How to get a fat lip: An idiot's guide (DAR)

Three o'clock on a lazy Sunday afternoon.  The Jump City central park was filled with joggers, children playing on swings, old people feeding birds... it was almost a cliche`setting. The sun lingered high in the sky seeming almost reluctant to make its inevitable journey west. But while reluctant, it still gave off it's warm, orange life giving rays to the Earth.

One of the recipients of of said rays was Dennis Miller. Sitting on a bench hunched over in a thinking position. He had itch. Not just a regular itch either. He had the fighter's itch. The type of itch that couldn't be scratched by himself. Oh no, this was the type that could only be sated in combat.

It was only 16 hours ago that Dennis (Under the name of Red Hand) was narrowly avoiding lightning bolts that could fry him like an egg on a hot skillet surrounded by a chain link fence fashioned into a large cube. With one swift crimson uppercut however, the electromancer was felled and Red Hand won another round of the underground meta fight tournaments he had become embroiled in not too long ago. The money was good and it beat roughing up old store clerks collecting debts for mobs. But it was never about the money for Dennis, it was about the adrenaline rush he got from a good fight.

But that rush was long since gone. Now the itch was there. He let off a sharp groan in frustration and threw his head back, staring at the sun, which he gave a middle finger to. He had no real reason to do it, but he was getting annoyed with himself. Why could he not be satisfied unless he was duking it out? But this wasn't his fault...

"WHY CAN NOBODY STOP MY BADASS PUNCHES!?" He roared out, his shout probably reaching the sun which he had just moments ago. He stood up, and when he stood, the old people decided it was best to feed the birds elsewhere. The joggers sprinted the other way. The children didn't really care... He beat his chest unto his bright yellow vest like King Kong as he continued his unwarranted rant.
"WHY CAN NOBODY IN THIS STUPID TOWN GIVE ME A CHALLENGE HUH? COME ON! SOMEBODY TRY ME!"

He flopped back down on the wooden bench and sighed. "Dennis your're an idiot..." He murmured to himself with a slight chuckle. It seemed he had sated his itch ever so slightly. Maybe he would call a contact and get a job today. That was always guaranteed a scrap or two. Yeah, that would be do.  Looking back towards the sun, he noticed it was now obscured by a few dark grey clouds. It was odd because the weatherman hadn't called for precipitation. But then again the weatherman always lied. Or could it be an omen for some calamity just over the horizon?

After Dennis' outburst, the park was quiet. The distant laughter of children continued, but all else was still and silent.

And then a new sound appeared, the sound of footsteps approaching. A lone man walked up the concrete path towards the wooden bench. He was wearing a dark blue cloak, and carried a sheathed sword on his back, a claymore. Thick white hair hung down past the man's shoulders, outlining his calm, cheerful face. The claymore on his back was new, a gift from a new friend. This seemed like it might be a good chance to test the weapon out.

Dar the Ghost stopped in front of Dennis. "If this ailment of yours is truly a burden, then I shall relieve you. Let us fight. I will let you have the first strike. Then, I will crush you." Even in Jump City, it wasn't every day that you found someone desperate for a fight, much less to be defeated. Dar did not speak with sarcasm, and he did not want to sound like he was trying to intimidate Dennis. He also wanted to fight, and it would be no good if Dennis ran away now.

Before Dennis could reply, Dar activated his powers, allowing the universal energy of wrath to empower his physical attributes. The bloodlust was intoxicating, more pleasurable than any other worldly thing. If he didn't choose to keep his powers inactive most of the time, he would not be able to control himself. The sensation of holding so much power filled Dar with the strong desire to shed blood. But still, Dar was a man of honor. He would not harm Dennis until he had himself been attacked.

"Dennis, always be careful what you wish for. The universe always has a way of biting you on the backside...

