A few moments later, in the middle of the test room, two MechSuits were facing each other. Both of them were basic assault type model; their metallic frames refracted the blinding light that came from the ceiling.
For an apparent reason, the slicked hair man was given a golden colored MechSuit. It was a brilliant golden color; it shone in great contrast to Johnny's MechSuit. This one gave Fell the impression that he was in front of an imperial agent, While Johnny's armored suit accentuated his fiery righteous and heroic temperament.
Their colors might be the same, but Fell's intuition was screaming in his mind. The individual in front of him was no righteous person. He could only feel deadly intent in the cold armor that was standing opposite to him.
Surrounding them were the groups of technicians and the chairman's assembly. No sound could be heard in the room as most of the individual present could feel an insalubrious atmosphere in the steely space.
The chairman and his assembly were standing with a look of pity in their eyes. They could feel their heartbeats in their throats, and they had difficulties breathing as they anticipated the carnage in front of them.
The PD chairman sighed while slightly shaking his head. He looked one last time at Fell, before announcing the beginning of the match with a deep voice.
"Begin!" His powerful voice traveled through the large space, shaking the eardrums of every individual present in the room.
Contrary to what they expected, both opened stayed still.
Time ticked, as their feet stood rooted on the steel floor. Seeing that his opponent wasn't moving, the golden MechSuit's hand moved. He lifted his hand in front of him and slightly beckoned to Fell to open the dance.
A smile appeared on Fell's lips. Shivers of excitement traversed his body; his fist clenched as he propelled himself, dashing to his opponent.
He crossed the distance between them in a few steps, producing booming sounds as his legs stepped on the floor with the might of a bulldozer. His fists already clenched, he made the simplest motion with his hand going forward.
The trajectory was simple, and the motion was unstable. Everyone present could easily dodge the blow. Fell's fist had no remarkable speed nor traveled in an unpredictable or complex path.
The slicked hair man easily saw through the childlike fist and sent his arm to counter it, acting as if he was simply swatting an annoying fly.
His move sent Fell tumbling in the side. Dressed in his MechSuit, he rolled for a few meters before crashing on the wall, shaking the whole room with his momentum.
Jeering exploded through the room. Mark and a few of his friends were scornfully laughing in front of the scene.
"What a child! That was to be expected from someone from the slums! Roll to your homeboy!"
Fell could hear their taunting, but he calmly flipped himself. Trembling while getting up, he looked at his opponent before dashing at him in a straight line.
He arrived in front of the Golden MechSuit and prepared his blow. The scene repeated itself; a golden armored arm was sent to confront a white armored fist. But, as everyone thought that the White MechSuit would be sent tumbling to the side. Everyone expected the result to stay the same as it was almost like they had gone back in time and were rewinding the same scene.
Fell retracted his arm and threw himself to his opponent. His leg broke through the steel floor as he used his upmost strength to propel himself forward.
Their impact produced a sound similar to two trains crashing into each other. Fell wrestled the slicked hair man to the ground, he then calmly clenched his fist and pounded the helmet of the golden MechSuit.
His actions were similar to a maddened gorilla who was beating his prey to death. As if he was a blacksmith, he was hitting the metal with rhythmed pounds that echoed through the room.
Stillness took over the room, as everyone present was holding their breath in front of the scene.
After he finished beating the Golden MechSuit to a pulp, leaving it with a deformed helmet, Fell calmly got up and began walking away.
The strangeness of the scene left the chairman dumb stuck; he couldn't understand how the White MechSuit pilot won. His early impressions of the pilot were those of a first timer. His motions were disarticulated, and he even gave the impression that he was a newborn child, still struggling and learning how to walk for the first time.
As he was leaving the scene with a cold calmness, as if he wasn't the one who wrecked the Golden MechSuit, Fell went back to his place and began exercising his body. He was completely unaware of who he just beat, and deep down he simply didn't care.
The Golden MechSuit, immobile, laid on the cold steel floor for a long minute. Its fingers moved, and a strange aura escaped from inside its metallic frame. The pilot awoke after his beating. Under his deformed and broken helmet, his usually calm face instantly deformed into a monstrous grin.
"Get back here!" He howled while getting up.
Fell was still focused on his training and completely ignored the man's word. As he was getting used to the weight of the MechSuit, his motions were turning more and more fluid as he executed the Massin Martial Art.
Under the MechSuit. The surface of his skin was filled with veins, they squirmed and moved as if Fell had worms under his skin. His muscles trembled and bulged in a strange rhythm, and his blood coursed through his veins as he was emboldened by the Massin Martial Art.
He was soon pleasantly surprised to feel progress in this abstruse Fist Art. Ever since his breakthrough to small success, he had difficulty progressing in this field.
Helped with the ridiculous weight that came from the MechSuit, he lost himself in his training—feeling that his next breakthrough was close. Exhilaration filled his mind as he was pushed forward with his passion.
As he felt that only a simple line was blocking him from breaking through, a penetrating fist connected with the left side of his helmet, sending him crashing straight in the wall.
His vision spun as he traveled in the air, his mind was still filled with his Fist Art. He crashed on the wall, and his frame was embedded deeply in the wall.
"Get back up and come here! We're not done yet. That was just a warmup!" The slicked hair man's word escaped from under his helmet. The body fitting armor suppressed his voice, but the MechSuit couldn't suppress his inherent imperial tone.