Adventures in a land down under (Closed)

He didn't even use the opportunity to watch the shark fly away from the sheer strength of Miguel's kick. He simply curled up against him and shivered lightly from both the cool water and the breeze hitting his still glistening skin. Taking a moment, he finally relaxed before looking up at him and smiling to his joke. He let a chuckle escape his lips at the joke, but felt as if their trip was truly cursed. They had been at the beach for no more than half an hour, and he already wanted to go home. His attitude changed when he mentioned shaved ice, which sounded absolutely amazing.

"Shaved ice, yes!!!"

This was all he shouted as he leapt from his arms and began to lead them to the shore with a bit of gusto. His hand held onto Miguel's gently, seeming much more conscious of his sufficient strength, and being careful not to harm Miguel. To the bystanders, Marshall would appear as a petite guy who is barely able to throw a football properly, but how would they know he was a demi-titan? The water slowly washed up on the beach as his feet was warmed by the sudden change from moist to warm sand. This is where he spun around to make sure Miguel was still keeping up, and that he wasn't pulling too hard on his hand.

"Are you coming? Slow-poke!" He teased him playfully, sticking his tongue out before spinning around and making his way towards the shaved ice cart that was at the edge of the sand and concrete. He was like a big child now, seeming as if the shark and jerks had never happened. He clearly got over grief and stress quickly, or perhaps it was because of his company. All Marshall knew was that he was happy, very happy. "Hello, could I get..... um.... strawberry kiwis flavour please? What will you have Miguel!?" He turned to see if Miguel had caught up with him, since he had raced ahead to get to the ice first, overly excited about it.

Marshall’s attitude was infectious, almost like all he had to do was that thing he did and he had Miguel going along with it without really much talking. ”Alrighty, that decides that!” Miguel was all for flavored ice ground up all fine and whatnot. If anyone else disliked it, well that was their right and their right to be absolutely wrong. The hand was still in his own, leading him through the salty waters and back to the shore where he could eye the stand not so far away. He could already taste the shaved ice.

He snorted when he was called a slowpoke, rolling his eyes and speeding up as much as he could through the waist high water until he was on the shore, feeling the wetness still clinging to his feet. They approached the stand quick enough, Marshall ordering his flavor and Miguel looking through the at times indecipherable names they had listed. Would be a pretty cluttered menu if they gave you everything in the thing right?

”I’ll have one of those two,” he finally said, not too picky on the flavor of his ice. He smiled the same winning Miguel smile, resting an arm around the slighter mans shoulders and eyeing the one behind the counter. Quick enough the shaved ice came and he took his own, gripping it with one of his free hands and guiding Marshall off once he paid for it. With Australian money of course. ”So, what do you feel like doin now? Douchebags ruin out nice swim but I guess we got us some ice so that’s good.” He didn’t mind it, the closeness but then again he thrived on touch. ”you more more about this place than I do, maybe you know any more cool stuff we could get up to.”

He was as happy as can be; Miguel's arm over his shoulders, shaved ice in hand...... this was starting to feel a bit better. He looked up to his companion, admiring that handsome smile of his. For a brief moment, the image of Miguel in his *godly* state shot through his mind. He couldn't help but wonder if perhaps Miguel's power was somehow from the same origin as his own. Was he magical, or just part of some weird experiment he wasn't aware of. Regardless, at lease with this new group he had a chance to see his powers applied in useful  if not somewhat destructive, ways. Also, Miguel's power didn't make him feel so.... alone.

"Well.... perhaps we could give that tourney a try? I know we're strong..... but it could be fun. Besides, it might feel nice to be able to punch something after he frustrations we had today."

He leaned against Miguel's side, feeling the texture of his muscles as he lapped up bits of shredded flavoured ice. Marshall was content by his side, feeling the world fall away as they were just close. Admittedly Marshall suggested the tourney just to potentially see Miguel show off. He had an impressive physique, but Marshall also admired his power. He was a man chiseled out of marble, perfection down to the core, and he would take any notes he could from him. His boyish face and eyes focused on Miguel's face, awaiting his response with both patience and angst.

