D11 O'Malley vs D1 Fray [89th Spar]

[ryan]

d a n n y .

"you are weak
but not foolish
you have learned
how to die."

Danny couldnt help but feel some sort of wonder when he walked into the private screening for the spar matches that he had created himself. He was pretty gleeful when he realized that most of the tributes wanted to participate. He already knew that he was making a mark on the capitol this games. He made it his mission to revitalize and create something new so his games would stand out from the others. He did hide behind a reinforced glass that was blacked out on the other side so tributes could not see that they had an audience. The people that got a chance to see this first hand were few, but Danny knew that this would be another good way for people to see what the tributes had to offer. Of course, Sponsorship was more important than ever.

He takes a small sip of his drink as he watched the boy from 11, Abel O'Malley saunters in. Danny is slightly perplexed, almost guilt ridden that he is going to have to have a hand in causing the suffering of another O'Malley. However, he does not get a choice in that matter now does he? And then the boy from 1, Bastian Fray walked in, and Danny had perked up a little bit more. He was excited to have a Fray in the games after all. He knew that Justice was force to be reckoned with, and that other related to him had all made sure to make their mark. Would Bastian be able to do the same?

The trainer told them where to stand, an x marked the spot. He explained the parameters to the tributes. That they would go hand to hand until one of them is incapacitated. (OOC: 15 Damage) "And remember, you never know who might be watching. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor!" Danny listened to the trainer and then focused on the fight forward. He was excited to see what was to come.

elegant

napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ. & @icyhot

[napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.]

It’s been a crappy week.

Between Sampson’s hundred attempts to drape him in a festive tapestry of the itchiest clothes ever and the clink clink clink of camera flashes everywhere he went, he has to repeat this for emphasis: it’s been a real crappy week.

And this spar was like a bubble bath after that crappy week; finally, he is gonna’ have some fun. Don’t care whose bone he breaks, he simply has to – he has to channel this storm under his skin into his fists, into someone else. All things break when filled to its brims, whether it’s a glass or a dam, and he’s close to breakin’, his seams coming undone.

Bastion looks up as he hears footsteps. His hands curls to fists around his red leather gloves. “So, uh, what number are you again?” he questions genuinely with a lift of his brow, gauging the other, and damn he’s all skin and bone. Couldn’t they have paired me up with another career or something? A part of him drags foot as he enters his fighting stance but hey,

the kid signed up for this, right?

He feels an edge of his lip roll up to a slow smirk.

“Doesn’t really matter.” The last syllable ends in a hard grit of his teeth as he throws his first punch.

j1U6iS67F2unarmed

[ 5200 -- bruised right shin -- 2.0 damage | unarmed ]

unarmed

[Deleted]

I felt nervous when I walked into the room, but I knew not to let it show. To me, this wasn't just some fun spar. This was my rough draft for the Private Training Stations. Sure, I wasn't likely going to do this or anything similar for that. But, it still applied. I needed to figure out how to carry myself. How to interact with some unknown audience. How to not make a fool of myself like my cousin had the previous year. How to come hone with a crown rather than a coffin.

When I saw who my opponent was, it only made me more nervous. Bastian Fray, of all people. It just had to be a career, and one twice my size at that. One from the same district that killed my cousin. I wouldn't be surprised if this had been planned, it almost seemed too perfect not to be. But, I wasn't going to let that stop me. After all, Six O'Malley and Julian Le Roux were both equally dead. And in the coming days, either Bastian or myself would be as well.

For a moment we stood there, sizing each other up. The room was dead silent except for the sound of our breathing. And then, he struck. He was quick, too quick.  Before I could react, he got a good hit on my right shin. But, that was just one hit. Maybe whoever was watching would find it impressive he hit first, but there were many more to come.

"I'm from Eleven, but you should really learn my name considering I'm going to be the next Victor. It's Abel O'Malley."

-

[ abel o'malley attacks bastian fray | unarmed ]

[ thrown to ground | +0.5 damage ]

IJCg52as8Xunarmed

unarmed

[napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.]

When the fist made contact, it was like lightning ripping through his thundercloud of a body. He let out a spirited ‘Ha!’ and took a step back, all too pumped to see the foot that shoots out to wrack his ankle. Bastion staggers back, and then falls on his ass with a THUD.

And he laughs. It’s a sound he himself hasn’t heard in weeks, shards of amusement grating against each other as Abel O’Malley declares himself victor. “Don’t get cocky, kid,” Bastion says and then springs back onto his feet in a flash. His grin is jagged. “Still too soon.”

Bastion gauges the other with a new pair of lens then, and only as his focus becomes sharper does he see the hidden fire within the other’s eyes, crackling the way embers do. “Abel,” he drawls, muscles flexing as he readies himself once more. If he was reluctant to hit the other before, he sure isn’t now.

This is a fair fight, him and his fists, Abel and his ambition.

