Post by Macht Stärke on Feb 28, 2015 5:15:52 GMT -5
One week had passed since Macht met Micky Echigo, a powerful man who claimed to be under the employ of Takehiro Amakusa. While he knew what he was doing, and proved to be a more than ample teacher, Macht was still unsure of the legitimacy of his credentials, especially because Takehiro never mentioned him before or after their first encounter. This made Macht uneasy, but at the same time, he wasn't willing to risk losing so valuable a teacher. With the help this guy gave him, he felt like he could one day even go toe-to-toe with Knuckles.
In spite of how uneasy he was, Macht continued going to the man's training. Day after day, over and over, always at the same hour, running from late at night till the early morning. The practices began to get more hectic, with the guy going all out more and more, which kept the German on his toes. His body felt like it'd been hit by a train about eighteen times every morning when he woke up, but at the same time, it felt good. He knew, when he woke up every day, that he was making significant progress. He'd went from nearly passing out from a broken thumb to, well... not nearly passing out over a broken thumb. His stamina was increasing, so it'd be more of a loss than anything to quit now.
"Alright, fuck face," Macht said loudly, walking into the dojo where the training took place, tossing his bag to the wall near the door. He was wearing a black muscle tee with black gym shorts, and had fighting tape from his knuckles to his elbows, and just below his knees, all the way to his toes. He was visibly larger than he was when the training was just beginning. "Enough of the small shit. How about we go for real this time? No holds barred - kick my ass if you have to do it." He began to stretch, a stern look in his eye. His right arm came across his chest, his torso twisting slightly to the left. He repeated with the opposite arm, then moved to stretching his legs.
Micky - wearing attire very similar to Macht, only with thicker taping around his knuckles - grinned when the German walked in. The boy was straightforward and he liked that. "You're aware you'll lose," he started, beginning to stretch as well. He twisted his torso to either side until he could hear his spine popping. "But fine. But if you want the day to start with your ass getting kicked, you're going to hate the rest of training." Micky laughed, hopping in place and throwing a feet quick jabs at the air. Macht, however, didn't seem very intimidated. "What are you looking to gain from this, kid?" While Micky knew the answer, he wanted to see how Macht was going to put it. Ever since the two met, practically everything had been a test, and Macht had always passed with flying colors.
"You know damn well what I want," Macht replied fiercely, with an edge of competition on his tongue. He cracked his neck, a loud POP! echoing throughout the mostly empty building. "I need to see how much progress I'm making, and you going easy on me won't tell me a damn thing I really need to know." Like Micky, he threw a quick few jabs at the air to get his blood pumping. A couple of straight kicks and hooks later, "We can keep your regimen up after this. Got it?" He didn't even wait for a response. As soon as he was finished speaking, Macht's arms were extended in front of himself and bent at the elbow, so that his hands were about shoulder level, a couple of feet in front of his torso. His hands remained opened. Feet spread shoulder width apart, he remained light on his feet, bouncing on his heels a bit.
"I can see your enthusiasm." The large man shrugged, taking a stance as well. It seemed that he was mirroring Macht's, the only visible difference being that his knees were bent and his torso was hunched, so that he was at a similar height as the German. A few seconds would pass and a grin would spread across his lips. Micky's right hand extended, and he curled his fingers inward a couple of times as a signal for Macht to "bring it." Macht grinned as well, but he would waste no time. As soon as Micky made the gesture, he dashed forward, but not at his full speed. He had a surprise waiting for the titan, and right now, it served as his trump card. If he could pull it out at the right time, he could probably win this... or at least do some damage and leave a good impression.
Macht kept his body low and his hands at about face level as he made his dash, and Micky was unmoving. Once Macht was within striking distance, the German sent out a right jab aimed at Micky's stomach. Immediately after, his left foot would kick off the ground, pushing his body to the right. As he did this, his torso would torque in the same direction, and his left fist would throw out a mean, quick hook at the same target the jab was meant for. His intention was to throw two quick strikes and use his momentum to get behind the giant, while avoiding getting grabbed, and committing to moves that would be much too risky. Besides, the fight had just begun, so he needed to play it smart from the get-go.
Micky swatted Macht's first jab away, watching as the German kicked off to the side. With the same hand he used to swat away the jab, he would grab Macht's left wrist before the hook could make contact, and pull as hard as he could to his right. This would halt Macht's momentum to the side, and he would be greeted by a hard right elbow to his face. Macht was quick, but Micky was quicker, which was what allowed him to pull off the grab in the first place. After it made contact, Micky aimed to slam his left fist down on the German's chest and send him crashing to the floor, which would end the battle then and there.