What was it about putting his arm around someone that made them feel so fragile? He knew Marshall was tough, as him if not even moreso but in this moment he felt like he were the protector. Miguel knew he wasn’t the strongest around, not ever since he first saw the broadcasts of Atlas on television but that didn’t change a burning within him. Rejecting even the very concept that someone like him could be outdone. It coupled with the violent impulse that showed itself the moment he saw blood, and his vision threatened to turn the same color. Where reason gave way to the maddening desire to hurt everything around him, to be the strongest possible.

”Even without my strength, I doubt anyone around here could take me on. I’m just that good,” Miguel boasted, putting a small pressure on the males shoulder with his arm, expression growing pensive for a brief second. ”I’m pretty good at fighting actually, but I’m sure I can show you that sometime,” His offer was vague enough, though he did like showing off what he could do. Moves that came natural, more natural than for any human who had been trained all of their life. He was a natural in the most literal sense.

”Fuck it, been a while since I showed off so why not?” Without even needing to be told to, he lead their way to the tourney going based off where he remembered it being. Already a decently sized crowd was gathering,  Miguel passively lapping up his shaved ice and trying to find out where he signed up. Eventually that lead him to a small, amateur looking booth not far off from where they set up a ring. The woman behind it looked kind enough, weather worn and tan from the sun. He offered the usual amiable smile. ”I’d like to sign up for that fight thing you got going on. Mix martial arts is acceptable for a style right?”

The woman considered him for a few moments and looked through what he assumed was a list or maybe she was just messing with him. “Yes, that’ll work.”

”So Marshall, you wanna join too? Can’t do it for ya but  thought I’d ask,”

The small male smiled as he looked up to the godly figure of his partner. Marshall knew that he was strong, and even tough, but he felt so small compared to Miguel. This was both figurative and literal, as Miguel was so big. He shook the thought from his head as he felt a pressure on his shoulders, giving a soft chuckle from the feeling. His hands would rise up to grasp his muscular arm gently, his bracelet allowing him more control over himself.

"Heh, you are very confident in yourself. It makes me want to learn from you, honestly. Perhaps at some point we could have a private sparring match, get a few pointers."

His eyes followed him as he went to sign up for the tourney, shortly after leading them both to the area where they are required to sign up. Miguel seemed more excited about this tourney now than before, making Marshall feel as if he had lit a fire beneath him for it. If anything, Marshall was good at cheering on his fellow team mates. The sight of Miguel in his godly form flashed through his mind, thinking about how terrifying it would be to see that form arise in this small time tourney amongst muscle head beach bums.

Marshall perked up when he heard Miguel call to him from the table, asking him if he'd like to join. The woman at the table couldn't help but misjudge Marshall while sizing him up. He looked small and frail, and young to boot. The young man did his best to ignore her doubtful gaze, heading to the table alongside him and smiling up while grasping the pen.

"All right, but promise me that you won't let me get hurt, okay?" He asked sheepishly, but also with sincerity. Marshall could take a bullet to the eye, but more often than not forgets how tough he truly can be. His left hand gently taps his bicep, reassuring him of his willingness to participate, despite his reservations.

”Confidense is part of the game,” Miguel said with a smirk, pleased with the concept of him wanting to learn to fight. From what experience he had, there were few people that could hope to match his level of combat skill. Especially people on this world, though the Vikings as he had come to call them were all pretty strong. Enough that even his own skills weren’t enough to do anything against him. Not with his level of strength, though they liked to comment on his own divinity which was a surprise until then. Then he had a friend who was there to train with him, but now he was basically on his own, except for the Blackguard. ”might have to learn to hold that strength back a little. Don’t want to get hurt by that impressive form of yours,” He chuckled, reaching over and ruffling his hair. It felt nice to have these small interactions.

