I am right here Who: Anole vs NPC When: April 2nd, TOURNAMENT Where: Grass Arena What: Victor has just gone into a draw round with another mutant and finds himself in the fabled and rarely seen Death Match Victor was tired. The green skinned male was not a warrior by nature, as such the tournament had left him tired and mentally drained. He was a social being, he enjoyed the company of others, as such fighting, hurting, violence were not among his favorite activities. He knew a bit about his third round opponent, the man was skilled, very very fast, but heartless. He was in Green Block and lamented this fact. He thought himself a powerful killer, problem was his actions did not fully back up his boasts.
Anole had started the fight rather confidant, he blended into a wall and moved quickly away to keep his location a secret. The mutant had held out both hands, a pair of twin swords flickering into his hands. Victor's camouflaged lips pulled into a smirk, stealing weapons was one of his favorite in-ring activities. His tongue shot quickly out to snag the blade out of his opponents hand. All had gone according to plan at first. He felt the sticky tip of his tongue connect with he cold steel, felt it jerk from an unsuspecting hand. That was when things fell apart for the lizard man. The sword flickered once, then vanished. Anole quickly retracted his tongue, eyes wide with shock and confusion. His opponent only smirked, closing his hand into a fist, that sword flickering back into being in his palm.
"Oh shit." Victor did not swear often, but this particular turn of evens warranted it, he thought. So he could not disarm his opponent, who, as he recalled, was very skilled with those blades. Knowing that the man was faster than himself meant that the fight had suddenly shifted entirely in his favor. Anole had managed to survive the full hour of the scheduled time blending, hiding and running. He had very nearly lost his tongue when he tried to use it to pull the mutant off balance, and had not tried that particular stunt since. He was out gunned, so to speak, and had no real hope in defeating his opponent.
He had breathed a sigh of relief when the alarms sounded, signaling the match was over. A draw, he had escaped any real harm. He dropped off the wall, letting his camouflage melt away, breathing easier as the armed mutant glared at him and let his blades flicker out of reality. Anole was ready to step to the edge of the arena when another alarm sounded, and a sudden death match was announced. His heart dropping to his shoes, Victor turned wide green eyes to the owners box.
So that's how it was? That's how little he meant to Rik? He would rather have his mutant die than put on a poor fight in order to continue living? Bitterness soured his stomach, pain and hate filled him all at once. He suddenly understood how Mason could be so bitter, so jaded. Again the alarms sounded, signaling the beginning of the ten minute fight, this time there were no holds barred, and blood was expected. Spectators looked on in excitement as the tall mutant flickered his blades into reality.
Victor was distracted by his own pain, his own thoughts and as such, did not realize just how seriously his opponent was taking the match. He should have, the mutant wanted to move up into Red very badly, but he was too distracted with his own emotions. He noticed the movement at the very last moment, his lithe build pulling him out of the way of the sailing blade at the very last second. Heart racing he thrust himself back toward the wall, ready to scale it, when his opponent threw one of his blades hard, it sticking in the wall just inches from Anole's upturned face. He froze solid for a moment, looking at the sharp blade before it flickered out of reality and back into the hand of its owner, leaving a deep gouge in the wall.
A devilish smirk twisted the mutant's lips, a clear warning that he had not missed on purpose, and would not miss again if Victor decided to try his little disappearing act again. Side stepping, Vic worked quickly away from his opponent, his mind racing. Ten minutes. He had to survive ten minutes against someone who was armed, skilled, faster and wanted nothing more than to make boots out of his hide. This was not good. The bladed male advanced quickly, expecting the lizard to blend or hide as he always did, an expectation which Vic took full advantage of.
He shifted carefully to avoid the whirling blades, dropped low and came up with a shoulder under the taller mutant's chest. He latched onto the other's shirt with one hand, his arm with the other, and threw the mutant a good four feet. The surprise of the move and the impact of landing left the cocky mutant stunned, his blades disappearing as the air was knocked from his chest. Anole threw himself atop the other's body, attempting to pin him and pulling back to pummel his cocky face with his fists again and again. The crowd cheered, roared their approval of the violence, but Vic blocked it all out, focusing only on the hurt and pain this man wanted to bring to him, what men like him, men like that Wild Child had brought to him in the past.
