Post by BZA on Jun 22, 2018 3:22:54 GMT
THE TOWER OF BABEL
Silence, sound deprived tranquilly in turmoil sweeps through the throng. It was abrupt, one of reaction to circumstance. An instinctive discord in the minds of men to the wildly unexpected. Silence, one of sound deprived turmoil in tranquility. A natural reflex in the heart of the warrior, the residue of uncertainty in a pond of inexperience. Innately impressionable men, the fickle forces that drive the masses are quick to readjust, transitioning bewilderment into cheers. These actions are mirrored across the grounds and grow into maniacal eruptions, a mashing of legitimate cries of support and eager shouts of dazzled spectators. Under the might of this wave of joy, the stadium rumbles to its foundations and the noise reaches the farthest lengths of Brooklyn. Two men had stepped before the crowd either side bearing the burden of self glory. Their struggle for supremacy was short lived, truth be told it was an overwhelming dismantling. Another fickle mind, takes reigns of the situation, professing admiration in the snake oil words that that shower truth with deceit. Shined with the prying, hateful, expectant and idolizing gazes of a crowd in the thousands, the victor can but stand unperturbed, lost in thought.
Fortitudinous, to the natural barrage of voiced admiration but weak to the vibrations of metallic gongs, the warrior's tranquility is cut short. Rooted on the same spot, his assimilation to the aplomb is a gradual motioning of an arm, weapon on hand, high into the air, a testament to the win. Shortly thereafter, a giant screen is blasted with his image and another's, prompting his exit in spectacular fashion, via electromagnetic propulsion. Three blocks of settlement and equally numbered miles later, he descends to the familiarity of a flagship containment to be received by THAT man. Neither men bothered to dabble in casual conversation. Instead both lashed out with malicious intent. On one end the unarmed, dark haired behemoth dashed ferociously the weight of his steps snapping the deck into an explosive crunch that tosses splinters into the air. Matching his vigor, was the silent slither of M'sondaa's deceptive mist that buckled the adjacent deck into a wave of white. The adrenaline pumping madness lasted seven meters fore the eventful clash. A combination of one supersonic punch supplemented by sheer will and the meteoric blizzard inducing clenched fist harboring the force of a storm, produced an erratic ripple that flashed ten meters from impact. In that instance, M'sondaa's pupil watched a shock-wave of blinding white that doesn't simply blind him but flashes his consciousness past the smoke stacked lightning.
The tower of muscle paused. Arm out and held in place, he slightly raised his head and inhaled softly into his lungs appreciating the tickling sensation of his opponents crystalline power. Electric tingles of joy run the length of his mustache and massaged his chiseled jawline drawing out an enthused smile of youth. The brilliance of such a sheepish green was sadly lost in the stupefying mist that gripped The Domain. One of Fang's facilities that hosted Underground fights & on special occasions training sessions. However, he current spectacle was an even greater rarity. The Adonis of Fang had jumped into the fray. Standing at a respectable seven feet, he was a fair skinned man of muscular built & hair styled down to a buzz cut. Add this to the course strings that passed for a mustache. Flamboyant choice in dressage; a bare torso to match the plaited black pants fastened underneath a green kilt & you had Brawn. M'sondaa's collapsed body bowed seven meters ahead. Time had slowed down considerably for him, seconds splint into tiny milliseconds that gob smacked the reality of his untimely demise. The impact of the previous attack had produced a shock wave that rocked the ground and given rise to a seismic tremor. M'so inadequacy had played a hand at him getting bested by his superiors' blast and fiercely thrown: crashing into and forcing the metallic wall to carve in.
On the way down he had hit is head and was currently struggling to fend of incapacitation. All the while lost in the sea of cackling mist, the Fang executive's pupils would gleam magenta. Thereafter his monster of a body gleamed, emanating a blue hue as he slowly arched his tensed arm back. Dead silence ensues with the hairs at the back of the M'sondaa head shooting out in attention. Being the highly superstitious being he was this was the all telling sign of an approaching ill omen. Sure enough the calm is brought to an abrupt end with the recommencing of the loud rattle several times ferocious as the last. A storm in the shape of an immense blast ushers in vicious eruptions from underneath our journeyman’s feet. In one instant he goes from standing on the safety of Gaia’s back to being propelled at stupendous speed higher and higher to the realms of Olympus. Brawn had merely stamped his foot, setting him perfectly where he wanted him. The airborne M'sondaa gazed down mystified at the might of his opponent, whose gaze locked maliciously at him.
Alone the two might've been yet the environment looked on at them with lingering uncertainty, their gaze demanding a swift end to this madness. The prolonged stare down causes the accumulated sweat from M'sondaa hair to escape from their prison with the ringleaders directing the streak as they descend past his cheekbone before running into a check point on his chin. Suddenly, M'sondaa noticed the waves about Brawn abruptly and in concurrence swelling viciously in a whirl that bombarded and condensed the atmospheric pressure. Pacing way for the birth of a vortex, at least eight times Brawn's size that he unleashed towards his junior. Its distinctively sharp shrill warning all beings, living or otherwise that so much as occupied its presence to flee. A deep northern Irish twang would commence in its aftermath. "Everything the body does is stringent on one's physical capabilities, Lad. Strength is the hallmark of human capability. Through strength can the body be conditioned to react, move and bear. Now, unless you have acquired strength capable of punching the heavens, do not challenge me with a quirk." Reaching into his jacket, the man pulled out a cigar and lit it as he made his way to M'sondaa. " Lesson One. Respect, the FOOKING Tower of Babel. Will Yers. Your strength's not to shabby. I'll jump you straight to the part where we bash steel all day for seven day. You try quit on me, I'll beat you skull in"
1092
