Matrix Spar: Oneironaut vs. No-Name

The metallic ring of a silver Zippo, flicking open, provided a subtle din to the otherwise quiet, white tile hallway. Oneironaut held the lighter's golden glow to his face, sparking the last half of a blunt that he was sure to include in his inventory before jacking in. A thick stream of white smoke billowed out from beneath the brim of the white Atlanta Braves baseball cap sitting with a slight twist on the top of his head. He wore a black, sleaveless shirt which hung low, covering the top portion of a pair of baggy designer blue jeans. On his feet were snow-white sneakers, matching his hat and standing out at a stark contrast agains the darkness of his shirt and pants.

The lighter clinked closed, and he slipped it away into his right pants pocket, his hand slipping away behind him and reaching into his back pocket. He produced a small black pouch, roughly the size of a deck of playing cards, and held it down beside him, drawing little - if any - attention to it.

There was little light shining in the mall hallway. It seemed as if they were set to an after-hours atmosphere with just the back-up lights running, their subtle hum now filling the silence that followed the sound of his Zippo's hinge, moments ago.

"You ready?"

Having the utmost confidence that his opponent was more than ready, Oneironaut cupped the black leather pouch in one hand, tightening his lips and inhaling through his blunt, taking the smoke deep into his lungs. His free hand was already tucked over the top of the pouch, fingers digging within. A shard of metal then launched out of the pouch with a flick of his wrist, glittering through what little light surrounded them, on its way toward No-Name. Obviously, what he held in his pouch was his weapon of choice - a deck of metallic, razor-edged playing cards, one of which was en route to its target, just as twin streams of weed smoke jetted out from Oneironaut's nostrils.

It was a 3 of clubs which went hurtling through the air. It was flicked with a gentle twist of his forearm, making it catch the dense, mall air and curve downward. What once seemed as if it was headed straight for No-Name's face was now headed down toward his right foot. Sure, it would sink through the man's shoe like butter, but it was an attack more meant to provoke movement than actually ensure victory.

The three of clubs was embedded deep into no-name's shoe, razor sharp was indeed an understatement. but instead of panicing and falling to the ground, no-name casually reach down, picked out the card, and tossed it aside. It made an unusual clinking noise, quite unlike the sound of the knives he was used to playing with...

no-name was wearing large clunky awkward looking wooden boots. He had friends in holland. and they were personal designers, not shoemakers.
above them, were faded dark baggy jeans, suspended by a belt with a simple dragon overlay accross the buckle. More intrestingly, the pants had high and large heavy pockets, easily within reach of no-names leangthy and almost gorilla like arms. though if you looked at him, the last thing you would think is 'gorilla'

Though baggy clothing he wore, sleek and slender he looked. A simple green layered shirt on his top half, and a cocky smug grin across the face. his hair muddled and murky, long and curly.

Shaking his mane of hair, letting it cover his blue-green eyes, he speaks; "Only a practice run O, hit me with your best shot."

With that the silence ended as he blared the small white ipod ear-buds he held in his hand, the song was "the tempest" by pendulum.

"Your move... make it quickly, i need to run some errands" no-name sneared as he motioned to the abandoned store around them, then smoothly putting the ear-buds into place. The fight began.

A smile could be seen forming upon his ebony face - a slender line of his lips growing beneath the low brim of his hat. He was more than happy to oblige in no-name's request. He, himself, could think of a few other important tasks he could be attending to. Oneironaut was definitely not going to make this a simple run-through, though, so if the fight was over quickly, it would definitely mean he either slacked off, himself, or was completely out-classed - and he damn sure wasn't going to allow it to be the latter.

"Heh. No problem." His smile lingered while his body tilted forward. A loud squeak shot out from beneath him, his sneakers trying to grip the tile as he launched into a sprint, heading straight toward no-name, exhaling another jet of smoke from within. Coming together once again, his fingerless-glove wearing hands armed him with three more cards, positioning them in his right hand with a masterful quickness. He held them for only a moment - one between each pair of fingers - before slinging his right hand out away from him. The three cards rotated through the air. The one in the center bared straight down on the middle of no-name's chest. Those to the left and right were aimed at the same height, but came to spread far enough apart to keep no-name from simply jumping left or right to avoid the attack (roughly two to three feet between each card).

More importantly, Oneironaut himself followed, rushing in at full speed and intending to intercept no-name's next movement as soon as possible - crowding him, and preparing to follow-up with close-range attacks, should no-name avoid the cards.

drooping down, no-name swooped gracefull into 'drop stance'. A stand which he had learned by simple research. He found it amazing how hard a mirror is to beat...

