Match 14

Match 14 Steve Johnson vs Cassius White

Hunting for Devils

"Alright, run through it again," the tall man demanded. He was leaning against one of the many lockers in the waiting area. His mind was filled with what was to come, and he was trying to prepare for the possibility of liquidation. He had confidence in his fighter, but knew from experience that not everything would go Steve's way.

The man was tall, nearly passing the eight foot threshold. His thin body fit easily in the baggy, copper colored suit. His blonde hair was elegantly tucked behind his ears, and his brown eyes were wary of every detail that cropped up into his view.

This was Thomas Schuschler, the "Giant" of the Kengan Association. He was the young CEO of Takata Industries. His temper was legendary, often causing many smaller, localized companies to tremble.

Across from him, seated on a bench, was his fighter. Steve Johnson had his head held low, his medium brown hair obscuring any view of his eyes. It was unclear why he did this before every fight. He could be hyping himself up, calming himself down, or even praying to a god for all Thomas knew.

"I stay calm, and I break him like the shard of glass he is." The words were brash, grating against Thomas's ears like sandpaper. "I stay calm, and break him like the shard of glass he is." Steve was quietly chanting this mantra, slowly building in intensity and volume.

"Good, make sure the old man falls quickly. I don't need you dragging this out." And with that, Thomas clapped Steve on the back and walked out from the locker room.

The chanting had stopped when the young man was touched. Slowly, he raised his head to look at the door to the arena. His opponent was out there, waiting to beat his face in with savage strikes and mediocre wrestling.

Half of him said, "fine, we'll kill him quickly then." But another half of him told him, "but if we take it slow, we can have so much more fun." The two halves argued for a bit, leaving the body of Steve to sit there, silently watching the door.

"Sir, you're on in five minutes. Are you ready?" one of the many referees had poked their head into the locker room.

The halves of Steve merged back into the whole and spoke, "I am." Upon saying the words, he stood from his bench and began stretching out his body. "Just inform me when I need to go in. Until then, be somewhere else."

The referee nodded and retracted their head from the door frame. The door clicked softly shut a moment afterwards. The room regained its former silence, this pleased Steve.

He continued to stretch and move, getting his body to be limber and pliable. All the while, he thought of his opponent. The man was old, older than him twice over. That meant that his body was feeble, or at the very least, not as strong as it could have been. Add to that that his opponent was known for tiring out in longer matches...

The European devil smiled at the thought. It meant that he was guaranteed to win so long as he kept his composure and waited it out. Even if his opponent got the advantage early on, he couldn't hold it for very long. All he had to do was wait it out.

His plan was coming together.

"Alrighty ladies and gentleman! We have a fight coming up that is sure to knock your socks off!" Sayaka Katahara roared into her microphone. She cast her arm to the left, signalling the lights to dim and the music to play.

"Hailing from parts unknown and determined to destroy his opponents. Coming in at 1.86 meters and weighing 85 kilograms. He is the "strongest man in Europe", and the fighter for Takata Industrial. Give it up for the "Human Devil", STEVE JOHNSON!"

With his music blasting, and his name called, Steve finally entered the arena in a dozen spotlights. He was dressed in a pair of black cling shorts that stopped just before his knees. His hair was tied back into a small ponytail so that it didn't cover his eyes. He gave a small wave to the audience and rested his gaze on the opposite side of the arena.

The lights in the arena quickly rose back to their former brightness and Sayaka let her smile take over her face. She took her announcer's stance and threw her arm to the right.

"Coming all the way from the Alaskan wilderness for an all out war. Standing 1.75 meters tall, and weighing 79 kilograms. The druid of the Kengan Association that's known for his raw power, and the fighter for Ajiro Fisheries. Welcome the "Shaman", CASSIUS WHITE!"

BONG. The sound of a hide drum being beaten echoed out like a crack of thunder, only then did Cassius's music roar out. He came out hopping from foot to foot, a hide drum tucked under one arm, his other arm beating on the drum. His face, shoulders, chest, and back were caked in a thick paint. Red slashed across white, black over red, white through red. His loose black shorts contrasted heavily with the occultist warpaint.