Macht wasn't expecting the grab, but he wasn't entirely unprepared for it. As he was tugged to his left, he ducked his head down, allowing the elbow to pass over it. He allowed Micky to carry him, using that momentum to send a fierce right uppercut into the man's left armpit as he sent his left arm down. It would still strike Macht in the chest, but the force would be dampened by a strike in so vital an area, which the German would capitalize on. The hit to his chest hurt, but it also pushed him back a bit. He would use the extra wiggle room to kick off the ground with both legs and slam them into Micky's chest as hard as he could, hoping to push the guy onto his back. Macht aimed to land a back flip and get onto his feet, no longer in Micky's hold.
The uppercut was a smart move, one Micky made a mental note to congratulate Macht for. It hurt, especially considering what was in the area, and it provided the German with enough time to launch his kick. Micky was pushed back, but only about an inch, and Macht was able to get away. He wouldn't have much time, however, and Micky would give him no breathing room. The Echigo charged, almost a blur, looking to shoulder tackle Macht in the chest. He was aware the boy would dodge, however, so once he did, he would reach out to catch the kid by the collar and slam him down to the ground.
Macht leaped back when Micky charged, and the hand would have been too quick for him to dodge. As it reached for his collar, he had to act quick. Both of his hands would take a firm hold of Micky's forearm, and he would pull his legs up, wrapping them tightly around the shoulder, his heels digging into the side of the giant's neck. He was going to try and apply as much pressure as he could and use his weight to bring the guy to a knee, maybe even make him tap out. No matter how strong someone was, they never liked broken bones.
Micky felt the German wrap around his limb, and the heels digging into his neck. While this would have kept most peoples' arms straight, Micky was above average strength - far above it, so he didn't even need to worry. He continued his charge, flexing his left arm so as to force Macht into a sitting position. His right hand would shoot up, grabbing one of his feet and pushing on it so he would be forced to bend at the knees. Then, with a roar, Micky leaped forward, slamming Macht's body hard into the floor.
The force of the slam was enough to make Macht loosen his hold, and he felt as if every muscle on his body was on fire, screaming in agony. He yelped in pain, but he wouldn't give up just yet. His free foot would shoot out at Micky's mandible and he would push away into a backward roll, scrambling to his feet. He assumed that, by then, Micky would be at his feet as well, so he figured now was as good a time as any to unveil his speed. Charging forward as fast as he could, Macht leaped upward as Micky was raising to his feet, aiming to slam his right knee into the guy's face and stun him. Micky was, of course, surprised by the sudden speed and taken aback, which allowed the strike to connect. Micky stumbled backward, and Macht capitalized on that moment as well, just as he did with the strike at the arm pit.
When Micky stumbled, Macht darted behind him, sending a stomp out to the back of his left knee to make him fall to a kneeling position. His left arm shot out to wrap around Micky's neck from behind, and his right elbow would rest on Micky's right shoulder, with his left hand placed against his right forearm. He would pull, putting Micky into a choke hold, and hopefully ending this right here.
Unfortunately for Macht, he counted too much on that trump card of his. While it was successful, Micky was still an experienced fighter, and he had physical capabilities that made it seem as though he was at the peak of the physical human state.
Micky's long arms would reach behind his head, his large hands grabbing a hold of Macht's tightly. He forced himself into a squatting position and then pushed upward, taking Macht off his feet. His hands pulled Macht's head back, and then he followed up by slamming his head back into the boy's jaw. The force was enough to, yet again, force Macht to release his hold, and Micky hurled the boy over his head, toward the nearest wall.
Macht collided with the wall, which caused him to cough up blood, and then he fell to the floor. His body was shaking, now, as it have evidently taken too much of a beating. There was no way he could keep going in a full fight against this guy, but now he knew for certain how much progress he'd made. When they first met, Macht was out in one kick. Now, he was almost able to take the guy down - and he could have, maybe, if he was stronger. That was something he was going to remember.
"You're getting better at this, kid," Micky spoke, walking over to Macht. He held out a hand to help the kid up. Clear as day, he could see that Macht couldn't keep going, so there was no reason to push him past that limit. He was probably more pleased than the redhead was with his own progress. "Get a quick bite and we go on to your lesson. How's that sound?"
