strode down the metal ramp, revolvers barking with every step. Zombies fell like rain under the unerringly accurate barrage of hardened air bullets.

By the time he reached the sand of the beach there was a significant area cleared from zombies. Dropping the heavy titanium pistols back into their holsters he looks around for his opponent.

@amaranth_strix: For one such as Anya, there were no battle preparations to be made. None that would matter, anyway. One moment she was upstairs at some party at a friend's place; the next, she was there on some ghost ship. But despite the freaky feeling that overcame her, she would not miss the opportunity to eat for anything (she ate so much, she actually threw up once). One thing's for certain. She never once thought about leaving the captain's quarters.

She ate and slept, and tried to make sense of the fact that this was all real. That she may have been suckered into fighting for the promise of a cash reward she couldn't even get eyes on, let alone grasp.

--

Dashing immediately down the ramp, she made like a makeshift locomotive, moving at top speed, swiping blindly left and right, her newfound speed and strength thankfully bringing her through the stiff horde without harm. And the entire time, there was the tingle in her spine and the ache in her brain that always seemed to show up at the worst of times.

"Remember. They're just stupid people...who like to get their bite on...And they walk. They can't run, they can't use tools. Just do 'em like the guy in the alley, c'mon!" She smacked herself in the face a couple of times to at least try and get psyched up.

"No, wait. He's gonna terrorize the living f@ck outta me, then they're gonna finish me off," she remarked dejectedly as she spotted her opponent. Quite famous in the news. Damn. Thought that sounded familiar. Just wish I had more time to make sense of this whole ears and tail business. In any case, it was kill or be killed, so Anya did all she knew how. She bent low into a crouch and tried to sneak up behind him. Maybe, if she got lucky, she could get in close and lock him in a sleeper hold.

@lunatic: Omega's opponent was fast but so was he, some of the bladed attacks were in vain as they struck against Omega's indestructible armor however a blow struck the Lycan's face if he was a regular Lycan half his face would have been ripped off but thanks to his Fabled Warrior trait the strike created a gash on his face, strike after strike gashes appeared on the Lycans face one even ripped an eye ball off. Stay calm despite the blood flowing from his face like an open valve and his eye socket hosing out blood the Lycan did not scream in pain or show signs of fear,

The healing factor prevented him from bleeding out and as long as the lunatic did not strike in the same place his healing factor would quickly repair the gashes however only one thing could return Omega's lost eye, a switch turned on the Lycan he's not just fighting he's surviving ditching his honor code the Lycan went feral. "I WILL NOT YIELD!" the Lycan shouted loud enough to be heard across the island.He began striking back at a much faster pace than his opponent and in the blink of an eye he attacked twenty times horizontally, ten times with his left blade and ten with the right all he needed was a scratch for his enchantment to work, after his first combo he followed up with a left upper cut with his blade and than pounced opening his large jaws in a blood lusted fury aiming to clamp on the entire head of the lunatic and rip it off.

@_astrid_:

The sudden agitation of sand as something burrowed beneath it was the first indication that the new arrivals opponent had been summoned. Slowly revealing himself as he rose out the caramel colored terrain allowing it to flow of his body like a river. Skin faded, face covered by a tan hood and matching face wrap, Ninja Gi torn and ripped, the deceased Knightfall was visually unrecognizable. A shadow of his former self barely able to remember his previous life or events preceding his awaking in hell. All he knew was what he felt, and what he felt was rage.

Without notice he darted across the designated battle field stylishly transitioning into an acrobatic baseball slide attempting to sweep his female opponent off her feet. Dragging his hand along the sand contorting his body with effortless gymnastic prowess propelling himself back to his feet through the utilizing of a Brazilian Capoeira spin. The clanking of his broken wrist shackles reverberating with a haunting echo following each movement.

@icarusmach9

Hell. he'd been there before, he burned it down to the ground and it had risen again, he'd destroyed the Devil himself and now an agent was doing his bidding but this tournament gave him a chance, a chance to do good in the face of evil, a chance for reunion of lost ones and a chance of helping those who deserve it and even those that don't.

The flaming pirate ships nears, lighting up the nights sky as it glided through the murky water, it would be the vessel, the transport that will carry then to fate, destiny and hell, they stood on that island warriors, all champions in their own right, champions of science, war, control, chaos, fear, darkness, magic, heaven and hope. On that island for those mere minutes they were united for the first and last time, this place will tear them in half.

Thirty hours later

A beach, obstacles, a man and an opponent, right now thats all there is, he has to fight there is no peace their is only a war and just two men to fight it. Angel was a man of honour but he was also a tactical fighter and an experience warrior.

"Your move first buddy."

