[IC] [RANKED] DJ vs Skallagrim - East versus West

[Skallagrim]

Yala, Thailand.

The soft rains drizzled atop the corrugated roofs, drumming out a rhythmic sound that both relaxed and set An on edge. Huddled near a small fire in a chopped 55-gallon drum, the lanky twenty-something stared out from under his black hoodie at the desolate street. Muddy, pot-holed and depressingly maintained, the road had been the only street he prowled for the last few weeks. The older men that shared the fire with him smoked horrible cigarettes, drank cheap sangsom whiskey, although technically it was rum, and complained about how things had been much better in their days.

When the iPhone rang, and the old, nearly blind man who complained the loudest hastily answered it, An grinned at the irony.

“This day and age when you carry a phone, it’s not so bad is it uncle?”

The old man glowered at An, turning away and speaking angrily. It seemed his wife wanted to know where he was and where the rice and duck he was supposed to buy were. The others chuckled as they swigged their drinks, the talk turning back to the ‘good old days’. After a while An tuned them out, the purpose of his being in this alley was approaching.

A black Mercedes prowled up the street, the dark tinted windows hiding the disgusting, obese man stuffed in the back. Rojai Raptusawa, a drug dealer, pornographer and child rapist was the owner of the car. An had waited for the slug to make his presence known again. It had been nearly three weeks since the human filth was seen. After all raping and murdering little girls was frowned upon, however because of his connections with the South Thailand Insurgency, he was protected. Well that was all about to change. An had discovered that Rojai favored a prostitute on this street, he always visited her, he always started his debauchery with her. Standing slowly the young man stared at the men around him, they were a decent lot, old men, hard men but men who had dreamt of other days. Bowing slightly to each of the ‘uncles’ he thanked them and darted off into the gloomy night, his foot falls splashing in the puddles, shadowing the car.

The short, waddling man oozed into a shadowy doorway, his body guards standing outside the stairwell, their demeanor bored, lazy. That would be their downfall as An approached along the wall, as the closest guard turned to intimidate him, An rushed him, launching a vicious knee into the man’s groin, causing him to spit blood and groan loudly. The second man, busy pulling a handgun failed to see the 4,500 lb. car lift off the ground until it was too late. With a sickening crunch, the car crushed him against the wall.

An snapped the neck of the guard he held. Then he was off, running up the stairs, he knew where the woman lived. Kicking in the door, he found the apartment empty. Anger welled up inside him until he heard the raucous sounds of the nightclub on the other side of the wall. There was an alleyway leading to a backdoor. A grim smile crossed his lips as he cracked his neck.

###

After making his way into the club, he managed to sneak past several bouncers and found he stood on the edge of the dance floor. Several people stared at him, clearly his attire was not appropriate for the club, but An didn’t care. Nor did he notice that the club was not the type of club found in Yala, it was distinctly . . . different.

Smiling at a cute brunette in a tight blue dress, An barely noticed the man behind him. Nor did he notice the waitress carrying a pitcher of beer, whom he promptly bumped into, spilling the beer on his clothes. Mortified An began apologizing when he spotted the obese Rojai. Forgetting the man, he shoved him away and ran onto the dance floor, stumbling and pushing people out of his way. So focused was he on his prey, that he ignored the protests and just shoved people away in his chase.

[DJAtomika]

Now this was the life.

As he held the young, brown-haired lady in his arms, he swung her around gently, his left arm around her waist and the right raised in the air, holding her dainty hand in his as they danced. The small band in the corner were playing a slow tune today, one that he hadn't heard before. Then again, in this strange new world, there were so many new things to experience, so many sights to see, ladies to woo, and most importantly, music to enjoy.

Johnny had stumbled onto Earth almost by accident, after he'd found a portal to this place nestled in a cave on a mountainous world he'd been exploring a few days ago. That gate had led him here, to this quaint little ballroom in one of the dingiest, dirtiest towns he'd ever seen. Frankly he was quite surprised that something so clean could exist in such a hostile, dirty environment but hey, he wasn't complaining. The men spoke a strange language unlike anything he'd heard before, but there was a language that everyone spoke, in all universes, all dimensions.

Money.

Money bought himself drinks. Money bought himself a lady on his arm every day. Money got him the band's undivided attention.

But no dough could buy himself a good time. That was all up to him.

As he spun himself and the lady in a slow circle to the timing of the music, he smiled and she smiled back. Obviously she wanted in his wallet, among other places, but he knew better. He spun around again in a half circle and dipped her, gently holding onto her lower back as she leaned backward, elegantly flicking her head as he slowly raised her back up.

Ah, the high life. Nothing like it.

Then, a cacophony that broke through the music.

A few minutes earlier a huge, fat man had entered the ballroom. No doubt he was the big boss of the joint, everyone seemed to know him. Not Johnny. He was a stranger here, a harmless white tourist just having a good time.

Now, a straggly young man in a loose shirt and shorts (no shoes too) burst into the room, panting, his body drenched with rain water. He could see from across the room. He didn't know the guy either. The young man smiled at a nearby lady and clumsily bumped into a waiter carrying a pitcher of a stranger amber liquid, spilling the presumed drink all over the lovely maroon carpet. He began to apologise when his eyes fell upon something across the room. Johnny idly followed his gaze as he held his lady and turned in a slow circle, coming to rest upon the fat man that had gotten here earlier.

Ooh, a grudge match. The young guy must've had something against the big fat fella, judging from the way he got up and immediately disregarded any sort of manners or better judgement by pushing and shoving his way through the crowded ballroom and onto the dance floor. He watched as the man stormed by him and his date, and he would've gladly ignored the whole big hoo-hah if it weren't for one detail.

That man wasn't exactly normal. He could feel it.

