Thread: Matrix Spar: Oneironaut vs. No-Name (2)

It was an understatement, but no-name was dressed lightly for the looming battle that lay ahead.

Checking his surroundings, he found it quite surreal how out of place he looked, though every day in the matrix he found the day itself to be more and more un-realistic. It reminded no-name of an anime, with the leaves themselves wanting to play a part in the dramatic battle.

The breeze he found delightful, as it whipped his thick curly hair around his ears and neck, he quite enjoyed this, and reminded himself to sit in a tree and relax once this fight was over. he was wearing a very light and baggy green hoodie that read "celldweller" accross the front, a matching but darker green pair of sweatpants laced his bottom half. Mismatchedly stitched to them were bright blue patches of jean-like material, forming make-shift pockets. Bright red converses on his feet (with a certain steel edged playing card tucked away in the back) and a cat-girl knife in his hands, no-name called back:
"You need to find a better taunt line, O." he said while mocking the winking cat-girl on his knife. "this one is getting a bit old."

He fell down into a low running stance, and bullrushed O as fast he could. he whispered to himself, as quietly as the leaves falling from he trees. "I will NOT lose."

His lips pursed slightly at the comment, his grin shifting to a playful smirk, accompanied by a subtle shrug of his shoulders as he cooly let the remark slide. "Maybe so. Perhaps, after I've beaten you, you can help me think of one." He almost chuckled to himself, but his eyes locked upon no-name, who was now rushing in like a freight train. Instead of taking to a stance, himself, he just stood there. It was obvious he was going to allow no-name to charge in, just to see how the man was going to fight this battle - feel him out for a bit. In these last few moments before impact, his eyes then darted about his surroundings, taking in a layout of the land. He looked for gaps between the trees that were larger than others, and checked for any stumps or other hazards that might hinder a run through the thicket. Closer and closer no-name got, and Oneironaut just stood there, hands down near his sides, finally curled into resolute fists - waiting for the initial attack.

To say the least, no-name was unsettled by Oneironaut's stance, or lack thereof!.

In order to refine his movements, he had to control himself, he had no idea what Oneironaut was going to pull. no-name slowed to a very brisk walk, disliking the situation more and more, he slowed down, and eventually stopped, standing less than 10 meters from Oneironaut, and with a furrowed brow, waited.

It was unlike no-name to wait, and he knew it. he was on his toes, jumpy. Knowing Oneironaut's resourcefulness, no-name knew his opponent would notice this and take advantage of it. In an attempt to hide his jittery state, no-name pulled a pair of dark shaded glasses from his pocket, and gingerly put them over his eyes, flattening his hair uncomfortably to his ears. And waited.

This time, Oneironaut did chuckle, the elevating of his cheeks clearly visible, beneath the veil of black cloth on his face. He thought it was classic, the way no-name came rushing in, gung ho, just before slowing to an obviously cautious halt.

"Not having second thoughts, are we?" Oneironaut's non-stance never changed. He seemed so utterly relaxed. Maybe under more dire circumstances, he would have been goaded into making the first move, but he remembered how he was more the aggressor in their last battle, and he wanted to see no-name play the offensive, for once. "You know, if you wanna just jack out now, I won't hold it against you. We'll call it a draw. I won't tell anyone." Again he chuckled, devilishly, taunting him with a sarcastic altruism.

no-name spat to the ground, 'bastard' he called out.

Not a single weapon on Oneironaut's side had been un-sheathed, and yet no-name was already losing. Angered with himself for being so obvious, he flicked the glasses he had just put on, letting them fall away into the lush dense forest.

Trying to clear his head, no-name backed up another 6 feet and sat down. He had to let Oneironaut make the first move. This was the only way he knew how to fight, even when he had rushed forward he was expecting some kind of counter measure, to which he would of course provide his own. This lack of movement had unseated no-name.

This was supposed to be a fight, a battle, a war. And in its own way, it was. only their mouths were the weapons, and brains the users.