"I learned a couple things from you aunty O." easily ducking down below the cards. "call me a copy cat if you wish, but even mirrors have tricks of their own."

Flipping the vanity mirror out of its pocket by its petite handle, no-name made sure that his hair was just right for this stance, which of course, it was.

Retaining his mimicking stance, no-name crab-walked into an empty grocery isle, humming along with his music's empty drum and bass beat. readying his knives, he placed two of his smaller knives behind his ears, resting them for future use, and holding three infamous cat-girl knives in fingers, toying idly with them while moving up out of drop stance, and into an extreme low stoop, hunching his back, and keeping his eyes to the corner of the shopping aisle, knowing that O would come speeding around it any second...

Oneironaut smirked at the sight of the drop-stance. It occured to him that someone might have been checking up on some of his own techniques in the archives. The smirk was short-lived, though, as he was already in full-sprint, and ready to close distance. Things were, he was sure, about to get much more interesting.

He was expecting an immediate counter-attack from no-name, seeing as how he'd come into the young man's range and was now a certain threat. He was a little surprised, though, to see no-name instincitvely retreat around a corner to one of the stores. Picking two cards at random, from his lethal deck, he tucked the pouch away into one pocket of his jeans, staring at the corner in front of him.

No doubt a surprise attack awaited him, but he wasn't going to let that easily deter him. Any sane man would have taken a moment to assess the situation more closely, but Oneironaut was focused and confident. He again broke into a sprint, headed straight for the corner. Expecting some kind of attack, he ran around the corner, eyes intensely focused on whatever would be the first thing he saw. He moved with intent, running straight passed the corner and toward the opposite wall. He took two steps up the surface of the wall, his eyes now locked on to no-name - who was closer to the wall he'd just run passed - and then he sprang off of this far wall, rushing straight toward no-name, gripping the two cards between the fingers of his right hand.

He approach to no-name was quick, but cautious. While he moved in, his mind worked it's best to slow down every moment so that he could focus, looking for any sort of attack. Coming within range once again (should he make it that far), he made a slashing motion with his right hand, aiming to slice across no-name's face from left to right, with the protruding edges of the metal cards in his hand.

The moment before Oneironaut had passed him, no-name had grabbed his small smoke grenade, hoping to use it as a way to get to safer grounds, the pin already pulled, he had barely enough time to see a blur streak past him. it looks like O's boots arent that heavy after all...

Surprised by Oneironaut's quick movements, focusing on time and body movement efficency, no-name barely had enough time to use his favorite shield he had, his shoe. With one quick movement, he grabbed his knee as if it were a heavy rock, and swung it in front of his own face, knowing that its hard wooden shell would protect his face from smaller weapons such as his cards.

Stepping in, Oneironaut planted his right foot on the ground, just in front of no-name. His carded, right hand swiped across his body, the custom blades unfortunately coming to rest within the thick wooden plank of no-name's shoe. Instinctively, Oneironaut's eyes became locked onto his opponent's. This served two purposes: It allowed him to try to anticipate any future movement from no-name, by watching where his eyes flitted; and it kept no-name from seeing Oneironaut's next target, since his eyes didn't give away where he would be going next. His free, left hand remained positioned between the two of them, ready to defend against anything that might be coming his way.

What no-name didn't realize, was that he'd left himself completely open to attack, by employing such an acrobatic defense. As if planned as a combination, the whole time, Oneironaut's left foot suddenly swept from (his) left to right. No-name had sacrificed stability for a flashy block, and left his only perch - his other foot - completely vulnerable. With no-name's blocking foot in the air, O's left foot swatted just at the side of the knee of his other, with a strength as if he were trying to shatter stone.

Upon impact, the bone structure was likely to explode inside of no-name's skin, optimally buckling and dropping no-name onto the ground in front of him. It was aimed high enough so that it would be near impossible for no-name to jump over the oncoming attack, and with one foot high in the air, there was no percievable way that the man would be able to defend himself and keep from falling on his back, where Oneironaut would continue his assault without hesitation.

Prior the fight, no-name had assumed Oneironaut would prefer a long range battle, as would no-name, it would have been too easy, he was now sorely mistaken.