With a quiet apology, he let the lady go, smiling and waving to her as she reluctantly left his company. He strode over to the bandstand, the clicking of his tap-dancing shoes distinct over the music, and leaned against it. Here he had a nice view of what was about to go down. The drink he had, a finger of whiskey on ice in a small glass tumbler, sat on the edge of the bandstand, and he swept it into a hand and took a sip and smirked.

This was going to be interesting.

[Skallagrim]

An was trying to get through the crowd when it happened, he inadvertently touched something he shouldn’t have while making his way through the crowd. It was something firm, yet supple. Looking at what he held seemed like an eternity, it was a breast, inside a tight red dress. Looking up, An stared into the greenest eyes he had ever seen in his life. Hastily letting go and shaking his hand is if he had dropped a burning stone he stepped back, apologizing profusely as he did.

Before he could finish his uttering, an unmistakable southern drawl filled the air. “Boy, you dun gist made a big, gad-damn mistake.” Snarled the large man who stepped between the girl, who had a sly grin on her ruby red lips, and An. A black Stetson hat, a bright red western shirt, blue denim and brown, ornately scrolled cowboy boots contained the frame of a Texas big man.

An looked up at the man, who clearly towered over An’s six-feet by some six-inches or so. The florid face of the man looked puffy and splotchy. Clearly, he had a little too much to drink and unfortunately, for the cowboy, he believed that his size would be a deterrent. It would not. Raising his hands sheepishly, An smiled and stuttered, “Sorry . . .”

Whatever else An want to say was cut short by the man grabbing An’ shirt.

“Boy, you ain’t git but one time to make a good impression, and you dun fooked it up.” Texas said as he balled his right fist. Everyone started to back away from what looked to be a beating, as An’s shoulders sagged a bit.

“You don’t want to do this.” An murmured.

“What? What, you say boy?”

Without saying another word, An quickly grabbed the left arm of the man and launched a diagonal knee strike up and into the man’s kidneys, just above his hip. The blow, sudden and swift caught Texas by surprise. It hurt. It hurt real bad, but Texas was a brawler, tightening up on An’s shirt he threw a heavy right hand. An shrugged down a bit and launched another diagonal knee into the same spot as the punch glanced off An’s shoulder.

OW!

Then it was on, as An launched a front kick that caught Texas in his gut, knocking him back into another who promptly smashed a bottle on Texas’ head. A quick smile crossed An’s lips as he looked for Rojai. That’s when the man he had originally spilled beer upon grabbed him from behind, lifting An up into the air. As the man smashed him down onto the ground, An managed to break free as one of Texas’ friends sucker punched beer boy.

Scrambling to his feet, An ducked another punch as he kept looking for the waddling mass known as Rojai. As the fight on the dance floor expanded in scope as more drunk men became involved, An stepped back into a man who was drinking a whisky as another punch came towards him. Ducking he stepped on the man’s foot as he retaliated with a deadly barrage of punches and elbows, knocking the drunken man sprawling onto the dance floor.

Turning to the man that he had stepped on, An smiled weakly, ready to apologize when a kick to his back knocked him into man against the stage with incredible force. Again An stepped on the man’s shoes getting some mud on them. Stepping back the young Thai nodded hastily muttering a quick “Sorry” before a quick folding of gravity allowed An to rise a few feet off the ground as he searched for Rojai.

[DJAtomika]

A fight! A fight! And over something so trivial as a misplaced hand on an absolutely fine young woman. He'd seen it all from his place at the bandstand, and as he watched, a huge hulking man in a cowboy hat stepped forth. The woman's man, probably. A brief argument ensued, which was when the young man made his move, driving a knee into the big man's gut, twice no less.

A bottle smashed against the big guy's head.

Then all hell broke loose.

Johnny idly ducked a flying bottle as it smashed into the back wall of the bandstand. Most of the action grew around the center of the ballroom but it was spreading, evidenced by the drunkard who stumbled forward looking for a face to punch and found his. The punch went wild and he scowled, placing his palm on the drunk man's face to push him away even as another guy chopped downward with another bottle. He twisted to the right and the swing went by untouched, the bottle smashing itself on the lip of the bandstand. He readied his right leg and, with a swiftness, shot a knee into the man's chest. As the guy staggered backward, his right foot shot up and a metal-plated toe drove itself into his temple. The offending drunkard went saggy and collapsed as Johnny flicked specks of broken glass from his shoulder. With a free hand, he downed the last of his drink and set the glass on the bandstand as his other hand raised, a finger pointing to the ceiling as he drew a circle in the air.

"Boys, strike up a fancy tune, will ya?"

The conductor nodded briefly and turned to his band. A snap of his fingers and the band now played a classy, upbeat tune as Johnny strode into the fray.



A man careened his way and Johnny calmly stepped over his falling form, his feet gently tapping a beat on the carpet, muffled by all that shag fabric.

Two steps forward, one step back, a tap to the front and his left leg shot up, his heel cracking the jaw of another drunk idiot trying to get his hands dirty in the brawl.

A turn to the left, another step forward, dum dee dum, another turn, and his right leg shot out, jamming itself in the stomach of someone in his way.

Another left turn, doo dee doo, two steps forward two steps back and a twist to the right as he crouched and swept out the legs of another brawler. Johnny completed his twist as his right leg shot up almost vertically. It came right back down in a vicious axe kick, his heel burying itself within the fallen man's gut, eliciting a pained yell as the man fell unconscious.

He took a step on the body, a step over, and his feet landed on the polished wood of the dance floor.

Perfect.

Tappity tap.

His hands stuffed themselves within his pockets.

A brawler charged him and he responded by hopping back a step and swinging a vicious football kick that sent the man careening across the room. The sound that followed blew everyone in his immediate vicinity to the floor.

A loud crak-thoom.