He cracks his neck, “well, there’s already a Fray victor so mind if I bet on your twig ass?”

That's it. That's Abel's nickname. 

Dodge this, twig ass. 

Zels4lOaoPunarmed

[ 5105 -- block -- 0.0 damage | unarmed ]

unarmed

[Deleted]

The one good thing about the fight?

I couldn't be nervous - there was no time to be nervous. If I spent too much time worrying, I wouldn't have the reaction time I needed to even stand a chance here. There was no way I could beat Bastian in a test of raw. brute strength. If we just stood here and punched the shit out of each other, there'd be no point in me even trying. But, that's where reaction time comes in. This isn't my first fight against someone bigger than me.

I tried to sound confident. We both knew people were watching, whoever those people may be. So we both tried our hardest to put on a good show. And we both knew how they expected this episode to end - Bastian victorious and myself taking a trip to the medical center. But, what's a show without a good plot twist? Either way, I felt we had some sort of understanding. This was more about making ourselves look good in the eyes of the audience rather than winning.

"Go ahead, feel free to forward your sponsorship money to me too, I don't mind!"

I saw a punch coming and attempted to block it. What I had planned to happen was a failed block, but it would still reduce the impact regardless. However, I should really stop underestimating myself. Guess my twig ass is good for something, huh? 

"You're pretty good, I'll give you that. Runner-up material even, Fray."

-

[ abel o'malley attacks bastian fray | unarmed ]

[ bruised left forearm | +2.0 damage ]

H0coJW31Ixunarmed

unarmed

[napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.]

Twig ass blocks his iron fist and Bastian has to confess, he is impressed. He steps back grinning and heaving, feeling the exhilaration coursing through his veins stronger than any bitter liquor can, and he is on top of his own burning world. Everything underneath him is ashes but he doesn’t care; for a moment, the heat is the most divine thing he’s ever fucking felt.

It’ll get him killed, he knows it, a moth to a flame.

“Bastian,” he rasps through gritted teeth. “If I’m gonna’ get you rich, twig ass, better start learnin’ my name.” And he’s running forth to tackle, but he doesn’t do it really, it’s a feint to get close to Abel to furiously whisper, “fix your fuckin’ form. Everyone’s watchin’ us. You wanna be a fucking victor, Eleven? Punch me.” Then he pushes away from the other, his grin back in place, sharp as a serrated blade. “Come on!” he yells and then there's a dull thud and a bloom of pain flowers on somewhere upon his body. Good.

He returns the favor.

PZtSbVB7lfunarmed

[ 5026 -- black eye -- 3 damage | unarmed ]

unarmed

[Deleted]

I was panting, but I wasn't tired. Adrenaline was filling my veins, the sensation was electrifying. Now I was beginning to understand. I understood how someone as much of a pussy as Six could keep fighting and fighting in the Arena. Your body told you to keep going, to keep fighting this feeling. It was almost addicting, intoxicating. I could get used to this.

When Bastian came over to me, I was ready to fight. But I noticed something, his movement was off. He wasn't trying to hit me. I could go for an opening right then, but that would be a dick move. A cheap move at that. I'll save those moves for the arena - or for when Bastian throws his own cheap moves out. Instead of attacking, he gave me a warning. Fix my stance.

I wasn't sure if the warning was for my benefit - looking good to whatever sponsors were surely watching - or for his benefit of putting on a better show. Regardless, I didn't have time to think on it only act. And after I hit him, he got me back. And he got me fucking good too. My eye hurt like a mother fucker and didn't want to stay open. I'd have to get some ice later.

But for now, I had to beat his ass.

"Oh sorry about that, Beethoven."

-

[ abel o'malley attacks bastian fray | unarmed ]

[ gash/bruised left wrist | +3.0 damage ]

dWw_RGSrhbunarmed

unarmed

[napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.]

He bobs and weaves away from Abel quick as he can but agility has been never been his knack. He’s a bulldog – gnashed teeth, ragged breaths, and a half-bray, half-grunt once the other’s fist connects to his arm. That’ll bruise, another swirl of blue-green for his collection. Bastion could open a museum for his bruises and scars at this point. Lightning-shaped scar, from the time he got shanked in an alleyway. George, a scar by his collarbone, left there during one night when his father was particularly drunk. The name has no significance – he just liked how it sounded.

“That’s it, twig,” he huffs out, half laughing, half gasping, his body as hot as a machine running on pure adrenaline. This is Bastian’s glass of scorch. This is Bastian’s happy pill. His high is dangerous, for he can fall so much farther than what he can survive, but isn’t every cheap fix meant to be? Danger is what made them. Danger is what made him.

He is a bare-knuckled fist.