Oneironaut's quick thinking was getting to be a hassle, he had to clear some distance. Fast. But instead of focusing on the past or future, no-name needed to focus on more pressing matters. like Oneironaut's boot pressing into his upper calf, which, without Oneironaut even knowing it, would hurt a lot more than he wanted. Where O's massive calf was inches from impacting, was his knife pocket. no-name never liked organizing his knives in any fashion, so he just kept the loose in his pocket. he was begining to think this was a terrible choice.

Oneironaut's blow fell with a sickening crunch, hitting the knives into no-names upper leg first, followed quickly by Oneironaut's incredibly dedicated and massive strike. It felt like getting hit by several golf drivers. no-names leg was un-usable, and would possibly never recover.

He knew what he had done, and now he had to get away before his grenade exploded, it had little time left.

Quickly picking up his remaining knives behind his ears and on his remaining leg, he armed 6 miscilanious knives in his fingers, dropped the grenade behind him, and wildly struck out at O, aiming somewhat at his face.

Oneironaut felt the scattered crunch of the knives in no-name's pocket. Even through the sole of his shoe, he knew that it was more than just bone that rattled beneath the pressure of his kick. He knew, without question, that it was a critical hit. Anticipating the man's body to drop, Oneironaut poised himself to continue his attack, but he was caught short by the quick movement of no-name's arm. His own left hand was still free, his right beginning to draw the two cards back and out of his opponent's still-elevated, defending shoe. Feeling an oncoming counter-attack, judging by the way no-name's hand was moving, Oneironaut instinctively arced his free hand around the man's bladed hand. It barely missed the array of blades that was headed at his face, his forearm swatting away at the oncoming wrist at the same time that his head ducked off to the right. No-name's attack may have missed the majority of its target, but it came in elusively enough to slice a thin, shallow gash across O's cheek with the very tip of one of the blades.

This would be completely trivial, though, and Oneironaut was all prepared to let loose. He had everything going for him: No-name was likely critically injured; the man was destined to hit the floor on his back, wedged between the wall and his adversary; and Oneironaut was standing directly over him. It seemed nothing could stop the skirmish from coming to a quick ending. That is, of course, until O's mind registered the sound of a canister clanging against the tile floor. His eyes darted over to the object that came out from behind no-name. It took all of no time at all to figure out what it was - a grenade. Oneironaut froze for what seemed - to him - like an eternal moment. So many analytic thoughts shot through his head. So many questions....What kind of grenade was this? Was the pin in or out? Knowing, now, that it is out, how long has it been out? Was it dropped accidentally, or was no-name really willing to sacrifice himself to bring this match to a draw? What the hell do I do now??

"...Shit," he exclaimed with the still-lit blunt in his mouth, the grenade clattering to a stop.

He had to close his mind up tight and do something, because standing there for even a moment could prove fatal, in this digital battle. Deciding not to take the chance, Oneironaut cut his losses. He knew that, if this was some trick to buy time, no-name would still be badly hurt, and O, himself, had the advantage. He pivoted on his anchored right foot, his shoe again squealing on the tile floor when he dashed toward the corner that they had just come around. There was no way that he was going to risk withstanding a possible explosion, when he didn't have to. Hitting the corner, he turned on a dime and spun around it, flattening his back against the wall and digging his right hand into his pocket. Fishing out a single card and holding it at the ready, he listened closely to the corner, expecting (with hope) to hear an explosion rock the store in which no-name had fallen.

no-name grinned at the small scratch left on Oneironaut's cheek left by his longer knife. This was the only satisfaction he needed to motivate himself to continue moving and ignore the excruciating pain.

And of course, it really was excruciating. with knives of all sorts sticking from his thigh, he had to find a way to stop it, and the answer was right next to him, lying on the floor in a small cylinder case.

no-name threw his leg on the grenade, attempting to make it affected his leg and little more, his timing was perfect. The explosion, though not inflammatory, was a strong grenade, no-names leg was blown clear off his hip, and no-name couldnt help but scream in pain. the worst he had ever felt. A terrible sickening heart-twisting yell, no-name had lost his leg, and a smaller part of his hip.

Of course it wasnt without its purpouses, he had scared off Oneironaut, and created an effective long term smokescreen. This was optimistic of course, as a draw would be a miracle.

Quickly thinking, no-name pulled himself up onto his remaining limbs, and scampered up on top of the nearest shelf. quickly scouting around for Oneironaut.

With the grenade spewing smoke everywhere quickly, no stopping point in sight, no-name attempting to live for at least more than a minute, and Oneironaut ready to ambush anything that moved, it was anybodys game.