The band stopped briefly as air immediately expanded in the space just behind Johnny's raised leg, and a huge blast of wind spiralled out into the room, ruffling hair, raising dresses and knocking over unattended glasses and cups. He slowly lowered his leg, a smirk on his face as he raised a hand to the brim of his hat, running it gently across the brim. He looked up, the other young man now floating in the air as he apparently scoured the crowd, presumably for the fatso he was chasing.

"Hey, flyboy, he's far and away now. I didn't see where he went but chances are he's long gone. Now, humour a man, hmm? I've been itching for a good fight, and you just might be the man to beat."

[Skallagrim]

An tried to see over the chaos that had brewed up on the dance floor. Annoyed that he had lost the slimy Rojai he almost missed the man’s question. Then it hit him, the man had asked to fight? Looking down at the man who had spoken, who happened to be dressed in a suit of dark colors, hard to tell in the club’s lighting if it was blue or black. Staring at him a moment, sizing him up, An thought about it a second. Rojai had managed to escape his justice, because of this club and its patrons.

Lowering himself gently, a distance of 10 or so feet between them, as his feet touched the hard cold dance floor; An spoke quietly, “That may not be the wisest thing.” However, it really didn’t matter did it? Rojai could wait, he would wait, there was not a place on earth that An couldn’t find him.

The man before him, in his suit and cocky grin, the suave demeanor screamed that this man was not a normal man. No he was more than just a man, perhaps he was gifted as An was. If so then this would be a nice distraction, for now.

An nodded towards the man, his voice low, barely audible over the music, “Sure. Why the hell not.” With that An set up in the traditional Muay Thai stance, his hands held at about temple level, feet slightly wider than shoulder width apart and back slightly hunched. His weight perfectly balanced between defense and attack. On top of being able to move effectively in all directions, An could generate speed and power with his kicks. If the man before him were a skilled fighter, and he would have to be otherwise he would be on the ground unconscious in a matter of seconds, he would understand that the position of An’s hands and feet proclaimed him a right-hand dominate fighter.

With a quick neck roll, An cracked his neck releasing the tension between the joints. Settling comfortably he waited, watching the man. Around him, those who had avoided the larger conflict realized that what were to happen here would put to shame the general brawling that was happening.

[DJAtomika]

Johnny had to admit something: he'd never fought someone like this before. The man could fly, for Pete's sake! He wondered what else Earth-people could do even as he settled into a comfortable fighting stance, one he had been in in countless fights.

The other fighter's stance was...strange. He'd seen something similar once, when he'd fought a Rocker in a bar fight similar to this one. But this wasn't then. This was now, and this man was a complete stranger whose moves were 100% foreign to him.

Hands loose and free, arms too. Feet planted firmly on the floor, but with relaxed legs and a relaxed stance, weight shifting gently from right to left to right and over again. Then, he began to tap.

Tappity tap. Tap tap clack.

The slow, soft rhythmic tapping of his plated dancing shoes was only made louder by the hard wooden floor he stood on. He went slow, not expending any of his energy on a complicated routine. Instead he simply made a beat by tapping his right foot on the floor in time with the song. The first beat of the bar always louder than the rest. Just like he'd been taught.

Hands free and easy.

Clack tap tap tap.
_{one two three four}

Clack tap tap tap.
_{five six seven eight}

Who was gonna strike first?

[Skallagrim]

Staring intently at the man, who after a moment began tapping his toes, was he mocking me? An thought as he shifted his weight, if he was the man must have supreme confidence in his abilities. Moving a step closer, then another An closed the ten-feet to a half that, the entire while the energies that allowed the young Thai to control gravity sparked, coming alive, this was a fight and those energies naturally came to the fore. It had been only through the training that he was able to control his deadly blows, unaware if this man could handle being the focal point of gravity, An would simply use his techniques holding back his full power unless needed. Although he was not using his power overtly, a slight change occurred in the gravitational pull around them, unless someone were in complete control of their body, adrenaline would disguise the subtle shifting.

From his kicking stance, An quickly turned his body to the right until he was facing directly away from the tap dancer. He would test this man with a quick as a flash spinning hook kick. If it worked, it should knock the man out cold. While turning away he also he pivoted on his left foot, while continuing turning to his right and looking over his right shoulder at Johnny – that axiom drilled into him, he needed to see what he was hitting. Those had been brutal and difficult lessons, but he learned. Thrusting the kick backwards, much like a back kick, and although it was harder to gain the circular momentum, it certainly is a faster and more deceptive kick.

Snapping the kick as it approached the side of the target, Johnny’s head. The intent was to hit the man’s head with the back of the heel, lots of bone, and at the speed it was executed it is a powerful kick able to knock a man out or even outright kill one. An continued sweeping through Johnny’s head, attempting to bring his right leg back to the original starting position, body ready to follow up with his next attack or to counter Johnny’s attack. The entire move happened in the space between heartbeats.

The true test of course would be how this nattily dressed man reacted, how he moved dictated how An would respond. Perversely An hoped the man would avoid the kick, that he would be a competent fighter, that he was someone to offer An a decent fight. Well it never hurt to have dreams did it?

[DJAtomika]

Johnny watched as the man in front of him slowly closed the distance, step by step. He kept his foot a tapping, keeping the beat even as he braced himself. He knew that the opponent couldn't see the flexing and tensing of his muscles beneath his suit, an advantage he knew he had against those speedier, faster fighters. He'd fought one of those types before, some wicked speedster on another world who he'd fought without his jacket on. As the fight had worn on, his trademark suit had gotten holes punched in it and he knew his opponent was reading his muscles to know where he'd strike next. Only a combination of concussive sound kicks had put the guy down for good.

He didn't want to have to find another tailor today.

As the young man advanced towards him, he readied himself. His left foot shifted gently forward as his right moved slightly back.