“Come on Abel, fucking move it!”

rQ2Mzuu8a3unarmed

[ 5162 -- Gash/Bruised Left Wrist -- 3.0 damage | unarmed ]

unarmed

[Deleted]

There was no clear winner yet. I don’t even know how many punches we’ve thrown at this point, I just knew neither of us were very injured - but bruises dotted our skin like splashes of paint on a canvas. I felt proud of myself, holding my own against perhaps one of the most dangerous people here. And this was without a weapon in my hand.

The fight felt freeing in a way, maybe it was because I was allowed to hit back this time, allowed to defend myself. Sometimes when he got drunk Pa, who was lots bigger than me, would get real angry. When that happened, it was better to take a few hits than risk poking the bear. I liked being able to fight back, stand up for myself.

"This twig is kicking your ass, Bastian. I think you’re the one who needs to hurry the fuck up."

-

[ abel o'malley attacks bastian fray | unarmed ]

[ bruised right knee | +2.5 damage ]

N9X_MpnFeOunarmed

unarmed

[napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.]

Kid’s got grit but the following punch loses power, one he raises his arm to soften. “What was your name again?” he panted, wondering out loud, his head a swirl of spots that are swimming and swimming and, “oh yeah.” He clicks his tongue. “Didn’t cha’ learn manners to not rush a gentleman, Abel?” His smirk is caustic, sharp as a serrated knife. “Fight ain’t over until one of us is knocked out.”

And speaking from experience, it takes a long ass time for Bastion to reach that stage.

He has always been a thick-skinned asshole.

nOtRpflIKTunarmed

[ 5114 -- Gash/Bruised Left Arm -- 4.0 damage | unarmed ]

unarmed

[Deleted]

My reaction time was slowing. With his last hit I couldn’t even try to dodge it and got hit with his full force for the first time. My arm felt dead, abused. The last time I got this beaten up was when Pa was drunk and I didn’t wanna deal with it. I told him to leave me the fuck alone - those words exactly. I got the whoopin of a lifetime. But this was different.

With Pa’s beatin I could just eventually give up and take it. But this? I couldn’t. In the Arena, I’d get tired and broken down. I’d lose my speed like I was right now. But Bastian, even if he lost his strength. He’d never lose how much bigger than me he was. None of the tributes would. So I had to keep going. It wasn’t a beatin - it was life or death.

I didn’t speak to Bastian, honestly it sounded like he was underwater when he was talking and I couldn’t process what he was saying. I just focused on trying to stay alive - or in this case stay conscious. But I felt so tired. And my head was pounding so hard. I just wanted a nap, to sleep.

-

[ abel o'malley attacks bastian fray | unarmed ]

[ bruised ribs | +3 damage ]

0_jz5RL1xIunarmed

unarmed

[napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.]

Kid uses the close distance and jams his fist into his ribs – “oof,” he grunts, tasting something metallic at the back of his throat. The pain comes like a headache now, slow to rise, but pounding when you feel it, a steadfast agony that pulses as if it were a second, crueler heartbeat. It matches the one in his chest. It always had. Pain is anything but a stranger to Bastian. In fact, it could very well be his first ever friend.

The world takes a few moments to come back, and it feels distorted when it does, too misshapen, the lights fiercely bright, the room aswirl. Where the fuck is he again? The capitol. Who is he fighting? Twig ass. Abel. Abel O’Malley. What is his own name? Bastian Fray.

What is he fighting for?

He-

He doesn’t have an answer to that. Never had.

ju2tWZ|nB0unarmed

[ - | unarmed ]

unarmed

[Deleted]

When he kicked my shin, I felt my knees get weak and my vision turned black - but only for a second. My body was ready to give up, I was ready to give up. But, I couldn’t go down without a fight, not yet at least. They were still watching. I still had to give them a show. I still wanted to prove I could at least stand up to the Bastian Frays of the world. Even if I died like Six had to the boy from One just last year.

Whats up with O’Malleys and guys from One? Was this how Six felt before he died? Sure, I wasn’t dying right here. But I could feel my body giving out. When that spear pierced his throat, is this what he felt? A last, desperate surge of energy when he told that ally of his to run? But, I wasn’t dying. And especially not to Bastian. I wouldn’t use my dying breath to tell someone to run. I’d use it to fight. That’s what separates me from my cousin.

-

[ abel o'malley attacks bastian fray | unarmed ]

[ miss | +0 damage ]

GxYUv97EuFunarmed

unarmed

[napoleon, d2m ₊⊹ 🐁 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ.]

The fight is a metaphor and a living thing. It is what he is and it is what crawls under his skin, burrows in his chest, tells him to move it asshole, that’s a fist! He grunts as he twists away from the other’s punch. He is huffing now, every part of him aching, and it’s supposed to feel bad. It’s supposed to make him stop. But boys like Bastian got their sense of pain ripped away from them like a limb in the alleyways of District One and watched as it squirmed on the grime.

The fight is what he has been rebuilt for.

HdK|uaPL1Gunarmed

[ x | unarmed ]

unarmed