I was led through a bar, down dark stairs dimly lit by a solitary light. I came dressed in all black ready for action. I walk in and see an auditorium full of people cheering as they see their crazed killer warm up in the ring.
I walk down the ramp and stare at the massive cage. Slowly trudging to meet my faith. I ascend up the small flight of stairs leading to entrance of my cage. I look back at one last inspiration of the crowd, only to be met with scorn glares of discontempt.
The door opens, I step in. Our eyes meet, and I am hypnotized by his blood-thirsty glare. I match his glare with tenacious ferocity, and hate. He shifts into a stance, it was an awesome stance. There were no apparent holes in his defense, and he beckons me. I step forward knowing full well I was walking into a wall of swords, meeting a fate of instant death, once I cross into his zone.
So as I take my last step, I let out a blast. A blast so pecise that it cuts through his defense. It destorys him, leaving him watching helplessly as he takes his last breath. The blast came from my hands with explosive force. The explosive force matched by a Glock 22. I stand there with people disgusted and mortified as they glare at the one ultimate equalizier: my Glock 22. The decided killer of opponents, my trusty Glock 22, saved me again.
"Don't Focus on the Fingers or You will miss all the Heavenly Glory!"
Morbicid-"Maybe some moves are made just so that, if u somehow manage to pull them off in a fight, u get some serious bragging rights.
Many famous fighters have done this (roy jones jr, chuck norris, Morbicid, etc)"
Reply With Quote
Style is only defined by the limitations of a system of fighting and defending. So when in medatation ask yourself not "what are the weaknesses of thine enemy" but rather so what are your own weaknesses