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View Full Version : Dozer (Urako) vs The Doctor (Alphaeus)



Alphaeus
02-21-2017, 07:41 AM
Ah, yes. The Battle of the D’s. Wait…knowing this community, that will be taken out of context. This is the Challenge of two men with D’s….wait a second. Alright. Let’s just keep it simple.

Dozer/Derrick Ozer vs. Dr. David MacBeth

This was the last battle I had started with The Doctor before changing my wRHG. We pushed it back a lot, but I’m happy I was able to do this.
First, my own battle:

David’s eyes jerked open as his entire body convulsed in one massive gasp for air. His heartrate slowly dropped as he fumbled in his pockets desperately for his medical gear, mind spinning to analyze what he needed.

Someone stayed his hand tenderly.

He froze, and looked up, eyes meeting a gaze of crystalline blue. Silken hair such a light gold as to be nearly white hung about her face. She smiled, and placed one hand tenderly on his heart. As she spoke softly to him.

“Love endures all things, David. Love never gives up. Arise…your life is still needed.”

She stood from where she had been bending over him. He just then realized that he was on his back on the ground. He rose slowly, as if in a daze, watching her leave. He made the connection quickly.

“Aga?”

She turned only partially, the same translucent gown shrouding her slender, perfect form just as when he had first met her only a month before. She was one of the Embodied -- Agape, the Embodiment of Love. She had blessed him then with a special Heart only a month before in the most changing experience of his life. Love endures all things. Her smile was radiant, warming…but she did not linger. A few steps more and she had vanished like a ghost into the mists that now rose from the fields around him.

As his mind reeled, he cast a gaze at his surroundings. Charred debris…a crash…the plane. His battle snapped into clarity with the force of a sledge hammer. He had assaulted that space-ship…and been destroyed.

He had died…or had he?

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his smartphone, for once too stunned to curse it as he clumsily logged in and called Altaer. His friend answered on the first ring.

“Hey David. What’s up?”

David hesitated for a moment. “Uh…Al…I think I just died.”

Altaer was silent for a moment. “Well…unless God has heaven signed up for satellite phone service, I sincerely doubt that.”

David shook his head, running one hand through his hair. “No, no…I mean, I DID die, but I’m not dead now. The Embodied…Aga. She had something to do with this. I told you about that, remember?”

His friend grunted. “Heh, well…those Paraelemental folks do whatever they damn well please. Figures, I guess, when no one knows jack shit about you and no one can do jack shit to you. Of course, you’re going to have to tell me about how this all happened, etc. etc. etc. Anyhow, just had Spectre pull you up on GPS. Need some help getting back to the house?”

David cast a glance at the remains of his beloved plane. “Well….first, let’s just say that I’ll need a new P51-D, and that dogfighting has changed a bit since World War Two. Secondly, I think I’ll walk…I need the time to think. Thirdly…well, we can talk about that later.”

Al snickered. “Alright…but I’ve got a daughter now. So, you know…I’m not always keeping an eye on Spectre, and while I trust my own AI…still. If something happens I can’t necessarily be there. So, long story short, stop having shit happen while I’m not present. If shit happens, I wanna be doing it to. Awkward phrasing, but you get the point.”

David shook his head as they cut the connection. That was why he loved Altaer -- the man brought a lightheartedness into his life that was desperately needed. Now, however, he merely wanted to think. The fact of the matter was that he had been utterly stupid -- not in his choice of who to fight, but of how to fight them. He had been saved, yes, but there was no reason to think that was going to happen again if he was equally foolhardy.

He glanced at the horizon. The setting sun had been cloaked by a blanket of grey clouds. The light was fading quickly, and while he was not unaccustomed to the dark, neither was it his preference. Winter’s touch had stilled the creatures of the pastoral setting and distant wood, leaving his footfalls the only sound. Dry grasses crunched softly underfoot as he settled into a comfortable gait.

His long legs carried him swiftly through the fields and into the darkening hardwood groves. Pignut hickory and Black Walnut trees made walking not unlike traversing a room of marbles, and through leafless they spreading skeletal canopies further dimmed what little light was left in the skies. A solitary raindrop landed upon the lapel of his white suit like an unbidden tear.

He felt suddenly helpless…lost. Yet at the same time the same all-consuming passion for working to save his fellow man surged within him with a power that was undeniable. He had been told there was a specific purpose for his life. There was no question in him that his goals with Nehushtan were just, but…maybe there was something else. Something more.