The audience murmured quietly at the odd pair before them. An aging savage in ridiculous looking paint, facing off against a youthful up and comer. It certainly was a strange pairing to be certain.

From the stands, William Brando shook his head in amusement. His smile was wide, he was certainly amused by the weird spectacle before him. A few rows behind him, a drunk Qi Ling cracked a toothy smile and let out a quiet chuckle. He tossed back the last few drops of his whiskey and settled into his seat. The show was just about to start.

"The referee for this match is Anna Paula, she's known for being one of the most observant officials on staff. This will surely be a fair match," Sayaka quipped.

Both men strode towards the center of the battleground, stopping a mere five feet away from each other. The height difference was made evident by them standing so close to one another. Cassius only came up to the European devil's shoulders.

Anna stood right in between both warriors, her back rigid with reinforced pride and discipline. She looked to both fighters, causing her shoulder length red hair to swing around. Her blazing green eyes studied both fighters intently, measuring their bodies and skill sets like a butcher measured meat. She cleared her throat and adjusted the collar of her shirt before bellowing, "FIGHTERS! TAKE YOUR STANCES!"

Steve was all business, taking a very neutral stance. He kept his hips narrow to conserve his balance and reduce the area he could be striked. His hands were partially open and loose, ready to deflect or attack as he commanded.

Cassius on the other hand took a lower stance, crouching like a wrestler would. However, his hands were spaced out much farther than a typical wrestler would hold them. His legs were tensed, an obvious sign to any fighter that he planned to shoot forward.

Anna took a step backwards, raising both arms above her head. "THEN BEGIN!" she roared.

Immediately, it became apparent who would be setting the pace of the fight. Cassius leapt forward, clearing the gap between them with a speed and power unbecoming of a man his age. He didn't shoot in for the legs like a standard fighter would have, instead he aimed for his opponents head or arms. This was his Leaping Salmon technique.

Steve, caught off guard by this burst of movement, reacted by throwing up a crossguard block. He'd only seen the hand lunging for his face and hadn't had the time to determine if it was a punch or a grab. He knew that by using this block, he could prepare for either possibility.

The Shaman latched his right hand onto Steve's right wrist, and he used his momentum to try and drag his opponent. He was partway

successful in this endeavor. The taller fighter's guard was forcibly pried apart, and the momentum caused him to spin, losing his stance.

However, the spinning gave Steve an idea. He dipped his body low, swinging one of his impossibly long legs above him. He connected with a kick to the back of the aging Alaskan's head, and folded his leg so that his leg would slide past. Once it was past his neck, Steve's leg snapped out and hooked against Cassius's throat. The power behind it pulled both fighters to the ground, where Steve got a neck lock locked in.

"A brutal head kick into a choke smothers Cassius's early offense! Will this flurry of movement lead to an early end?!" Sakaya roared. The crowd made it's opinion quite clear with the many screams of bloodthirsty fans.

In the stands several of the fighters flinched at the nearly flawless counter. Terry Jackson had a hand to his chin, observing the fight like a judge would. He pulled his hand away and shook his head in disbelief. "There's no fucking way he's going to be able to do that.."

Steve gritted his teeth as he hunched beside Cassius with his legs locked in a choke. His arm was still locked in the death-grip. He wanted to free it, but knew that if he waited just a little while longer, he'd win.

However, he felt his body grow taught despite his tense posture. His right arm was being pulled downwards. It was being reeled in like a fishing line! He fought against it, using his lower body strength and height to pull against the powerful arms of Cassius. But it barely did anything! He looked at his opponent, and felt a small quiver of fright pass through him.

The Alaskan Shaman's eyes were narrow and filled with bloodshot anger. His lips were curled upwards in a snarl that made his neck muscles tense. A silent scream deafened him with it's intensity. And in the young man's eyes, he swore that Cassius was much larger than he was before.

Slowly, Steve's body was pulled downwards, his right arm now firmly in the wildman's grip. He was being dragged closer and closer to him, until he struck!

