Superboy vs Scapegoat

Setting: A dark city, abandoned
First Turn: Superboy

OT: I will try and get a post up soon but as I said in the sign up thread my laptop is currently dead so I'll be posting from different things like xbox/phone etc

OT: Still don't have my laptop back yet but I'll post from my mothers laptop when I can

The beam carried Superboy down into an abandoned city. Superboy looked to his left and then to his right, scanning his surroundings, there seemed to be nothing. Almost as if this city had been created just for these two combatants to fight. Superboy would listen to hear if there were any other heartbeats in the city, there seemed to be nothing. Good, that meant that they could go all out without having to worry about any innocent bystanders getting in the way and potentially getting hurt. Superboy would simply stand in one spot and clench his fist, now he just had to wait for his opponent to appear so that this fight could begin

Another light brought the second combatant crashing to ground some way off. Vernon Antis swivelled round quickly, before looking straight up, as if he would be in time to catch his beam ascending. Overhead, the skies gave an impression of lying under filter, a bleak shade tinted the cobbled-streets in gloom. A chain of establishments crowded narrow walkways, each and every one succumbed to an infestation of nailed wooden planks. There was not even a murmur of activity, like a taint had driven off every worthwhile inhabitant. An unspoken evil haunted these desolate and crumbled hollows, a detrimental force to every woebegone visitor who mistakenly wandered into this benighted city.

Scapegoat shook his head in sorrow. To think they would be made to fight in Ipswich!

The ghoul concentrated on sniffing, trying to pick up the barest trace of an aroma. It was no use. There was nothing dead or decaying here. Worst vacation spot ever. Not at all like the brochure had made out. The sentient, omnipotent brochure, which had spoken to the entire world telepathically. Should have placed a postcard in the shop window of a newsagent's instead.

It had taken him several attempts to say Rargshargsauror. Scapegoat wished they hadn't gone with one of those dinosaur names. But here he was. In a contest to end all contests. The mightiest of the mightiest. As well as a thousand children who had spoken the dreaded word against their parents' warning. Vernon loved a good mishap. What would life be without the occasional farce? Speaking of which, he had a battle to get to.

The smart thing to do, would be to use his foe's stationary status against them. Fill the city with a multitude of pressure-activated magic circles. Turn this neutral battlefield into one under his own control. Scapegoat had the time. Scapegoat had the power. He even held the patience.

“Olly olly oxen freeway!” A pity his concentration waned in the scope of new and unfamiliar surroundings, “I'm gonna count to a hundred! One! Two! Miss a few! … One!” Before reaching the target figure, the hapless ghoul sighted his prey for this round. A strapping physique, but that would wither as it decayed. All bodies did. Scapegoat pointed accusingly, “Gah! You didn't hide at all! And trust me. You'll have wanted to hide.”

Far as combat went Scapegoat felt he had a foolproof strategy. Long as his foe didn't hit him with anything. And how often did that happen during a fight anyhow? Foolproof, “I'm Scapegoat, by the way. You look kinda familiar. Must have one of those John Doe type faces. Slap a pair of glasses on you and you'll blend right into the crowd. Now then,” The ghoul struck a fancy kung-fu pose, “Eat psionics!” Scapegoat unleash his mental bolts, attempting to cause minor pain via psychic attack.

Vernon wasn't overly familiar with how his mental barrage worked, though its effect was palpable. He just affixed his mind to the task at hand and willed an attack into existence. Think hurtful thoughts: Death toll of World War Two. Amount of people in poverty. The number of deaths every day. Rebecca Black. That shirt makes him look fat. And so his ability took affect. First blood to the gleeful ghoul!

... Metaphorical blood.

It was an underhanded strike, with little to no way for someone to defend against. Though if Scapegoat's psychic abilities were going to decide this match, he needed to be touching his victim. As they were currently, he would just cause some distracting irritation. In fact, his enemy redoubled their focus and gave an earth-shattering display of strength.

... Literal earth-shattering.

Well crikey, flip, and flip me back'ards... The power of this lad was incontestable. It was as if a force of nature had been launched against the ghoul. Oh wait. Correction: It was as if a force of nature had been launched against itself. It was time for a desperate reversal of fortunes.

