Mr. Grizzly’s eyes bulged and his cheeks inflated with air. Bolt blankly glanced at Taeto’s fist and then up at his boss’s face. The large bear folded over, dropped to his knees, and buried his face into the porch. Bolt’s mouth fell open in stunned silence.
“Did you just kill my boss!?” Bolt exclaimed.
He rested his hands on the bear’s back and shook him. He received no response. Retracting his hands, Bolt inhaled deeply and exhaled a long exasperated sigh.
“All right. You gon’an done it,” Bolt growled. “Ain’t nobody hit the man who pays me and get away wit’ it.”
Bolt grasped his hard hat by the bill, removed it from his head, and placed it down on the back of Mr. Grizzly’s head. He then turned to face Taeto, his orange brows knitted in a scowl. His fingers curled into his palms, balling into large fists. The bones in his hands cracked softly as a cool gust spiraled up his body causing his white, sweat-stained tank and bladed bangs to ripple. Behind his head, his ponytail whipped behind him much like monkey boy’s tail did in his excitement. A power surged through his veins, causing his chest to inflate with his energized breaths.
“If itsa’ fight you want. You gonna get it,” he growled.
Bolt’s left foot slid a foot forward, his right remained where it was as he raised his arms. His arms curled at the elbows. His fists rose to his face resting against his mouth as his blue eyes fiercely peered over them. The teen facing Taeto seemed to be a whole different person.
“Took you long enough. I didn’t think I’d have to lay someone out for you to get riled up. You one of those hero types or something?” he asked, while leaping away from the falling beast.
The weird energy wafting off of Bolt was familiar. He had felt it several times coming from himself in the past. When he was mad especially. But occasionally, sadness or intense desire would conjure that mystic wind that surge of power.
He chuckled faintly while rising into his make-shift stance. It was how he started off most fights even when surrounded by greater numbers. With his speed and strength, he never needed much formal practice. So he straightened to his full height, slid both his hands into their pockets, and with a snarky smile stirred the energy inside himself.
His hair flourished up softly. His clothing rippled as fresh packs of dirt wafted from around him. He could feel his intentions clashing against Bolt’s. It was exhilarating.
“Your go since I threw the first punch into your boss,” he joked with a wide grin.
Bolt stepped to his left toward the railing and leaned his left shoulder against it before he hopped and windmilled his legs over it. He dropped to the dirt, his knees bent a little before he straightened. He started toward Taeto, walking. When he got within three feet of him, he changed his pace. He stepped in a careful clockwise circle around Taeto. His blue eyes tense as he examined monkey boy, mentally sizing him up.
Let’s see how you strike, Bolt thought to himself. If Taeto had been keeping up with his movements, he would see Bolt step toward him, closing the distance until he was a foot within arm’s reach. His left fist shot out in a short forceful jab for Taeto’s face. His right fist remained where it was as he tested the waters.
Taeto’s eyes followed Bolt impatiently. Easy now. Calm yourself, Taeto.
As Bolt circled out of sight, Taeto closed his eyes and listened acutely to his movements. The man’s solid boots crunched the packed dirt beneath him. Then the air shifted before touching him with gusto.
Taeto’s hand flew out his pockets as he twisted, dropped, and swept out his left leg towards the disturbance’s direction. Following through with the kick, he stood up, and danced away on fluttering forefeet.
Two meters or so apart, he would pound his left foot twice on the ground just like those martial artist would in the movies. He lifted his left hand up chest level and smiled. “You almost caught one of these big guy,” he chuckled.
The jab had been a short movement to bait the monkey into attacking. Bolt shifted his hips counter-clockwise, bringing his right hip toward Taeto, while simultaneously, his right hand dropped from his face. His right arm stretched down his right side, his right hand forming a C to catch Taeto’s left leg by the ankle. Bolt’s grip instantly increased, growing firm and unrelenting on the captured appendage as he shifted his hips again—clockwise. His left hip shifted toward Taeto as his left foot stepped into the swing of his left fist. Bolt brought his left fist down like a hammer for the knee joint of Taeto’s left leg. The monkey was lucky that he wasn’t completely pissed off. Otherwise, he would have applied enough force to do damage only a good hospital could fix. If his fist connected, then he would only suffer a painful shock. If the monkey would have been angry that Bolt still held back, well, then he wouldn’t let him know.
His tail wriggled in anticipation. The moment Bolt had sent down his fist, Taeto lashed his tail through the air; the long appendage striking out like a cobra at his face. The surprisal alone would unhinge his actions, but the kicker was how strong his tail was. Nearly as strong as himself and accurate at that. The moment it had hit or missed, Taeto would stabilize his grounded foot and yank the other from the worker’s grasp.
Finding his footing, Taeto stood right-side facing Bolt. He bent his knees slightly and acknowledged the man in front of him with a smile. His right arm lowered diagonally, fist balled in defense of his torso. His left arm was pulled back in the form of a right angle, its fist also balled; ready to assault.
His instincts had been dead-on about Bolt. He was strong for sure. Maybe even stronger than himself.
He had forgotten about the monkey’s tail. Taeto’s tail struck him in the face like a fist, startling Bolt and causing him to release his opponent’s left ankle as he staggered two steps back. His right hand rose to grasp his mouth as he regarded Taeto and his smile with wide eyes. Lowering his hand, he gazed down at his palm at the remnants of blood that covered it. First blood already, and here he was certain that he had had him. He did until he had to cheat using his tail. Bolt’s hand lowered further as he narrowed his eyes at Taeto.
Whatta’ bitch, Bolt thought to himself. He thought it, but he didn’t keep his thoughts entirely to himself. His disapproving look was clearly on his face as his brain still chewed on what had happened. He had to put himself in Taeto’s shoes. If he was going up against a strong and handsome redhead, and he had a tail growing out of his ass, then he might have used it out of desperation too. With that reasoning, Bolt’s salty expression changed to a content smile. It was no big deal. It just meant he would have to get a little more serious.
