Post by Alkaiser on Dec 10, 2008 21:38:55 GMT 1
Where does strength lie? The human anatomy is a plethora of possibilities. Whether it be in the muscles which move us, the bones that give us structure, the heart which fuels us, or the mind which compels us, we are a culmination of strength. For one Steve Barzahd, however, this question was enough to push him beyond where bones break and hearts fail even the greatest of men.
There were five of them. Determination was burning out their eyes, and greed was fueling the fire. Better yet, baseball bats, lead pipes and golf clubs were clenched tight in their palms. The alleyway was barely big enough for them to all stand in, let alone fight in. Steve's speed would be of no use to him here. The men circled around the boy from Hircine High, ready to strike him down and earn what they'd been promised.
You see, Steve was a boy who liked to fight. More than that, he liked to fight for money. So, he found five relatively reputable fighters from around the San Francisco area, gave them weapons and invited them to come and try to take his cash away from him. It was fun, it was dangerous, and it was lucrative. That spelled perfection for Alkaiser. Better yet, it was an insane training regimen that gave him conditioning like nothing else he knew.
A baseball bat smacks Steve along the stomach, which he drops his arms on to trap in his midsection. The blow hardly even hurts anymore. Steve had been performing this weekly ritual for months now...ever since he became pillar of Hircine. Now that he was Captain, he offered more money, knowing that he would fire up the men more and more with each promised dollar.
Steve, still holding the bat and therefore the man in his tight grasp, is smacked across the back with one of the lead pipes. It settles into a diagonal groove within his spine, sending lightning through his nervous system. He had gotten used to that, too, but he still felt it for sure. His bones had become hard as steel from all of the trauma they had sustained and healed over. The human body is an amazing thing. Steve spins to his right, causing the bat man to get in close, where Alkaiser is trained to be just short of lethal. Barzahd's hands slide to the man's wrist, which the boy elevates so that he can palm upward on the man's triceps. His shoulder is dislocated instantly. What a neat trick. It drops the man to the ground, clenching and groaning a deep aggravated growl.
As for the pipe man, he begins to wind up again. Another two charge the cloud of dust. Steve puts his heel into the pipe man's solar plexus, causing him to stumble back and struggle for air. Recovering from his donkey kick maneuver, Steve is promptly hit twice, once by a golf club to the back of his knees, once across the chest. Flipping through the air can be fun in certain circumstances, this one excluded. He lands on his back with a thud. The minor pain is not enough to deter him. It is simply another tally mark in his book of low blows.
All four men proceed to kick and prod the boy as he is on the ground. He must have taken a good twenty to thirty shots before receiving the proper opening. A foot floats within reach for a split second on which he capitalized, grabbing the ankle and thrusting a palm into the knee, cracking the joint severely. The man tumbles sideways, taking out one of his allies. He wont be getting back up.
Steve makes his way back to his feet, groaning over the soreness all over his body. The pain would've been far worse for someone without this sort of training. For him, it's all about tomorrow, however. Tomorrow he'll be that much stronger. After sustaining a few more blows, Alkaiser manages to drop the other two men like clockwork. He collects his bounty and leaves the alley, battered and bruised but still standing. He's off to soak his wounds so that they may heal faster, self-medicate as per his doctors orders, and get ready for the next day of training, knowing that next week he'll be right back here taking on a new group of 'training dummies'.
There were five of them. Determination was burning out their eyes, and greed was fueling the fire. Better yet, baseball bats, lead pipes and golf clubs were clenched tight in their palms. The alleyway was barely big enough for them to all stand in, let alone fight in. Steve's speed would be of no use to him here. The men circled around the boy from Hircine High, ready to strike him down and earn what they'd been promised.
You see, Steve was a boy who liked to fight. More than that, he liked to fight for money. So, he found five relatively reputable fighters from around the San Francisco area, gave them weapons and invited them to come and try to take his cash away from him. It was fun, it was dangerous, and it was lucrative. That spelled perfection for Alkaiser. Better yet, it was an insane training regimen that gave him conditioning like nothing else he knew.
A baseball bat smacks Steve along the stomach, which he drops his arms on to trap in his midsection. The blow hardly even hurts anymore. Steve had been performing this weekly ritual for months now...ever since he became pillar of Hircine. Now that he was Captain, he offered more money, knowing that he would fire up the men more and more with each promised dollar.
Steve, still holding the bat and therefore the man in his tight grasp, is smacked across the back with one of the lead pipes. It settles into a diagonal groove within his spine, sending lightning through his nervous system. He had gotten used to that, too, but he still felt it for sure. His bones had become hard as steel from all of the trauma they had sustained and healed over. The human body is an amazing thing. Steve spins to his right, causing the bat man to get in close, where Alkaiser is trained to be just short of lethal. Barzahd's hands slide to the man's wrist, which the boy elevates so that he can palm upward on the man's triceps. His shoulder is dislocated instantly. What a neat trick. It drops the man to the ground, clenching and groaning a deep aggravated growl.
As for the pipe man, he begins to wind up again. Another two charge the cloud of dust. Steve puts his heel into the pipe man's solar plexus, causing him to stumble back and struggle for air. Recovering from his donkey kick maneuver, Steve is promptly hit twice, once by a golf club to the back of his knees, once across the chest. Flipping through the air can be fun in certain circumstances, this one excluded. He lands on his back with a thud. The minor pain is not enough to deter him. It is simply another tally mark in his book of low blows.
All four men proceed to kick and prod the boy as he is on the ground. He must have taken a good twenty to thirty shots before receiving the proper opening. A foot floats within reach for a split second on which he capitalized, grabbing the ankle and thrusting a palm into the knee, cracking the joint severely. The man tumbles sideways, taking out one of his allies. He wont be getting back up.
Steve makes his way back to his feet, groaning over the soreness all over his body. The pain would've been far worse for someone without this sort of training. For him, it's all about tomorrow, however. Tomorrow he'll be that much stronger. After sustaining a few more blows, Alkaiser manages to drop the other two men like clockwork. He collects his bounty and leaves the alley, battered and bruised but still standing. He's off to soak his wounds so that they may heal faster, self-medicate as per his doctors orders, and get ready for the next day of training, knowing that next week he'll be right back here taking on a new group of 'training dummies'.