In the blink of an eye, Scapegoat exchanged locations with his foe, so that Superboy was now the one facing an imposing chasm. That would teach Heracles to be all unstoppable. Power was a good commodity, but it meant nothing without precision, "Tell the Mole People I said hey!" Yet despite this switcheroo Vernon now pulled, Superboy had succeeded in one effort. The psionic attack was temporarily stalled. Scapegoat couldn't concentrate on gloating and combat, after all.

All of a sudden life became a Warner Brothers cartoon. Vernon's foe didn't fall; instead suspended at the exact level ground had previously occupied. If only the man would look down. The laws of physics always returned once Wile E. Coyote noticed his peril. But no. This guy must already be aware of the gap beneath him. It was not Looney Toons physics then. Scapegoat let out a gasp of relief, having feared the worst. Judge Doom was thankfully fighting a different match.

Vernon's teeth clenched, "Very crafty. Invisible jetpack. Just like Superman." Very like him actually. For the first time in this battle Scapegoat considered the identity of his enemy. Could it be...? Was this man really...? The resemblance was uncanny. Though it was difficult to make this judgement without a cape to frame his shoulders. Perhaps it was time to take this match seriously?

A car was launched like a ragdoll. Such strength was impressive, in a pants-wettingly sort of way. Because of the sheer bulk of the projectile, Scapegoat could not see his foe to change places with again. He wasn't going to dodge this one. Some brain cell sparked to life and provided the ghoul with a solution. Vernon punched himself in the head.

He collapsed to the floor. Ghouls could be put to death with just one solid blow. A great inconvenience at times. The sudden strike had killed him dead, just in time for the vehicle to kill him alive. A second blow brought ghouls back to life. Scapegoat was alive and well. Dropping a car on his corpse had cured him, so to speak.

Vernon dug himself out from the pile of scrap metal, spitting a lug-nut out of his mouth before wiggling free. His body had the illusion of being unharmed, "Excessive. Super-strength can't help you win this one. When alive, I never chose to fight anybody weaker than myself." He went to target his competitor with another psionic attack.

For an abandoned city, there sure were a lot of cushions on the floor. Whoever had organised this battle royale must have put them there. So when people fell, they had a nice soft landing, instead of one which would count as a solid blow of sorts. Scapegoat gave a small prayer to the random cushion that had prevented his death and thus solved all complaints about his survival once and for all.

Once and for all. ^_^

Whoever his foe was, they weren't very talkative. This upset Vernon. 50% of 'one on one' battles consisted of banter! They were doing it all wrong. How could they learn who had killed who's martial-arts master, if they didn't talk!? Instead his competitor used the time for more combat, moving straight into his next attack.

Of course rocks not being layered like a deck of cards, splitting the ground didn't necessarily guarantee a straight line fissure. However, in this case the ground beelined straight for Scapegoat's position. The ghoul had been too hard concentrating and almost didn't see the danger in time. Thankfully alarm bells in his head were raised and Vernon set about a desperate dodge.

He stepped to one side.

Scapegoat blinked and looked over the edge, “Wow that was clooOOSSSEEE!” Fracturing caused by the break had weakened the ground directly bordering the chasm. Scapegoat, like a pudding, fell in when the floor gave way to slope failure. Down he fell into the bottomless pit, which actually turned out not to be bottomless – the earth not being like that – and instead Scapegoat struck the next, sturdier rock layer hard. Once again dead.

A piece of rubble, accompanying the small landslide, struck Scapegoat's dead body, bringing the ghoul back into action. He sat up and immediately pointed a finger at Superboy, “HA!” Before another stone bonked him on the head, killing the ghoul for the third and final time.

And the lesson here? Earth-bending is a more complex process than we have been led to believe by the mainstream media. Hundreds of ghouls die every year from earth-bending related mishaps because they are not educated in geology:

Spoiler:

Both Connor and Scapegoat disappeared from the arena, being teleported back to the castle in the sky. They were given their own personal quarters to rest for the next round.