Macht took Micky's hand, grunting as he stood to his feet. He slung an arm around the guy's shoulder, clutching his side with the other. "Sounds... good." He laughed, and the two went to the back room of the dojo, where they kept the proteins. It was going to be a looooong day.
[OoC: Total word count, minus coding and this note, is 2100 words, with 11057 characters.]
In spite of how uneasy he was, Macht continued going to the man's training. Day after day, over and over, always at the same hour, running from late at night till the early morning. The practices began to get more hectic, with the guy going all out more and more, which kept the German on his toes. His body felt like it'd been hit by a train about eighteen times every morning when he woke up, but at the same time, it felt good. He knew, when he woke up every day, that he was making significant progress. He'd went from nearly passing out from a broken thumb to, well... not nearly passing out over a broken thumb. His stamina was increasing, so it'd be more of a loss than anything to quit now.
"Alright, fuck face," Macht said loudly, walking into the dojo where the training took place, tossing his bag to the wall near the door. He was wearing a black muscle tee with black gym shorts, and had fighting tape from his knuckles to his elbows, and just below his knees, all the way to his toes. He was visibly larger than he was when the training was just beginning. "Enough of the small shit. How about we go for real this time? No holds barred - kick my ass if you have to do it." He began to stretch, a stern look in his eye. His right arm came across his chest, his torso twisting slightly to the left. He repeated with the opposite arm, then moved to stretching his legs.
Micky - wearing attire very similar to Macht, only with thicker taping around his knuckles - grinned when the German walked in. The boy was straightforward and he liked that. "You're aware you'll lose," he started, beginning to stretch as well. He twisted his torso to either side until he could hear his spine popping. "But fine. But if you want the day to start with your ass getting kicked, you're going to hate the rest of training." Micky laughed, hopping in place and throwing a feet quick jabs at the air. Macht, however, didn't seem very intimidated. "What are you looking to gain from this, kid?" While Micky knew the answer, he wanted to see how Macht was going to put it. Ever since the two met, practically everything had been a test, and Macht had always passed with flying colors.
"You know damn well what I want," Macht replied fiercely, with an edge of competition on his tongue. He cracked his neck, a loud POP! echoing throughout the mostly empty building. "I need to see how much progress I'm making, and you going easy on me won't tell me a damn thing I really need to know." Like Micky, he threw a quick few jabs at the air to get his blood pumping. A couple of straight kicks and hooks later, "We can keep your regimen up after this. Got it?" He didn't even wait for a response. As soon as he was finished speaking, Macht's arms were extended in front of himself and bent at the elbow, so that his hands were about shoulder level, a couple of feet in front of his torso. His hands remained opened. Feet spread shoulder width apart, he remained light on his feet, bouncing on his heels a bit.
"I can see your enthusiasm." The large man shrugged, taking a stance as well. It seemed that he was mirroring Macht's, the only visible difference being that his knees were bent and his torso was hunched, so that he was at a similar height as the German. A few seconds would pass and a grin would spread across his lips. Micky's right hand extended, and he curled his fingers inward a couple of times as a signal for Macht to "bring it." Macht grinned as well, but he would waste no time. As soon as Micky made the gesture, he dashed forward, but not at his full speed. He had a surprise waiting for the titan, and right now, it served as his trump card. If he could pull it out at the right time, he could probably win this... or at least do some damage and leave a good impression.
Macht kept his body low and his hands at about face level as he made his dash, and Micky was unmoving. Once Macht was within striking distance, the German sent out a right jab aimed at Micky's stomach. Immediately after, his left foot would kick off the ground, pushing his body to the right. As he did this, his torso would torque in the same direction, and his left fist would throw out a mean, quick hook at the same target the jab was meant for. His intention was to throw two quick strikes and use his momentum to get behind the giant, while avoiding getting grabbed, and committing to moves that would be much too risky. Besides, the fight had just begun, so he needed to play it smart from the get-go.
Micky swatted Macht's first jab away, watching as the German kicked off to the side. With the same hand he used to swat away the jab, he would grab Macht's left wrist before the hook could make contact, and pull as hard as he could to his right. This would halt Macht's momentum to the side, and he would be greeted by a hard right elbow to his face. Macht was quick, but Micky was quicker, which was what allowed him to pull off the grab in the first place. After it made contact, Micky aimed to slam his left fist down on the German's chest and send him crashing to the floor, which would end the battle then and there.