Tap tap tap.

An swiveled and began a clockwise spin. Johnny caught sight of the fighter's right leg raising itself in preparation for kick.

Oh one of these. He knew this kick like the back of his hand; it was one of the same kicks he'd been taught as part of his style's repetoire.

With a small smile, probably unnoticed, he simply placed a hand on his hat to keep it there as he plain ducked underneath the swinging kick, bowing forward slightly as he kept his foot a tapping. As he straightened himself back up he rolled his shoulders, cricked his neck and ran a hand along the brim of his hat.

Time to dance, flyboy.

A hand shot up towards the conductor of the band.

"Maestro! Something faster!"



Ooh this hit the spot real good.

Tap tap tap tap.

He clicked his heel on the floor, following the starting beat as he let the tune infuse into his body.

Tap tap tap tap.

Eyes closed. Follow the beat. Let the music breathe through you.

Tap tap tap tap.

You are the beat. The music follows you. Let it guide your feet.

Tap tap tap tap.

Johnny clacked his heels together, swiveling on his toes so his feet came together in a V shape. He smiled, running a hand down one of the lapels of his jacket.

Distraction. Hold his attention elsewhere.

Tap tap tap tap.

He swept imaginary dust off his sleeve, two swipes of his hand, in time to the music.

Tap tap tap tap.

Both his hands pulled his jacket straight, a short sharp motion in time with the beat, accentuated with a quick stamp on the floor.

Tap tap tap tap.

He bowed again, a hand to his hat, a smile on his face.

Tap tap tap tap.

Clap your hands!

Left foot tap, right foot follow, left tap, right stamp.

And you swing out wide!

Left toe tap. Right heel tap toe tap, left tap right stamp.

Stomp your feet!

Right toe tap, left foot follow, right tap left stamp.

You swing out wide!

Beat. Right heel tap tap left toe tap right stamp.

Do a bump!

Slow spin on right heel, hop in the air double stamp.

And you swing out wide!

Tappity tappity stamp!

Truck a little bit.
Beat it out and
make it!

Tippity tappity tap tap tap! His feet danced and sang on the floor, a blitzing rhythm of taps that seemed to all blend together.

Everybody's happy when they're doing the jive!

Here we go!

Without warning his right foot shot up almost vertical, his body sideways facing to An's right. With his left hand on his hat, he grinned as he brought his leg straight back down in a lightning quick axe kick in the same beat, the metal-plated heel of his shoe screaming downward to meet An's head, if he didn't do anything about it.

All this just a few seconds after he'd dodged that kick.

[Skallagrim]

An snorted slightly as he missed his mark, certainly the man was fast. However, it was expected, he wouldn’t have issued a challenge had the man not some skill. As An’s foot planted, the young Thai was already preparing for a quick counter, his weight shifting as his muscles tensed, hands raised, legs coiling with pent-up energy, ready to counter . . . what in the blue hell was he doing?

He was dancing, after the simple dodge; the well-dressed man began to dance. Heat flushed on the back of An’s neck, his eyes narrowing, his breathing slowing to an even rhythm. Small shifts in the gravitational pull around them occurred as the Thai felt slighted. This man was mocking him. There was laughter; behind him, a woman giggled as Johnny began dancing. The taut muscles straining to unleash the pent up anger, An wanted to pound the man now, pound him into the dance floor. An moved continuously his foot work keeping his body flowing as his feet moved to keep the dancing man before him and within striking distance. An was no fool, he suspected the man would remain close in any event, but An wanted to make sure the man stayed there.

Anticipation, a skill taught to all fighters. It took a combination of reading the body movements of an opponent, where their weight rested and most importantly, luck to guess what an opponent was going to do. Muay Thai fighters were experts at anticipation and disruption off those guesses. Tip-tap, tip-tap the dancer continued on the floor, with the incessant and annoying clacks of his shoes on the polished surface. Slide, step, slide step keeping pace with the dancer. In a sense it was a dance, a fighter against a . . . well An wasn’t exactly sure what he was that he faced. The man was cool as a cucumber and looked impressive in his clothes, but that meant little to An. This dapper gentleman had to prove he could do more than dodge a kick and dance.

Then Johnny launched into his attack, his right going vertical for an axe kick, at least it appeared to be an axe kick. The axe kick is best when the opponent is vulnerable and the inside out or outside-ins variation are designed to open the opponent up, yet the dancing man simply went for a vertical up and down strike. Instead of the snapping front kick delivery, allowing the axe kick to be converted or abandoned mid-kick if, Johnny realized his axe kick was no longer feasible, he executed a vertical lift and descent.

An merely stepped into the kick, under the man’s out stretched leg, closing the distance to Johnny’s body where he countered the descending kick with a flying knee. By stepping forward, with the right leg An moved inside the Axe kick. As his right foot planted, An leapt forward with the left leg, hoping to strike the right buttock and groin recently exposed by the vertical axe kick. The impact to the underside of the buttocks would hurt, and if An managed to strike the groin, well the dancer would be less inclined to try such a flashy move again. The purpose of course to knock the man off balance and on his ass with a bruised tailbone or, well what ever was hit. Aware that descending leg would be problematic, perhaps not as effective as Johnny had hoped, An had to address the action. He did so by lifting his left arm to obstruct Johnny’s descending leg with a shove away.

[DJAtomika]

Saw it coming.

Had to have seen it coming.

The guy was fast, he gave him credit. But he was just as fast.

As he raised his leg for the axe kick he saw the young Asian man step into his reach, his right knee screaming up to bury itself in his...unmentionables. A low-brow, dirty move that would've gotten him kicked out of the academy, but hey this was a bar brawl, there were no rules. Of course, he had several counterattacks for such an event. A life of low-brow, below-the-belt shots (receiving more than giving, in the early years) had taught him how to best avoid and counter this sort of thing.