Cassius smashed a left hand into Steve's face. When he found that he wasn't free, he did it again, and finally a final time. The force of the three punches sending the devil's vision into a tailspin. This provided enough of an opening for the Alaskan to pry open his legs and quickly escape. He put a lot of distance between them, a solid six feet.

Steve forced himself to move to his feet, no matter how much it messed with his vision. He squared up his stance and put his arms at a pair of perfect forty five degree angles. His posture slouched the slightest bit. He didn't want to get any closer to this man than he had to, kickboxing would do the trick.

Cassius was standing fully upright, a slight bit out of breath and growing a nagging headache. His body was still with him, not against him, that was all he needed at the moment. He wanted to hunt this man correctly, with power and honor, he didn't have time to worry about his health.

"The two have separated after a series of heavy strikes from Cassius! The fight looks like it's going to continue on the feet! Can Cassius keep the ball rolling, or will he fall before the devil?!"

"That's no good, stay down next time!" Liska Drabek bellowed from the railing. He really wanted his friend to win this. But he couldn't tell which of the two fighters would win.

The two fighters in question glared at each other, knowing what would happen next. Cassius took a deep breath, and took a single step forward.

His neck immediately snapped back, his nose releasing a spurt of blood that was caught in his beard. His face very swiftly became a pseudo speed bag for Steve. His head was pelted from a variety of angles. His cheeks, jaw, chin, eye sockets, all of it was fair game.

He finally staggered backwards out of range, his skull ringing like a large bell. His face was a mixture of gashes, bruises, and welts. His mind was far from clear as well, he could hardly hear himself think! That meant that he had to stop thinking and start acting.

The Shaman let out a savage scream, the kind that an enraged ape would give out. He lunged forward, using his Leaping Salmon technique from earlier in the fight. However, he didn't have his hand open to grab anything, it was instead a closed fist. His scream crescendoed until it was suddenly cut off.

A snapping sidekick caught Cassius flush in the sternum, giving the image of nearly impaling himself on the limb. He dropped to the ground, clutching his ribs.

"And the Devil counters again! Delivering a devastating kick to the Shaman! Can he recover, or will he fall victim to the destroyer of men?"

Steve lowered his leg and took a few steps back, giving his opponent space. He hadn't timed the Devil's Blow correctly, he'd aimed slightly too low. At that moment, his two halves emerged. One congratulated him on the strike and asked him to power through this old man. The other one asked him to take it slow, the man was in no shape to deliver powerful blows.

Steve's body stopped moving, staring blankly ahead as the two halves began their war again. They fought for their way to fight, believing that their way was the only correct way. What they failed to notice as the argument continued, is that the topic of debate was getting to his feet.

There was a great big, angry, red mark in the center of the Shaman's chest. His breathing was hitched, no longer calm. To be fair though, Cassius was anything but calm,

he was livid.

He'd taken a lot of injuries before. He'd felt his flesh get ripped apart by horn, hoof, claw and teeth. He'd been battered from tumbling down the rocky hills of his home. He'd even spent a winter and most of a spring with a broken leg. But never before had he felt that the injury was so personal.

Cassius lunged, a powerful right hand trailing behind his head. He wanted this man to hurt, he wanted this man's ancestors to feel pain. He wanted to pull out his spirit and throttle it. He wanted to break his prey.

The two halves of Steve saw the angry Alaskan charge, and threw up a crossguard to block the strike. Steve's halves were forced together by the staggering Skull-Cracker. The blow punched through the minute gap in his guard like a sledgehammer through paper. It caught him in the collar bone, sending a searing pain up and down his torso as he bent over slightly.

Only to have the wind ripped out of him by a Falling Oak. Steve was sent upwards, his feet leaving the ground as he was forcibly launched. He hit the ground on his neck and shoulders, sending another wave of pain through him. And not a moment later, Cassius was on him, in a clear top mount position.

The Shaman held a terrifying visage at this moment in time. His face was a contorted mask of anger and primal savagery, with black and red paint streaking downwards. He looked far more like one of his prey than himself at that point.

