Matrix Spar: Oneironaut vs. Man of Steel and AspirationRealized

Synthetic as it may have been, the digital wind trickled over his bald head, blowing the flared curtain of his trenchcoat about his legs. Trademark shades adorned his face - thin wireframes that hid the sleek brown orbs of his eyes, which darted left and right, assessing the two opponents that stood across from him. This was the tallest rooftop that could be seen for quite some distance, but it was kept in close company by slightly smaller buildings - well within distance of a well-charged leap. The odds seemed like they could possibly be stacked against him, as this was a two against one spar, but he was definitely not worried in the least.

Oneironaut took a few subtle steps closer, steel-toed boots crackling against the small layer of gravel that covered the rooftop. Nimble fingers were tucked away in the pockets of his long coat - a coat which held a few surprises, should he decide to use them. He really didn't have all that much of a mind to draw the semi-auto .45 that sat in the shoulder holster hidden by his tied coat, nor did he plan to begin the fight by unearthing the pair of steel nunchaku that were perched on his back, nestled down into the slot in his belt. Instead, he raised both hands before him, letting them taste the subtle breeze before they locked together, bending his fingers one way and then the other, cracking the knuckles, contrasting with the more subtle sounds of each advancing step.

"....You boys ready?"

The wind rustled through Man of Steel's dark blonde hair, whispering against his ears like the breath of a lover. He bounced up on the balls of his feet for a second, as if testing his now slightly stronger legs. He felt like he could do a double backflip and land on his toes if he so wished, and he knew he'd never manage that in Zion. The Matrix did have its perks, yessirree! His eyes, hidden behind fashionable mirrored sunglasses, danced across the rooftop, taking in the thin layer of gravel, the rooftop HVAC unit to his far right, the low lip at the edge of the roof, and his opponent directly across from him.

Oneironaut looked like he was ready to take on the whole Matrix, and Man of Steel knew that he was far more experienced in this kind of sparring. But Man of Steel had his brother in the Matrix, AspirationRealized, there to even things out a bit. He grinned, no, more like smirked, then performed a smooth backflip from a standstill, landing in a low crouch, his long black leather trenchcoat billowing out around him as the ties loosened. Oh, that felt good. He took a moment to center himself, get in the right frame of mind. In the Matrix, frame of mind was everything.

After a moment, he looked back up, and stood, his left hand falling to the set of sticks in their holster on his left thigh, and his right to the holstered H&K USP .40 on his right. He patted them lightly, just reassuring himself that they were in their place. Only then did he reply to Oneironaut's query.

"I was born ready," he said, confidently.

And then, wasting no time, he set himself and ran straight at Oneironaut. The confident grin still firmly in place, he felt empowered. Fast. Strong. Let the good times roll, he thought.

-AspiR appeared, peering through the eyeholes of the white bunny mask adorning his face. It was the type you would expect at a masquerade party, and its white took on tones of the setting sun's light. The large white ears extended up above his head, the whiskers spanning the width of the mask, and the oversized two front teeth of the rabbit falling just over his lips. His expression, what could be seen from his eyes and lips, was that of a dead serious cunning.

A fresh and proper tuxedo formed the rest of his outfit, with vertical pinstripes of a blue so dark that they barely stood out against the blackness of the jacket and pants. A pressed white shirt could be seen underneath, with a midnight blue tie neatly secured (and not a pin on, either). Beneath the jacket at his hips were holsters for a pair of nasty looking daggers, as well as a very precise revolver. His shoes were cleaned to utter perfection, and a midnight blue rose completed his apparel, bringing out the tie and pinstripes.

He glanced at Uncle O, then to Brother Steel, nodding-

Truth be told: it was beginning to distract him a little bit, but Oneironaut tried his best to ignore the odd bunny mask that AspiR was wearing. His attention, instead, trained itself upon MoS. Ah, this was a man who wasn't about to waste much time, and Oneironaut wasn't about to sit back and grant him leeway, either. "Good," he answered to MoS's declaration. Not another second passed before he followed suit, digging the front end of one sole into the gravel and breaking into a sprint, matching - at the very least - Man of Steel's speed in the advance.