Sitting on the green soft grass beneath him, no-name pulled his favorite past time from a pocket on his thigh. The ornate mirror he was holding was over a hundred years old, used at one point by the queens of england. no-name's vanity was more of a hinderance than an asset, but that didnt make it any less fun.

Staring at his own dark hair, seeing it sway methodically in the breeze, no-name calmed himself. One eye slightly bluer than the other, his green eyes peered into each other through the mirror. He saw a face not rugged, but not a pretty face. Shaking his hair slowly left to right with the wind, no-name smiled and breathed out heavily.

In his own state of zen, no-name tuned himself to nature, letting his ears and fingers see for him. Letting him almost hear Oneironaut's smirking breathing, ready to spring up with his heightened senses. no-name stuffed away his mirror and once again, waited.

Again, he laughed - not necessarily arrogantly, but as if genuinely enjoying no-name's reactions to the situation. "Oh, come on..." He chuckled through his words and slowly began walking forward, lightly, not particularly trying to hide his footsteps, but simply stressing an unthreatening pace; still a good 15 yards from him. "You're not really going to make me chase you all over the digital world, are you? You're going to have to put some pressure on me some time, ya know."

Smirking, he stopped a little less than 5 yards from him - a position to where a good forward dash could bring one quickly within striking distance. His hands never left his sides, fingers having now completely relaxed. They hung lifeless beside him - harmless, at first glance. Oneironaut's eyes kept an indirect lock on the knife in no-name's hand, knowing that it could easily come flying his way, in the passing seconds.

"I can be just as patient as you. Hell, as far as I'm concerned, we can sit here all day and meditate. I'm cool with that, too...but I figured you called me here to fight." The smirk transformed into a grin, egging him on. Oneironaut took a few nonchalant steps to the left, drawing his arms up and crossing them over his chest. Seeming to drop all stance, he shifted his left shoulder and leaned back against one of the thin bamboo trees behind him. He stood, propped at an angle, gazing lazily down at no-name.

"If I knew we were just going to be out here enjoying nature...I'd have brought a joint with me."

Calmly ignoring Oneironaut's taunting, no-name slowly got up, fingers as relaxed as his opponents. His mind cleared, emptied of un-needed thoughts, no-name was finally ready to fight.

His knife floating loosely in his grasp, no-name shook the hair away from his eyes and stared down Oneironaut with what he hoped was a smile.

With the speed of someone working on instinct, no-name swung his knife to the left, letting its blade connect with and slice through the trunk of a firm young bamboo stalk. With his opposite hand grabbing said stalk, and hurling it like a javelin at Oneironaut. It was quickly followed by a razor edged knife behind it, no-name immeaditly re-armed himself with two more identical knives, and bounced forward, now with a mindset about defense and counter measures

Uttering a single word, its sole consonant floating through the leaves with a darker malice than the trees could ever dream of, no-name began the fight.

"Now."

Aha. That's more like it.

The words were no more than thoughts, the only hint of their existence being the expanding grin on his face - hidden beneath the black ninja mask. Watching no-name stand up, his mind began racing, keeping an analytical pace while observing his opponent's gestures. Still, his left shoulder blade leaned back upon the bamboo stalk behind him - the picture of nonchalance. But, on the inside, the gears had begun turning. He knew things were finally about to take off.

In one strong sweep of no-name's hand, Oneironaut now had a large shard of bamboo flying in his direction. The contented grin stretched further, growing much more mischievous with the lowering of his eyebrows. His body wheeled around to the right, rotating himself around behind the stalk that he'd been leaning against just as the stalk no-name threw came whizzing right passed him. Completing the rotation, he found himself on the opposite side of the vertical stalk as he had been, rushing straight toward no-name, whose follow-up knife went the way of the bamboo javelin; missing the oncoming Oneironaut. The passing blade stabbing into the thin tree he had been leaning against earlier.

