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Post by Jack on Jan 6, 2013 21:37:43 GMT -8
OOC: Thread is made for Farren but as always open ^^
IC:
A week earlier
Jack woke up in a dark cold room, cuffs wrapped around his ankles and wrist. Heavy chains linked to the cuffs and buried deep within the walls.
His head was hurting but apart from the pain in his sides there was nothing out of the ordinary, except for the fact that five hours ago all he could remember was pounding some persons face in. He heard voices outside before the door opened and a man walked toward him, he grabbed Jack under the chin and inspected his face "Are you calm" the man's cold voice echoed around room Jack let out a grunt "Get me the fuck out of here already".
The white of the man's teeth caught what little light there was left in the the room which gave away the fact that he was smiling at him. As he bellowed a command or two and Jack's chains were removed he pressed closer and whispered in his ear "They're waiting for you", a short pause "Do not disappoint me, you must keep your cool next time". The man turned and walk out leaving Jack alone in his cell.
Eventually he overcame the pain and stood up, shuffling out of the room. The pain in his head and side growing as he continued to walk back to his residence. His body groaned with every step telling him to go back and sit down. Eventually made his way to his room and collapsed.
Now
Sitting in the corner of the room Jack looked on wide eyed as he watched people beat each other senseless. His heart beat faster and faster as he anticipated each move the people carried out. Sometime mid fight he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. It was the person he nearly killed the previous time he was involved in the fight club before he was reprimanded and detained by his associates. Jack gave the man a nod which was kindly returned as he moved on through the crowed to great friends.
Fight club had been a corner stone of his life for some time, the history isn't exactly clear but the first one started up in New York and from there various people took it over during the years. For maybe the last few years Jack had periodically started and organized fight clubs from time to time. But now it was no longer a place for teenagers and adults to gather together and beat their frustrations out.
After the fight Jack let out a slow clap and took the center floor "So... who's next?" he said as he pat each man on the back and greeted them before diverting his attention back to the people who gathered around the cardboard mat.
"You all know the rules" he said pointing to the wall where the rules were written "For over 8 years now, people from all walks of life have gathered to fight and bloody one another." He stared at the small gathering of people, it was few but it was still more than last time and that's all he could ever expect. "Young men and women frustrated at the schooling system which shunned them, those with new families who had no idea how to put food on the table because they lived in country with a corrupt government" a small pause " A government which only looks out for the rich and does nothing for the common man"
He had them, his public speaking training had done wonders "Well now, it seems our life hasn't changed very much. So some of you ask yourselves why should you be here? I say why not? They've taken everything from us but they haven't taken our will to fight our hunger for blood. So... who's next?"
Two more challengers stood forward, one was a new guy the other was a regular, Jack nodded before raising his hand in the air and yelled "Fight!" he moved back to his corner where his clothes and weapons lay, he could never be too careful. As per the rules, no weapons were allowed in fights but that didn't mean that people weren't allowed to bring weapons.
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Post by Farren on Jan 7, 2013 20:06:48 GMT -8
Like a bad penny, some things just can't die, even when everything says they should. Take me for example. Former Pillar of the biggest corporal punishment school in New York; strike one. Diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer, considered inoperable; strike two. Survived, went to the southern Cali, just before it became ground zero for the end of the world as we knew it; strike three. But the game is rigged and the umpire must be drunk cause here I still am. And of all the abandoned places, the forgotten corners of this broken new world, I end up at something I thought had died along with me... Fight Club.