@regal_rumble_man A spark reignites in the good Doctor's chest. The blank calmness of his vision fading back into focus as his eyes renewed see the world around him once again. Where the hell was he , and how did he get there, was he captured?. The spark in his chest now shooting through his body bringing Frank to his knees his body almost resonating with untold power surging and arcing in his cells. Slamming his hand into the floor as the pain begins to shoot across his mind. His brain tingling all over like it was bathed in vinegar. Forcing himself to stand Frank looked at his hands, a cold metallic like skin covered his skillful fingers reflecting the small source of light in the room ( a solitary lantern) . Walking over to the light he reached out for it and began to search for a clue or a way out.

Taking a few steps with lantern in hand the light suddenly faded and the darkness of the room once again covered Frank like an blanket. Without light and now fully conscious Frank could no w feel the sensation that he was moving. He was in a vehicle or container of some kind. Probably on his way back to America the gunmen had captured him. Frantically searching for an exit Frank spotted a faint glimmer of light through a crack in what could be a lose panel or a doorway. Running and slamming himself into it Frank shattered his target sending splinters of wood through the air like tiny needle like missiles

"Ah here we are, our Last contestant Dr Frank"

His emergence from the dark room instantly overloading his senses. Heat, light sounds all far in excess to his previous location. Looking down at his hand the lantern was gone, replaced by his hand resonating its own small ball of light. " What the hell is going on Frank thought to himself. I recorded no signs of hallucinations in beta testing." Finding himself Shepparded by two large creatures to which his mind would not or simply could not comprehend at this moment, he walked out onto a beach

The two creatures turning and leaving him, Frank calling back to the them both bemused and terrified at the same time "What am i here for, whats going on?"

Pointing into the distance it simply muttered "Kill that man, then we talk"

"What , iam a scientist not a fighter?" Frank shouted frantically back

"Good luck, you will need it"

Looking across the beach he could see various battlers already dueling to the death surrounded by a variety of nasty looking equipment and what he assumed where reanimated corpses. This cant be right i must be out cold in Scotland still. The thought crossing his mind as a stray bullet slams into his skull "CLANG" the impact should of killed him, hollowed his head and left him a bloody mess. But here he stood and if anything he felt stronger. Relieved at his own brilliance Frank advanced deeper into the carnage "This should be a more than adequate test for the serum"

@dr_frank:

Arius enters the ring to test his skills, vowing on his no-kill oath .Yet there is a man in front of him, seemingly filled with bad intent. The face though reminded him of a more innocent creature, perhaps bad circumstance pushed him into this situation. But when things get tough survival instincts take over, and his quarterstaff is extended as the miniature fighter prepares his stance. In front of him what was once man transformed into a being of seemingly metal substance, the small figure awaits for it to strike first. In a way that Arius can determine its threat levels and act acco

@quintus_knightfall:

The she devil watched as her enemy erupted from the Earth, making note of it, before the shadow of the man darted her way. It was fast; faster than her. Her spear instinctively plunged itself in his direction, only to dig itself into the sand. She abandoned it, for now. She tumbled forward as she was knocked over, as quickly as she could rolling back to a standing position. She dove a fist into the ground as she pushed herself up. The prey was agile, fast, and either quick thinking or unthinking. It didn't matter.

She stood up and stomped on the beach beneath her, launching the buried sword into the air. She grabbed it mid flight and dashed back at her enemy, almost dropping to all fours as she did. She tried to get in close, swinging her blade horizontally across the enemy's chest, a upwards slash towards his face, and following as fast as she could with a slash of her claws in the form of an uppercut. She'd never claimed to be a pretty fighter.

@icarusmach9:

Sympathy for the Devil, He had none, how appropriate, it brought him back to the last time he was in Hell, he'd been so long he thought it might be worth putting a down payment on an apartment, he had to keep a professional edge whenever he would have to tread those all too familiar grounds, he heard the screams, the pain, the suffering, there was nothing he could do, anyone who dwelled here, he didn't trust them, any promises they made, he didn't believe would be honoured, they wanted blood, he wouldn't give it too them.

He slowed time as the scientific marvel attempted to throw a sand storm in his face it was course just like his attack plan, Angel saw every grain of sand flying toward him yet this did not impair his vision, he was taught to see beyond confusion and trickery and keep his balance when worlds crumbled beneath his feet, the goggles also helped, behind the sandstorm a raging warrior with a intention of carving him in half like a Christmas turkey his energy was cut off where he was, only a limited supply he would need to think on his feet, remember every battle he'd ever been a part of and every challenge he'd every overcome because to win he'd have use everything he's ever learned about a not a battle or a war, a fight because that's what this would be.

His opponent was fast but he had time in his hands for how long he didn't know, he walked through the sandstorm constructed by his opponent, he used the time to clear some of the undead that were still leaving dead footprints in the sand and thought about how to deal with his opponent's arm, he decided to place his fingers firmly in the crease on the other side of his opponents elbow and use the other hand to grab his head, he wasn't thinking far enough ahead to plan out the whole fight, that wasn't him he was spur of the moment, he brought time back to normal speed, his hands were hovering over their intended targets, he waited to close them and grip before his opponent would be able to counter, he now waited for the chips to fall where they may.