Once he had his friend signed up, Miguel wondered what kind of fighting style he would use. The kind of style that someone with little practice tended to use. Amatuers normally wouldn’t win, though he knew that Marshall was not the average human novice. He could beat most masters with a strike, even if it were uncoordinated. Hearing him question if he would let him get hurt only made Miguel laugh, as if he had told the funniest joke. ”I’ll make sure you don’t get hurt. I’m told bruises are hot but they aren’t that cute,” He quipped with a slight wink, feeling the joking flavor of the comment. He had to wonder how this whole thing would go, though that didn’t matter since he was quite confident.

”Don’t worry, I’m sure you’d be able to handle yourself fine. I’m wondering if there will be anyone who’s any good,” Miguel muttered to himself, stroking his chins in an almost thoughtful fashion.  He removed his arm from around the slimmer male, cracking his knuckles and rolling his joints which all released the tension. ”so, now we gotta take part. Show me what you got,” His smile was excited to Marshall, though his mind was on potential combat.

Marshall had to admit, he felt a little out of place. Even in his place of birth, home in his heart..... being surrounded by all these muscle guys and their confidence made Marshall feel really small. He kind of receded into himself after Miguel retracted his arm from his shoulders. His eyes would glance up to the tall godly man, watching as he cracked his knuckles and rolled his joints. He was so full and powerful. He then flashed a discreet smile to himself, feeling a jolt of..... confidence?

For some strange reason, his reservations had vanished and Marshall felt..... confident. He knew he was strong, and he knew he could win, so why was he so worried? A memory flashed through his head, a potential mugging and rape that Marshall had stopped. The guy was armed with a knife, and when Marshall intervened, he tried to stab him in the ribs. The stinging feeling was still in his mind, even if the blade didn't cut through skin.

He looked back to Miguel and smiled again, biting his lip softly before he stepped closer to him with little baby steps. His hand would rise and gently touch his side, just the feeling of Miguel's warmth comforted him. "Hold back my strength? How would I do that? I.... I don't want to hurt anyone. However, I don't want to lose."

After his question, he turned away to take another look at the guys we were to potentially fight. As he observed them, he began to compare them to some of the bad guys he had stopped. Some guys had guns, others had knives and crowbars. The pain he felt from each hit stuck with him, but he knew that he could take it. Then the other guy flashed through his head. The armoured guy whom they had fought back in New York. Marshall curled up a little and began to breath heavier. What if one of these guys were just as strong as him? That particular man had really hurt Marshall, and since that thought creeped into his head. His confidence was soon replaced with fear.

"M-Miguel..... what if..... what if they are as strong as that armour guy...... from New York......?"

Miguel felt confident.

Hell it was hard not to when he knew he was one of the strongest people in the room, or contest in this circumstance. These people were likely strong by human standards but he wasn’t working on those standards. Their coordinated, practiced strikes would likely feel like nothing more than gentle taps to him. Though he wondered if their hands would hurt when they hit him. How would they be able to hold against someone that didn’t have the same experience in holding back like he did? Things might get messy he realized, though that was just par for the course in things like this. ”How do you hold back? Huh, that took me a while to actually get the handle of so...I don’t know how to explain it cept how I do it,”

How did someone explain the feeling of holding back? He thought this through and couldn’t think of something immediately, so maybe it would work the same for Marshall. Maybe their strength worked similar enough. Miguel looked to the man that the slighter male was supposed to fight, eyes narrowing and mind working through what fighting style he might used. ”Holding back was like...imagining my strength like a river and creating a dam. Holding back the waters and...just letting through enough to get the job done,” Did that make sense? He didn't know but hoped it did.

That was when the question came from Marshall about if he were as strong as the man in the armor. Could that be the case? ”I don’t think so. That guy was strong, stronger than anyone I’ve ever fought. I doubt there’s a guy like him around here, and if there is...i’ll just step in,” He gave him a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder, huffing.