The club I'd started as an outlet for my pain and anger, a boxing club with simple yet brutal rules. I had heard of other clubs popping up during my travels, the rumors always told by black-eyed men in hushed whispers. I figured with simple survival now as hard as turning water into gold that no one in their right mind would resurrect the club. But tales of cardboard floors and shirtless fist fights still made their way to me, lost in the barrens. I'd walked in late, a stranger in the crowd, though the only one who still wore a T-shirt. I had too many scars to show this soon, it'd mark me a target before I took two steps. Instead I drifted across the back, watching as the next fight began, a rookie and a veteran...I could tell by the aura. The rules - my rules - were displayed up high for all to see. The crowd yelled and cheered, weapons piled along the back. The smell of blood and sweat was heavy. It felt like going home. It was more raw, more animalistic than before, but it was still Fight Club. Lost in old thoughts, I tuned back in just in time to see that the rookie was getting his ass royally handed to him. Desperate to win, he lunged through the crowd and seized upon a metal bat from the weapons pile near me, obviously looking to do damage. My eyes narrowed. In a single sweeping move I ripped the bat from his hands, kneed him in the gut so hard a rib broke, and caught him by the neck in one hand just before he fell to the floor. I held him up with an outstretched arm, the crowd around us backing up slightly from the instant of brutality. I growled in a low rumble... "THIS. IS. FIGHT CLUB. I will not see its name wasted. Fight like a man...or die like a dog. The choice is yours." |
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Post by Jack on Jan 7, 2013 22:49:31 GMT -8
"THIS. IS. FIGHT CLUB. I will not see its name wasted. Fight like a man...or die like a dog. The choice is yours." A grin spread across his lips So you show yourself at last Jack thought as he observed the room which went dead silent you could hear a pin drop.
After a few moments of dead awkward silence a deep dark laughter cut through the whole room like a glass shattering. As all the eyes in the room drifted over to the master of the club who was sitting casually on a table in the corner of the room perched high above anyone else.
He was leaning back as if not a care in the world staring at Farren with his dark menacing eyes. In fact that was the only thing that gave away his interest with Farren the way Jack looked at him. All he could think of was ripping the man in two and feeding his heart to one of his wolves. Slowly he took the last drag of his cigarette and but it out on the wall letting the butt fall down to the floor. Ignoring the little black mark that was left of the wall from where he butt our his cigarette.
Jack's dark eyes stayed locked right on Farren everyone else didn't matter at that moment. "Well it seems we have royalty in the house tonight" Jack mused loud enough for everyone to hear. The attention now split between Jack and Farren.
They had met each other twice, once in New York when Jack was young and still learning his trade and again more recently here in Long Beach at another Fight Club Jack had set up before Barker's attack. They were introduced to one another by his then love interest Kevala.
All he had to know then was his name and he already knew enough about the man, his history, his legends. "So you've decided to return home?" Jack smiled oddly it was maybe a little bit too friendly "But this isn't your house this is mine and you are a new guest in my home."the shift in his voice gave away his lust for a fight. The mob all knew what was about to come and they grew excited, they might have even unnerved Farren a little. "What's the rule concerning first time guests, Farren?" he didn't have to ask not because they were written on the wall opposite him but because they were the rules he had written.
People began whispering everyone who was ever involved in a fight club under Jack or under Xaier before him knew of Farren and his involvement in the first few fight clubs of New York city.
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Phoenix
Adept
A Shadow Burns
Posts: 119
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Post by Phoenix on Jan 8, 2013 1:52:22 GMT -8
Ducking through the door way and immediately taking his place within the mass of shirtless individuals, Phoenix stripped off his usual attire and joined the crowd. There had been no need to inform Jack that he was going to attend and it would only be unkind to reveal himself so early on to his friend, especially when the potential for fun was already increasing. Maneuvering through the people gathered, Phoenix positioned himself in front of the corner where Jack was sitting, his back towards his ally.
The current fight was, by the look of it, between two rookies. Their attacks without much technique and obviously telegraphed; neither would be a match for an experienced opponent. A few exchanges of blows later and the fight is decided. Phoenix glanced back at Jack as he clapped and made his way to the centre of attention. Just as he would want. Chuckling to himself as Jack made his best attempt at a speech, Phoenix would move away from the corner to get a better view. Whilst his friend's charisma still had a long way to go, it was clearly having the desired effect upon the majority of the dull minded mass that surrounded them. Two others, another inexperienced fighter paired with a veteran, stepped forward to take Jack up on his challenge. Unfortunately, the outcome of this fight was always clear from the outset. The inexperience of the younger fighter was a weakness he couldn't overcome as his battle-weary foe blocked, attacked and clawed his way towards a quick and decisive victory. Struggling to contain a yawn, Phoenix cast his eyes around the crowd to try and find something that could captivate his interest. They fell on an oddity. The only man still wearing a shirt. Singled out by his distinct lack of dress, he was either very new, or had something to hide beneath the shirt. Only time would reveal the answer, as the man seemed to at a place other than the present.