As the young man's knee flew upward, he immediately hopped backward on his left foot, right leg still up in the air. The knee flew harmlessly away in front of him as he continued his axe kick, swinging his leg immediately downward aimed straight for An's head. If it missed, and surely it would, his foot would slam back down on the wooden floor with enough force to gently shake the whole room, but nothing else.

[Skallagrim]

The art of fighting comprises many things; luck, skill and flexibility. Without these a fighter is merely a stock character with set routines and simplified attacks, in other words, someone easily defeated. This Johnny was not stock, he used odd moves, confounding moves but in the end moves that left him exposed. With his focus on the man before him, An registered subconsciously another subtle shift of the gravitational field increasing to 1.5.

Johnny, although An was unaware of his name, executed moves unlike any An had seen before, in a span of 13-years of training and street brawls as well as in-ring competition. The man had managed to avoid the flying knee by of all things, hopping backward, right leg still fully extended vertical for the axe kick.

An moved in to Johnny’s guard and the man hopped back, any time someone is within you guard, usually it means bad things are about to happen. Instead of forcing An from the guard, the man moved back, while allowing the Muay Thai fighter to stay within the killing box. Events happened now in the space of heartbeats, between breaths.

Left leg rose to meet the inner thigh of Johnny; Johnny hopped back on his left foot maintaining his balance, on a single point of contact. With the left leg already in a pivot position, coiled with potential energy waiting to be unleashed. An had only one option that would allow him to strike the bunny. The Muay Thai teep is one of the most fundamental weapons used to great effect in a number of different situations. Primarily used as a defensive weapon, it can control the distance of a fight, upset an opponent’s rhythm, disrupt an opponent’s attack and if applied properly disrupt their breathing.

While his right foot remains planted on the ground, An snapped his left leg out, pushing forward into the descending thigh of Johnny, striking the point between Johnny’s hip socket and groin. Finally, An’s right hip hyper-extends and abducts in order to apply maximum power into the muscle group of the descending right leg, which, even with the hop stayed in range of the kick.

The teep in this case, simply applied, is to knock the hopping man back and hopefully off balance, even if only for a moment. After all a hop on one leg with the other balanced vertically only granted you so much spring, especially when the gravitational pull, now 1.5 as great as Johnny normally felt, tugged at him. If the teep made contact, An could figure no reason why it shouldn’t, it would be enough to grant him the opportunity to close and strike again.

[DJAtomika]

?!

What startled him wasn't the fact that he was caught off guard.

Well, yeah actually it was, kinda, but less of that, and more of the fact that he suddenly felt heavier. A lot heavier.

With the hop, he landed nice and steady, which was when he felt the weight increase. Physically, he felt fine, he knew his body extremely well and he hadn't put on any weight as far as he could tell. That meant only one thing.

His opponent possessed some sort of power that could influence his weight.

Well he could fly, perhaps his ability was that he could modify a person's weight?

Whatever the case, he was caught quite off guard by the left kick. By instinct, instead of continuing with the axe kick, he instead curled up his leg and brought it closer to himself, pivoting slightly to the left on his left foot, presenting the meatiest part of his thigh for the offending kick to collide with, which it did, pushing him backward and sending him quite off balance. Not quite fast enough to block all of it, but it sent him sprawling onto the floor. Johnny twisted in the fall and landed on his front, body angled to the right to catch the floor with his right shoulder. With the momentum of the fall, he flung himself over and round, turning the fall into a roll that he got out of on two feet, backing up slowly to gain distance from his opponent so he could think.

However, Johnny struggled to rise. Instead of having to lift his own weight with his legs, he was now lifting one and a half times it, though he didn't know exactly how much it was. All he knew was that by jove he felt heavy, and surely it was affecting the room too. He had a quick glance, and yes, several of the ballroom's patrons were on the floor not by choice but by force. The band, however, mysterious as they were, were strangely not affected by this whole thing, still playing music as per normal without noticing a thing.

Of course, no one in the room did realise that the whole ballroom was an extradimensional space in itself, and the band and its patrons were merely pawns in a multidimensional game, unwittingly being used and abused by the players, who currently were two men named Johnny and An, on either side of a cosmic chess game being played by mysterious figures that watched with all-seeing eyes, each contemplating every possibility when their opponent made a move, considering counter attacks, blocks, other moves, slowly manipulating their subject to enact their will.

Of course, none of them knew this.

Right, back to the now.

Johnny squared his shoulders, gave them a roll and straightened his jacket and hat. If this guy was going to play with powers, then he'd play with powers too. He flexed and tensed his right leg, his thigh aching from where he'd been struck.

Damn, this guy is good.

Currently he estimated that he was at least ten to twelve feet away from his opponent. He could cover that in two strides easy, but with him feeling this heavy, that would lengthen to three. Slow, easy to catch.

He had to accelerate the process the only way he knew how.

He began tapping his foot again, but this time, he let the magic within his legs and shoes flow. It would look like nothing, but he could feel power now fill and well up in his legs and feet.

Johnny waited.

Tap tap tap.

A moment passed. Then two.

Tap tap tap.

He sprung.

Johnny gathered the air beneath his heels and sprung up and forward slightly, curling up in midair, bringing his knees close to his chest as he focused his might into his lower legs and feet. Then, just before he landed, John kicked downwards with all his might, the soles of his feet clacking loudly on the polished wood floor.

Of course, not before they compressed and popped two bubbles of compressed air beneath his feet.

The amplified vibration shot straight from his swift downward stamp, through his feet and into the floor, making the whole room jounce and sway as if it were caught in a short earthquake. No doubt his opponent would be caught up in trying to keep his balance. Being in the epicentre of the shockwave, Johnny had it easy. This wasn't a Crash, nope, just two big Beats done simultaneously. The Crash was something he saved for when he was outdoors, else he'd risk injuring himself if he crashed a room to pieces.