@_astrid_:

Even though the self proclaimed Shadow King was deceased and there for unbound by certain Earthly shackles, he was still capable of feeling pain as well as sustaining substantial injuries. Made evident as his opponent's craftily submerged blade was vaulted into the air before stylishly caught and swiftly slashed across his chest. Spilling blood along the sand as Astrid's methodical recalibration of her swing brought the sword careening towards her nightmarish rival's face. Acting purely off instinctive muscle memory the Fallen Knight curled backwards bending at the waist with matrix like dexterity. Only to catch a flesh tearing uppercut as he returned to an upright position. His mask tore open revealing the bloody slices diagonally decorating his features instantly dropping him to a single knee, palm pressed flatly along the sand for stability.

Absent words, Quintus remained in his downed position with his head hung low as he nonchalantly began to pull his mask off back to front. A sense of detachment began to resonate with heightened indifference. Having spent such an absorbent amount of time in the land of the dead the mental faculties of the once gifted combatant had begun to deteriorate. The desire to win and restore his being to its former station of glory had faded. Shrouded by a soul dampening despair that had saturated his memories and distorted his feelings. Propelling himself back to an upright position with crooked posture still holding his head downward, he simply rose his arm before gesture with his fingers to bring it on.

@marcus_korah

Staying at a rundown hotel on the coast of Ireland, Darkchild marveled at the ocean view. His mother sleeping soundly in the room next to his, they had left LA sometime ago after the mutant registration act hit the fan. He hated having to worry about his mother and the others who had called him family, his mind couldnt take all the anxiety of having to worry about so many people. He wasn't used to caring for so many people so he took the cowards way out, and simply left. Watching the waves crash to shore he wondered if he had made the right decision in leaving WAL, as he thought to himself a ship appeared off-shore. It looked like an old pirate ship, as it caught his eye it seem to call to him. His eyes transfixed onto it he slowly opened the window, taking in the smells of the outside world he felt a pull as if it was begging him to come to it. Slowly he brought his leg to the windowsill and his body turned metallic in an instant, then a moment later he was airborne leaping out the five story hotel. Landing with a loud thud and breaking the cement under his feet on impact, following the pull that tugged at his very soul he made his way towards the ship.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the soulless ship made its way to shore he found another being standing before him, she was marvelous to look at and he felt something deep inside him rise to the surface. It was lust, her body made him feel emotions he had never felt and as she spoke he was hypnotized by every word. Slowly he was coming back into reality as her words truly hit home as she told him along with all the others that had come to shore that they were all to fight one another. His opponent was a frail man compared to Giovani but something told Gio that he was a forced to be reckoned with. He thought to himself "If I win this all by myself maybe that shall impress HER." Balling his fists they began to glow bright green as energies of the only life on the island the tree's were sapped of their life energies. His eyes narrowed on the man he was told to fight, he didn't know the mans name but he would fight him. And he hoped he wouldn't have to kill him to win.

@rumbleman_exe: Walking towards his diminutive target Frank thought a demonstration and test of his power would be a good way to strike fear in his opponent. Reaching towards the roaming undead Frank clamped his grip around the flaying monstrosity's forehead. His metallic fingers crushing down on the monsters skull. The pressure releasing a loud crack echoing from the creatures collapsed head. A sickly liquid draining from the ruptures of the skin and cascading to the ground over his Franks shinning hand. "Not bad, not bad at all. Amplified strength that will be handy." His opponent remained static watching the good doctor still advance "Perhaps another test was in order he thought"

Grabbing another of the undead he decided to see if if he could in fact control forms of energy or he was really hallucinating before he stood upon the ghastly landscape of this beach. His grip tightened around the squirming rotten form his fingers began to glow the light bouncing of his reflective metal face. The glow of energy expanding and flooding from his fingers to his whole hands. The hum of buzzing energy building to a crescendo before a burst of light flowed out in all directions. The remains of the creature cascading down like a sickening black rain of congealed blood and rotten organs. "Wow" Frank thought to himself as his gestures towards his opponents hopefully sank in.

"Short stuff, what you got?. I'am guessing your arms are just a little to short to box the likes of me"

@dr_frank:

The 3' five year old stood still as he observes his opponent, gauging form and strengths as he re calibrates his own. Disregarding more offensive advantages and selecting a few that is more suited to take this one out in a non-lethal manner. As a member of WAL he has a hero's oath to keep, he applies a TK field around his palisade staff to five it a kinetic dampener. As two hostiles approach him from behind he extends his staff, which impaled both bodies and turned it into a makeshift shish-kabob. Targets are big, yet an object moving at sufficient velocity is the right solution to almost every feasible problem. What he wanted to do is to nudge the man, to 'poke' from a safe distance. This is done in consideration not for Arius's sake but for the man's.

with a hit of his staff the little critter springs away to the opposing direction, creating a sizeable distance between the metal man and Arius.