A blur of movement drew Phoenix's eyes back to the closing stages of the fight. Seemingly in desperation, the young fighter had sought a weapon behind the crowd and returned quickly with a metal bat, clearly breaking the rules and it wouldn't take too long for punishment to be dealt. Who would be the first to act? Surprisingly, it was the man still clad in the shirt who rose to the call. A crack echoed through the now silent room as a rib broke in two.
“THIS. IS. FIGHT CLUB. I will not see its name wasted. Fight like a man... or die like a dog. The choice is yours.”
Silence reigned. The short display of emotion was a gold mine of information to Phoenix; this unknown man couldn't be new if he cared such a great deal for the reputation of fight club's name, which meant he definitely had something to hide under that shirt. Cold laughter sliced through the still air like a knife. It seemed that Jack was entertained. That did not bode well for the stranger. Phoenix drifted his gaze over to Jack with the rest of the crowd.
“Well it seems we have royalty in the house tonight.”
Phoenix kept his eyes locked onto Jack, confidently hidden in the mass of fighters. He obviously knew the stranger, and there was only one thing that he could have meant by royalty. The atmosphere changed. It didn't matter what Jack was saying any more, although Phoenix knew that he would enjoy the moment, the anticipation in the air was almost palpable. As whispers about this stranger's prior involvement in the original fight clubs circulated the crowd, Phoenix knew that a fight between the two was inevitable.
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Post by Lucien DeChain on Jan 8, 2013 23:45:37 GMT -8
{OOC: Assuming this takes place after thread The Welcoming Party, which means I've met Farren.}
Lucien wandered. He wasn't his usual self, and he felt more defeated than ever. He looked through the abandoned buildings, and hoped he had the right place when he walked through a set of doors, and down a large staircase.
Yep, he had the right place.
Delilah had given him the night off, and even though the night was young, he planned to spend it well. He hadn't been feeling right ever since that run-in with Mr. Barker. There was something bugging his brain, something even deeper than his compulsions.
As he stepped onto the floor of the basement, no one turned to look at him, no one even noticed. They were all enthralled in a fight between two men, whose technique were horrible. Amateurs, Lucien thought, even through all the grime his brain was under.
Tonight, he was not a Crow. Tonight, he was just a man.
As he stepped into a corner, he saw a large sign on the wall with "The Rules." The first two had obviously been broken a large number of times, by the look of things. That's why he was here in the first place. The others seemed fairly standard. No shirt, no shoes... Two guys to a fight... If this is your first night at Fight Club, you have to fight?
Oh. Okay. Lucien dropped his staff beside him, and removed his shirt, exposing his pale frame, barely a rib unseen. Now, where does this go...?
Suddenly, a disturbance happened in another corner. Without looking, Lucien knew that one man had broken ribs, and the other man was not to be trifled with.
“THIS. IS. FIGHT CLUB. I will not see its name wasted. Fight like a man... or die like a dog. The choice is yours.”
Lucien turned around in surprise. Farren? The man from a few days ago! Though Lucien stayed in the background, he almost wanted to wave to him. Though, something told him it was the wrong place, and the wrong time.
“Well it seems we have royalty in the house tonight.”
A voice from the other side of the room. That voice was somewhat familiar, too, though he couldn't put a finger on it. Turning again, he saw the face of the speaker, and another face in the crowd caught his eye. He had a strange feeling then, that if he had to fight tonight, he should fight that man.
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Post by Farren on Jan 9, 2013 8:43:15 GMT -8
OOC: Yup Lucien, this'll be taking place after 'The Welcoming Party'.