More of that first raindrop’s brethren began to follow, and David shifted into a loping run. His recollection of his location had been correct, and within a matter of a few moments he was out of the forest, standing on the edge of a small town’s main street. Beside the gas station and a few stores was a small home-style restaurant -- not his first choice, but certainly his only choice if he wanted to escape the rain.

The faded neon lettering on the brick over the door read “Cal’s World Famous Home Cooking.” He chuckled to himself as he grasped the scratched and pitted handle on the glass door. It occurred to him that nearly half of all the small-town restaurants he had ever seen must have said something about “World Famous” one way or the other. Even though it was never true, there was something in these people that knew it and didn’t care. They loved it enough to say so, and that was all that mattered. He slipped in and took at seat at the old wooden vinyl bar. The place itself was nothing special -- white walls, white linoleum floors, faded wooden tables and chairs, and a few local pictures scattered around the walls. Still, the place was surprisingly busy for a weekday afternoon.

David raised and eyebrow, then checked his Philippe Patek aviator’s watch. The date and day were what he thought they should be. Yes, it was still a weekday. He had only been dead, then, for just over the night, for he had taken his plane out to fly on a Tuesday evening. He ran a slender hand through his long auburn hair, nimbly straightening it and combing it away from his face.

An aging, portly waitress whose bearing suggested she had worked in this same restaurant since she was fifteen waddled over to him. “What’ll it be, son?”

David remained silent for a moment, realizing he hadn’t looked at the menu. A quick glance told him that this was the kind of place that didn’t have menus. He thought for a moment, and then a slow smile crept across his face. “You know what? I’d like to have a chicken fried steak, country ham buttermilk biscuits, gravy, and creasy greens. With a tall glass of sweet tea. Extra lemon.”

The woman’s face parted into a broad smile, making her eyes vanish behind puffy cheeks. She gave him the kind of off-handed wave old-timers did when they couldn’t believe what someone had said. “Lordy, child! I saw you walk in here in your fancy suit -- thought you’d be just another up-town guy breezin through on his way to the golf club. Creasy greens? ‘ell I’ll be…don’t get folks asking for those much anymore, but I reckon we can find some for ya. I’ll be right back with your drink now.”

After giving his arm an approving pat, she tottered way, still chuckling to herself as she pushed through the stereotypical swinging doors into the kitchen. David heaved a contented sigh. It had been years since he had eaten anything like that -- not since his years in the army training in Alabama. It was going to be a more than welcome recollection of when life was much more simple.

A young man interrupted his train of thought by tapping him on the shoulder. “Hey, are you Dr. David MacBeth?”

David turned slowly on the creaky barstool. Though used to being recognized, he was also used to it not always being a welcome recognition. He eyed the fellow, sensing something amiss. He sighed again, this time as his contentment vanished. “Yes. Might I ask, who is it that wants to know, and what is the occasion?”

The man frowned and crossed his arms. “I’m Dozer. You didn’t show up for our match, so the admins looked up your phone and gave me the GPS. If you didn’t want to fight me, you should have just withdrawn instead of making me stand in the middle of the arena looking like an idiot.”

David opened his mouth, shut in, then pulled his phone out. The light that indicated some kind of notification was blinking. He groaned and slipped it back into his jacket, raising his hands in defeat. “You’re right. I, however, did not do it intentionally -- I’ve been otherwise occupied for the last day. Please, accept my apologies.”

David turned slightly back towards the counter as the waitress brought his tea. Dozer did not break his gaze or uncross his arms. David rolled his eyes as he realized that the fellow still wanted a fight. He waved to the waitress. “Ma’am, I’m going to be stepping outside for a moment to take care of some business. Would you mind just keeping my food warm until I come back?” He shot a meaningful look at Dozer. “I won’t be long.”

It was Dozer’s turn to roll his eyes as the two of them stepped outside. David snorted disinterestedly as he saw that the RHG had been fast at work setting up all of their film equipment and blocking off the roads. David began walking away from the restaurant, only to find himself kissing the pavement from a blow to the back of his head. He rolled onto his back to avoid another swing from the metallic staff in the man’s hands. David caught the staff as Dozer brought it down again, tugged it forward, then shoved it backwards into the young man’s sol plexus. His opponent staggered backwards, gasping for air. Sat up and rubbed the back of his head irritatedly.