The words of his former master and foster father were a faint dull ringing in his ears as he stared at this silver haired warrior that now stood before him. The only words that Dennis could think of to describe him came from World of Warcraft and Lord of the Rings, both of which he possessed limited knowledge. Seriously, the Universe drops him some viking reject? Not a sumo or a giant robot? The sword was slightly intimidating, but it wasn't the first time he had faced a swordsman. A cocky grin crept over his face until he saw Dar's face. It was a face all too familiar. It was the face of someone ready for battle.
Then Dar activated his power.

It was rare that Dennis ever felt regret. So rare that when the feeling came he didn't recognize it. It was a foreign thing to him, and so he suppressed it. He was lying to himself. He knew the feeling. But he pushed it down... deep down. He suppressed the feeling and rose to his feet, staring into the eyes of his opponent. He gave a hard gulp and gave his knuckles a good crack. He followed that action with a pocket knife he produced from his vest pocket. With surgeon like swipes he sliced shallow swipes into the bottom of the palms of his hands. As the crimson liquid began to ooze out, he dropped the knife and his blood wrapped around his hands, solidifying and forming dark red gauntlets.

"SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT UNIVERSE!" He extended his right arm outwards delivering two rapid fire jabs at Dar's face, his arms like pistons. Even if he were to somehow dodge the first two strikes, he had a nice present in the form of a left hook to deliver to his midsection. His heart was beating out of his chest and he couldn't get the ridiculous grin off of his face. He knew this was going to be a fight for the history books.

Interesting. It seemed that Dennis could sense the energy flowing through Dar. Only warriors who were well attuned to their surroundings could notice it. Dar was impressed.

Then came the weird stuff. Dar had witnessed many strange powers in Jump City. Just when he thought he had seen everything, something always came up that shocked, surprised, and disturbed him. Dennis' power certainly did all of that. At first, Dar thought the boy was going to attack him with the knife, but no. Dennis cut his own hands. Why would he inflict harm on himself? Dar's question was answered when the boy's blood formed boxing gloves around his fists. Dennis could control his own blood? Even Dar felt disgusted by this. He suppressed the urge to vomit, however. There was a fight at hand.

Dar was confident in his own abilities, but he wasn't one to needlessly take damage. When strange things like blood gauntlets started appearing, Dar tried to figure out his opponent's abilities before allowing anything to hit him. This time, unfortunately, his opponent was too swift and skillful to avoid. Two jabs hit Dar square in the face, and a third punch hit Dar in the ribs.

Dennis' punches were impressive. With his steel-like blood gauntlets augmenting his already impressive strength, the boy would have been able to easily break the bones of a normal human. Dar understood why the boy had grown so arrogant. On most days, Dennis deserved the right to boast.

But not today.

Dar smiled. It wasn't like he was wearing armor. He still felt the punches, but they only stung like getting shot with rubber bands. Dar was able to withstand all three punches with little more than a wince. He felt uncomfortable fighting someone who used their own blood as a weapon, but he would get over it.

Dar would not insult Dennis for his efforts, or for his bravery. He would treat his opponent with the respect that he was due. "Are you familiar with the story of the Green Knight? One of King Arthur's knights, Sir Gawain, was challenged to strike the Green Knight as hard as he could. In return, a year later, the Green Knight would hit him back."

Dar drew his claymore. It wasn't as large as the old hunk of metal he had carried around, but it was certainly too heavy for a normal person to hold easily in one hand as Dar did. Dar slashed at Dennis, his sword carrying enough power to easily cut the man in half, along with a few feet of steel. Dar was no master of swordplay, however, and he telegraphed his attacks enough for an experienced fighter like Dennis to dodge.

Landing the first blow in a fight was always a good feeling. By no means was it an indicator of who the victor would be, but it was a nice self esteem booster. The only downside of his power was that he wasn't able to feel his knuckles digging into the skin of his opponents, but it was a minor inconvenience.

He took a quick hop back to avoid any potential counter and also to examine the damage he had inflicted. Or the lack of it. Dar had barely even flinched. Dennis would have had a better result using a fly swatter. His hubris began to diminish as he slowly came to realize this was going to be a memorable event win or lose. Normally Dennis would be ecstatic to have found someone like Dar to fight, but the bloodlust he was giving off, he could almost taste it in the air.  

