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#Post#: 68--------------------------------------------------
Nikolai (Mini RP, sparring with the NEW BESTIE)
By: Gav Date: September 2, 2018, 4:02 am
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The sound of a minor struggle resounds, bringing life to an
otherwise dull warehouse in the slums of Moscow. Clashing fists
- exchanging blows, thud after thud echoing throughout as
Nikolai and Konoma engaged in a scuffle, a one sided sparring
match. Nikolai's expression, overall, was blank, not a single
bit of emotion escaping the fit and trained killing machine. His
gaze, however, held within it a startling ferocity, brought on
by the rush that only battle could bring. Conflict - all he was,
all he would likely ever be, and all that would bring about
change. To stagnate would be to fall short, to fail, and that he
could not allow, and it was for that very reason he sought out
Konoma's teachings and assistance in understanding the martial
art he wielded. To bring life into his boring and predictable
fighting style, to drag it further, and to turn Nikolai into
more of a force to be reckoned than ever before.
A pause, a brief moment of calm in what was otherwise a hard
fought and ruthless endeavor. The two figures exchanged a
glance, distancing themselves from each other - Konoma panting,
bruised, and beaten while Nikolai seemed relatively unphazed -
if not a bit winded.
"Konoma." Nikolai spoke, a single word - to the point, clear, so
as to draw his attention. "Try harder." he added, rising up and
shifting form to uphold the makeshift stance he had copied and
slowly, ever so surely, been adapting to suit his advancement in
the art. He could not grow - not learn, if Konoma were to drag
him down. It was he who he based it off of, but on the very same
- Konoma was...frail. Weaker than Nikolai. A bit debatable, but
perhaps slower too. He could harm him - but it paled in
comparison to the unholy assault he would face as per
repercussion. With every fight, Nikolai expanded his knowledge -
his technique. He struck out at openings, bringing into the fray
alongside his crushing strength a variety of half-hearted
maneuvers and techniques. Grapples - knee strikes, jabs,
punches, kicks. His effort was in place, and the fight hard -
but Nikolai was made for this. Made to hurt. Made to win, and it
was almost as if he had something to prove.
"Alright." responded the filthy Jap, as he marched on to
re-initiate the brawl. Clear, and to the point. Nikolai like.
And so, it continued. Konoma - a jab falling forth, with Nikolai
extending a flattened palm out - pushing at the fist, casually
tossing it aside as he tilted to avoid it in its entirety.
Konoma shifted past, startled by the deflection, and Nikolai
leaving his battle-worn opponent no time to react. An elbow
fell, carrying with it a mediocre level of force - not enough to
cause..permanent harm, but enough to perhaps bring their little
charade to a halt for the time being. It collided with Konoma's
back, sending him tumbling forth in the very same motion - every
single ounce of momentum brought on by his assault and tumble
being enhanced further. That was that, and Nikolai had bested
him yet again...and again...and again. His brave attempt, cut
short in one swift maneuver made possible. The abuse of the
opponent's openings - usage of it to strike to the fullest and
counter everything that would come his way.
He did not get weaker. Konoma, once capable of putting up the
greatest fight, was becoming lesser compared to the Synth. His
technique, passed on, copied, imprinted upon the Synth and
utilized for nothing more than the sake of sheer growth. His
capacity would be at its maximum, and he would not allow the
opportunity to become stronger than ever before to escape his
grasp. The battles became shorter - quicker, by all means. The
Synth, with his already superior physique, would maximize his
opponent's openings - although few and far between, and utilize
them in tandem to deliver strikes that nothing could hope to
shake off. He countered. He abused. He learned, and he adapted.
He grew. It was all he knew how to do, all he could do. He would
fight. Get better at it. Get better at destroying, better at
killing. He would serve his superiors to his fullest, and above
all else?
Strength increased the odds of survival.
"We will continue at a later date. Rest." spoke the emotionless
Synth, gazing back for only the slightest fraction of a second.
He stepped off without waiting for a response, perhaps to
reunite with his superiors, and prepare for what was to come.
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