The shopping mall was rocked with the explosion, glass shattering amongst the sound of the reaction. It was a brief spurt of a blast, almost like a concussion grenade, Oneironaut deduced. It had a lot of kick to it, though, so it was hard to tell if it was a concussive blast or a frag grenade. Whatever it was, he could only be sure that no-name wasn't enjoying it. The man's screams shot out through the billowing smoke which wafted around the corner. The sound alone made Oneironaut cringe, thanking his stars that he was able to get out of the vicinity in time.

"Ooohh..." he grinned, with furrowed, empathic eyebrows. "That didn't sound pretty."

Even with the elation of what seemed to be an upcoming victory, Oneironaut had to focus to keep himself from choking in the smoke that was beginning to fill his section of the main hallway, trying to fight off the strong, digital illusion that real-world smoke was actually filling his lungs. The smoke just kept on coming, hinting that the grenade might have been a smoke grenade, initially, but the explosion definitely seemed much stronger.

A deadly six of spades in hand, he almost turned the corner and went into the store, but O was never the type to underestimate his opponent. It may have seemed, by all accounts, that he'd had this battle won, but he knew better than to rush back into a blind environment on an impulse. He relaxed slightly, shoulder blades sliding a few inches down the wall he was using as cover. He was going to wait until the smoke cleared a little, knowing it was much to thick for him to even get a peek into the room to assess the damage. In the meantime, though, he'd try to make the best of it, and provoke some sort of response from no-name...if he was still alive.

"Hey, no-name!" he called out, puffing twice on the blunt and taking it from his lips and into his left hand. A string of smoke preceded his words as he continued, upon exhale. "Don't tell me you're done already. We were just getting started!" The grin lingered on his face, Oneironaut holding off for a moment before putting the blunt back in his mouth. "Well, if it's any consolation, at least you get to go take care of those errands you were talking about!" Chuckling, he took another puff, pinching the roach between his thumb and middle finger, then flicking it across the hallway. In all honesty, he wasn't sure how bad no-name had been hurt. He was simply trying to gather some intel by getting an aural cue on whether or not he was still moving about.

Delighted that Oneironaut had actually given his postition away with his taunt, it was hard for no-name to stop himself from squealing in delight! and he probably would have, had it not bee for the ringing ears, blinding smoke, and the missing apendage. Of course these were all trivial in the face of destroying his opponent. 'Oneironaut will die.' no-name thought to himself.

Already leaving a heavy trail of blood from his flesh wound, no-name had to act fast and precisely before his rival knew what was happening. calming himself, no-name surveyed the situation in full.

no-name knew Oneironaut would be a intelligent opponent, wise to the workings of the matrix. If Oneironaut knew anything, he knew how to avoid choking. so his grenade would do little more than a covisual shield. he knew that Oneironaut's kicks were not something to be messed with, the proof was directly below him and to his right, no-name's leg that he himself had severed, no-name thought to himself. 'Im pretty sure theres some kind of award they hand out if you throw yourself on top a grenade... focus. focus.' focusing however, was hard to do, his mind already foggy from the loss of blood. he only had 3 cat-girl knives left, 2 mini knives, and one fighting knife. no-name assumed 6 would be better than 1.

Crawling with what he hoped was silence, no-name snuck behind his opponent, Oneironaut was right below him. no-name grinned that his job was going to be this easy, he had won! Oneironaut is dead!

Gripping the large fighting knife in his right hand for maximum use, and the remaining in his left, several scratching his palm, no-name was blind to the pain in his obvious victory.

Screaming with obvious joy at his victory, no-name jumped down to where Oneironaut was, hand at the ready for his fight of his life, and yelled "Die you worthless Bitch!"

Completely unaware of the ledge that connected the store to the main hallway, Oneironaut was almost undone. The bulk of his attention was set upon the corner in front of him, his eyes watching the smoke begin to thin out, beckoning for him to take a look inside the store and see if the unresponsive no-name was still able to continue the spar, or was ready to log out of the program. His grip tightened on the card in his hand and he stood up straight, ready to take the chance and make his way back into the store.

Then something caught his eye. It was as if a dark rain drop had fallen out of the sky, inches in front of his face. Involuntarily, his eyes were drawn down to the floor, seeing the dark, crimson liquid spatter against the white tile which lined the floor for as far as could be seen. It was blood...and it wasn't his. A bit perplexed by this, Oneironaut might have almost taken a moment too long to try to assess what this meant, but his reaction was quickened by the sound of "Die you worthless Bitch!" coming down on him from over-head.