Around him people began screaming and panicking, some trying to open the doors to escape only to find them jammed shut from the force of the vibrations that shook the room. Glasses fell and shattered, the lights flickered and the windows wobbled in their frames as the room took the full brunt of his next attack.

As the floor itself curved and rumbled and shook from the force of the kicks, Johnny steadied himself. Now was the perfect opportunity to strike. Gathering his energy again, Johnny lashed out with his right leg in a snap kick aimed straight at An.

Of course, he was no where within striking distance.

However, during the kick, he gathered a bubble of compressed air and, as his leg extended the whole way, he stretched the bubble out and then flicked it off with the ending of the kick, creating a long, curved vertical blade of air that shot straight for his target with an audible thoom.

And that wasn't all. He twisted on his left foot, spinning around counterclockwise as he switched the foot he was spinning on from the left to the right. He cocked his left leg, gathered another air bubble, and swung a reverse roundhouse kick that shot another blade of air at An, this one horizontal at around chest level.

These air blades worked akin to huge air wedges or rams. Being made entirely of compressed air, when they come into contact with a solid surface, they instantly expand, blasting a long crater into whatever they impacted. Each of these air blades held the same concussive force as a bullet, though not the speed of one. That's how Johnny had honed his explosive kicking skills.

And now two of these blades were hurtling towards An.

Johnny kept his distance. He was sure that his opponent would try something to counter, and he needed this distance to ensure that he didn't get hit again.

[Skallagrim]

The teep hit, and it hit well, knocking the jackrabbit off balance and to the ground. An, normally would have closed the distance, stomping the man, and ending the fight then on to his business of hunting human offal. However, not this time, no this time he wanted to hurt the man. He wanted to punish him for his mockery, for his arrogance. Already An knew that the impact of gravity was having in the immediate area as the patrons of the bar moved slower, and it would become even slower as another shift in the gravitational field occurred. The patrons and the jackrabbit would feel as if they were carrying themselves as two full earth gravities now affected them.

The dancer was quick and well in control of his body, he turned the fall into a roll and stance, showing the man’s skill. An grinned as he shifted his stance, his legs bending slightly at the knees, his hands up and ready as he edged forward. There was no need to rush this; no this was a fight that required patience.

Shuffle closer, his feet barely touching the ground as the weight rested on the balls of his feet, An was wary, his eyes focused on the well-dressed dancer. Pausing in mid-stride, An stared as the man began dancing again. While it might seem fast, and quick it actually was slow; if the dancer wanted to shake, rattle and roll once An was in range he would be constantly under a barrage of the fists, elbows and knees of a Muay Thai fighter.

The jackrabbit jumped into the air and crashed down in a mighty stomp that caused the ground to shift and roll, similar to an earthquake. It caught An and the patrons by surprise as many, already weight down tumbled to the ground. An, for all his skill having been caught by surprise also struggled to maintain his balance. Dropping to a knee for a moment as he waited for the seismic activity to end, which it did mere seconds later, An kept his eyes on Johnny. The man, at a distance of six or seven feet, launched a snap kick then a roundhouse at An.

As the snap kick ended and the man began his roundhouse action, An was moving. Jackrabbit Johnny was not the only one who could roll. From his kneeling positon An rolled on his right shoulder towards his two o’clock, as he finished the roll his hands slapped the ground the same time his feet did, giving him the energy to launch himself into a standing position a scant four feet from the man and on his left flank. The man continued to move away from An, a smart move. That’s when An heard screams of pain. A quick glance towards the patrons where the cries had come from, he was surprised and shocked to see two burly men bowled over as if kicked. The force of the impact had lifted them off their feet and back into a table, knocking it over in the process. Another man had a bloody nose, most likely broken judging by the rising puffiness around his eyes.

The jackrabbit was able to channel energy for ranged strikes? Was it possible? An had never heard of it before, but then he was relatively new to the entire powered thing. Well that just meant An would have to stay close, not allow the man to use his range. A sly smile crossed his lips as he coiled his legs, the gravity would affect his opponent and that was his advantage he would be able to move easily while the increased weight slowed jackrabbit down.

[DJAtomika]

The sly bugger dodged his air blades. Not surprising.

As he wheeled around for the roundhouse, he saw An dart to his left and immediately stop, rolling and standing up quickly mere feet away from him. He couldn't stop the roundhouse so that went, and he immediately put his foot down.

Then the mega increased gravity hit him and he sank instantly to a knee, his hand slapping the floor, preventing him from going straight down. All around he could see the same thing happening to the other patrons. Their panicked screams filled the room.

That's when Johnny realised that his opponent was manipulating weight, he was manipulating gravity.

Sly bugger indeed.

A power like that required concentration, though he was sure that a fighter of his calibre could enact the gravity changes flawlessly without so much as a thought. He needed to get his proper speed back by restoring the gravity in here.

Compensation was key.

An lowered down into a crouch, coiling his legs in preparation for a strike. Johnny wouldn't let him.

He turned a little so An held the center of his view. With his strength, he pushed himself into a stand and reared out his right leg in a straight kick, his heel lashing out at the young man. The bubble of compressed air created there took the momentum of his kick and sped off like a shot, its acceleration way faster than the blades he created. This was an air bullet in all senses of the word; a small, powerful projectile of compressed air that flew at speeds equalling that of sound itself, and hit with the force of a medium-calibre bullet. His fastest projectile attack and, in such a tight space, the hardest to dodge.

Without giving him time to think, he hopped on his left foot and twisted swiftly to the right, bringing his legs upward to his chest again as he landed and stamped again, bringing another double Beat onto the ground to make it shake violently. This close, An would feel the ground shift at least a foot or two into the air and down, an extremely severe earthquake the closer he got to his impact point.

