Speed Vs Power (Mathew Amtrum)

[Tai Yang]

For the last couple of weeks, after watching some undercard professional fights, Tai Yang had been possessed in terms of finding out more about fighting. Throughout the years he had developed a strong sense of his own style, creating what he used purely from old martial art films. But he had seen more to the art of fighting, and was devoured by his lust for combat and all it's cousins. He was even polite when asking Ms. Donahue questions, turning his personality a complete 180.

It was already after seven in the evening, and Tai Yang was off from his afterschool-turned-temporarily-fulltime-job. He wasn't bored like he usually was after work, and wasn't heading straight home or on to his usual workout. Rather, he was out with a mission in mind: Stalk and find some prey. But he wasn't looking for just any old fight that was likely to end after a few seconds. He was looking for the biggest, toughest son-of-a-bitch that he could find. Just fitting into one of those categories wasn't enough, he wanted both. Simply being six foot five wasn't good enough. Being able to take a punch and grin wasn't good enough. He wanted someone whose use to dominating a fight, someone quite like himself in reputation, only in different dimensions.

But where was he going to find him? He started off by checking alley ways and gang corners, then moved on until he was walking by rival schools in the town. Still, nothing though, no one seemed worthy. After roughly thirty minutes of searching he found himself in a park of all places, completely out of ideas on his search for competition. Angered at the lack of presence he found himself standing ontop of a bench, screaming into the sky.

"WHERE THE HELL ARE ALL THE BADASSES?!"

(Shitty start, so sue me.)

[Mathew Amtrum]

Parks were one of Mathew's favorite places to be. Go figure right, the Earth Dragon enjoying places with dirt and trees. It might seem to be cliche but it was true. A thing he had picked up from his old Gang Leader Vetis. Parks were normally a good place to relax, just close your eyes and let the stress melt away. After all Sociopath Megalomaniacs had stress too!

He had been trying to enjoy himself when he heard someone disrupt that, standing on a bench yelling for badasses. Mathew rolled his eyes, sure he considered himself a badass, but he considered himself a lot of things. Including, but not limited to a supplier of lulz. That's right, Mathew had been catching up on internet lingo and from time to time used phrases such as "pwned" and "N00b". He grinned silently as he thought to himself about how someone should "Pwn this n00b with their uber leet hax," at least he thought that was the correct way to say it.

Mathew reached in to his pockets fingering the trophies he had collected that day. There were of course the rolls of pennies that he normally carried. He felt what could have been a pink pearl erasure and a pen. A couple quarters and then a lock from some kid's locker lock.

Ah found it!

He thought to himself as he pulled out the combination lock. Then with all the grace of a crouching Tiger he threw the lock at the back of the kid's head, figuring that something smashing in to the skull of the kid would get his attention. Forcing in on the currently hidden Dragon.

[Tai Yang]

Still fuming from the lack of adversity the young Chinese-American's adrenaline was pumping through the roof. He was feeling ancy, had that itch that kept him moving. First he was pacing, then he was fooling around by stepping up on the back of the bench, exerting his balance as he pivoted and walked a few steps back and forth on the limited area of the back rest. Cupping his mouth once more he yelled out, just as non-chalantly as before.

"PUSSIES!"

Thawk. 'What the hell?' Something hard had hit him in the back of his left shoulder, falling off his jacket and pushing his balance to the right. He kicked out his right boot, planting it on the trunk of a tree before he pushed off and dropped down ontop of the bench, looking for whatever hit him. It felt hard, hard enough to feel it through his leather jacket, but what was it? He thought he heard it chime, so it wasn't a rock. Ah. There it was, the airborne weapon was a... Lock? A combo-lock? Who the fuck throws a combo-lock? Picking it up he turned around, chucking the lock in a baseball-esque pitch towards the area he believed it came from.

"C'mon pussy! Get your ass out here."

[Mathew Amtrum]

Well he couldn't say that the kid wasn't generous at least. He was kind enough to return Mathew's weapon to him. Well in a way. Mathew watched as the kid threw the lock back to where it came from, namely Mathew, his hand would simply raise up catching the lock, a small stinging sensation on his palm, but no real harm.

Mathew just grinned at the kid. That was twice in less then a minute that he shouted out the term pussies. With the shouting for badasses before hand, he couldn't really take this kid seriously, who would? It was comical, like a cartoon, or one of those Japanese anime. He could see it now, the skinny frustrated kid itching for a fight to prove himself shouting out to the heavens in frustration. Then of course he would be confronted by the main bad guy. A handsome devil with a burning ambition. Cunning and ruthless, the hapless hero would of course fall to such a being.

He couldn't help but chuckle and shake his head. This was bad and he knew it, not in a sense that he was in trouble. But he was thankful no one else was around, otherwise he might feel a bit embarrassed to be taking a part in this.

"You've got to be kidding me." He said still laughing softly as he looked at the kid, finally speaking to announce his presence, as if a lock being thrown wasn't enough.

Mathew bent down scooping up some of the Earth and rubbing it on his hands, something he did before outside fights normally. It was a habit. He liked to do it for show mostly, after all he was The Earth Dragon, he figured he could have a bit of fun with it.

[Tai Yang]

'Finally, things are getting interesting.'

Snapping his arms back while rolling his shoulders in the same direction he forced his jacket from his shoulders, his arms falling out of the sleeves as the black leather covering floated off his body into the grip of his left hand. Tossing the jacket to the side it landed and hung over the back of the bench, like you'd often see in movies.

"I see no jokes here, only your horrible imitation of the movie 'Gladiator' staring Russel Crowe."

Moving forward his feet seemed to glide across the ground, but no scrapping sounds, nor tracks, were left behind. Despite his steel-toed boots he still moved with the grace of a devoted pracitioner of martial-arts, despite the fact that his was self-taught. In a way it was like street fighting, developed on the street, but many, many times more technical and advanced. Given his ego it was strange to find that he hadn't called himself a genuis yet.

"Go ahead tough guy, take a shot if you think your good enough."

Having stopped just outside his own range, but within the range of the man standing three inches, and likely about forty pounds, bigger then himself. So he was larger, but was he tougher? That was the question that he'd have to test first, which is why he neglected to take the opening strike - the strike he was most fond of.