His head snapped upward, his tri-limbed opponent dropping down toward him like a stone, a deadly string of no-name's wild slashes separating the two combatants. His eyes widened in surprised, knowing that there was little - if any - time to react. Had no-name not called out to him, upon attack, O probably would have been caught completely off-guard. But, since he did, he left him with a split second to pull off a last-ditch defense.

Oneironaut's legs collapsed under him. It would seem as if he was just going to lay on his back, directly beneath the falling, knife-wielding man. As his upper-body dropped, though, his right hand launched the razor-edged six of spades straight up into the air, flicking it the short distance toward no-name's face, giving the man an obstacle to pass before reaching his intended target. Now, since the two men were heading in the same direction, downward, this bought Oneironaut an extra split second, one that might prove to be the deciding factor of who comes out of this engagement victorious.

His eyes locked on no-name's as Oneironaut's shoulders fell to the floor, legs curling up and positioning themselves over the top of his body. He was sure to wait until no-name's knives were less than a foot from him, crossing his arms over his face, just in case his counter-attack failed, and no-name's knives found their way to him. Then, he swung both legs up over himself, using that extra moment to make sure he didn't throw his legs directly into the path of no-name's knives. He knew that his leg reach was longer than no-name's arms so, if all went right, no-name's blades would stop just short of O's body, and the man would be catapulted through the air with the double kick launched up at him from O' whose body was positioned so that only his shoulder blades and the back of his head were touching the ground.

He let out a mighty kiai with the kick, throwing all of the power of his quads into it. He wasn't sure where exactly no-name would land, if the kick connected with his upper-chest from below, as intended, but there was surely enough force behind it to send him flying for an untold distance.

The i-Pod long lost from the fight, the song 'the tempest' by pendulum, began the climax of its last two minutes.

Falling toward Oneironaut, no-name had only murder in his mind. his mind registering little of what was happening, thinking became a hassle and something he didnt want to have to deal with. so instead of planning and thinking, as well as other such tedious trivialty's. no-name only acted, an already dead man walking.

the first thing he saw, was Oneironaut's card. flying straight for the dead center of his no-name's forehead. had he registered this, he would have applauded the extreme accuracy. the six of spades striking him in the exact middle of his skull.

But no-name only continued flailing and falling. Almost suprised, no-name felt a kick hit his body. it felt detached, he could only feel the connection, not the pain. His mind immeaditly conjured up the illusion that he was invincible. no-name grinned.

Oneironaut had assumed that only from his tall stature no-name was a man, instead, no-name 'the late' was simply a teenager. no older than 17. a tall 6 foot 2, a lengthy and flexible fighter. the downside to this was, his weight could be described as pathetic. this only enhanced Oneironaut's kick, no-name flew across the room in a beautiful arch. Backflipping through the air like a gymnast. still not feeling pain, he screamed subconciously, not hearing it himself.

An inch from the wall, Oneironaut's card connected with the plastered grocery building wall first. sinking deeper into no-name's brain now.

Cross-eyed, no-name's green and blue eyes finally noticed the card protruding from his skull.

For half a second no-name was suspended from the ceiling by the card. hanging, jaw slacked, wide-eyed, and Dead.

No-name's knives clattered harmlessly across the floor, ejected from his fingers upon impact, just as no-name's body went careening through the air. Oneironaut uncovered his face and watched, now lying flat on his back with his head angled upward, so that the world was upside down to him. He saw no-name smack against the wall with a sickening thud. O could only imagine what that must have done to the metallic card that had been sticking out of the man's forehead.

Drawing his legs up once more, he then pushed them outward and did a kip-up from his back, landing on his feet. He turned to face no-name, a red streak following the dispatched opponent's body down the wall as it slid to the floor. The limp figure then began to disintegrate, every inch of his being dissolving away into an array of green numerals, wafting into the still mall air like leaves in an autumn breeze.

Then, Oneironaut was alone. He raised his index finger to his face, slicking some of the blood off of his slashed cheek. He never got tired of how realistic these simulations felt. He was forever in awe of it. Every detail captured perfectly in digitation. Glancing at the red liquid on his fingertip, he smiled, raising his head then and calling out to seemingly nobody...

"Ok..." he yelled, calling to the operator. "Get me out of here."

With that, his body dissolved away into the same green spectacle as no-name's, numeric particles shifting away into thin air, bringing Oneironaut back to his ship - and the real world - just as no-name would be transported back to his own, completely unscathed (though maybe a bit groggy. Hehe).