Victor was so focused on his rage that he did not notice that his stance had become unstable, and a few minutes into the beating, Anole found himself thrown off his opponent and on his back. In the blink of an eye, the Green Blocker was atop him, blades appearing again and pressed to his throat. Panic, desperation and the will to survive took over full force, and Anole found his knee slamming hard into the other's groin. The blade cut his neck, but did puncture anything vital. At that point, Vic did the only logical thing. He ran. He ran like hell.
The crowd cheered as the bladed mutant streaked across the pit after the cowardly green male, Victor panting for air, the thick tropical heat, the loss of blood, the rage and his inability to sweat leaving him almost faint as he tried to distance himself from his opponent. Time was almost up. If he could survive just a little longer...
Blinding, hot pain seared down his left side as the roar of the crowd rose in his ears. Victor fell to his knees, his right hand gripping tightly at his right shoulder as wide, stunned eyes stared down at his severed right arm, laying limp and lifeless on the ground before him. Dark blood oozed slowly down his side, his body shivered faintly as tendrils of shock laced his entire being. Behind him, the bladed mutant beamed, holding his blades to the cheering audience, his match was won, all he needed to do was turn around and cut the lizard's head cleanly off. It was an incredible match, it was not every day spectators got to see such a clean dismemberment. It did feel rather like something out of a PG-13 movie, there was very little blood really, and the strike had come and gone so quickly that it was over before most even realized what had happened.
Basking in the approval of the audience, the armed mutant let his guard drop, letting the clock tick down, planning on finishing off Anole dramatically at the last minute. He was not at all phased when cries of pain at last tore themselves from Victor's throat, assuming it was the shock fading in and out, losing a limb in such a way had to be painful, after all. So caught up in his apparent victory, the mutant did not notice the way the green male's body was changing, that there was something sprouting from his shoulder, growing longer, thicker, laden with spikes and hardened, armor like scales.
Five. Four. The match was nearly over, the mutant flaunted his blades, shifting his dance to turn toward Anole. Three. Two. he grinned to the owner's box as he brought one blade up. He would be in Red after this tournament, surely. His blade descended in a flashing arc.
One.
The clink of metal bouncing off a hardened surface broke his focus. The buzzer signifying the end of the match blared as he looked down at forearm, green and armored and foot around, that had deflected his blade. He took half a step back as his mind tried to process what had just happened. The lizard had been slim and fast and soft, he had no armor, nothing that could have deflected his blade. That moment of processing was all it took Anole to take action.
Turning his wrist, his larger, more powerful, newly regenerated right arm gripped the man's arm just above the elbow in a painful, crushing grip. Lips pulled into a sneer, blinded by the pain an the rage, Anole's left hand took the man's wrist and, in one swift movement, twisted his elbow forward and wrist in toward the man's neck. Victor had realized that removing the blades from the man's hands would cause them to flicker away, but that did not mean they could not still be used against him. Without time to comprehend the green mutant's intent, without time to react to what was happening, the man's arm was broken at the same time the razor sharp blade cut deeply into his neck, severing his spinal cord.
A gasping hush fell over the audience as the man's head fell limply against his left shoulder, body going limp and falling to the ground as blood gushed from the wounds. Victor stepped back, trying to avoid the worst of the gore, though he found himself coated, now in the red blood of his opponent as well as his own darker blood. He stared blankly at the body for a moment, the blades had flickered out of reality just as the spinal cord had been sliced, leaving the bloody death quite the confusing scene for those who did not know the secrets of the two unarmed men.
Victor looked down at his new arm with a shocked distance. It was twice as thick as his left, if not more. Spikes protruded from the shoulder and at the elbow, long, sharp claws tipping his fingers now, the scales as hard as the carapace on his head. He had absently wondered why losing a limb had not been more painful than it was, he supposed now he sort of understood. He was in that confused, distant state of shocked indifference until a bolt of electricity shot down his body and pulled him back to reality. The half decapitated body had been removed from the ring and he was surrounded by guards. He was to go to medical then back to his cell, he had killed after the buzzer. He had not won.
Somehow, Victor found that he really did not care.