And there it was again. The rare feeling of regret crept back up. But there was no backing out now.  Had Dennis been thinking he might have understood Dar's cryptic message to him, but he had no time for decoding. He needed to focus on the cold steel attempting to cleave through him,

With a sidestep to his right, he easily avoided Dar's blade, not even beginning to contemplate how heavy the weapon was.
"This is a fight, not a book club meeting you LARP reject."  after his retort, Dennis dashed to the left side of Dar. Delivering three right hooks to his ribs, already knowing  the futility of it. But it wasn't Dennis's plan to hurt Dar, at lest not at this second. For after the final punch he went for a leg sweep to hopefully knock Dar on his back to allow some Dennis some seconds to think of some way to win this bout.

Dennis was still eager to fight Dar, even after seeing his attacks have no effect. Such determination was admirable. It was also fitting to the comparison Dar had started to make. Before he could continue the story, however, Dennis told him to focus on the fight. Dennis also called him a LARP reject. Dar raised his eyebrows, not sure if he should feel insulted or not. The comment had obviously been intended as such, but what was wrong with LARPing? It was, like this encounter, a means of combat. It simply had stricter, safer rules.

Dar allowed Dennis to punch him in the side. The punches did negligible, so Dar wouldn't spend energy on avoiding them. He brought his sword up to counter, but was swept off his feet before he could make his own attack. The pain Dar felt in the back of his head told him very clearly that Dennis was right. This wasn't a book club meeting. As one-sided as it might seem, at least to Dar, it was still very much a fight.

Dar rolled to the side and got back on his feet. His eyes were focused. Dennis now had his full attention. No more stories. Not until the fight was over.

Dar slashed at Dennis again. This time, he intentionally made the attack speed slower, and held his claymore with two hands. Hopefully, this would create the illusion that Dar found the sword heavy. The attack would easily be dodged, but that was perfectly fine. Dar allowed himself a brief moment to 'recover' from the slash. Then, reversing direction, he would swipe the blade across the air, the hilt held in one hand like a conductor's baton. Despite it's weight, the blade was now weightless in Dar's grip. If the second attack missed, he would continue with a flurry of swift sword strikes, the steel appearing as a blur.

Dennis's plan was executed exactly as he imagined it would. Dar took the blows, then fell down to the ground like the brick wall of a man he was. The sinking felling of regret faded when the dull thud of Dar's head colliding with the lush green park turf rang in his ears.

There was a small glimmer of victory on the horizon for Dennis now. Even if it was a slim chance, he'd take it at this point. He drew himself into a defensive stance as he focused intently on his silver maned opponent . Dar retaliated in the form of another slash, which Dennis effortlessly evaded with a sidestep. He then ducked down and launced himself towards Dar during the brief time between his attack. He planned on working his knees to get him to the ground once more.

His mind and body were two separate entities at this point, with his body the dominant force. His mind noticed that the second slash was deceptively slower than the first. There was something amiss about it. It had to be a ruse of some sort, his mind knew this and tried to relay it to his body. But of course his body would hear nothing of it. His body knew better. He could outpace a hunk of steel.

Or so he thought. The second slash cut through the air like lightning. Dar swung the blade as if it were a feather in his hands. Dennis was quick and his reflexes honed yes, but he couldn't move fast enough to evade the swipe. The best he could muster was to halt his dash enough so he wouldn't be completely sliced open.

Mind and body were one again as they both communicated to one other the pain that Dennis was in. The sword hit him from his left bicep to the edge of his right pectoral muscle. He rolled around on the grass clutching his new wound with his arm, forcing back the screams that were yearning to escape his mouth. He wouldn't give Dar the satisfaction. There was a bloody crimson line showing exactly where the blade connected with him, but already the hemorrhaging had began to cease.

Dennis's metahuman ability was showing his worth. A normal human would have died from the bleedout alone, but his blood had solidified and plugged the gash. It was by no means healed, and the pain he felt immense, but at least it wasn't bleeding.