IC: Royalty? More like the Prince of Lost Causes, but the title made me smirk slightly. The voice was familiar, like a song from your childhood but you can't place the band's name. I released the man I was holding and let him crumble to the floor, gasping at air and clutching at his side. I walked forward from the back of the crowd, toward the edge of the cardboard ring. I looked over at the tall man and started racking my brain to try and place his face. As I did I said nonchalantly, "Fair enough, this isn't my club, and it is my first night..."
I reached under and peeled off my shirt, revealing my multitude of scars: the slashes across my back, the puncture wound or two near my right shoulder, and the enormous nearly foot-long surgical scar down the center of my chest. I was thinner than I used to be, not as heavily muscled from my year of wandering, but my strength had returned after the last few days' meals. I could hear the whispers around me, some commenting on my looks, some on who I could be, others angling for a fight. I looked around, noticing for the first time that Lucien, the Crow from Hermosa Beach, was attendance, a fact that made me nod knowingly. I made it look as if I was searching for an opponent, but the big man and I both knew what was coming.
"Your house, your choice...who do I fight..." Suddenly a name flashed in my mind to pair with the big man's face. "...Jack?"
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Post by Jack on Jan 9, 2013 9:22:22 GMT -8
"...Jack?" A grin broke across his face and with that he threw off his iconic Jacket that was draped across his shoulders. His skin still protected from the world by many layers of bandages. "I hope you don't mind me wearing my bandages certain injuries renders me unable to take them off without dire consequences" by that he meant more pain than being burned alive would cause.
"So old friend. How do you want your punishment to be served? Striking?" Jack threw a few shadow punches "Or perhaps some grappling?" as he opened his hands out and took a semi formal grappling pose. He smirked if he knew Farren like he thought he did this would be an interesting fight. However he did feel quite weak and exposed in this state.
OOC:
Okay Jack's stats are reduced as follows (sigh it's a fucking long one)
Sonic Dragon's Jacket (DEX: 20| CON: 10| CHA: 2)
Study Book: (WIS: 3)
~Bloodlust Cleaver~ *(5 Strength)
Bee Stinger: (1 str)
The Happy Birthday Hobo Hat! (+1 Str, +1 Con, +1 Wis, +1 Cha)
~Dark Bringer~ (5 str)
~Weight of Darkness~ (2 con | 2 str)
For a total of
-20 DEX | -13 CON | -14 STR | -3 CHA | -4 WIS (Lol at the no int)
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Phoenix
Adept
A Shadow Burns
Posts: 119
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Post by Phoenix on Jan 10, 2013 2:59:01 GMT -8
The verbal exchange between the stranger and Jack was almost teasing the crowd. They craved wanton violence and it was being dangled right in front of them. Every eye was focused on the situation at hand, flickering constantly between the pair who were about to go head to head.
“Fair enough, this isn't my club, and it is my first night...”
A twinge of satisfaction coursed through Phoenix's veins . Things were beginning to add up - the whispers of the other fighters, the underlying hint of experience, and now, what he had been hiding since he walked in. A few gasps were heard as the stranger removed his shirt to unveil a concentrated display of scars, puncture wounds and past surgeries. Fighting experience now in the open for all to see, the anticipation for the fight rocketed to a new height.
“Your house, your choice...who do I fight... Jack?”
A spoken answer was superfluous at this point, Jack's grin provided his intentions all too clearly, it betrayed his love of fighting and bloodshed. Not that Jack cared, he was obviously enjoying himself too much as he shadow boxed and smirked at his opponent. A brawl between old friends was definitely something that Phoenix was interested in seeing. |
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Post by Farren on Jan 10, 2013 8:13:20 GMT -8
OOC: Okay, so Jack's stats are...
STR-36 | DEX-72 | CON-56 | INT-10 | WIS-26 | CHA-10
Right?
IC: Bandages eh? "Leave 'em on, they might prove useful later." I watched as he shadowboxed, taking note of the snaps and timing. This would be interesting; Jack was strong before, but his aura felt all the stronger now, though just a bit sapped. I rolled my shoulders and cracked my neck, kicking off my shoes as I did. I stepped onto the cardboard and hopped in place a few times saying, "I've never been much for styles, let's just see what happens..."