@rumbleman_exe: Watching his tiny opponent nonchalantly skewer to of the roaming undead Frank honestly was kind of impressed. Though his opponent would have to do better than a bo staff to harm him. If his durability was anywhere as good as his previous creations he would have little to fear from the kind of damage a glorified stick could do even, even in extremely skilled or powerful hands. His opponent jabbed at Frank as he advanced. The staff colliding with his torso just below the shoulder, interesting he thought as he didn't feel any transfer of energy from the staff but his body absorbed the energy from the air around the staff as it struck.He must be using some unforeseen dampening, perhaps a kind of energy he hadn't tried to control yet.

The impact felt like someone had prodded him with a long finger. It didn't hurt and felt as if his opponent was just sending him a warning shot. His opponent jumped away showing some decent agility. Small, agile and wielding a big stick . "Your clearly no fool, but by dampening your attack has lessened its effectiveness. Simple Physics you have lessened its concussive force" As his words left his mouth the good doctor send a burst of energy at his opponent the blast annihilating all that stood in it way. A good test of his opponents durability.

@darkchild:

The money was nice... but uneeded in the long run. The wish, however, that was the real prize. Well... that was assuming the catch wasn't going to make it more trouble than it was worth... and deals with hell sort of had a bit of a reputation for being just that. Marcus shook his head. It didn't matter. This could be his big chance. Money and Power, the two things that he needed to return home and have his revenge. All he had to do was get to the tournament for his chance. Well, that and fight his way through four rounds of other, probably far more experienced, fighters and supers. A sly grin spread across his features, at least he had one thing nobody else would. His own little ace in the hole.

He looked up towards the sky, to the looming form of his own ship, the Thundercaller. "Not banning me from using the Thundercaller in one on one duels? That's just not even fair..." Marcus laughed softly. Why they insisted on him taking this painfully slow ghostship when he could have just flown there himself in his own ship was beyond Marcus. Once again he had the sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with the forces of hell being more trouble than they were worth. At least the ghostship had supplied him with everything he could have wanted in terms of food and luxury... even if it did have the occassional problematic ghost floating around being eerie.

Marcus sighed softly to himself as the ship drifted silently ever onwards... the waiting was the worst part...

-----------------------

Some time later...

As the ship finally pulled up to shore on the island several things were immediately apparent to Marcus. First, the other competitors were just as he had thought them to be. Obvious mutants, or supers, or skilled combatants, nearly all of them seemingly more than familiar with using their powers in open combat. Second, the beach they were supposed to be fighting on was littered with roaming corpses, no doubt hostile. Third, his opponent seemed to be a walking statue with the unfortunate ability to sap the life out of everything... Not a good start. Marcus smirked, maybe it was just the ability to make plants wither off... that could be it right?

Marcus let his palms come to rest on the grips of his twin pistols as he sized up his foe. Marcus had some experience with tangling with the strong, beefy types... granted none of them were metal, or had the ability to suck the life out of you... but the same overall strategy should still apply, right? Just keep them at bay... and pray his pistols could drop him before the guy managed to get his hands wrapped firmly around Marcus's throat. "Piece of cake... I got this." He tried to reassure himself... it didn't work.

Marcus slowly paced away from his foe in a semi-circle, carefull not to wander too close to any of the zombies scattered about. He had a sneaking suspicion that the zombies wouldn't be any concern for his opponent, and he didn't want to have to worry about fighting more than one thing at a time. He called out, "Well alright then... let's get this show on the road, eh?" He had no intentions of standing around and waiting for the metal man to make the first move. With one smooth motion he drew both his pistols and started blasting. Two rounds from each, aimed straight for center mass. No fancy trick shots or time wasted aiming for the head. Just point, shoot, and down they go... or at least that was the theory. Marcus didn't really have much hope of it being quite that easy, it never was.

@dr_frank:

Using the bo as a one legged stilt the little one skitters across the arena, reducing the effectiveness of linear attacks. The two corpses became makeshift projectiles as he infuses their carcasses with a pyrokinetic charge, each joint in every limb armed at different settings. Creating an effect of a Chinese fire-cracker, exploding at varying non-lethal yet extremely hot intensities and force. A ruse set to ruin his opponent's rhythm and perhaps even sent him back, it was not meant to be harmful but he made it appear as if it were an attack that can level a city block. An illusion to weigh upon his fireworks, one of the corpses met with the previous energy blast sent by the metal man.