"The counter didn't stop him?!" Terry Jackson all but gasped. He'd been certain that the older fighter would've been incapacitated by the strike. He hadn't expected the blow to make the man incensed! This was something to remember in case he had to fight this man.

Steve's mind was on the verge of splitting again. Both halves of him were panicking at the intensity that the fight had brought. One half of him reveled in it, and wanted to keep going. The more cautious half desperately wanted to get out of this position. They weren't arguing though, there wasn't time to argue. He needed to act.

Steve lunged with his right hand, hooking it behind Cassius's head. He brought the older man downwards, forcing his throat onto the devil's right shoulder. The devil latched his right hand onto his own left shoulder, and used his left hand to force Cassius farther into the choke. He'd successfully gotten the ezekiel choke locked in.

"After the powerful bull rush from Cassius, Steve has not only recovered. But he's yet again countered him into a choke!" Sakaya slammed her hand onto the announcers table. "It's anyone's game at this point! Can Cassius yet again overpower Steve, or will Steve maintain his dominant position?!"

The Shaman's breaths were labored as he thrashed and pulled against the choking hold. However, Steve had finally managed to get a good hold in, and was determined to ride the aging Alaskan's death throes until the end. His body was rigid as he pulled the hold tighter, and tighter.

Cassius had never been in a position like this, fighting something that knew how to fight him. The thought of that did something to him, unlocking something he hadn't felt in a long time. He was having fun, seeing the inner spirit of his prey burn brightly. He wanted more, no. He demanded more! He wanted to see his spirit break before him!

He couldn't see where he should strike, but he knew that he just needed one good shot. Cassius gave a decent strike to Steve's ribs, and then another, and another. He pounded away at either side, trying to make his prey release him.

But the European devil wouldn't let go! He didn't want to let this beast of a man get the upper hand again. If it meant giving up his ribs to make sure that wouldn't happen, then he'd give them!

A thought occurred to Cassius as he pounded on Steve's ribs. This man wasn't fighting him, wasn't even battling him anymore. The man was trying to restrain him, to stop his hunt! That wouldn't stand, it was unacceptable!

The now enraged Shaman leaned his mouth close to the European devil's ear, and deafened it with his words. "FIGHT ME DAMMIT!" Cassius used his left arm to push on the ground, giving himself enough room to rear back an open palm, and smash it into Steve's ear. The force of the blow loosened the choke's hold on the angered Alaskan's neck.

"FIGHT ME! HIT ME! MAKE ME WORK FOR SOMETHING!" Cassius bellowed the words into Steve's ear. And with each sentence he yelled, he punctuated with a cupped palm to the human devil's ear. This had the effect of messing with the devil's equilibrium, discombobulating him.

After a moment, the angered Alaskan broke free of the choke and found his way back to top mount. He clasped his hands on either side of Steve's head, pulled it back, and smashed it into the concrete floor with all of his strength. He did it again, and again, and again, and kept doing it for nearly fifteen seconds.

Despite the rapid loss of both blood, and his consciousness, Steve was still barely conscious. However, he was finding it rather difficult to piece together words, or syllables, or anything really. This meant that he could not forfeit, couldn't stop the onslaught of savagery.

Cassius released his hold on the devil's skull, and raised both fists above his head. At first, the audience thought it was in victory. That expectation was shattered as the Shaman brought both fists down on Steve's ribs.

He raised them again, and brought them down again. Cassius did this four more times before lashing out with his hand. He clasped an individual rib in his hand, and gave it a powerful yank.

Steve, despite being almost comatose at this point, felt all of his mental faculties return to him in a flood of information. He released a scream that rivaled Cassius's earlier one. His arms flailed about like a fish out of water. His mind processed all the pain it had ignored prior, and did the only thing it could to save itself, it forced itself to go unconscious.

Cassius stood from the body of his latest hunt, and raised a single bloodied fist above his head. In that hand was a single piece of the European devils rib, roughly 10 centimetres in length.

He strode out of the silent arena with the pride of a lion. He ignored the paramedics that demanded that he return the broken rib. He told them as he walked away, "whatever's hunted cannot be returned back to nature." He walked into the back with a triumphant smile on his face.