“Do you really want to do this right now? Today really hasn’t been my day and I’m not in the mood to deal with an overconfident kid.”

Dozer straighten, flexing his hands on the staff. His eyes bored into David’s. “Kid? Did you just call me a fucking kid?! Listen you condescending --“

David did not wait for Dozer to finish speaking. The man had done just what he had wanted him to do -- lose focus. David rolled back onto his shoulders, pushing himself off the ground and locking his legs around Dozer’s neck. He twisted, flipping the man off the ground before releasing his hold and landing on his feet. The stunned Dozer flew into the wall of the nearby hardware store and slid to the ground, eyes wide in amazement.

David stretched and straightened his suit, glancing at the sky that was dropping a rain as fine as mist. “I’m not condescending, I’m stating a fact. You’re just a kid, especially to someone like me. A good kid -- I’ve read about you -- but a rather foolish one. You could have gotten a forfeit added to your record for my absence if you had left well enough alone.”

Dozer grunted as he slowly stood, the flexed his grip on the staff. A small glowing orb formed at the end of the staff, almost immediately flying straight at David. The Doctor leapt to the side, but still caught the blast on his shoulder. The impact knocked him backwards, but he managed to keep his footing until another blast smashed into his left knee, knocking him down onto all fours. The smell of old oil and gasoline wafted up from the cold pavement. Another blast of a different color flew towards him, but instead of dodging this one, he dropped below it onto his stomach, pulling his rifle out from its sheath on his back.

He snapped off a shot half-blindly. The bullet raked across the man’s right shoulder and spun him around, nearly knocking him off his feet. He retained his balance, however, turning back to face David, his staff now in his left hand. David rose from the ground slowly, wiping himself off as best he could, keeping his rifle pointed at Dozer.

“Now…I have over twenty more rounds in this gun alone. I assure you the next time I shoot, it will hit its mark. Are you sure you want to continue?”

Dozer stared at him for a moment, another orb forming on the tip of his staff. Then he shrugged, lowering the staff and look at his bleeding shoulder. “Damn this hurts.”

David sheathed his gun and walked over, ready to look at the man’s wound for him. Just as he came within arm’s reach of Dozer, however, his opponent snapped the spear back up and directly into David’s face, releasing the blast as he did so. The point-blank force knocked David out instantly as he hurtled across the street. Dozer charged up another orb and stalked slowly over, wary. He prodded David, the grunted.

“I don’t like being called a kid.”

When David didn’t move, but instead limply lolled off to one side at the touch of Dozer’s spear, he dispelled the orb and collapsed his telescopic spear. The rain had picked up, and he waved over the medical crew. Unlike some of the “tough guys” in the RHG, he actually cared one hell of a lot when somebody shot it. It hurt, plain and simple. They did not move, though. He waved harder with his good hand, then realized that the announcer’s mouth was still moving, saying something into his mic. Dozer, frowned, irritated at being ignored. The contract promised him on-the-spot medical attention, and he intended to get it. Before he could take another step, however, he felt something prick the back of his neck. David’s calm voice drifted softly through the patter of the falling rain.

“Never turn your back on your enemy, kid. When he is down, ensure that he is down. Keep him down until only your stands between his life and death. This is the way to victory in battle.”

Dozer dropped his hand some, but David’s other arm was quick to grab his wrist. The wiry man’s grip latched onto him like a steel trap, drawing his arm up and behind his back. He didn’t try to hurt Dozer -- he didn’t even press his knife hard enough to raise a bead of blood. They both knew he had won.

“Dozer, do you concede?”

Dozer hesitated, wondering if he could break free of the man’s grasp. A slight tug told him that the answer was no. He only had one good arm…and that was already trapped between his shoulder blades. He sighed. He hated surrendering when he knew there was so much more fight left in him, but the fact was that he couldn’t do anything about it.

“Fine. You win. But I’ll make sure that I never turn my back on anyone again.”

The Doctor released his arm, sliding the knife back into his jacket as he placed a hand on Dozer’s shoulder. “Come on. Just give me a moment…” He dug into his suit’s pockets, off-handedly swiping his soaked hair out of his eyes before setting to work with a few pastes and some water-proof gauze and medical tape.

