I can't believe I yelled those words with everything I had. It's the first impression that counts. Also, it’s a release of everything I’ve held up unto this day. I will not let this bastard feel any reprieve. It's time for penance of the wicked. I descended another staircase step and threw Tom's body to the concrete below. I had him flying head first, so that it snaps his neck. This guy is as much of a villain as the rest. Jordan had a look of surprise. Oh, Jordan... how are you surprised? The shock on Jordan's face quickly morphed into fear as time itself stretched. He stumbled back, his eyes wide with disbelief. The man's head coiled inward like a spring, the spine folding with an almost grotesque elegance. I heard the unmistakable sound of cracks and vertebrae snapping, a symphony of destruction that was music to my ears. His legs extended straight up in a final, futile spasm before relaxing and crashing to the ground with a sickening thud. It was a brutal sight, but a welcome one. Jordan's furious yell pierced the air, "Ahh! How dare you!" What? You would've done worse to me if you had your way.
I leapt forward, my right foot pivoting sharply as I completed a full spin. My body lowered gracefully, and I extended my right leg with lethal precision. Jordan raised his right arm to guard, but his reaction was sluggish, likely due to the shock of seeing his friend reduced to minced meat. I executed a flawless roundhouse kick from a higher position, adding to the force behind the blow. Jordan flew back, his feet skidding across the pavement. He managed to catch himself with his other hand, quickly reorienting himself, but the impact had clearly rattled him.
Tom gurgled, somehow still clinging to life, but his sounds were unintelligible. I leaned in close and taunted him, "Hello, Jordan." Tapping my head, I continued, "You're racking your brain right now, right?" I pointed towards the sky with a dramatic flair, "All you need to know for now is that you've committed evil actions, and I'm here to take revenge on behalf of the dead." Jordan lowered his center of gravity, taking a stance with his arms outstretched. He looked like a classic wrestler from the nineties, his posture firm. He's not bad. Ignoring my provocation, he charged forward, aiming to take my legs. Despite his age, he moved faster than I expected.
At the last second, I raised my knee, targeting his head with a perfect clinch knee, poised to destroy him in one blow. But Jordan had honed instincts. He twisted to the left, dodging my knee at the last second. He rolled behind me, kicking up dust as he moved. "Not bad for a serial killer." I praised him, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "I am no such thing!" he yelled back, his voice full of defiance. I noticed a change in his eyes. Over the past week, his eyes had been slothful but lively. Now? They were hollow, lifeless, mirroring my own dead gaze.
Jordan went on the offensive yet again, launching himself at me with renewed aggression. I responded with a series of jabs, each one precisely aimed to keep him at bay. My fists flew like pistons, each jab interrupting his tackle attempts. But there was something I'd noticed—each time he felt the sting of my punches, he retreated. It was clear: he couldn't handle the consequences of his aggression. At this rate, he wouldn't even manage to land a solid hit on me. Soon, the cumulative damage began to take its toll on Jordan. His face was a canvas of blood and bruises, swelling and discoloration marking every spot where my fists had found their mark. He was weakening, his movements becoming more sluggish and desperate.
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He charged again, surpassing mere idiocy. It's another futile attempt to take my legs. This time, I fired off a precise calf kick in the midst of his attack. The kick landed perfectly, but instead of retreating or showing pain, Jordan grasped my knee with a vice-like grip. Panic surged through me. No! With a powerful buck forward, he toppled me onto my back. My head struck a small stone on the ground with a sharp crack, and I felt a warm trickle of blood from the back of my head. The wound was minor, but the sensation of blood and the faint dizziness it caused were disorienting.
He crossed his arms over my leg, locking it tightly. Unease seeped into my conscious as I realized his intent—he was going to break it! I raised my free foot, planting it firmly on the ground. With a determined grunt, I slowly stood up, lifting Jordan along with me as he clung to my leg. This is taking all my muscle strength. For a split second, I stood perfectly balanced, my strength overcoming his weight. Jordan twisted my foot, trying to break it, but my feet weren't like those of a normal person. They were stronger, more resilient. It would hold for enough time it takes to end this. Summoning every ounce of strength, I kicked toward the ground, heel first. Normally, this would just damage my heel, but Jordan was literally under my foot.
The impact was brutal. Jordan crashed onto his back with a unabashedly cruel thud, the sound of cracking bones echoing in the air. He grimaced in pain, his grip on my leg loosening and finally letting go. He lay on the ground, bleeding and heavily damaged, his body a mess of bruises and blood. He's open, his arms are spread wide. Seizing the moment, I jumped into the air, raising both my legs. I aimed for his stomach, my entire weight behind the impending stomp. My body descended like a hammer, ready to deliver the final, crushing blow.
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Hashigana Style: Organ Expulsion
- The enemy must be on the ground and dazed. The user, then, as quickly as possible- jumps straight onto the enemy's stomach. This severely damages the internal organs.
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I stamped the ground, ready to end the fight, but Jordan quickly rolled to the side, coming back to consciousness at the last moment. He struggled to his feet, nearly defeated but not yet willing to give in. If he wanted to show some more fight, that was fine by me. He dashed towards me in a frenzy, his movements wild and uncoordinated. Jordan had lost all sense of reason, throwing wild haymakers with reckless abandon. I raised my fists and deflected each one by twisting my elbows. He was putting all his power behind each punch, but this wasn’t his usual style. He was waiting for something. I had to stay on guard.
Deflecting a right punch from him, I fired off a quick jab. It connected with his nose, causing blood to spurt and his head to snap back. He looked up at the sky for a moment, then suddenly smiled. This is it! I felt a sharp impact in my gut and realized it was him. He had landed a punch. I quickly threw a front kick to create distance between us, then let out a few short breaths, assessing the situation. The punch had been short-ranged, with his arm bent at an obtuse angle. That was the only way he could have hit me from that position. I recognized the style. It was karate. I’d seen this in tournaments streamed online.
This isn't just BJJ. This is something more.