And then, without even waiting for the ground to subside, like he had previously, he twisted round to the left, crouched low and reached out with his left hand, planting it firm onto the shaking, shifting ground, a move he'd practiced as he'd learned to keep his balance during his own moves. He gathered a ball of air beneath his left heel as his body swung around and An came into view again. Then, he made the air pocket explode, rocketing him forward at twice the speed he normally achieved, his hand providing leverage as he shot forward. He brought his right knee up and forward, coating the front of his lower leg with a sheath of compressed air.

The increased gravity kept him low, just the way he wanted it. His flying knee strike was aimed square at An's torso, now that he was crouched. His impact time came in seconds from his burst of speed.

If anything hit his shin, the sheath of compressed air would explode forward, imparting the force of a shotgun blast in that general direction.

His left leg was drawn in close to his body, knee curled up slightly against his chest, as were his hands and arms. If that fighter chose to make a move, he'd be ready.

[Skallagrim]

Gravity is the weakest of the four fundamental forces, yet when applied to the human body, it is a brutal taskmaster. The patrons in the nightclub could attest to the power of gravity, as they now weighed 2.5 times as much as normal. This included Johnny whose normal weight of 166 lbs. was now somewhere around the 413 lb. mark. While the added weight would be laborious to the fit young man, straining muscles, ligaments and tendons would indeed protest any strenuous activity. The potential for self-injury was clearly present, but given the man’s flexibility, he would have to enact something extreme for that to happen.

Jackrabbit stretched out his leg, snapping it into a straight kick that launched another distance strike aimed towards the crouching An. Knowing the Johnny had range on him, and the only way to negate range was to close the distance. An launched himself from his crouched position into the air, affected by zero gravity, soaring up towards Johnny. As An did so the man was in the process of dropping low as the dance floor buckled and rolled under the earthquake power of Johnny.

Tucking into a soaring somersault, his feet shooting out, An hoped to catch the man in the face with a literal, flying kick. If the kick managed to hit, An would be ready to follow up, if not he would have to adjust gravity to allow him some leeway in how he would counter the jackrabbit.

[DJAtomika]

The weight increased again, dropping him to the floor in an instant. He skidded to a stop and caught his breath, light and strained as his chest muscles tried to inflate his lungs against the huge weight on his chest, and looked up quickly. He was on the floor now, on his ass as he struggled to sit up.

There went An, floating through the air with the greatest of ease, like some daring young man on a flying trapeze. Weightless. He was also flipping around in the air to drop a kick on him.

Idea.

Johnny bent his knees and braced his feet flat against the floor. Gathering pockets of air under his feet, he blew those to propel himself up over himself, folding his body in half as he brought his knees up.

The flying kick was soaring down at him, and he met it with his own.

Johnny pushed with all his might and shot both his feet upwards, building concussive pockets of air over his heels as he met the kick, feeling his soles come into contact with An's feet and, more importantly, popping the air bubbles.

The force of the air pockets would shoot straight up through his body, like he had jumped off of a really high height and landed square on his heels without bending his knees and legs to compensate for gravity. And since the guy was floating weightless, not only would this force injure him internally, but it would catapult him straight into the ceiling with all the force of a semi truck.

And, of course, if the counter happened to miss, the pockets of air would go off anyway, sending a blast of air that would still slam An painfully against the ceiling.

[Skallagrim]

The perverse pleasure that An had a moment before turned to surprise and then anger as he made contact with the jack rabbit who managed to execute a move that forced An back and into the ceiling with such force that he lost control of the gravity field, freezing it at 3 gravities. Of course An could recover control after a moments concentration but for now the gravity field would begin to drop as subtly as it had increased. Although at the current weight of 496 pounds, Johnny should be taxed to execute any of his fancy moves, or one would think since this increased weight is added to the bones of a 166 lb. man.

Falling from the ceiling, An landed on his feet and rolled to s standing position. However, it hurt a lot. His feet and ankles had impacted Johnny and felt the immense pressure exerted against it; but since An was weightless, not having released his weight on impact the burst had launched him with such speed and power into the ceiling it was only by sheer luck he had not died.

The people in the dance hall were indeed suffering from the gravity as well, many of them, dilettantes by nature, were sprawled on the floor mewling for help as their bodies punished them immensely as they struggled like turtles on their backs.

A distance of 20 feet separated the two men now, An now normal weight stood on smarting feet, but then he had suffered as much pain or more hitting bamboo with his shins and forearms. Jackrabbit however, should be hindered, for the next few moments as his body struggled to answer whatever actions he called for. The truth of the matter would be how Johnny’s heart and lungs would continue to operate under the immense stress of intense physical activates while under the 3 gravities pulling on him, in effect carrying three of him.

The distance would grant Johnny room to execute his fancy leg motions, but also granted An the ability to dodge relatively easily based on the gravitational pulls. An would move much faster, a simple fact and no matter how much Johnny may wish it to not be so, science dictated a few unfair advantages, one of those being mobility.

Twenty feet, a distance that can be covered quickly considering an average human can walk 3.33 meters a second, or 10 feet a second. Again An smiled, he could cover the distance between them, even with having to dodge a tip-tappity kick, he would reach jackrabbit in a moment. As An stared, his fists balled, as he focused on the man before him, his body flexing slightly as the weight rested on the balls of his feet. All he needed to do was close with jackrabbit and unleash a flurry of blows that would be more difficult to avoid considering Johnny’s gravity issues.

Inhale followed by a slow exhale. Then he was off, moving with determination towards the man. Each step light, every motion of Johnny watched. An was going to finish this fight, he planned on unleashing hell on the man, and he would start by breaking his legs.