“There now. It was a nice clean wound -- a few butterfly clamps and the dressing will take care of that. In a couple weeks I want to see you in my Clinic to make sure you’re fully healed.”

He checked himself briefly for dirt and grime. Satisfied his suit was still its pristine white, David headed for the restaurant’s front door. Dozer watched him as he walked away, the sound of the RHG film crew packing up the only sound in the small town. He stepped backwards as one of their vans rolled by, its glowing red taillights like the eyes of an angry dragon floating disconnectedly away in the rain. He realized it was much heavier now, reducing his visibility to a mere hundred feet. David turned at the door, beckoning him in. Dozer paused, baffled. How a man who had just a moment ago been willing to kill him could switch so quickly to a caretaker was…confusing. Yet at the same time it was a warm and welcome feeling, the way that David was smiling at him.

He shivered, and headed for The Doctor and the door.


And here is Urako’s battle (please note that Gdocs is being an ass to me and is cooperating with my copy-paste attempts currently. If it decides to work on another day I WILL update this with a spoiler).

Snake Den (https://docs.google.com/document/d/1pmOMx9sK0TgZ1Bn2V045mKThLGc7TX4K_Mtw8tAuuOg/edit?usp=sharing)

Urako
02-21-2017, 09:44 AM
Just to add to this, I know mistake were made and I went way longer than I intended. Overall i'm a bit disappointed with how I did and CnC is welcome, but it's more important to me if you tell me how to fix anything that went wrong so I do better next time.

Also, I believe we agreed for this to be a spar. Regardless i'm willing to let the poll stay up to see which story people think is better. It'll be more of a "which story is canon" kind of thing if that's alright with you Alphaeus.

Another note to Azure or the other mods, this challenge started before Alphaeus switched characters.

I have CnC as well. If you want to do the same to me, be my guest. I would appreciate it.


This is partially my fault I suppose because I put my expectations too high. Honestly I really wish you had accepted my offer and not rushed (I assume you rushed because of your delay and all your comments). I don't mind the first half of your story. It's exposition, but it's from Macbeth's previous fight with Katrina so I understand.

The biggest disappointment and proof that you did not take this fight seriously at all is that you A) put up a poll after we agreed to a spar and B) didn't do the one thing I asked you to do and that you agreed to do which is explain why Derrick returned from hiding.


The man frowned and crossed his arms. “I’m Dozer. You didn’t show up for our match, so the admins looked up your phone and gave me the GPS. If you didn’t want to fight me, you should have just withdrawn instead of making me stand in the middle of the arena looking like an idiot.”



David stretched and straightened his suit, glancing at the sky that was dropping a rain as fine as mist. “I’m not condescending, I’m stating a fact. You’re just a kid, especially to someone like me. A good kid -- I’ve read about you -- but a rather foolish one. You could have gotten a forfeit added to your record for my absence if you had left well enough alone.”

In all seriousness, why does Derrick care? He would have accepted the forfeit especially when it would have been counter intuitive not to. Yes he enjoys a fight every now and then, but he really isn't an idiot. By all means this fight should not have happened. Another thing is what is his motivation? I really hope i'm wrong about everything and that you've bothered to give him a real motivation other than "I want to fight you in spite of already having a free victory offered to me".


Dozer straighten, flexing his hands on the staff. His eyes bored into David’s. “Kid? Did you just call me a fucking kid?! Listen you condescending --“

Yeah no. Has Derrick ever once acted like a bratty child who hates name-calling? The answer to that question is no. I don't want to call out every little detail but he's treated as such for a large enough portion of the fight to catch my attention. In general you have him act like an entitled brat the whole scenario.


The point-blank force knocked David out instantly as he hurtled across the street.

Not much to say here but "how does David recover from this so quickly?". Knocked out usually means knocked out. If he wasn't knocked out, why didn't Derrick force him to surrender or knock him out for real?


He waved harder with his good hand, then realized that the announcer’s mouth was still moving, saying something into his mic. Dozer, frowned, irritated at being ignored. The contract promised him on-the-spot medical attention, and he intended to get it.

And he believed them? In all seriousness why does an announcer and medical team follow him to the Restaurant? And if he figured out the announcer was still speaking, he would definitely turn around.


“Never turn your back on your enemy, kid. When he is down, ensure that he is down. Keep him down until only your stands between his life and death. This is the way to victory in battle.”