The wind practically screamed in his ears, during his dash toward no-name. He was satisfied, for the most part, and didn't really care whether or not no-named planned to take the offensive - or just defend - from here on out. All he wanted was for him to at least get things rolling. Crossing the short distance in very few seconds, Oneironaut reached his right hand up over his shoulder, flicking the hilt strap off of the short, black sword with his thumb. His left forearm was raised in front of his eyes, guiding him on his quick path toward his adversary, right hand zig-zagging down in front of him then coming to rest with a reverse grip on his weapon. Blade angled at the floor, he crossed in front of no-name instead of running directly to him. He took a bounding step, planting the ball of his booted foot down upon the surface of a strong stalk off to no-name's left, maybe seven feet from the ground, and then ricocheted off into no-name's direction. Coming toward his forward left side, Oneironaut led with the sole of a boot, aiming a missile of a flying kick high at no-name's left cheek. His blade, however, remained at his front, ready to defend.

no-name had no time to think, much less to talk, he had to act on instinct.

Seeing Oneironaut's shoe coming for his face, no-name leaped and fell backwards, falling through the shallow air. no-name knew Oneironaut would either soar over him, or fall towards him, his plan would work well with either scenario.

he had his knives in a postion not to throw, but to jab with, if Oneironaut fell toward him, he could stab with the force of Oneironaut's own kick, if he flew away behind him, he could easily, get into a more comfortable fighting postion. Waiting simply for a reaction, no-name held his ground, relativly speaking, as he was inches from the forest floor.

Seeing no-name's backward descent, Oneironaut thought only of chaining his failed attack. Before he had time to devise any secondary movement, he noticed no-name's steel, poised at the ready. He knew that, having missed his kick, he would be a fool to leave his leg out there, suspended in the air. The next movement came so swiftly - so gracefully - it would seem as if he had it planned all along, from the launch of his missed, flying kick.

His left foot landed on the ground, the right one quickly being drawn in after having missed its target. The way he landed, his back was now facing no-name, who was falling on his own back. Using his left foot as an anchor, and not missing a single beat, Oneironaut threw his right leg down from the attempted kick, slinging it then up in front of him like he was punting a football, his boot having never touched the ground. With the foot now elevating in front of him, adding to his momentum, his body launched into an immediate back flip off of his supporting left leg. He was carried backward, a couple of feet, and was now coming straight down at no-name's fallen form.

The heels of his boots jammed downward as he unfurled from the slight tuck-position flip, falling toward the center of no-name's chest. Jamming his bladed hands up into the sky over his head, Oneironaut added to his plummeting force, pressing his boots down at a velocity that could easily crush no-name's digital breastplate. He was counting on the idea that no-name wouldn't try something foolish, such as try to stab upward at his boots from below. This, of course - though stabbing straight through Oneironaut's feet - would only send the butts of no-name's knives down into his own chest - driven by Oneironaut's accumulated force - effectively impaling himself.

His head fully in the fight now, no-name beamed at Oneironaut's move, he was showing extreme physical prowess, the matrix really did have a huge effect on the concepts of reality.

Begining a huge risk; no-name stared directly at Oneironaut's boot, making sure his timing and placement were as dead center as they were going to get at this speed. Focusing only on accuracy, no-name readied his back to being his retreat.

Finnally landing on the ground, no-name gripped his knives in the postition not to stab up, but from the back of Oneironaut's leg. With a fateful thrust, no-name threw his force into his arms, attempting to not only push himself backwards, but put a nice gash into Oneironaut's thigh at the same time. It was the risk of a lifetime, and no-name took it.

He didn't expect for no-name to sacrifice himself to pull of a last-ditch move. With his eyes facing the opposite way, Oneironaut wasn't aware of the blades moving toward the back of his leg. The knives sank in to the back fo his thigh, buckling one of his legs, just as they came down at no-name's body. His opponent had tried to propel himself backward, but there was no way for him to slide completely out of the way, before Oneironaut's stomp came down to rest.