Macht wasn't expecting the grab, but he wasn't entirely unprepared for it. As he was tugged to his left, he ducked his head down, allowing the elbow to pass over it. He allowed Micky to carry him, using that momentum to send a fierce right uppercut into the man's left armpit as he sent his left arm down. It would still strike Macht in the chest, but the force would be dampened by a strike in so vital an area, which the German would capitalize on. The hit to his chest hurt, but it also pushed him back a bit. He would use the extra wiggle room to kick off the ground with both legs and slam them into Micky's chest as hard as he could, hoping to push the guy onto his back. Macht aimed to land a back flip and get onto his feet, no longer in Micky's hold.
The uppercut was a smart move, one Micky made a mental note to congratulate Macht for. It hurt, especially considering what was in the area, and it provided the German with enough time to launch his kick. Micky was pushed back, but only about an inch, and Macht was able to get away. He wouldn't have much time, however, and Micky would give him no breathing room. The Echigo charged, almost a blur, looking to shoulder tackle Macht in the chest. He was aware the boy would dodge, however, so once he did, he would reach out to catch the kid by the collar and slam him down to the ground.
Macht leaped back when Micky charged, and the hand would have been too quick for him to dodge. As it reached for his collar, he had to act quick. Both of his hands would take a firm hold of Micky's forearm, and he would pull his legs up, wrapping them tightly around the shoulder, his heels digging into the side of the giant's neck. He was going to try and apply as much pressure as he could and use his weight to bring the guy to a knee, maybe even make him tap out. No matter how strong someone was, they never liked broken bones.
Micky felt the German wrap around his limb, and the heels digging into his neck. While this would have kept most peoples' arms straight, Micky was above average strength - far above it, so he didn't even need to worry. He continued his charge, flexing his left arm so as to force Macht into a sitting position. His right hand would shoot up, grabbing one of his feet and pushing on it so he would be forced to bend at the knees. Then, with a roar, Micky leaped forward, slamming Macht's body hard into the floor.
The force of the slam was enough to make Macht loosen his hold, and he felt as if every muscle on his body was on fire, screaming in agony. He yelped in pain, but he wouldn't give up just yet. His free foot would shoot out at Micky's mandible and he would push away into a backward roll, scrambling to his feet. He assumed that, by then, Micky would be at his feet as well, so he figured now was as good a time as any to unveil his speed. Charging forward as fast as he could, Macht leaped upward as Micky was raising to his feet, aiming to slam his right knee into the guy's face and stun him. Micky was, of course, surprised by the sudden speed and taken aback, which allowed the strike to connect. Micky stumbled backward, and Macht capitalized on that moment as well, just as he did with the strike at the arm pit.
When Micky stumbled, Macht darted behind him, sending a stomp out to the back of his left knee to make him fall to a kneeling position. His left arm shot out to wrap around Micky's neck from behind, and his right elbow would rest on Micky's right shoulder, with his left hand placed against his right forearm. He would pull, putting Micky into a choke hold, and hopefully ending this right here.
Unfortunately for Macht, he counted too much on that trump card of his. While it was successful, Micky was still an experienced fighter, and he had physical capabilities that made it seem as though he was at the peak of the physical human state.
Micky's long arms would reach behind his head, his large hands grabbing a hold of Macht's tightly. He forced himself into a squatting position and then pushed upward, taking Macht off his feet. His hands pulled Macht's head back, and then he followed up by slamming his head back into the boy's jaw. The force was enough to, yet again, force Macht to release his hold, and Micky hurled the boy over his head, toward the nearest wall.
Macht collided with the wall, which caused him to cough up blood, and then he fell to the floor. His body was shaking, now, as it have evidently taken too much of a beating. There was no way he could keep going in a full fight against this guy, but now he knew for certain how much progress he'd made. When they first met, Macht was out in one kick. Now, he was almost able to take the guy down - and he could have, maybe, if he was stronger. That was something he was going to remember.
"You're getting better at this, kid," Micky spoke, walking over to Macht. He held out a hand to help the kid up. Clear as day, he could see that Macht couldn't keep going, so there was no reason to push him past that limit. He was probably more pleased than the redhead was with his own progress. "Get a quick bite and we go on to your lesson. How's that sound?"
Macht took Micky's hand, grunting as he stood to his feet. He slung an arm around the guy's shoulder, clutching his side with the other. "Sounds... good." He laughed, and the two went to the back room of the dojo, where they kept the proteins. It was going to be a looooong day.
[OoC: Total word count, minus coding and this note, is 2100 words, with 11057 characters.]
