The Mimic and The Muscle (Match 4 - Marshal)

[MaKayla MyKa]

Makayla was not one for vengeance. Of course Marshal had beaten Kia with a knock out, as was required. What had the girl expected to get from such a fight but an even worse memory. The school allowed a day's rest between each fight. MaKayla had spent it mostly in thought, wondering what kind of freedom she was fighting for and what kind of school would allow such violence, not to mention supporting it. 

She sat at the edge of the arena's entrance, not daring to look into the courtyard quite yet. She felt sick using her strength like this. Her lessons with Issac were intended to be used as defense, not attacking someone who hadn't done anything. 

"Are you ready?" the man near the gate asked, a hint of concern in his tone as he looked to the young girl in her current state. She looked paler, hunched over, her hands together as if delivering a prayer from tucked lips. She could manage a nod, the best she could manage.

The doors opened. She uttered a gasp of a sigh, trying to ease her nerves as she took her breaths like her steps: heavy but in stride. The courtyard felt as foreign as it had on her first day at Ashford. She had no clue of what she had walked into.

[Marshal Bishop]

There was more than one way to prepare for a tournament. Of course the rules had stated that you couldn't bring weapons into the arena. But luckily the Arena offered it's own advantage. He was able to catch the rest of the fights, his battle with Kia was rather swift, leading him to a lot of down time and a lot of time not recovering.

It was the most fighting and the most skill sets and fighting moves he'd gained in a single day. Of course he was mildly overzealous about what was to come. He had no clue exactly who he would be paired up against and he would have no clue of who would be watching his fight, perhaps his next opponent in the tourney.

His preparations were the simplest of anyone's. Watch others, pick the winning style, and get a good night's rest.

The man at the gate was quiet, silent. Not afraid, just waiting. Rather impatiently , the tapping of his foot was a dead giveaway to whatever the man was anticipating. Marshal sighed, not quite annoyed but not quite able to ignore it either. It seemed like forever until the gates opened, revealing his opponent, MaKayla.

Marshal was ready to win, of course he knew he had to play it a bit dirty. Of course beating on a little girl was dirty as it was. She had beaten her last opponent in a single punch, she was either really lucky or she had some unseen advantage. "Best of luck." Marshal nodded, taking a rather neutral stance, not even a fighting stance. There he stood testing the girl as his power went to work.

[MaKayla MyKa]

She nodded, "and to you." She stood there, half afraid to make any movement, not that Marshal was a scary individual, it was more of the case that she was already afraid of what was going to happen and the way Marshal stood there made her even more nervous. What could he possibly be doing?

She racked her mind on what he was doing, was he building up a solar weapon by standing in the sun? Was he creeping into her mind? Was he going to strike at any moment?

MaKayla stayed still, or at least as still as she could manage. Some strike of fear brought adrenaline into the mix, showing in very obvious jitters. But there she stood still, she was confident in her abilities. . . somewhat. But she was far more comfortable trusting in Issac's advice. She was told never to throw the first punch. But. . . Her opponent seemed to be doing nothing, not one thing.

[Marshal Bishop]

Of all the questions, of all the dangers that could have raced through her mind, she would have never assumed that Marshal was just looking. He hadn't looked for anything, no information at all. But his power seemed to gather it on it's own.

First, and most obvious was her fear. She was shaking as if she had gotten a shot of adrenaline, which wasn't too far off. She had a bad leg from where a previous injury had occurred, marked by scarring near the front of her leg.

He started to circle her, as if trying to get a better look at her scars.

She was a smaller type yet deceptively strong, hinted by buttons repaired over and over again, not to mention the boy she had taken out with one punch. Hell, the longer he was around her the more evidence he found of her strength.

But he couldn't quite find any other type of power she had. What else? What else did he have to know to win?

[MaKayla MyKa]

She didn't allow him to step around him, she wasn't going to keep her distance, she could only manage a hit at a point blank position. But she could not allow him to slip around her. " . . . " she kept her breathing steady, as if to manage what he was doing. "Stop looking at me like that. . ." Her frightened tone only scared herself. Paranoia had creeped in.

She quickly adjusted her stance, raising her fists. in a defensive manner trying to keep her back straight. She couldn't allow him to gain footing on her or allow him to push her into a corner. She had to act, at least the fear told her so.

She stepped forward, closing the distance between her and the boy.

[Marshal Bishop]

Marshal looked the frightened girl in the eyes, she was going to make a really bad decision. He stepped forward, causing her to flinch back before pausing. She had to think it over for a moment before taking a step forward. This was his moment to strike, her boxing stance was very defensive. He had to do this tactfully.

He went to kick her leg, hitting it, and knocking her off balance for a brief moment. He took the opportunity to strike again, this time a left hook, an attempt to get around Kay's guard.

[MaKayla MyKa]

The kick had landed the moment she had stepped in. She had inadvertently made the first move of the fight, against Issac's advice. The kick had shifted her stance a bit wider, causing an unstable bend to her knees. The left hook was not fully blocked, as it struck her forehead as she managed to push the punch sloppily up and to the right, just missing it's target. Now was the time for her to hit, all it would take is one good hit.

Marshal had the range advantage, but he had stepped forward as well to take his shot. If MaKayla could just get a bit closer she knew she could win this. She moved her back leg in instead of backing up for a recovery, and that's when she struck a left jab into his ribs. She was far fitter than Marshal, quicker and stronger too. This advantage would play to her advantage, though she did not like the feel of punching someone.