[DJAtomika]

Johnny panted and let his legs fall to the floor. He was too crushed to even move. His chest could barely lift under the strain of all the gravity, and his lungs and heart were gasping for air and oxygen. His legs could stand the weight easily enough, he'd trained with heavy cast-iron weights on his lower legs back in Basin, after all. His body, however, wasn't trained to that extent, and he was suffering for it.

This was far from a fair fight. As much as he hated to admit it, the further he fought the worse it got for him. It was only a matter of time before he conceded defeat.

From his place on the floor, he craned his neck forward to get sight of his foe.

He was advancing forward with cruel intent.

He could only defend at this point, and air pressure could override the crushing gravity easily enough.

By creating sheaths of compressed air under his calves and heels, he detonated them and used the force to flip himself up and over, executing a backward roll onto his feet. He planted both hands on the floor, feet wide and legs wide as his body bent close to the floor.

He had to do it.

The Crash.

The innocents in the room would suffer, but he had to ensure he had the advantage.

Bracing himself, he gathered all the strength he could muster and took the deepest breath he could manage. It would give him about a minute of life to deal with his strongest area attack.

He gathered air, more than he'd normally use, compressing it into bundles and sheaths around his legs. Of course, since the room was so huge, there was a huge amount of air, and the more he compressed, the less it would be like a bullet, and more a bomb. He'd only pulled this off several times, to extremely good effect. No fire, no fuss, just a compressed air bomb that destroyed environments and left him unscathed. Usually.

He struggled to stand upright, even as his legs sucked more and more air out of the room, accelerating the process of creating two huge invisible bombs around his waist. The air would get thinner and thinner with each second, making it harder and harder to breathe. Next to this, he built two balls of compressed air underneath his feet, completely separate from the bombs he was making. He'd use the balls to blast himself into the air as the final prep for the Crash.

The air by now had reached the consistency of extreme high altitudes in the span of a second and a half.

It was time.

Johnny detonated the balls of air under his feet, rocketing into the air past the higher gravity. He barely reached halfway up the room before that same force began pulling him back down, faster than normal.

With his mind, he shifted the air so all of what he gathered was now under his falling feet in a massive bubble.

When he impacted the ground a second later, it took him an additional split second for the bubble to compress, before it popped.

The shockwave created was massive and intense, in similarity to a high yield explosive detonating in the center of the room. The rapidly expanding air drove everything not bolted or tied down against the walls and ceiling. Glass vaporised, wood shredded and people screamed and were hurled around like confetti amidst the chaos within the center.

And, in its epicenter, a tired, stressed out Johnny, seemingly unaffected by the whole deal.

The created blast would be something akin to standing way too close to a military jet taking off from a standstill, and expanded around Johnny in a sphere, crushing everything and sparing nothing.

Not even gravity would change any of this.

[Skallagrim]

An marveled as the jackrabbit managed to effect a rolling maneuver that lifted him to his feet, abet leaving him sucking in air. It didn’t matter, the fight would be over, it would end. He was now within striking distance, a second goes quickly, a single heartbeat takes place in a second. It had taken a second to roll over then stand. An had begun moving while the man was on the ground, before he even stood up. A single heartbeat is all An needed to finish this fight.

As the man rolled over onto his feet, An had already formulated his plan. When Johnny stood up it was all An needed to end this. Already within range, twenty feet, two seconds, two heartbeats. An launched himself into a superman punch, his right leg kicked up and then back as the left launched An into the air. His fist shooting out towards the top of Johnny’s head, it would come crashing down with incredible force. An had focused micro pockets of gravity around his fist, and just a hair from striking Johnny’s head he unleashed the gravity into a tightly focused jackhammer. 5,780 lbs. of force would strike down atop of Johnny’s head.

An had to admit he was unsure of the man’s physiology, unsure if this man was even human. But he had a neck and that neck had to withstand over two tons of force crashing down on the head perched on that neck. The force should travel from the skull, most likely causing multiple fractures from the immense pressure exerted on it. Then it would affect the neck, compressing the neck bones that supported the head,could Jackrabbit withstand it? A highly unlikely proposition, but then An had seen the impossible happen before.

Medical textbooks taught it as Cervical Spondylotic Myelopathy (Spinal Cord Compression), because the neck is so flexible and because it supports the head, it is extremely vulnerable to injury. The superman punch, with the focused gravity pocket, was to cause severe neck injuries with a fracture or dislocation of the neck that might damage Johnny’s spinal cord and cause paralysis. That was the intent. An wanted to end this fight, and this seemed to be the fastest, most efficient and humane way to do so. All that remained to was to see how the man withstood the blow. If he was unscathed, uninjured, unhurt by the coup de grâce then An would have to admit that he would be unable to defeat the man. Jackrabbit would have withstood a deathblow, he would have withstood An’s best shot.

[DJAtomika]

As he prepared his Crash, he saw the fighter make his move.

He kept on preparing, regardless. He didn't have to stand still to do so.

As he saw the man hop into the air, he kept building his Crash.

When he saw the fist raise, he moved to the left very slightly, shifting his right foot backwards without lifting it up, a struggle itself to push the gravity-affected limb, and angling his body to the right (letting the gravity do it for him by relaxing his right shoulder to let it drift downward and backward) to let the downward punch sail by his front, grazing past his face and chest.

And he could feel the extreme gravity from the punch sail by him, ripping his tie out from his vest, the flower and the buttons from his jacket. The force went by and dragged him down, not the way he wanted it to go.

However, he fell right forward, and as An bent downward he fell right on top of the man. With the increased gravity (unknowingly only affecting him and not An) bearing down on him, he had only one solution.

The Crash.

Not fully built, but big enough to cause severe damage if detonated at close range. Which he did with extreme prejudice.

Boom.