The subtle crunch-crunching of their feet against the gravel struck a unison, his own stride involuntarily keeping tempo with who looked to be his first opponent. For the moment, he kept his own trenchcoat closed. Admittedly, it allowed him a slightly lower range of comfortable motion, but he didn't mind the handi-cap. He was going to analyze every level of their fighting, only letting loose with his own potential as time went by. It was a bit impulsive, though, for him to instantly match speed with a charging opponent. Usually, he was the type that loved to feel out an oncoming attacker, but this time was different. He was completely in it for the sport, and wouldn't mind going out of his comfort zone to explore a wider range of tactics. This time, he was ready to explore every avenue of strategy...even the lack thereof.

Impulse driving him, at least for these first few moments, he drove inward. One final step planted his foremost foot - his right - to the surface of the roof. His momentum carried him into a skid, grounding himself into a solid right jab that was backed by the full brunt of his bodily force. His entire body shifted, turning his right side - right foot leading - directly toward MoS. His knuckles seemed to snap as they cut through the air, the leather of his coat sleave calling out against the thick winds. With the combined speed of Man of Steel's advancing dash, this attempted punch to the face would surely break bones. To be sure, though, Oneironaut was never one to underestimate his opponents. His mind was much less focused on his initial attack as it was on any follow-up manuevers that would likely come, should MoS evade his primary punch.

Man of Steel almost didn't catch the sudden blow in time. If it weren't for the speed advantage granted him by the Matrix, he would have suffered a broken nose for certain. He saw what Oneironaut was doing a second too late to wholly avoid it, so instead he firmly pushed off of the packed gravel with the ball of his left foot, his right already leaving the ground as he bent backwards, his left arm coming up to bat O's fist aside.

He twisted his whole body to the left, counter-clockwise, the outside of his right boot driving straight for Oneironaut's anchoring right shin. He managed to push the striking fist aside just enough so that O's knuckles only just grazed his cheek, barely making contact, thanks in part to his quick change of orientation. Oneironaut's stance was firm, and so his foremost leg would be difficult to move in time.

MoS was ready for anything, though, and had his landing perfectly figured out already. He looked forward, in the back of his busily calculating mind, to seeing what his opponent would do next.

-AspiR approached as quickly as he could while not making too much noise... which means he joined the party a little late.

Seeing his bro go after One's foremost leg, he took a quick shot at his backmost leg instead, using the force of his run. Coming in from behind his opponent, his left shoe would connect with the inside of One's left knee, but his body quickly twisted the opposite direction, his left foot landing again so he could deliver a solid right shovel hook to One's right set of ribs... which were left open from the jab that Steel was in the process of countering. AspiR's right fist would connect if not interrupted, and leave the spot immediately, so as not to be compromised.

He assumed a very fluid stance, his attacks whipping out and coming back out of the way, and if not engaged he would back up just enough to be out of range-

MoS obviously had taken note of how much of Oneironaut's bodyweight was anchored upon the right foot, as that was the first thing he had gone for. Oneironaut, though, held much anticipation for the next attack, and he was not going to allow himself such a folly as to be taken down on such a throw-away punch that he threw. Man of Steel's leg came around with a vicious quickness, allowing Oneironaut only a fraction of a second to deduce a way to evade it. In this, though, the crunching of the gravel also told him that he was being approached from behind as well. With his right foot planted, just inviting MoS's kick to collide with his shin, Oneironaut did the only thing he could. He collapsed the knee.

His body tilted. His right side dropped toward the ground, but the right leg bent at the knee. Seeing as how his heel was coming backward, leaving the rooftop, it bought him more time to evade MoS's kick. Had he moved the leg in any other direction, there would have been no chance he could have avoided a hit. However, in moving it in the same direction that MoS was swinging his own leg with his counter-clockwise spin, Oneironaut bought himself just that extra fraction of a second it took him to swing his heel upward, MoS's leg passing under the bent knee that was falling toward the ground, and the now horizontal shin that had been it's target only slivers of a second before.

Sacrificing balance, and allowing the right side of his body (the one closest to MoS) to fall toward the ground, he was able to slant himself at an angle that would be to his advantage. His left foot left the ground as well, but it swung a little bit forward, again buying him a crucial split second to match the direction of AspiR's approaching leg from behind, though this was done purely by instinct than by knowing exactly where AspiR was attacking. Swirling forward while ascending, the left foot then hooked backward, high enough to be a threat toward AspiR's stomach.