I'm not sure how many times i've said this, but he usually makes sure his opponents are down or going to leave him alone before he drops his defenses. Doubly so because of all the hints he got.

My last complaint is that I can only assume everyone is a safe distance away because he doesn't seem to care about hitting anyone despite his usual behavior of at least being cautious not to hit people.

I'm sorry Alphaeus. I had such high expectations and I don't know why, but I don't feel like you cared to even look through most of my gladiator's profile. Honestly I don't even think you can tell me his kinetic charge color order without looking again at his profile. I don't know and you could have been rushed I suppose but if you were, I wish you would have accepted my offer for more time. I'm sorry this CnC is so condescending. Usually i'm more polite, but i'm rather disappointed. I sort of wanted to fight you because you did so good in the past and I wanted to be part of Macbeth's story. And yes i'll still consider your story canon if you win as I promised above.

I know for a fact your not a bad writer and everyone makes bad stories (I know I made some big errors in my version as well). So next time just try reading through the other person's gladiator profile more and I'm sure you'll do great again. Also, I know you're having trouble with Macbeth so that's another point in your favor. The point is, don't give up on yourself and keep improving.

Whelp, i've dished it out and I'm probably going to get my own CnC soon.

Alphaeus
05-03-2017, 04:35 PM
CnC, as promised (albeit a bit late, sorry man :P).

Alrighty…So, I don’t have much to say because you’re a great opponent and good writer. Here are a few of the points I’ll make:

First, watch out for effective sentence structure. I caught you flipping emphasis sometimes (Aka, “John punch Larry” vs “Larry was punched by John.”). You didn’t do this in most of the “important” parts, but you used in in descriptive scenes. While this style helps description, at the same time it really slows down the pace of the story whenever you hit it. I typically try to avoid this type of structure unless I want the emphasis on the subject (Larry via the example).

Secondly, conversation punctuation/formatting. Some of your conversations were spaced from the preceding paragraph, while some were blended into paragraphs. To be honest, I make this mistake too, so can’t say much. That aside, you would occasionally use improper punctuation before quotes (no comma where a comma was needed, a hyphen where you needed a dash, etc.). Simply small things.

I honestly don’t have many critiques, so aside from those picky technicalities (and #1 is a matter of preference partially), my only beef is with how you portrayed the action.

First, the “opponent shoots like a storm trooper and protagonist dodges like Hans Solo” gig. Close call, after close call…you need an explanation when someone who has been using the same gun for intensive combat for over a hundred years somehow misses a not-especially-hard-to-hit guy at close range. Ditto for knives. Secondly, your character has this incredible endurance in the story. I’m totally fine with that, but this isn’t precisely part of his character. Altaer get’s shot to death and nearly incinerated, and he’s still kicking? Sure, but that’s written in. David? He’s an obsessed “demigod of war” as Dooms put it ;). Dozer is just a persistent kid. I mean, I get the idea that the hits weren’t bad, but by the time you reach the end of the story…he should have caved by then.

My solution to this would be to find a way to explain how Dozer made David keep missing (other than just dodging, although you do fair enough with the knives by describing his use of the staff). Dodge is one thing, being Hans Solo is another. Also, the “I’m not finished yet” should be kept to within what your character can logically sustain. If you want that as part of your character, maybe explain it more. The willpower thing is great, but IRL that doesn’t do smut for your body. You get sliced, shocked, and stunned…well, you’re sliced, shocked, and stunned. Willpower or not the condition will be the same. Adrenaline is fine, but even that only lasts so long (hence the phrase “burst of Adrenaline”). So, come up with that he had been doing pain tolerance training with some weird Asian dude, or toughening skills with an ex-Marine, or something. As it stands the battle is really one that can only be explained by David using it as “only a test.” Like I said to you in a PM when you asked “how do you explain David losing to a kid?”, -- “David would merely say, ‘If I had wanted to kill you, those wouldn’t have been stun rounds, and I wouldn’t have missed.’” Which is an damn lousy way to leave a battle, honestly.

Some people here don’t agree with the whole “victory needs to make sense” factor in battles, so you don’t necessarily have to follow my advice here. This is just me.

Anyhow, no matter what, this was well written and still damn well executed. Good job, and I’m glad we got to do this. Next time (and we will write again) IRL will hopefully not be hammering me as hard and I’ll be able to really dig into a fight or collab or whatnot.