As I finished speaking I lunged forward, dipping slightly to my left and then coming up with a 1-1-2 punch combo, two left jabs and a right straight, aimed for Jack's head. I knew he would probably read the attack before I even came in but this was just to get the blood flowing and the party rolling. With our half-foot difference in height too it was important I stayed close and kept the distance tight. The crowd let out a cheer as the fight began. Hopefully they understood how violent this was going to get in the next few minutes...
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Post by Jack on Jan 10, 2013 10:13:25 GMT -8
OOC: Correct  IC: So let the dance begin he thought as he instinctively moved with Farren. His guard was raised which usually in boxing made it very easy to block punches partially due to the size of the gloves, left little gaps in a nice compact guard. But in a MMA style fight you had to have a looser guard, once that can defend both take downs and kicks. As Farren opened Jack would do his best to keep up with the man. he's fast! he thought as Farrens fists raised down into his guard. one the first jab struct his his right arm, as Farren came toward him closing the gap Jack stepped out widening it. He was quick on his feet and moved with intent. two! the second punch slammed into his forearm but unlike beefore when it was a clean hit this time it was a graze as Jack was now swaying to his left, right into the direction of Farren right straight. one, two, shit! Jack just realized his flaw. Tucking his left arm closer to his skull he braced himself as Farren's right straight slammed into hims arm sending a shock wave down his body. It would take more than a few opening strikes to ware down the iron wall that was Jack's defense however that wasn't to say that he didn't feel that last one. Before Farren could press the advantage Jack's left fist would spring out like a knight wielding his lance on top of a horse. It would shoot right for Farren's face, however it was a little bit offset, he was trying to force him to his left, into the direction of Jack's own right. Again Jack would move in favor of opening the distance between the two fighters. Preferring to fight on the outermost limits of his reach rather than closer to say Farren's outermost limits or even closer than that. Jack would rain down several more light jabs as he move out and to his left. Instead of backing straight away it was important to circle around your opponent regardless of which directions you were moving in. It meant you were moving and if your opponent didn't move with you the take down option was very strong as well as a strike to the back of the head or even a kick. In short you are moving closer or further away but effectively rendering your opponent motionless as he or she turns on the spot trying to keep up with you. In total Jack would throw four jabs as he tried to move out two the furthest point that he could strike Farren with his fists. This would take Jack out of Farren's reach and force him to either come closer slowing his strikes down or kick at which point Jack would have to adapt. |
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Post by Kazuya Hikari on Jan 10, 2013 13:06:12 GMT -8
Standing in the middle of the small ring of people gathered around the arena, a familiar face to Jack and Phoenix, but most especially Jack, could be seen watching the clash of the two titans take place. Clad in his usual frayed open sleeveless karate jacket and black karate pants, training bandages wrapped around his hands and forearms, he had left most of his toys at home. This was Fight Club, and the thought of fighting with nothing but his wits and guile was exhilarating.
For now, he'd keep to himself, stay under the radar, but this was going to be one interesting night, that's for sure.
(OOC: Kazuya's Current Stats:
Strength: 86
Dexterity: 75
Constitution: 81
Intelligence: 80
Wisdom: 80
Charisma: 85)
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Post by Lucien DeChain on Jan 10, 2013 13:49:34 GMT -8
Lucien watched as the first few clashes took place. Man, they were fast! Way out of Lucien's league... He took a moment to be thankful that he didn't challenge either of them. In fact, there seemed to be two separate groups here, the amateurs who had just started fighting, and the elite, who had been fighting since the day they were born.
Lucien couldn't say which one he was, but he was definitely not at their level yet.
So, he watched on, trying to decide who to root for. Farren was fast, and his technique was solid, but the other guy, the leader, had the height advantage, and seemed pretty quick on his feet. Since he knew what Farren was capable of, he decided it was best to stay quiet about it.