There was much going on at this crucial moment. The right side of his body had tilted, his shin clearing MoS's foot, his knee falling down to the ground with his right hand dropping to support him. His left foot had sprawled forward, then up, then backward, removing the hollow of his knee out of harm's way while, consequently, driving a heel back toward AspiR's stomach. With Oneironaut's reckless drop toward the gravel on his right side, he was able to bring his body down beneath the range of AspiR's rib punch. He would end up on the ground, with one knee and both hands touching the gravel - his left heel, hopefully, in AsipR's breadbasket.

Man of Steel's left foot contacted the gravel surface first, then his continuing spin brought the toe of his right boot onto the ground at the same instant both hands hit. His left palm only touched the ground for an instant, just long enough to push off, propelling him into a continuation of his spin, now more of a roll. In a split second he was on his back, both hands beneath him, pushing off, sending him springing up into a low, stable combat stance.

Now behind Oneironaut, MoS was granted an unappealing view of O's backside as he executed the kick to AspiR's midsection. Without pause, Steel's right foot shot out in a darting sweep, targeting Oneironaut's supporting right leg from the inside even as he hoped his brother would take the initiative and manage to grab O's foot in mid-kick, thus relieving him of support.

-AspiR felt the dark surprise of wide open air rather than the satisfying collision against flesh. He had time to see One's movements, but no time to shift his kick, so instead he followed the motion and continued the turn and momentum of his body further than he had originally intended (which was to kick and switch momentum completely for a hook, a plan that obviously couldn't be completed with these new circumstances).

In the seconds he could react, even here in the Matrix, there was no offense or defense... no angles, no techniques, in fact, there weren't arm and legs. All there was was rough energy in these split second reactions... and in this situation, blocks and attacks became roughly the same thing with roughly the same purpose.

One's leg hurled towards his stomach, and since AspiR was already rotating into it, there was no escape from an impact of some sort. However, when blocking this quickly blocking was basically attacking the threat, which is what AspiR did. Using the force from his missed kick, AspiR landed a strong left hook directly into One's left calf. Because of the force of both weapons coming together at a simillar pace, there was an impact which completely stopped all force in midair... however, One had met the impact with his calf, which was decidedly more vulnerable than AspiR's clenched fist. The damage was nothing like a broken leg, but would prove to be a slight hindrance if AspiR's shot succeeded.

((For the benefit of my fellow RPers, let it be known that if this stophit does NOT connect the following from this point on obviously will not happen. However, it should also be noted that in One's precarious position there is little he can do to alter his attack in time, and that my character had not only enough freedom to do this stophit, but the momentum required that he took advantage from his missed kick))

The stop hit was quick and strong, but could not match the force created from One's swing, and so, AspiR did take the heel into his gut. However, with the stophit's influence, it wasn't any sort of a crushing blow, and did little to interrupt his flow.

Oneironaut was not in the best position. With one leg and both hands now supporting him, he only had one weapon with any freedom. AspiR, however, had all of his limbs available. He took advantage of this, with his right hand quickly taking control of One's left foot before he could retract it from the stop hit. With a combination of pulling his opponent leg towards him and advancing a step or two towards it, AspiR had taken One's calf and pressed it tight against his chest, his left arm going over and pulling it tight against him with his elbow to One's knee.

Great minds think alike, and Steel was already taking advantage of the assumed hold that AspiR had executed. This grappling happened in a matter of seconds, and because it was very roughly done it was not very sound, and wouldn't hold for any longer than a few seconds. However, it was a hold that would be difficult to escape before Steel could take advantage of their mutual adversary... a few seconds was more than long enough-

Oneironaut felt his calf collide with AspiR's fist, gritting his teeth against the shock. He was more than aware that MoS had shifted his position to his rear, and Oneironaut knew that he had to work this from another angle. Now that AspiR had come into range, things would have to be handled differently. He was in a bad enough position as it was, being down on both hands and one knee, with his left leg outstretched beside him, but the fact that he couldn't see MoS - and could barely see AspiR through his peripheral - he knew that something had to be done, and fast.