Just missing the center of no-name's chest, one foot stomped down on the very bottom of the man's chest plate with the force to at least fracture the bottom of the bony rib cage. The other leg was racked with the a sharp pain that coursed up the back side. Oneironaut gave out a yell just as he stomped down on his opponent, his body teetering over to one side.

Loosing his balance, he rolled to one side, off of no-name's body, and came to a labored crouch. His brows were furrowed with pain, the rest of his face still hidden behind the black ninja mask. He was in a bit of a sprawling position, obviously not able to stand up completely straight, with both legs. It seemed more like a football player's broken three-point stance. One hand held the sword out in front of him, between himself and no-name. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he watched his opponent, defensively, trying to assess how successful his own attack was.

blinded was a total understatement, no-name was seeing white and black and perceiving it as nothing. sense was senseless, and he could feel that creeping senseation coming from his mind once again. no-name had most likely let out a scream of pain, but never heard it. his legs were unfeeling masses of pain. screaming without a voice, letting out all the sufferage through quick tight spasms.

once again without a bottom half, no-name had to continue fighting, he opened his now colorblind eyes to see his limping opponent assessing both the damages, no-names and his own. Oneironaut was already in a position to fight, though an unstable one, a fighter in good condition would be able to finish him off without a problem, but both the warriors today, were in less than good condition.

mentally shutting off his lower limbs, no-name began setting himself up slowly, slowly he pulled himself up into the same limp half-helpless position Oneironaut was in, bringing his arms and knives up as an attempt to protect himself from the ass-kicking that he knew he was in for. suicide crossed his mind but only for a second, as it was replaced with the taste of blood, and an avenging thirst.

after more than a second, that could have easily lasted a thousand years, no-name simply spat the word "ouch".

Like a raven rocketing off of its perch, Oneironaut's black-clad body launched silently into the air, surpassing maybe twice the height which would be physically allowed in the Desert of the Real. But here, in this digital world, an extension of his only good leg was enough to send him soaring up from the ground, trajectory calculated to bring him right over no-name's fallen body.

At top of his arc, Oneironaut's mind lept ahead, perceptively slowing down time, the universal tempo slowing to a crawl as he lined up his shot. His body began to descend, coming down straight toward no-name with the sun at his back. To anyone looking up in that direction, Oneironaut would probably have all but disappeared, in the glaring intrusion of the digital sunlight over top of him. Still at the apex of his leap, he brought his arms together, grabbing the shaft of the short, ninja "sword" in both hands. His arms then swung up into the air, in opposite directions, each of them holding an identical blade. What had been disguised as a single, black sword, had actually been two, held together by magnets, which split apart at the groove mentioned earlier. Now, he was coming down with a sword in each hand, but he had no intention of waiting until he landed, to start what he was hoping would be the final assault.

Coming down fast, from a height that he was just hardly sure he could take an impact from, when landing on one foot, Oneironaut slung his arms down, one after the other, the 2-foot long blades rotating wickedly toward the Earth, and toward the man who's body his own was descending toward. They were aimed right at no-name's chest, the one from his right hand leading the end-over-end charge. Still, however, Oneironaut didn't waste any time. His hands alternately plucked at his opposite forearms, slipping the shurikens out of his arm-guards and slinging them down toward no-name's chest and face area, with rapid fire. He made sure to pay attention to the man's movements, anticipating no-name to try to roll away from the onslaught.

At first impression, one might find it foolish for him to let loose with all of his remaining weapons, but he knew where his body was going to land. The probably was most high that, if no-name was able to evade, he would have to do so by rolling to the side, judging by the speed at which Oneironaut's weapons were coming in. That way, O would land where no-name had originally been, within reach of where all of his weapons were now heading. Finally, he made sure to drop his good leg down below him, both to catch his falling body, and to potentially stomp down onto no-name's gut, had he not the presence of mind to get out of the way.