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Phoenix
Adept
A Shadow Burns
Posts: 119
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Post by Phoenix on Jan 10, 2013 21:41:17 GMT -8
The two fighters clashed as the crowd cheered. A quick combination of strikes from Jack's opponent and it was already clear that it was going to be an interesting fight. The two men were unbelievably fast; blurs of movement accompanied their fists, Phoenix found himself struggling to keep track of the exchange. Another cheer sounded as Jack's first mistake surfaced and he took a powerful blow to his defenses, but they held and hold they would for a long time. A series of jabs flew from Jack's fists as he sought to maintain his advantage of height and range. How many punches? Phoenix saw three but he was sure he missed at least one.
As the two men circled, Phoenix say a familiar face in the crowd. Standing out amongst the shirtless crowd in his sleeveless karate jacket, Kazuya was observing the fight just as keenly as Phoenix was. A slight wave of shock went ran through him. He hadn't known him very well at #774 but running into anyone familiar these days was a tad eerie. Sending a nod of greeting in Kazuya's general direction, Phoenix would refocus on the fight.
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Post by Farren on Jan 14, 2013 3:47:08 GMT -8
OOC: Sorry for the wait, just moved to a new apartment.
EDIT: Also, my stats are slightly different from my side-bio because he's not wearing his chest plate. They are...
STR - 51 | DEX - 53 | CON - 77 | INT - 58 | WIS - 43 | CHA - 51
IC: Smack-smack-crack! The satisfyingly loud sound of my fist connecting solid with Jack's guard. Things were off to a decent start. But just as soon as I'd pulled back my right fist to guard myself I was met by one of Jack's jabs, flying at blinding speed for my chin. I barely managed to take it on my forearm and slide it off to the side. Big guy was faster than I anticipated, possibly faster than me, but the strength behind the hit was less than I thought. Fast, but I could take a few of those hits and still keep trucking, that was good to know. But the fist kept jabbing and I was forced out of punch distance, circling with Jack to keep him in front of me. A second and a third jab thudded against my guard, there was no time to truly parry or dodge. I watched the fourth punch come in and an idea suddenly popped into mind. This was gonna sting, but it might work.
Rather than block the jab I opened my forearms up slightly and actually LET the blow hit, taking it on the top left corner of my head. The shot made my brain rattle but I held my composure enough to go for my real target...a low kick. Getting in closer by taking the hit and leaning back, I had just enough distance to shoot my left foot out and smash it heel first into the shin of Jack's lead leg, his left. There was enough force behind the kick to at least leave him limping, if not splinter some bone. It was time to cut this tree down at the roots.
If the shin kick landed clean I'd continue stepping through, sliding my heel down the front of his leg and swing my right fist through, trying to tag him on the chin. A far reach but worth a shot. If the kick wasn't clean hopefully it would still trip him up and allow me to swing the right straight as planned. If the kick missed entirely...well, it probably wouldn't end well...
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Post by Jack on Jan 16, 2013 4:26:59 GMT -8
OOC: I completely understand moving can be a bitch. Hope everything went well. Sorry for the delayed response I was either drinking myself to an early death or playing Raiderz.
Quite a bit of fluff here, just sort of writing for the enjoyment of it. Last few paragraphs is the real stuff.
IC:
What's next? he thought as his cold eyes locked onto Farren's chest. From there he could see his whole body and more. Many fighters preferred to look at the eyes and it was true the eyes can give away a lot of information about your opponent. But so does posture and minor muscle twitches which are effectively the alarm bells for movement. All the eyes will tell you is which way your opponent may decide to move.
Jack however doesn't do this highly detailed and sophisticated method of analyzing his opponent. He's been brought up fighting people stronger than him, more experienced fighters like Farren. People like this have only gotten to where they are because of some reason, some power they are above the rest of fighters.
Any seasoned fighter learns not to telegraph their punches or kicks and as your get better, you begin to be more subtle about where you look. If your eyes drop suddenly in a fight it's an instant give away. That's not the end to it though, as you progress higher up the food chain you begin to notice patterns in postures, you link fighting styles together and understand the ins and outs of techniques. This is just something which comes with the territory of being a fighter. But anyone can do that, all it takes is time. Some fighters just had the natural ability to not do any of the above.
