AnotherArchetype
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136. All-New, All-Improved
🕑 Added 2025-04-08 22:20:16 +0000 UTCCombat really was a whole other means of existence.
The visual stimuli of the fight with Azad was only the first layer to contend with.
When he bounded up to the edge of the pool where I had stood before, I was already leaping backwards to create more distance between us.
Any daydream I had about how the fight might go dramatically diminished.
Azad’s fist was closing in on my face with all the weight and unrelenting power of a meteor.
The last time I felt as if I were in a similar combat situation was when I had faced off against Holly in the Wedder Gorge facility’s exercise area.
She had lost control and became a were-cougar after a vicious slash across her face from Adam, who had also lost control, and had become a were-lion.
Back then I had acted on raw instinct, barely able to stay alive let alone fight on equal terms with Holly. Back then, every moment had stretched out, roaming in slowly yet passing in the blink of an eye at the same time. But I really hadn’t had much time at all to think, to react, to do anything yet desperately try to survive moment-to-moment.
My fight with Azad had started very differently, because I found I had far more time to consider how I was going to react to his attack.
The power, like when I ran or did anything at high speed, boosted not only the visual stimuli of everything I saw, but also slowed everything down. It wasn’t a feeling, but an actual perceptive slowdown of time from my subjective point of view fuelled by the power.
Back when the Pied Piper Task Force attacked Xandra and me at the World War Two bunker, I had made a desperate escape. I had dodged a tranquilliser dart (or perhaps a lethal killing dart for all I knew) by some incredible extra-instinct, something which even then made me remember back to the brief training I had done balancing on the glass jars at the Rugby clubhouse. Then, after the dart, which I had dodged with a mere cocking of my head, I had stayed a fraction of a step ahead of the Peepers making it out of the forest. They had tried to hit me with everything they had, all of that machine gun fire, and somehow my instincts and reflexes had given me the means to survive.
So what, really, was a fist thrown from the all-new, all-improved Azad compared to all that?
With a surprising sense of indignation I dodged the incoming punch by moving my whole body to the right. Then, I brought up my left knee and struck Azad in the gut with about half the power I dared to muster in the counter-blow. I felt the almost metal-like substance of his stomach take the blow; though there was still a hint of soft human tissue to Azad’s eight-pack abs.
I heard Azad grunt from the kick, which sounded more like surprise than genuine pain.
It was then I noticed that the return of sound from hearing that same grunt which broke the slowing down of time the power had instinctively brought about for me.
The lapse in the slowing down of time was a welcome reprieve. Although I had only a half-second to think about my next move, the relenting of the slower pacing of time was like taking an exhale of air.
It’ll have a price, I thought, every perceptive drawing out of time will reduce my mental willpower.
That was as much as I was able to consider, in that moment, the new reality of what fighting at a new superhuman level would entail. So much of it I had already considered as part of The Archetype Project reasoning out of the future I had done; and it came as a fresh reminder that all of that figuring out I had done was only going to be of benefit to me moving forward.
Azad let out a fresh series of grunts as he redoubled his efforts to land a punch on me.
He must have been going easy on me with the first punch because the speed and power behind the punches increased.
A chase ensued, Azad throwing more punches, and me either stepping backwards or moving to the left or right just quick enough to avoid them landing.
As much as Azad seemed to be trying to land the blow, I was simply able to stay that little bit ahead.
With each blow which didn’t land, there again came a reprieve as I heard yet another of Azad’s series of grunts. Was it the sound breaking the concentration of the power? Or partly a coincidence to take in things in real time between dodging Azad’s attacks? I figured it wasn’t the time to experiment trying to extend the slowing of my perception, since it was working just fine keeping me from getting hit.
I decided, again, to land another blow of my own.
The punch I threw was straight down-the-line, aimed dead centre of Azad’s face.
It landed, and for a moment I expected a similar crunch of Azad’s nose the way Tommy’s had under my punch.
But Azad’s face was made of much stronger stuff.
Even so, the power of my punch, which was a testing jab at what I could only guesstimate was about thirty-percent of of what I could really deal out, caused Azad to seize up from the impact.
I continued moving away and bounded to a stop several paces from Azad. I led my feet slide across the grimy pool area tiles, letting myself come to a stop that way instead of using the adhesion to force a hard stop.
Azad shook his head, recovering quickly from the blow to the middle of his face. I saw however a change in his attitude. The giddy excitement he had shown at the start was replaced by a fresh frustration.
There wasn’t anything to be said. Instead we just looked at each other, taking a reprieve both of us didn’t really need to size each other up.
Disappointed, I thought, acknowledging how I was feeling.
I had thought Azad would fight better and harder than he was already. It had been too easy for me to dodge and counter-attack.
Hadn’t Azad learned some martial arts? I had seen him use precise kicks at an incredible speed before back when he was taking down the Peepers at the abandoned textile factory.
He’s slower because of the changes he’s made to his body, I thought, he’s paying the price for that.
Azad renewed his attack after a few seconds of taking the reprieve to heal the superficial wound I had dealt.
He tried punching, and bounding martial-arts-style kicks, and even lunging for me. With each attempt of his to land a blow I simply dodged, and on occasion I threw out a counter-punch or kick at the same thirty-percent level. Enough for him to feel the consequence of his latest attacks missing, telling him that, in a real fight, the blow dealt would be much more severe.
It was getting to the point where I almost wanted to let him get a grip on me to create the crisis situation to bring about a real challenge in the fight.
I knew that, considering his new strength, if he did manage to grab hold of me, the dynamic of the fight would drastically change. I would be much more at his mercy. But I wasn’t going to condescend to Azad more than I already was with the light counter-blows.
“What is this?” I said, finally.
Azad had been readying himself to come at me again, but stopped, though he kept his fighting stance up.
“It’s the warm up,” he said, “I didn’t expect you to be so fast.”
“Maybe you’re just slow?” I said.
Azad grinned.
“Not for long,” he said.
“You’ve made yourself slower,” I said, “Into some kind of metal-man.”
“Yeah,” said Azad, “But I needed to do that, to do this. I hope you’re ready, Burgess, because now I’m about to get serious.”
I could tell Azad meant what he said; the steely look in his eyes told me as much.
Azad started punching the air, and for a moment I thought he had gone mad. He let out several grunts with each punch he thrust into the air.
“Tension!” he yelled, between yet more punches.
It was then I started to notice heat rising from Azad’s body, and the speed with which his fists punching the air began to pick up to the point they began to look like the pistons of an engine.
“Ha-ee-ya-aa! Aa!-Aa! Aa!” Azad yelled, throwing yet more punches.
I wasn’t using the power to slow down the motion of his movements, so to my eyes the speed of his fists moving was as if they were a blur. I could hear the sound of each punch carving into the air.
Silver and gold sparkles began to rise off Azad’s frame, rising with the heat coming off his body.
Azad’s arms moved back to his usual power stance with incredible speed, snapping back into place.
All around him, the aura of gold and silver glitter filled the air.
It was then I noticed Azad’s eyes were shining bright gold, tinged with silver.
Azad bounded towards me with incredible speed. For a moment I wasn’t even sure the power had properly reduced the speed with which it slowed everything down.
Comments
Charles Borchard
He's made his body into stronger stuff, a sort of mix of human DNA and a new metallic substance. That way he can push his bod harder without it breaking down like it did before (as badly at least).
Mrs Cotton
I was worried Azad had weighed himself down too much with whatever the metal situation is, but I’m excited to see how he goes now that he’s powered up properly - good luck Burgess 😬
حسين عباس عبد المهدي
I like the new aesthetic of azad, did he add metal into his body and turn it into a propel engine