Bolt faced Taeto with his arms low and fists clenched at his navel level. The backs of his fists were facing outwards as Bolt leaned, swinging his gait forward into a run. He decided to rush Taeto. He was going fast enough to tackle him or bowl him over, but his exact intentions weren’t made visible.
That’s right. Enjoy the fight.
Taeto grinned at the new bold stance. He inched forward, anchoring his back foot while keeping the rest of his posture the same. He watched the bull-headed Bolt charge with a enthralled interest. What was his ulterior motive? Where would he strike? Maybe he would grapple.
He’s rushing me. So let’s try that move from Dancing Heron.
He waited for Bolt to reach arm’s length before swiftly sliding into his partially-open guard--leaning more into his left side; he grounded his feet hard in their bent posture, stabilizing them in preparation for the impact. It didn’t matter; wouldn’t last long anyway. The action of him thrusting himself into the rushing figure would be devastating. Just as he entered the man’s opened arm stance, his right arm flew up, wrapping the worker’s left cheek with the back of his fist. Meanwhile, his left arm, once pulled back in assault, was raised acutely to guard his left side.
The other construction workers were gawking at the fight between the kid with the tail who had injured their boss and Patch. They had always thought Patch was a klutz, but seeing him fight…they couldn’t believe that such a smiling personality was into fighting.
Taeto had basically given himself to him when he had slid forward to meet his charge. Because he and Bolt were already in close proximity, his attempt to wrap Bolt’s left cheek with the back of his right fist wouldn’t have been as effective as he might have thought, seeing as his right side was against Bolt’s left. Naturally, Bolt’s arms snaked across Taeto’s waist. His hands grasped Taeto’s left side—hip and lower-waist area—hugging his (Bolt’s) body tight against him (Taeto). Bolt’s chin was against Taeto’s shoulder, pressing down on it to keep him (Taeto) from shrugging his shoulder into it (Bolt’s chin) as an attack. When Taeto’s right arm rose and attempted to attack him, he’d have trouble. Bolt was not only two inches taller than him, which put his shoulders above his (Taeto’s) own, but trying to reach Bolt’s cheek—his left cheek specifically—would not be possible from Taeto’s current position.
With Taeto grappled, Bolt shifted his right hip against Taeto’s right hip, as the heel of his right foot moved inside Taeto’s stance next to Taeto’s right heel. Bolt was making his initial movements for a devastating takedown.
Taeto was neither surprised or scared. He had gambled on that move, thinking he could pull it off after watching it in a movie.
After carefully eyeing Bolt’s movements, his stances and uniform techniques, it was obvious he was a trained combatant. While in the hold, Taeto laughed aloud. He had lost; he had decided so the moment he had been grabbed in whatever the hell Bolt called it.
Still, the shivering that quaked his body had moved him to speak his emotion out loud. “I love fighting! This was fun.” he said with elation, his body softening as he grinned at Quad C’s workers.
Whatta’ weirdo, Bolt thought at Taeto’s exclamation. “This is for muh boss.”
Bolt’s right hand released Taeto’s waist to grasp the back of Taeto’s right shoulder, his fingers curling into the material of his shirt. His left hand grasped a handful of Taeto’s pants as Bolt pushed his right hip further into Taeto’s right hip. Pulling down with his right hand and lifting with his left hand, Bolt was able to tip Taeto’s weight. His left hand pulled his hips above Taeto’s head as his right hand pushed his shoulders down toward the dirt.
“Aaah!” Bolt expended the energy that was racing through his veins on a bellow as he slammed Taeto onto his head or he’d be lucky to instead land on his shoulders. Bolt had applied an inhuman amount of strength that was enough to rip through the ground and explode upwards. If successful, the attack would have not only made several construction workers go ghostly-white in shock, but it would possibly draw unwanted attention.
The impact of the slam had sent waves and waves of pain through him, starting from the crown of his head to the very toes of his feet. He could hear the sound of his clothes wafting aimlessly. Had it been his jacket or his hoodie? he wondered, head first in the earth and yet oddly conscious.
Aware.
[Saiyan Heart used]
His bones ached and creaked; muscles felt raw and rubbery. But he could stand, he could walk; if only in stuttered steps and meticulous movements, he had decided.
“Damn you’re brutal, I wasn’t expecting a suplex. You got some real skills man.” Still wrapped in the man's hold.
The slam had felt satisfying even though it shouldn’t have. He might have actually hurt if not crippled the monkey. However, hearing Taeto compliment him made Bolt’s face go completely blank in disbelief. Bolt released Taeto and stepped away from him in stunned shock. The other construction workers were shaking in fear. Was the kid inhuman? They had watched Bolt slam him through the ground!
“H-how?” Bolt whimpered. “You should be beggin’ me to call an ambulance!”
Taeto rolled over onto his ass, his legs awkward as they stretched out slow and loose. He grinned and chuckled an embarrassed satisfaction. His black eyes with their golden cross-hair pupils softened. Now that he had gotten a good look at himself, he realized that its was indeed his jacket that had been ripped and torn.
He shrugged it off, revealing the grey hoodie beneath it. “Uuh, that’s kind of a secret… I think,” he muttered while preparing himself to try and stand. His upper torso felt useless as if he’d taken some tranquilizer or something.
Tsk!
With effort he forced himself to his feet; ending up with a wide-legged stance, his knees bent, and hands holding his thighs with concentration. “Either way, Bolt, think you could help me home? My mom could patch me up but I don’t think I’d make it there alone.” he pled deadpan, brows a line of accusation, his eyes narrowed.
GM Awarded PL Points: 50+