When Phoenix was explaining Darwinian evolution to him back in Highschool he used the school system as an example. Some students had an innate ability to be good fighters, Leon, Vetis or Farren in this scenario. They were merely good fighters from the beginning and others were not. Your classic bottom feeder student in high school. No matter how much he tried he would never reach the levels of someone who simply possessed the ability to be great or at least would find it impossibly harder as the obstacles they would have to overcome were not in the same circumstance as others.
It is here where Jack finds his biggest struggle when it comes to fighting, how to predict the movements of skilled fighters who do not give away information freely. A very skilled fighter who has trained his or her perception to see the micro movements a human body performs before it moves would be able to pick up on the movements of someone like Farren but Jack sadly can not. It however does go both ways, a skilled fighter will not telegraph their movements and will even take it one step further by trying to mislead their opponent. A fast opponent could still cover up their unrefined fighting style by using pure speed.
So instead of looking for specific movements Jack focuses on the bigger picture, is there movement, yes or no. If there is movement his initial response is to tighten his guard and move away if not he gathers himself and launches a new attack. Simply put Jack lacks the skill to play a waiting game and try to read his opponents movements because for what ever reason if he meets a fast opponent he will not be able to trace the movements in time and if he meets an exceptionally skilled fighter he will not be able to pick up on the subtle give away signs of an impending attack.
Here Jack was left with a quick decision to make to wait and try to counter or to try covering up by tightening his guard. He chose to go with the latter. As his fist moved back he balled himself up and raised his lead foot up and stuck his knee out. This was so he could check any kick that Farren threw at him but also act as a buffer against a clinch or any CQC rough housing. His forewarms were out in front with his fists touching his skull. There was a small gap between his two forearms but it was too small for Farren's fist.
It did however leave him completely vulnerable to a take down and Jack knew it. So Farren's heel slammed into his lower shin forcing his leg back. A stomp worked very effectively if your foot is planted, just like placing a plank of wood at an angle against a wall and stomping on it, your shin acts in a similar manner. It Is locked into place by the ground and the rest of your leg. By raising it however you give it swing room, it'll still hurt but the most you'll get is a bruised shin that would be less painful than getting tackled in soccer.
Farren's fist slammed into the lower part of his left forearm. If he had it his way Jack would have tried to get his elbow to connect with Farren's fist but it wasn't a perfect world. He settled for the trying to get him to his the meaty bit Just above his elbow on the side of his forearm. Where his elbow joint is located. With the major part of the arm muscles above and below that point it was just a bit of everything. Getting hit there while it would sting and even hurt a little was as good a place as any to get hit. Stumbling back he caught himself with his left foot, previously his lead foot now his rear one. Jack instantly went into action and bound away bouncing on the balls of his feet trying to shake out the pain in his left and arm.
Laughing as he taunted Farren with a few fake switch kicks. He was showboating now showing off his lighting fast speed. By quickly switched his feet around in order to open up his hips which was the tell tale sign a kick was about to come. A switch kick was effective because you instantly reverse your stance and generate a lot of torque through your hips by transferring your body weight.
He raised his right knee up and began to turn it around as if he were sending a right round house to Farren's mid section but instead bailed out right before he committed to the blow. He wanted Farren to know that if he had wanted to then and there he could have sent a fast and hard roundhouse aimed right for his skull.
"You know I never really pictured you for a CQC fighter" Jack would taunt as he danced around.
Close quarter combat (CQC) fighters were a brutal bunch. Krav Maga and Systema are two fighting systems which users excel in CQC. The idea is simple there's an enemy eliminate them, beat them until nothing stands and then move one. The move Farren just did was a somewhat calling card of CQC brawlers, bite the first strike in order to get within their guard stomp their knee out, or in this case their shin. From their jam their ball so far up they cough them out and stomp their face in as they fall to the ground. Simple, brutal and effective.
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