@quintus_knightfall:

Astrid watched as her opponent fell to the ground, curiously so. She tossed the sword far out into the ocean without turning her eyes, deciding it was no longer needed. She waited eagerly as he stood up, smiling that her enemy wasn't done yet. She lightly nodded at the gesture made towards her, knowing it's meaning. This man would likely be able to take a beating, which she liked, and so she hoped he'd be able to give one out as well. Always tiring when prey goes down too quickly.

She threw her left hand out, claws intending to leave more wounds on his face, this time going lightly for the eyes. She then quickly recoiled and tried to smash her buckler into the side of her enemy's skull with a strong bash. She followed up with a straight kick towards his abdomen, to knock him back if he wasn't already on the ground. She hoped he would take advantage of her rather basic attacks. Always tiring when the prey gives up too quickly.

@omegablast452:

People watching the event turned away in horror. They watched the Lunatic die, butchered and dissected with all the subtlety of a chainsaw cutting through tissue paper. Blood splattered across the beach. Not a single square inch was left untouched by the Lunatic's most precious fluid. His bones fragmented under the destructive power of the strikes. His organs exploded. His body - while strong - was still human. He did not stand a chance.

Crumpling down, the Lunatic did indeed cease all motor function and any sign of life. However, he did not truly "die." He never could.

Like that time he was crushed by a train, his blood crawled back into his veins and arteries even if it was spread across three square miles.

Like that time he was mashed into a bloody paste by a load of steel girders falling on top of him, his bones crunched back into place.

Like that time he was shot to ribbons by a hail of .50-caliber shells, his flesh pieced together around those bones.

And like all the times he was stabbed, burned, poisoned, mutilated, ground up, pulverized, and destroyed - he came back.

He took a defensive stance, his offensive power divided between his fists and feet. He adopted a custom-made stance designed to tackle monsters larger than himself. His heart pounded in his chest out of excitement. He always loved fighting battles like this, where he could die and adapt to the mistakes that led to his demise. That way, he could prove that he could win.

He could win.

@lunatic: As the Lunatic regenerated so did the Lycan thanks to his enchanted weaponry, this is going to be an endless stalemate Omega thought as he let out a sigh and once more began a flurry of quick attacks in a attempt for his opponent to be unable to counter attack, Omega sent a powerful upper strike with his blade that would be powerful enough to send his opponent to the sky should it come into contact he would than teleport behind the Lunatic thrusting both blades behind his enemies back while attempting to rip him in half by moving his left blade left and right blade to the right.

"I will not let you beat me" Omega whispered.

@rumbleman_exe:

Displeased with his opponents somehow uncanny ability to completely disregard an attack that had turned the sand between them to glass and the wandering undead into dollar sized fragments even somehow shielding himself behind a corpse the likes of which he had had destroyed multiple times with the same attack. Frank had an epiphany this opponent must be shielded in some manner since that last blast at the very least should of staggered him let alone leave him completely unfazed. As he pondered ever so slightly losing his focus on the battle he was struck with a much heftier blow than his opponents last.

The impact staggering him as he wasn't prepared. The impact taking Frank back a step as it erupted into a chorus of explosions the impacts rattling him around as his body buckets around between the blasts, absorbing the force as he swayed between them in fantaic manner. A thick cloud of smoke covered Frank as he refound his feet his body literally humming with the power it had just taken in. Feeling like he could level the whole beach with the accumulated power of the several explosions. His body barely scratched by the fire and force they unleashed but his clothes all but tatter'a hanging off his metalic form.

"I have had enough of you know. Time to get serious"

Within the blink of an eye Frank had burst towards his opponent the cloud around him given a few seconds of cover. Leaping traps and swatting away the undead as he advanced, Frank closed the gap to within a few yards and leaped at his opponent reaching out with one hand trying to grasp his opponent with it as he fired a amplified blast at his micro sized opponent at near point blank range. Emptying everything he had at the tiny warrior. The force shooting from his hand like a concentrated beam burning the very air around it epanding its focus to that of three times the targets size. Knowing he would either hit his opponent hard with his ranged attack or have his opponent in his grasp and simply swat his opponent into the ground.

"Lets see you, walk away unscathed this time"

@dr_frank:

To say he is unscathed is buffoonery, to say he is dead is a fallacy. There are benefits in having an amorphous body, what was once a 'head' a few seconds ago is now feet. If he did not learned the ways of magic and trained in WAL HQ the little critter would be vapor right now, the attack had an odd side effect as the rebound energy made the little one 'dizzy' or a semblance to that ailment. Yet within little time his little hand managed to point the Bo towards the 'chin' of his opponent. "Lets see if you can absorb kinetic energy as you did with the blasts of fire," the little one feints the point to the chin and switches target to an are with more space. Aiming for the gut, centre of mass. Before he went into jitters Arius extends the staff at supersonic speeds, aiming at the liver.