Using his right arm, he rose to his feet. Pain was painted all over his face, he knew it. But he still gave Dar a cold hard glare. His left arm was almost useless now, but he had three other perfectly working appendages. Letting his bad arm hang to his side he put his right one to his face, waiting for Dar's next move. "So what's your name ugly? I like to know the names of people who I'm about to thrash." Trash talk was useless at this point, but a psychological advantage was better than none, however small it was.

Dennis had good reflexes, and those reflexes saved his life. Dar's blade could have easily cut the boy in half, but thanks to a last second dodge, Dennis only received a deep cut on his arm.

Dar raised his eyebrows as the man's wound closed up right away. No, that wasn't quite accurate. The blood had simply clotted incredibly quickly. The blood-manipulating power suddenly seemed much more useful. It would prevent Dennis from bleeding out, which in turn allowed him to stay awake and fighting for longer.

Dennis refused to cry out in pain, even though agony was written all over his face. The boy put up a brave front, expressing his desire to stay in the fight. He wasn't beaten yet. In fact, he asked Dar for his name, so he would know just who he was about to pummel.

Dar stayed serious. He wouldn't laugh at or mock the boy's determination. Hubris was a deadly weakness, as Dennis was now discovering, and Dar wanted to keep his own pride under control.

"I am Dar the Ghost. I would like to know your name as well." After he had his answer, Dar would stab his claymore into the ground, with the flat of the blade facing Dennis. "Just remember, this was what you wanted. A challenge. The opportunity to find your limits. Only in failure can you find new strength." Suddenly, Dar would pull his sword out of the ground sideways, sending globs of dirt and grass flying towards Dennis' face.

Rushing forward like a blur, Dar slashed his sword at the hopefully distracted Dennis' stomach. He would strike with the flat of his blade, which would crush the man's ribs instead of killing him. There was no call for killing Dennis here and now.

Dar The Ghost? Dennis couldn't wrap his head around Dar's full name for some reason. Maybe it was the fatigue setting in. Possibly his adrenaline rush waning. Probably because it was a weird name. What kind of parents would give a child a middle name 'The'?
He couldn't help but laugh to himself over his thoughts.

"Name's Dennis. Dennis Miller." His voice was void of the pain shown across his face. "Remember the name ya pansy."

He chucked again. Dar was right. He had asked for this. All this. H had specifically asked for a challenge, which he received in spades. His old master's warning rang in his head once again and he quickly shook it away.

But the rest of Dar's spiel was all wrong. This couldn't possibly be his limit. Some freak with a sword shouldn't have him on the ropes like this. He refused to admit that there was someone so many leagues ahead of him. All the fights he won. All the people he harmed in pursuit of his own selfish need to duke it out. The family he left... All of that just couldn't be just for things to end up like this.
No. Dennis would not all allow Dar to have this win. The very least not this easily.

But with an arm at less than one hundred percent and gash on his chest Dennis already knew his slim chance of winning was nothing shy of a sliver now. If he couldn't even leave a bruise at top shape, doing it now was ridiculous. The end of this fight was drawing close and Dennis could feel it. So, he got into a defensive pugilistic stance and readied himself for Dar's next move. The best he could do now was retaliate with a counter-attack to whatever Dar threw at him.

And what Dar threw was dirt. Using his sword which was lodged in the ground, he flung dirt and grass towards Dennis's face. Dennis was slightly disappointed . Something like that was used in desperation during a street brawl, but a fight is a fight. And having done this trick multiple times he already knew what would happen next. Dar wanted Dennis to cover his face so his mid-section would be defenseless, he knew this and yet he still shielded his eyes with his good arm out of sheer reflex, and then heard the sound of his ribs cracking under the pressure of Dar's steel.

In that same instant, Dennis pushed himself up against Dar's blade as much as he possibly could. He fought through the insufferable pain, and smashed his blood gauntlets in Dar's face. His hope was to hit Dar in the ears, deafening him if not momentarily, but if somehow he was able to avoid it, the gauntlets would crash into each other, creating a crimson shard explosion in front of Dar, maybe even one or a dozen lodging themselves in his eyes. It was a last ditch effort to inflict some type of damage to the brute. Even if it would just be a minor inconvenience to him, it would be better than nothing.