Immediately, he tried to dive off of his knee and into a forward roll, hoping that doing so would give him enough distance to turn around and catch his bearings before taking any further advances from the two opponents. Lurching quickly, he kept his hands on the ground and brought his knee off of it, attempting the summer-sault away from the duo. The lifting of his right knee from the ground caused Man of Steel's sweeping foot to glide right beneath the leg, even though Oneironaut had never seen it coming. However, he was not able to complete the full rotation. Just before rolling over, Oneironaut felt resistance in his aching left leg. He was trapped, his leg caught in the embrace of AspiR's arms. Falling from the once-forward momentum of the attempted roll, Oneironaut's elevated right leg dropped back toward the ground, just after the passing of MoS's, but, instinctively, he straightened the leg, landing on the ball of his foot instead of the knee. For a split second, it was kind of awkward, but he was now in a three-point stance: both his hands on the ground beneath his face, and his right foot supporting him while his left foot was caught, out to the side, in AspiR's grip.

The split second had passed. A tiny hop-step had placed the right foot directly beneath him, and Oneironaut had just enough ability to bounce back off of it and attempt a liberating counter-attack. His right knee bent for one more hop and, channeling as much power into it as he could, he launched up off of his right foot. Jerking his arms to the left, his body spun counter-clockwise, just a glint of sunlight racing across the lenses of his shades as they spun toward AspiR. The rest of his body followed, leaning recklessly to one side in order to accommodate the right leg, which was swinging upward to what was - moments ago - behind him. His black cotton slacks provided just enough of a medium to allow his left leg to spin in AspiR's rushed grip, which allowed Oneironaut to spin himself for a connecting kick, without twisting his left leg off in the process. His body was now horizontal in the air - left side facing down with his left arm dropping toward the ground to cushion a fall; right leg swung over left, foot aiming toward AspiR's face. Since AspiR' had taken a step in, and his arms were both occupied with Oneironaut's left leg, there was a very small chance of AspiR letting his leg go to catch the oncoming one in time to avoid getting nailed between the eyes with a designer boot.

Should the foot connect, of course there was still Man of Steel to worry about. Oneironaut would have to at least make it to the ground before trying to right himself, but he now had both arms free. It was a bit of a gamble to make such a move, so close to a completely arms-free MoS, but he knew he had to take the chance, to get AspiR to let go of him.

Easily recovering from the quick circular motion of the sweep, Man of Steel found himself in the perfect position for a devastating kick when Oneironaut spun about, his body now horizontal. Taking the moment for what it was, MoS readied a powerful roundhouse kick, spinning on his rear foot, his left, as his right came back around to launch into the air, speeding through the suddenly still air toward O's vulnerable chest.

If the kick hit home, it would sure cause serious harm, at the very least knocking O back onto the ground, his breath gone from his lungs, but at the best (for MoS and AspiR, that is) it could shatter several ribs in one punishing blow. And there wasn't much way of avoiding this one.

[[OOC: Sorry, the last day or two has been...weird here.]]

-Seeing his brother prepare to capitalize on the positiong Oneironaut was in, he decided it was time to take one for the team. He would make sure One stayed and took his lump like a good boy, reinforcing his grip on One's heel after it twisted so that he wouldn't be able to twist again without snapping it. As for the foot that came his way, he figured it was worth the sacrifice to let this hit him instead of avoid it like he usually would (and jeopardise his Steel's oppurtunity).

Because of the quickness of the situation and the awkward positioning, going with the flow of this attack would not be suitable. The only logical way to avoid as much damage as possible was to meet it hit on, quite literally. AspiR's ears flailed as he dove his head forward, the bunny's forehead smashing into One's heel. With the front or sides of the face being extremely vulnerable spots, it was the best solution for this amount of time.

The force he could generate was not enough to neutralize the impact, but it was enough to lesson it as such that his head would not snap all the way backward. His head still gave in, moving back after the initial impact which shattered the front of his masquerade mask, its brilliant white staining red as his skin broke from the blow.

Oneironaut's body was stuck where it was, at least for the split second it took for Steel's kick to connect. With both legs commited, as well as one arm on the ground and another held upward to finish out the spin, he was pretty much a sitting (or spinning) duck. AspiR held on as his head gave out backward, waiting to feel the shock of the inevitable impact in his arms before dropping Oneironaut like an anchor and possibly passing out-

His rotation brought his eyes around to MoS. No sooner did the young man come into his sights than he saw the spinning heel kick heading in his direction. Oneironaut's left hand was already devoted to cushioning his sideways descent to the ground, so there was not much it could do to help avoid a foot to the chest. His right, however, was free, and partially in position, as it had swung from right to left to help his rotation. Do to his precarious angle, though, there was no impervious defense he could take, and Oneironaut knew that he was going to be feeling this one.