@_astrid_:

With lightning flashes of reflexive prowess the undead Knightfall shot his folded arm up alongside his head deflecting the blur of razor sharp claws targeting his eyes before transitioning into a ducking side step effortlessly outmaneuvering the second, and third, strike attempts of his opponent. Using the same burst of momentum to try and throw his trailing arm around the neck of the feral woman using it to swing around behind her. Simultaneously his free hand balled into a fist manifesting a shadow hued psionic blade of pure telepathy that if successfully plunged into the back of Astrid's head could potentially shut down the electrical impulses of the brain.

@pyrogram -

I withdraw. No time.

Sorry.

@omegablast452:

Broadsword - no, something different. Enchanted. Pure magic.

He burned his hands down to the bone as he caught the flat sides of the blade between them. His palms and fingers still sizzling, the Lunatic flipped behind the werewolf. While he had managed to accomplish the first part of his plan, his wounds extended down to the nerves. He could not strike the pressure points he wanted to, not with the blunt force of the heel of his palm. He needed the precision of his fingers, the very same fingers that wilted like dead flowers in front of him. Furthermore, having withstood the force of the sword-stroke upon landing, his legs were almost to the breaking point once more, even considering that he had landed in relatively soft and loamy sand. He shivered not out of pain but out of having injected another twelve doses of Psycho at once. His heart stopped and restarted seven times during this process.

He was ready now.

The drug accelerated his healing. Heaving now, his muscles allowed him to push past the limitations of broken bones as they cracked back into place and sealed together. He assumed the perfect guard against the incoming homerun strike that sent him skyward. Though his forearms were gouged out down to the bare sinews of what made them limbs, he could still use them to full effect. His skin literally started to steam as the moisture in his body evaporated due to the sheer amount of heat generated by the blood vigorously pumping through his veins. His heartbeat must have been astronomically fast.

Breaking the sound barrier upon his ascension, the Lunatic felt his back muscles ripple and watched the torrent of blood from his obliterated aorta leave in a pulverized stream back to the ground. Turning on a dime, he pumped another twenty doses of Psycho in order to keep the blades from tearing him in half. The ashen nubs that were once his hands had healed once more. He still bled from the wound in his back, however, and every ounce of pressure placed on his tortured anatomy threatened to rip him apart despite the weapons initially meant to do so being kept at bay.

Unsheathing blades in the toes of his boots as well as the runs running along the length of his soles, he dislocated his arms and started spinning around violently, intent on mutilating his foe's torso until the skin on his shoulders gave out and snapped away.

@lunatic: "Oh no you don't" Omega said as the lunatics blades began flailing and creating sparks on his armor, high up in the air as he was Omega attempted something desperate "lets see you regenerate from this", aiming down as they were high in the troposphere he ceased using his cloak and began free falling. Using his mighty strength Omega pulled each blade out from the Lunatic body and bear hugged his opponent as tight as he could hoping his enemy would not slip through like he did previously, the weight of the Lycan plus his armor significantly sped up their descent clocking to about seven hundred miles per hour Omega began to squeeze tighter and and tighter as he lowered his head and closed his eyes, the force of descent became quicker and more powerful...Omega was crashing his opponent face first into the island hoping in the end to find his enemy turned into red paste.

@omegablast452:

It took a full ten minutes for the sand to finally settle. Once it did, however, Omega would be greeted with a sight he would not have wished on anyone. It was the Lunatic, in the midst of repairing the extensive damage to his body, his esophagus still suffering extensive damage. The result was a gurgling cackle as gas exchange in his lungs whistled through the quarts of blood flowing from his various wounds. Nothing human could be recognized. The serial killer had been reduced to a churning stew of blood and organs, but with the capability of taking shape and hardening.

He held the rudimentary beginnings of what were understood to be arms out defiantly as his mangled face opened into a silent laugh, the lower jaw breaking off and sinking into the red mud.

@lunatic: "IMPOSSIBLE!" Omega said as his Lycan eyes widened in surprised, he teleported away and returned back with a group of the remaining zombies that were on the far island he repeated this process and gained a hundred strong zombie horde with in moments "Feast on him" Omega said as he teleported to high ground crouching on top of a large boulder as the zombies swarmed to eat the incapacitated opponent.

This is a demise I wish no one would have, Omega thought as images of the undead eating his enemy alive entered his mind from a possible future.