Marshall was inhaling and exhaling deeply, already very nervous about the fight. He was having flashbacks to New York, and felt his anxiety rising quickly. His palms would sweat, his hands shake, his knees felt weak and he was practically about to faint. How he managed to keep himself up was a miracle in itself, his hazel eyes building up his opponent like some kind of monster. The poor guy just couldn't get his heart to calm down.

Perhaps he would not be called first, and he would have a chance to watch Miguel do his thing in the ring. That would be perfect, so he could watch and observe his style, his strength and do his best to mimic that.

Announcer:"Ladies and gentleman, welcome to the 15th annual beach day tournament. This year we have a surprising uptick in fighters, lot of confident men and woman out there ready to take home the golden goose. Now to clarify, the rules are stated clearly in the pamphlets that you all collected during sign up, so lets have ourselves a fun and exciting tourney!!!"

The announcer would pause as another person took a podium nearby, a bingo wheel next to them to randomly select a number. The man stood tall, but was a bit pudgy and well dressed, most likely a local political figure.

Suit:All right everyone, I will randomly select a number from this wheel, and the two people that possess that number will be our first contestants!" There was a pause as he rolled the numbers and then selected one without looking. "The number is..... 24!!!"

Marshall's heart sank. Of all numbers he had, it was 24!? Seriously!!! His fingers gripped the paper tightly, palms still sweaty and hands shaking as he tries to build the courage to step into the very public ring. His opponent, a rather large fellow with a shaved head and an ugly goatee, stepped in with no problem. He was a mixture of muscular and fat, not as toned as he could have been, but probably still quite strong for his size. Marshall would look to Miguel, doubt in his eyes as he swallowed his fear and let Miguel hold his things as he stepped into the ring.

Both him and his opponent were already dressed in their togs, no shoes and no gloves. This tournament didn't joke around, however they did have medical on standby for anyone who did get hurt. Obviously the match wasn't to the death, however these tournaments usually wound up with some pretty banged up people. There Marshall stood, at least 2 foot size difference between him and his opponent and an easy weight difference. Marshall sighed and gently stroked the bracelet he had received from Miguel, both a comfort and an aid in his being. Perhaps it would help in this fight as well.

There was a loud ding on the bell, but the large man didn't do anything. In fact, he seemed hesitant to fight now.

Opponent:[color=red]"Are we serious guys, this kid will be no match for me? I'd crush his skull with my pinky finger! How about it pretty boy, what say you forfeit and avoid getting that little frail girly body of yours broken and bruised. I promise I won't humiliate you too badly, but humiliation is better than a busted head."

Marshall exhaled deeply, listening to his harsh and blunt words. Some parts of home he didn't miss, this was one.... the cocky man with some sort of complex. Perhaps it would be easier for him to fight after all, given that Marshall was not a fan of bullies. The young man would slowly approach the larger one, hands rising up, almost as if he were trying to take a stance, though there was none to be seen. Once close enough the large man shrugged and immediately clocked Marshall in the jawline, throwing him back and onto the mat. Marshall coughed and grunted from the force, though it wasn't enough to draw any blood. Apparently the bracelet reduced his mass to the point where even a normal guy of sufficient human strength could knock him back. It was..... odd to say the least. Unforgiving as he was, the large man immediately pursued the younger one, kneeling down as he began to slam his fists against him hard and fast.

It was allowed, so nobody intervened, and Marshall wound up just taking a fetal position to protect his face. This only goaded the man to go for his ribs and kidneys. Marshall's grunts were apparent, and he even managed to look to Miguel, who looked as if he may jump in. Marshall stubbornly shook his head towards him, gesturing that he did not want the help, that he wanted to do this himself. Somewhere along the way, Miguel had cracked into Marshall's most inner person and brought back the fire he once had all those years ago, when he first acquired his abilities. There seemed to be no end to the man's onslaught, but as it was mentioned before the fight, he was not doing anything illegal. Marshall just had to figure it out for himself.

