Zack Wylder vs Metamorphi

Setting: A dark city, abandoned
First Turn: Metamorphi

OOC: I'll grant an extension to midnight my time tonight. Please post soon.

Meta is disqualified due to time limit. Zack advances.

No, fair, I was away during this fight, I only came back on the 10th

You're correct, this is my fault. You did post an absence, but I did say to ask me for an extension when needed. You have an extension. Post soon.

Metamorphi found himself in a dark city. Was it abandoned? Probably. He walked around for a little bit, finding nothing and no one, wasn't their supposed to be an opponent somewhere? He shrugged and sat down on a fence, waiting for someone to find him.

Darkness. Shadows. Silence. The city seemed abandoned, but that was a lie. A spectre roamed the night. A madman stalked in the shadows, his manic grin belying his intelligence and cunning. He stalked through the night, searching. He was supposed to fight another... Would he find blood tonight? Would he finally get to kill again? His heart quickened at the thought, sending a surge of adrenaline through his body. No. No! He couldn't let himself slip... He had to fight it. Fight it... Fight it! He couldn't let the screams get to him again. He couldn't let the voices drown him out. But he could already see it! The vermilion stains! He could taste the coppery joy! He could smell the wonderful fear! He shuddered. No. Not again. He had to stop. He couldn't kill again. He was a Titan, a hero! People looked up to him! That was their folly. He was a monster. But what about his friends? What of those he loved? What of them? He's a monster. Monsters don't get friends. Zack shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He had to focus on what was important here: He was here to die. To find someone who could finally stop the screams, someone who could best him in combat. But he was a weapon, and he had his pride. He would not be beaten by some cur who got lucky, and he would not lie down and die. As he followed Metamorphi, concealed in shadow, and watched him sit, he raised his Famas. He wondered if this one would even see it coming. His grin widened. Oh how he hoped so. He lined up the young meta, aiming to wound, to maim, to to cause pain and terror. His grin twitched as he squeezed the trigger.

Metamorphi looked around as he waited, he was getting bored, he lept off the fence to go looking for the guy he had to fight, by luck this decision to move saved him from getting killed by the bullet, he sharply turned to where the bullet came from and his body turned from flesh and blood into bullet proof metal Who are you? Show yourself!

Cackling laughter echoed from the shadows. This one's powers reminded him of an old friend. However it seemed that his opponent didn't have to touch a material to shield himself with it. But that meant that his opponent relied on physical attacks, which meant that he had an advantage. He had several actually, as he thought of past battles, but he kept them hidden in the back of his mind. "Well, now who's a fancy one? Gone and made a set of shiny armor, eh?" The voice was manic, and sounded as though it's owner was fighting a losing battle against his own laughter. A round pinged off of Meta's shoulder, his armor making it harmless. Perhaps just to make sure that guns would be useless? "And here I was thinking this would be boring." More laughter echoed from the shadows, mania seeping through it. A man stepped from the shadows. He wore combat boots, ragged bloodstained jeans, and a brown leather jacket worn open over a tattered white tee shirt as bloodstained as his pants. Strangely, his jacket wasn't damaged. A Famas hung over his shoulder, but there was no visible strap holding it in place. The man had black hair, slicked back against his skull, hazel eyes dominating a hawk-like face, glittering with malicious intent, and an eerie grin that seemed to stretch from ear to ear, his white teeth in stark contrast to the darkness around them. He had a combat knife in his right hand, and he licked it's serrated edge. "Do you think you can win, then knock off Jak? Let's hope you can. We're all rooting for you." He adopted a defensive stance and beckoned his opponent forward.

Metamorphi said nothing with words, but his face spoke his anger, he was tired of being compared to this 'JaK' guy, it was always 'JaK junior' or 'Kid sage' everyone compared him to JaK, he was sick of it, he ran straight forward at the man, his form slowing him down somewhat, then he threw three punches at the man, each with speed, power and technique, each aimed at a different area, to show that Metamorphi was not as inexperienced as he first appeared, he was a trained fighter and he was ready to kick ass.

His opponent was angry. That was good. His opponent couldn't think when angry. His grin widened as he sidestepped a punch, then ducked a second. His opponent knew about martial arts, that much was obvious, but his opponent did not know him. His grin widened. He was in his element, was this false Jak? He was a weapon, he had been since his rebirth. L.A.W. may be a monstrous organization, but they knew how to make weapons. They had trained him well. He was a master of redirection, of turning his opponent's attacks into his own advantage. He put that training to use, not even having to think as he brought his right arm up, deflecting, then trapping his opponent's fist under his arm in a vice-like grip - no normal human was quite so strong, and it was obvious that something far stronger than muscle or bone lurked just beneath his flesh. Though whether or not Metamorphi would have time to dwell on that as Zack's other hand swung in an uppercut aimed at his elbow was beyond Zack. He certainly wasn't. His attack was given far more power than even he would otherwise be capable of thanks to some magnetic assistance, and he aimed for the weakest point on any body - the joint. He had no idea what metal Metamorphi had become, but he knew his blow would easily buckle most steel alloys. And of course he could always magnetically force his opponent's elbow the wrong way at the same moment his attack connected, assuming it wasn't blocked or dodged somehow. If neither was strong enough to snap the joint the wrong way, then maybe together they were. Either way, it was sure to cause some problems.

Metamorphi grunted in displeasure as his attacks were dodged, he saw the uppercut coming so he quickly caught it in his hand, the blow wasn't as weak as Metamorphi expected so he grunted in pain, but then he squeezed the man's fist, he didn't know if the man had any special durability, but Metamorphi's hand was stronger than concrete, literally, but the man could always just free his hand with enough force, whether or not his first attack was effective Metamorphi would aim to hit the man in the face with his left elbow, then follow with a right cross.

This post would disqualify Silent Night, but I've given everyone who wanted one a second chance. Post within the next 48 hours.

The match goes to Metamorphi.

Woo!