Dar felt the satisfying crunch of the flat of his blade crashing into Dennis' ribs. An instant later, Dennis leaned in and brought both of his gauntlets slamming into the sides of Dar's head. Dar met them head-on, literally. They stung, but did no real damage.

Dar took a big step and planted his feet. His claymore was still pressed against Dennis' torso. The boy had even pushed himself against it, which must have been quite painful. Dennis must have known the fight was over to do something so desperate. Continuing the motion of his attack, Dar swung his blade forward, with Dennis still on it. The boxer would be sent flying like a baseball on a home run. The fact that he had survived the blunt force of Dar's attack was impressive, so Dar was sure Dennis would have no trouble surviving his crash landing.

But it would still hurt. It would hurt a whole lot, and it would probably break his body. But who knows? Maybe Dennis would land gracefully on his feet.

Dar sheathed his claymore and walked over to wherever Dennis landed.

Somewhere deep down in the bowels of his gut, Dennis truley believed his attack would be effective. But alas, his Hail Mary pass was tossed into an empty end zone. He had lost. He knew this now and the reality of the situation finally sunk into his mind. Defeat washed over him like a nice cold bucket of water being splashed in face. He had lost fights before, so this was not a new experience for him. But he had never been in such a one sided fight before where he was on the losing end.

His breaths were shallow as he struggled to keep himself conscious. He couldn't muster the strength to spew insults at Dar as he would normally do at a moment like this. The most he could do was weakly raise his good arm and give Dar a measly thumbs up before he was flung like a rag doll across the the park grounds a good one hundred or so feet.

This would be the closest Dennis would ever get to experiencing flight. For the few seconds he was in the air, be couldn't help but enjoy the wind beating across his face. But of course Mr. Gravity began to grab at him, ending his hang time. Dennis crash landed directly into a hot dog cart, breaking his fall enough to prevent him winding up in a body cast for half of a year. But the amount of injuries he suffered were too many to count at this point.

Dennis was done. He was wavering in and out of conciousness. He could see, or more feel the presence of Dar as he came closer and closer to his crash site. All he could do was wait for Dar to finish him up.

"Sir Gawain accepted the challenge, and hit the Green Knight as hard as he could. Unfortunately, the Green Knight was unharmed. When the time came for retribution, Sir Gawain, nervous though he was, stayed true to his word and allowed the Green Knight to strike him back."

Dar's boots came to a stop in front of Dennis.

"The Green Knight had only been testing him, and therefore showed mercy to Gawain. He hit Gawain back, very softly, allowing him to live. You are brash, bold, and full of pride, much like Sir Gawain. You have been tested. You have been judged. But I will allow you to live, in exchange for sating my curiosity."

Dar produced a cell phone and called 911. He told them the address, and said that there was a very injured man there. Hanging up, Dar turned and walked away. "This city is not for the weak. If you think you have what it takes to achieve greatness, then seek me out. Until then, farewell."

"This city is not for the weak.

Dar was correct, this city wasn't for the weak. Dennis was strong. Or at least he though he was until today. As he lay there in the rubble of the hot dog cart, hearing the sirens of the ambulance growing less faint with each passing moment, all he could think about were how he was going to defeat Dar, his own personal Green Knight. Also, he had to find a library to read about the Green Knight. He still had no clue who he was. His vision was going blurry and eyelids grew ever heavier. He was going to blackout soon he could feel it. He didn't deserve rest though, not after such a pitiful excuse for a fight.

"i'm better than this.. He spoke but the words were inaudible to the paramedics who had arrived on the scene with a stretcher. In his final moment of consciousness he repeated Dar's name over and over and over again until it became a mantra of sorts for him. He was going to meet The Green Knight again. And he would kick his ass until his armour turned red.

(END!)