Miguel was curious what kind of competition he would be running up against. There seemed to be a lot of people there, some maybe even skilled fighters but he didn’t know if any of them were worth his time. Not for lack of skills, but due to the fact he could bench press a tank and that was just not something humans could do. In any mundane competition it was unfair to put him up against normal people, however he could never tell which people were normal and which were meta without the telltale signs of the fact. As far as he knew, Marshall was the only one here who could probably go blow for blow with him, not counting the fact the kid didn’t seem to have any fighting skill to speak of. Maybe he’d have to teach him how to fight sometime.  

Everyone picked out numbers, Miguel looking down and memorizing his own before turning to Marshall. What number did he get? Would he end up having to fight someone good? 24 was the first number called, which meant that the scrawny titan spawn was the first person to get picked. Well, alongside someone else but he wasn’t worried about that really. His opponent looked bigger than him in every way, which should have been worrying but he wasn’t worried. ”You can do it! Knock him on his ass!!” Miguel cheered, more expecting a one sided beat down in the smaller guys favor. As soon as the fight started however, he watched the kid get thrown with a single punch.

Sliding along the floor before stopping. Leaving him slightly dumbfounded, looking around before back to Marshall. ”I didn’t think this through did I?” He muttered to himself, chewing his lower lip and contemplating if he should jump in once the shower of blows began.  It felt like something that shouldn’t be allowed, yet no one was stopping it. Each strike resonating despite him being too far away to actually hear it. Marshall gave him a look like he didn’t want him to step in, yet he didn’t know what he wanted to do. Grinding his teeth together, he sucked in a deep breath and just let the guy do whatever he needed to do.

”Shove him off! Don’t need to go easy on him!”

The man's hands continued to punch. Despite his size and clear body fat, the man possessed quite a lot of stamina. However he was clearly growing tired, his fists slowing down but still hitting hard. Marshall noticed this as he was curled, the pain apparent in his body but no bruises or scratches to be had. The man was growing both tired and frustrated, feeling that with the small frame he possessed, his punches would be sufficient to put him down rather quickly. Durable little bastard, the man thought. There was a brief pause in his punches as the man inhaled to catch his breath. This was all Marshall needed.

With a swift palm to the stomach, Marshall managed to push the large man off of him with ease, causing him to stumble back before hitting the side of the caged ring. The man was dumbstruck, never having seen strength like that from such a small boy. It both confused and enraged him. With a loud, and some what brute like yell, he pursued the young guy once more, charging like a gorilla in the wild. The man was clearly unhinged, or his pride was hurt.

Marshall panicked for a brief moment before inhaling deeply and simply lowering his head. In the rage fueled moment, the brute was so focused that he failed to determine the angle of his head. His face slammed hard into Marshall's skull cap, breaking his nose and a few teeth to boot. The impact was so strong that he didn't even have a chance to scream and react, instead being knocked on his ass almost instantly and out cold. Marshall than rubbed his head where the impact was, sucking on his teeth in pain before seeing his opponent lying flat on the mat, bloodied nose and out like a light.

Ref: "1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10..... and he's gone."

Announcer: "Wow, ladies and gentleman what a stroke of luck, or genius. That is how you use your head, our winner of this round today!!!!"

Marshall began to leave the cage, the other person being hoisted onto a gurney for transport. Despite his apparent God complex and douchebag nature, Marshall couldn't help but feel bad and hoped he was all right. As he approached Miguel he gave him this look of worry and concern, but also a bit of pride. Not only had Marshall managed to beat the other guy, but he made it look like a lucky win too. Marshall wasn't sure if super strength was a violation of the rules.

"So.... h-how did I do?" He asks sheepishly for Miguel's approval, one of the few people he cares about and who's opinion matters.

Miguel watched with silent anticipation Marshall’s fight, not really questioning who would win but wondering how well the fight would go. No mortal man could match the guy, not even close and he’d never worried over the matter. Once Marshall stopped holding back, the guy was out by the first ten count. The pride was quite apparent with the grin splitting his lips, alongside his applause which he felt  resounding through his hands with each clap.  His eyes followed the man leaving the cage, only quickly switching to the one who had to be taken away on a gurney. Looks like he got off lucky if nothing else.