The blows were nearly simultaneous. First, Oneironaut felt the sturdy thunk of his steel-toed boot hitting home. Had AspiR not been wearing the bunny mask, which proved harder than Oneironaut had first thought, the impact might have tricked his mind into knocking his digital self unconscious. The attack was not without merit, though. He felt the material crack, his foot plowing into AspiR with a force that could not be taken lightly. His right arm was already swinging downward, quickly covering the few inches it took to position itself in front of MoS's oncoming kick. He clentched his fist, flexing the arm outward, away from his chest, to create a sort of instantaneous shock absorber, trying to put as much opposing force between the foot and his chest as was possible.

Man of Steel's boot collided with Oneironaut's forearm, pressing inward while fighting against the muscle of his bicep which tried it's damndest to cushion the blow. Oneironaut's arm then collided with his own chest, driven by MoS's foot, knocking a considerable amount of air from his lungs and causing a blunt pain to shoot through his defending arm. The combined force of his own attack upon AspiR and MoS's attack upon himself proved to be enough to send Oneironaut flying backward with his leg being ripped from Aspiration's grasp. His left hand had missed it's mark on the ground and he ended up landing on the left side of his back and doing a forced roll away from the two fighters. Mid-roll, pure instinct pulled his legs down toward the gravel, what was once a wild tumble turning into a kneeling slide away from the pair - his left boot gripping the gravel as his right knee slid backward a few more inches.

From the looks of it, one would hardly be able to tell that Oneironaut was even phased from the kick and being thrown through the air. He had landed in a quite stylish stance - a good 10 feet from his attackers - with his left side facing them and his right knee down on the ground. His arms were held in a textbook Shaolin stance with his right fist back behind him and his left hand held up between himself and his attackers, index and middle fingers pointing skyward with perfect form. On the inside, though, his right arm was killing him, and his left calf had a throbbing ache pulsing through it. As he waited to assess the duo's next moves, he tried to keep his mind off of the pain, knowing that awareness was everything in this realm, and that even though his arm and leg were hurting, keeping his focus off of them would be the best way to work through the sensation.

With a satisfied smirk, MoS fell back into a confident right back stance, his left side facing O and AspiR slightly behind him. Rotating his left arm, he brought it up into a classic ready position, hand open, fingers slightly cupped. His right hand formed a tight fist, assuming its position in front of his chest. The mirrored sunglasses that covered his steely blue eyes caught a glint of reflected light, and then he was still.

This time O would have to attack him. He did better with counter-attacks anyway, he mused. Besides, he wanted to see what "Uncle O" would do next. And too, AspiR probably needed a moment to recover before another attack in concert; of the two, he had taken the brunt of this last exchange of blows. Of course, O was feeling more pain than AspiR at the moment, MoS knew, even though he certainly did a good job of hiding it. There was a slight wrinkle to his brow behind those designer sunglasses, though, and a certain stiffness in the flourish that had finished his slide into his current pose. It wasn't much, but it was there. MoS was perceptive.

It would remain to be seen, however, if this would actually do him any good. After the briefest of pauses, MoS made a 'come and get it' motion with the fingers of his left hand, a cocky, lopsided grin on his not quite clean-shaven face.

-The shock of thee forces coming together at once rattled AspiR's body, and he immediately let go as Oneironaut sprawled from his grasp. If not for the current head trauma, he could've done more with that leg...

He fell on his back afterwards, his arms gripping the front of his head. He grunted and then yelled at to no one in particular-

I know its all ones and zeroes but FUCK did that hurt!

-He sat up, examining the blood in his hand. Its color, its warmth, none of it existed and yet was so real. He grabbed his mask, now buckled inward and cracked in the middle, and looked at it as he stood.

