A Visitor to the Future - 101 - Showdown
With my pulse slowing a little from the adrenaline of charging shoulder-first into my bulky opponent, I did a quick scan to take in their features. A humanoid body and joint structure - with the exception of the rotating mid-section, which was an interesting gimmick to say the least. The head was squat and recessed into a slight alcove at the top of the torso, presenting nothing for me to grab onto. The limitation of such a design was that it would have less of an ability to quickly see what was around it - that had probably played to my advantage.
But that brief scan was all I got, as my opponent surged forward, going for a right-handed haymaker. I leaned back onto my right foot, feeling and hearing the whoosh of air as the powerful punch passed my Proxy's face by inches. I countered with a quick double-punch and while the first was deflected by my opponent's left arm, my right first hit home in what would be the stomach area.
And did nothing. This one's plating really was as tough as it looked, an underhand jab probably wouldn't accomplish much. That came at a cost, though - I was able to scurry backwards as my opponent tried to catch me in a bear hug. The weight difference here meant that I was at an advantage in terms of reaction times, but if I took a hit, it would probably be very bad.
"Don't get hit!" I said to my team, "Lots of weight behind those punches."
"You don't say!" said Tungsten, the tone of his voice conveying he'd already picked up on that, "But I appreciate the heads up - call out any weaknesses you spot!"
A small wave lapped over my left foot with a wet splash of contact, and I checked to make sure that my footing would remain secure on rapidly flooding surface. There was a slight twinge in my right shoulder as the sensors relayed damage to me - my initial strike had damaged my opponent, but had probably caused collateral damage to my proxy. I just hoped that it wasn't serious.
No time to worry about that, though, my opponent was determined now, lumbering towards me with an inevitable momentum - like a train rolling downhill. Despite all the training I'd done, I felt my fight-or-flight reflex kicking in, my brain still not quite used to facing down machines of metal with forearms raised before them, ready to strike. I hunched my Proxy's shoulders and went for a left-handed punch to my opponent's head as they came into range. Their right forearm batted the blow to the side - but then their palm reached forward and grasped my elbow, seizing it in an iron grip that I couldn't escape. My opponent didn't even bother to deflect my right arm as it uselessly impacted the chest, causing superficial damage. There was a crunch of metal and polymers smashing as my opponent followed up with a punch to the head, and one of my eyes went dark.
The observations I'd made about my opponent's head earlier clearly went both ways - I'd seen theirs as fortified but unable to observe easily. They saw mine as an exposed target.
With my elbow firmly in my opponent's grip and crumpling under the pressure, there was only one thing to do, else take another punch and lose all vision entirely. I buckled my knees, and grabbed my opponent's arm in kind, planning on taking us both to the ground. My proxy might have weighed less than my opponent, but they weren't strong enough to support the both of us, especially with their arm extended as it was. The force had the intended effect to begin with, as my opponent staggered sideways, but my idea was firmly scuppered as they lashed out with their left arm - targeting not my head, but the damaged elbow. Sparks flew as I lost the connection, the severed forearm no longer dragging my opponent down with me.
I fell back into the shallow water with an audible slap, droplets splashing into the air around me. There was no time to mourn the loss of my arm, though - I heavily rolled sideways to try and gain some distance so that I could stand up. Rolling a Proxy wasn't easy - it was more like rolling a log than a person, but somehow I managed it, and I scrambled into a kneel, raising my remaining right arm to shield myself as my opponent threw my old forearm at me. It clattered off and fell into the water.
I was on the back foot now, my opponent had the advantage and they knew it. I scurried out of the way of strikes and played defensively, unable to hit back, trying to think of a strategy. Usually I could fall back upon kicks and grapples, but the rapidly deepening water was a concern - any slipping here could present your opponent with exactly the advantage they needed. I listened carefully to my teammates, but besides Gatecrash cursing in three different languages in a way very unbecoming of a teacher, there was no easy path to victory that they'd figured out.
In the meantime, the fog was lifting, and the scale of the changes to the battlefield was becoming apparent. The arena was flooding, yes - but at one side was what looked to be a giant wave machine, the surges of water across the surface growing in intensity by the second. I could see my teammates fighting in the distance - doing a bit better than I was, but still struggling, it seemed. I'd get no help from them right now.
An idea came to mind, as I backed up slowly. My opponent, the pursuer, was intent on following me, lumbering forward and parting the knee-high water in their wake. In a way, that meant that I could dictate the location of our next engagement - they were too slow to get around me.
There might still be a way to turn this around.