@feral_nova: Her eyes touches the reality she grew to both love and hate. A world where money corrupted and ensured power, one that dictated the lives of almost every being on the planet. With money came greed and with power came control, manipulation of mankind. The pseudo Voodoo Queen of the Western Hemisphere strolled across the alley's of the dark French quarters. Just days ago did she received an invitation to a hellish match between its contestant, the winner of course would win a grand prize, money being one of them, funny how money is the reward for almost everything in life. Her auburn hair had flowed gently along with the tugging of winds that nature had conjured, with it the witch felt its welcoming presence. The witch gazed heavily towards a corner. She could see the left over psychic residual, a short story showing a man being mugged and killed by another who was thirsty for power that money came to bring him. She could see the victim looking on to her, pleading for help, one that he did not get, she could see his spirit calling for her aid. He wanted freedom from this torturous plane and wanted the liberation in the after-life or wherever he was to be taken to. She smiled as she could sense his faint psychic echoes, approaching his death corner, she calmly assures him lasting peace. A series of chants then took place, her voice whispered to the spirits of nature to save this poor soul. A feeling of bliss arose upon his face, with a gesture

A day later she was prepared for the tournament. As blinding flashes of camera and the roaring crowd anticipates blood and death, she calms her mind with knowing what she'll do with her prize. She awaits for her contestant to make the first move.

She will use her reward for self-satisfaction, was it to save many from world hunger? No, she will used it to suffice her own personal goals and glories not those of others.

His hand was steady as he grabbed the pen, an old bone colored ink well style, it wasn't the first time he signed his life away. He did it long ago when he signed up to join the confederate army at the age of 18, then again in 1914 and 1940 in where he traveled across the sea to fight ...well the whole world it felt like. Over and over again he put himself in harms way, to be covered in mud and blood, as his body should have died a thousand times over again. But still he stood red blood splattered on his face surrounded by his allies dead around his feet.

Now he looked into green eyes of what he only assumed was the devil, and with a swift pen stroke wrote "Capt. Hawk Anderson" in a cursive script a little to fine. A smile broke on the face of the women in front of him and her red hair pulled to one side in waves splash down onto her shoulders just before she let out a laugh and wished him luck.

After a boat ride to a beach the woman with the red hair explained the rules and quickly Hawk was at a disadvantage. 30 feet all around was not the way The Lord of the Sky preferred to fight, but killing people was always the same. If you take enough blood, meat or their soul....they all fall.

So with his mace and swords strapped on his back neatly tucked in with his wings, he stepped out onto the beach. Leaving his boots behind Hawk dug his toes into the sand. Popping his knuckles his muscles rippled under his Wolf Pack vest and black pants. He knew nothing about his opponent but one thing ..... he was about to die.

@_hawk_:

Oliver spent the entire journey here with his eyes and mind closed. Meditating. He could not hear or see anything as it took him to the location of the fight. He accepted any agreements for the fight with a copy if himself as he stayed in a meditation state. Concentrating on giving himself full power.

Oliver stood up and walked off the boat. Looked at the women with red hair and smiled as she explained the rules.

He stepped into the fighting zone.

He looked at his opponent. Studied him. Understood him. Oliver withdrew his sword swiftly and placed it by his side.

He simply smiled as he duplicated himself - 20 Olivers now stood in the Fighting Area all looking at hawk. All brandishing swords. All ready to kill - But only one was able to harm him. The REAL Oliver. The rest were simple illusions. They made a circle around Hawk. The real Oliver went invisible. If Hawk attacked these things, He would trick himself that he was killing them. He would THINK he is decapitating and dismembering them but in reality - This was to tire them.

Oliver smiled against as all 20 versions of himself raised their swords into the air and charged at Hawk. Ready to kill - Or..So he thought. If the swords connected with him it would look like he is being cut ( If he could not get past mental illusions ) but he would not. As-soon as Oliver stopped the illusion he would heal as they are only mentally inflicted illusions. But he would be tired. And then the REAL Oliver can go in for the kill.

Although the cat mutant's stealth skills were quite extensive Amaranth was able to detect her due to his perpetual echolocation. The sounds of the waves crashing against the shore provided him a sonar map of his surroundings, a feature which had saved him many times before.

He hurled his seven foot frame into a roll, armor clunking against the packed beach sand. Twisting around as he rises, dropping his hands to the synthetic black grips of his revolvers.

"Ahh.. A mutant?" He lets go of his pistols, bringing his hands up into a Goju-ryu stance. "Lets see what you can do." Beckoning her forward.

@amaranth_strix: It took a special brand of suckish naiveté to believe such a cut and dry tactic would work on a world famous terrorist, but being a not particularly skilled combatant in the heat of the moment, there was only so much she could do. "Aaahaa—Wump!" She lunged and missed completely. Displaying speed and reflexes far greater than she would have been accustomed to, he rolled out of the way, letting Anya crash into the sand, kicking up a cloud of sand. She sneezed, and the headache became worse. It was a few seconds before, surprised to still be living,she could work up the nerve to stare back up at him.

His hair pure white, his face weathered the marks of aging. But, though clearly aged, he wasn't the least bit frail; even she could tell that. To describe the way he wore his years, it was comparable to a tree's rings. His scars have become a solid core and tough bark, his musculature apparent even through the armor her wore, making it utterly impossible to see his age as a sign of weakness. And there he stood, waiting. Taunting. He knew just as well as she did that she stood no chance in a fight.