He dropped it deciding at this point it wasn't wearable. Most would've seen this mask as comic relief, but it had served its purpose well. Instead of being unconscious, AspiR had one hell of pounding headache and opened skin between his eyes. His light brown hair was more apparent now, not hidden behind the white ears. It was long enough to mix with the blood, which was trickling down one side of his nose.

AspiR saw that everyone had prepared into fighting stances. He looked to both of them and shook his head silently.

Slowly, his stance fell, his knees slightly bent. His right foot was forward, his toes facing One, while his left was positioned back, its heel slightly raised. His weight was equally distributed, but with perhaps a bit more on his front leg. His right arm was lowered, while his left was held up high close to his chin, which tucked a bit towards his right shoulder; they met eachother halfway without actually meeting, and this presented more of his side to his opponent than just a squared frontal stance.

Still at first, his body began to move. He bounced on his feet very slightly, advancing forward in a short step than backward again. His hands moved in slow small circles; uncommitted but all threatening at the same time, flickering like the tongue of a cobra. He was loose, and although there was a very basic form as a foundation, his stance was never constant. From this, any of his weapons could be launched with the utmost ease and with virtually no detection until it was too late. Because he was always moving, the transition from neutral to attack would be so subtle as to be unnoticable, and most importantly, quick and efficient.

He was still but ever moving, like the moon reflected in the ocean that kept sweeping and rolling. He shook his head as if to rid his head of the throbbing, the blood flicking from his face and hair like sweat-

A small grin crept across his jaw, hearing AspiR's outburst. Oneironaut knew that such a blow wouldn't be easily shakeable, but it was apparent that he had a lot more battling before him. Despite how much time he wished he had to plan out his attack, he knew that the best time to strike would be now - at the very least; before AspiR could completely recover from the previous attack. Wasting no time, he threw himself forward, rising with the catapult of his aching left leg and breaking into a sprint toward his two opponents. It only took a few short steps to come into their range, and they were close enough to each other so that he could begin working a simultaneous offense.

Coming within striking distance, Oneironaut was careful not to allow his eyes to give away his order of attack. Not only were they hidden by the lustrous black sunglasses, but he also kept his head straight, seeming to look directly between AspiR and MoS, so as not to look toward the directions in which his kicks would be heading. The final step of his dash brought his left foot down, anchoring himself on the gravel, positioned directly in front of the center point between the other two fighters. Giving no other bodily clues as to who would be his first target, his right leg raised, his mind focused toward a combination of at least three kicks, hoping their sporadic nature would be enough to confuse his opponents as to what to block and when.

With great balance on the left, the right boot ascended, crossing over to MoS (who was standing in front of Oneironaut's 10:00 heading). It aimed low at MoS's left knee, aiming to buckle it and kick off a rapid combination. Whether the kick was somehow blocked or not, it would continue up in a zig-zag pattern. It's next destination would be a little higher, back over to the right, set to collide with AspiR's right kidney, since the fighter's right side was the closest to him. With enough force to cause his foot to ricochet like a pinball, Oneironaut's kick (whether successful or blocked) would then travel upward again, flexing sharply at the knee, crossing back over to MoS and targeting the left side of his face. The majority of O's kicking power would make itself present in this last kick of the series, a loud "kiai" making it the most crucial of the three. If successful, his kicking (right) foot would continue on passed MoS's face with enough force to bring Oneironaut into a counter-clockwise spin, quite possibly setting him up to bring his left foot finally off the ground in a follow-up spinning heel kick to either one of them.

Whether or not that last kick would happen, though, would be up to how well his current attack played out. The combined attempt only took a single second, which he figured should give him enough time to complete the triple-kick attack before the duo could react with counter-attacks of their own, by the time he solidified himself with both feet on the ground again. Whether or not this was the case, he was watching them closely - through peripheral vision - and ready to abort his combination at any point in time and adapt to what they threw at him, during any point in the sequence.

MoS saw the foot coming, and went to slide back a step to avoid it. Something went wrong, however; his boot was stuck fast to something. The only thought he got out before Oneironaut's steel-toed boot connected was, oh shit!

It was more painful than he had expected, as his kneecap was almost instantaneously dislocated and popped around to the inside of his knee. Then his foot gave way, his leg collapsed, and suddenly he was on the ground trying his damnedest not to scream. Funny, he thought, I've been effectively taken out of the game by a piece of gum. Then he went ahead and screamed.