”Did pretty great. Little messy in the first half but you’re kind of a novice if I recall,” That didn’t stop him from feeling the small amount of pride welling up, though it did remind him that he needed to teach the guy how to fight properly.  ”Maybe after some training you could skip the getting thrown around part,” Miguel jabbed, drapping an arm around Marshall's shoulder and giving him an encouraging squeeze. ”Maybe I’ll show you how it’s done a little, for an example or whatever,”

When would his turn come along? Miguel wanted to fight, though he knew there was a certain procedure to follow with these things.  A couple fights happened after Marshall's, both a show of skill though nothing he couldn’t easily outdo. This was mostly a mundane kinda thing, though he didn’t expect anything more from it. That was when his number was called.  Drawing a few glances in his direction when he approached the cage, giving Marshall a light tap on the back before walking off. Rolling out what little tension existed in his joints before stepping through the metal door. Peeling off his shirt, which revealed the many tattoos that covered his skin.

Runic makings that seemed to gleam very briefly under the light of the sun. Standing across from him was his opponent, he stood a few inches taller than him and by all metrics looked stronger than him too. Whether he was, well that had yet to be seen.

”Let’s have a little fun with this. See if you’re as strong as you look,” That was enough to draw an arced brow from the other man, followed by what he assumed was a look of agitation. Not that he blamed him. No one liked being talked down t. He just called it like it was, in his own opinion anyhow.

“Pretty interesting, coming from you little guy,” The guy retorted, though he wondered what he meant by that. Okay, just because he was taller and looked more muscular than him meant nothing.

”Hey I’m not that tiny,” Miguel snipped, feeling a little irritated but not letting it get to him. Taking a step forward, he closed the distance between them the moment that a bell sounded. Fist snapping forward . It should be enough to knock a fully grown man out, but the guy managed to weave out of the way,  It was a scant miss, yet enough to not count as a hit.  This was followed by a few other jabs, each one missing by just centimeters. Still, it was enough to show he was dealing with someone that knew how to fight. Well then, maybe this could be a little fun afterall.

After a good few misses he took a couple steps back, which was the guys turn to retaliate. This came in the form of a palm strike that connected with his chest, mostly because he was in the middle of his back step. It...hurt more than he thought it would. A faint, dull stinging pain that shot through his chest and sent Miguel stumbling back a couple steps.  He’d been hit in a way that hurt worse than this before, but still, the fact he was even hurt was something to consider.  ”okay, that kinda stung,” Miguel admitted, resting a palm on his chest and looking up at the man with mild irritation.

“I thought it would. If you think I’m just gonna go down like that, you’ll have another thing coming. I can tell there’s something different about you,” This time the man took up a stance, one he didn’t recognize. Few openings in his guard and all likely were intentional.  Miguel fell into his own stance, a tight one with both fists raised to guard his head.  This went from play to a serious fight quickly.  Well, more serious than he had planned to take things before.

Marshall felt his lips crease in a smile, of both embarrassment and pride. To hear that praise come from Miguel of all people, made him feel confident in himself. He even constructively criticized his first portion of the fight, managing not to make him feel like a complete loser. That was Marshall's biggest worry with all this.... looking foolish. His skin tingled from the pat the large man would place on his back, watching him step into the ring with the other man.

Marshall had no real interest in any fight other than his own and Miguel's. The man seemed more capable than he initially let on, and Marshall found himself leaning on the metal fence that kept the crowd at bay of the caged fights. His chest tightened when he saw Miguel take a palm strike to his chest, inhaling softly and exhaling deeply. He knew how capable Miguel was, but he still couldn't help but worry about him against such a brute.

As he gripped the metal fencing, he didn't even realize as he bent the material like foil slightly. There wasn't much earthly elements that could withstand his strength, so when Marshall white knuckled, he usually scrapped whatever he was holding. His big hazel eyes focused on the fight as he leaned in close, watching with bated breath and deep concern. Please be all right, please be all right.