Torn once again between fear and anger, Anya acted again in the only way she could think. She rushed to her feet, ran forward, and drew her right leg back with all her might, targeting his groin with a soccer kick; at the same time as the windup for the kick, rearing her left fist back and crossing over with a wide haymaker meant for his jaw.

@rumbleman_exe

Frank watched as his opponent yet again took no visible damage from an attack that left a scolded crater where he was standing. Amazed that neither his energy or grab attack even seemed to phase his target. Quite annoyed with his opponents continued display he simply closed his opponent down again determined to make him take some surface damage at the very least. No matter what abilities his foe had he couldn't dodge or remain unharmed forever.

His micro opponent stuck out at his chin Frank laughing at his attempt and replying mockingly to his statement "Not only can i absorb your pitiful attempt i can amplify it and send it right back at you.", His opponent's strike path altering in mid flight, nice work Frank thought as the staff collided heavily with his abdomen. Sending him stumbling backwards as his body absorbed the force but was still staggered by the hit. His inexperience with his new abilities was showing he should of been able to laugh that strike off. His opponent spinning rapidly to strike again his attack striking Frank hard this time sending a shock wave of force through frank and his organs. The strike both sending a surge of power and pain though him as his organs twitched with the strike. The taste of mercury ( which frank assumed was his blood stinging the back of his throat). But the good doctors plan worked as he grabbed the end of his opponents staff and began forcing every ounce of power he could muster into it. His intention to force his opponent to disarm himself or feel the wraith of a pointblank full power energy assault.

@jaegerjaquez: The exceptional speed of his opponent surprised Amaranth. Over the years he had learn that contrary to popular opinion one COULD judge a person by their looks. All too often powers and appearance went hand in hand.

But this time he was mistaken.

Sweeping his left forearm down in a parry, intended to deflect the blow of his foe he experienced a moment of pure shock when the twenty five tonner batted his arm aside as if it was a blade of grass. The blow caught him in his armored groin, and even lifted him a few inches off the ground.

Unfortunately for him this prevented him from ducking the punch target in his skull and the twenty five ton strike whipped his head around like a rag doll, knocking him out instantly.

He hit the sand with a thump, K.O.ed and eliminated from the battle.

@dr_frank:

He is damaged, yet it is probably because of his amorphous biology that he seemed relatively unharmed. Yet Arius is not the average blob creature, this man must use incapacitation or zone removal. Perhaps an attack of a great magnitude if he wishes to end the match quickly, because in a battle of attrition Arius can literally 'wait' for his adversary to pass away as time begins to eat on yet another story. Life is long, yet his Bo staff is nearly as long. In comparison to the ephemeral nature of the zombie's flickering lives it is much faster.

The staff rebounded and ricocheted off the body, the blast sent Arius back. Flying at high velocities at the walls, emulating the kinetic motion of a pinball machine. With the undead appearing as the slipping nodes in pinball, both his body and his staff separated. Taking fleeting moments to reach out to hold his weapon, only separated by quaint quarter-second moments. Utilizing Telekinetics the little one sets up an imaginary 'rope' and an anchor point hooked on an absent point in the air. Making a spin as he gathers centrifugal force, using fire to create a sphere around his body. This time spinning to create a vortice of flame, not to strike his foe but to simply suck out the oxygen in the area. Seeing as the body is kept in humanoid form as well as the presence of a nose and the motions that resemble breathing the little one assume that the metal man might still need to breathe.

@amaranth_strix: Rearing back her foot as far as she could, at the same time drawing a wild shot with her arm, Anya never even considered he might see such an obvious hit. Nevertheless, the result was all the same. It was in fact much more than she expected. Even with the strength she'd seen when she first discovered she was...a mutant, as the old man had put it, she never thought she possessed the degree of strength required to knock him out cold; definitely not with one shot. Though perhaps she had overestimated him.

Anya stood, eyes wide, flabbergasted at what she had just accomplished, gripping her arm at the wrist. Something about him, hitting him hurt like hell, and a lingering pain reverberated throughout her arm. "Holy Hell what the hell did I just do!?" Her surprise came mixed with excitement as she recalled hearing the man, a wanted terrorist, was worth a ton of money. "I just did what a buncha grownups, the whole goverment couldn't even do. So I'll get this, plus the money from the tourney!" So caught up, she didn't even consider that she could lose in any of the next few rounds, and possibly die. The only issue she saw was hiding the fact from her parents and those around her. They'd definitely try and hound her for money.

"No matter. I'll just move out, all the way to the other side of the city! To London, or France! I'll divorce my parents and...I'll figure it out!" Overjoyed, she only just remembered the leash and collar that had come with the costume Bethany gave her. Undoing the collar from around her neck, she struggled to squeeze it over that of the terrorist, before hoisting him over her back, planning on humping him back to the ship. There, she would wait it out, away from the zombies and violence.