I, Yves, was chilling in my seat on the fourth wagon, waiting for the train ride to end. Suddenly, I watched the conductor come crashing through the door. The big man collapsed onto his back, filled with injuries.
While laying on his back, he looked at me concerned then I said, "Don't worry, conductor," I called out, my voice tinged with amusement. "I won't interfere in your fight." But I couldn't help but be impressed – Eros, or Diablo as his friends seemed to call him, had managed to send this gorilla flying all the way over here.
I leaned forward, my curiosity piqued. "What ability did you use, Eros? I wonder..." I mused, my eyes scanning the other man's lean, muscular frame. No way, a punch? "I didn't know you exceeded in martial arts."
And then, as if on cue, Eros himself appeared in the doorway, his torso bare, his body coiled and ready for action. I let out a low whistle, taking in the sight of his physique – every muscle clearly defined, a testament to his dedication and discipline. This was no mere brawler; this was a finely tuned weapon, honed and polished to perfection mentally and physically, an Ubermensch.
I settled back in my seat, content to observe the unfolding drama. Eros and the conductor – two vastly different specimens, yet both possessed of a primal power that seemed to defy the boundaries of human capability. I couldn't wait to see how this confrontation would play out, to witness the clash of these titans.
Eros, lean and lithe, his every muscle rippling with power, while the conductor, despite his missing left limb and injured left eye, still exuded a primal, animalistic menace.
Eros wasted no time, immediately abusing his advantage. He flashed to the conductor's blind side, his movements fast and precise. The conductor tried to turn, to bring his remaining hand up in defense, but Eros was relentless, raining hook after hook on his vulnerable flank.
I watched, my breath caught in my throat, as Eros seamlessly exploited the Rail Tracer's weaknesses. He struck with calculated efficiency, his strikes landing with devastating force, each one focusing vital points of the larger man.
The Rail Tracer attempted to land counters. But Eros was simply too quick, too nimble. He blocked or dodged all of them punches, his movements fluid and graceful, like a man who already saw the future and the inevitable ending.
Again and again, Eros would target vital points and then retreat to the left side before the Rail Tracer could counterattack. The conductor's face swelled already and parts of his torso turned blue, this is a slaughter.
Hook after hook, jab after jab, Eros wouldn't stop until finally, the Rail Tracer's knees buckled, and he crumpled to the ground.
I let out a low whistle, my respect for Eros growing with every passing moment. This was no mere man – this was a true master of his craft, a fighter whose skill and technique had allowed him to overcome a physically superior opponent. If I wasn't gifted with The Gargoyles' powers, this man would dominate me physically and mentally anytime, any day.
The Rail Tracer lay on his knees, battered and bruised, but a defiant grin still played across his lips. Eros stood over him,
"Are we done now, Joachim?" Eros asked, his tone serious and controlled.
For a moment, the Rail Tracer said nothing, then – with a speed that belied his battered condition – he scooped up a handful of dust from the ground and flung it directly into Eros' eyes.
The sudden, blinding assault caught Eros off guard, and in that fleeting second of vulnerability, the Rail Tracer struck. His leg lashed out, the impact sounding like an ax cleaving through the core of a mighty tree, and Eros crumpled to the ground.
Before Eros could even react, the Rail Tracer was on him, his massive fist slamming into the smaller man's face with a force that echoed through the whole train. The sound of the impact reverberated, a crack that left my ears ringing.
All it took was one punch from this fiend, I suppose that is why Eros was careful and methodical in either dodging or blocking those brute punches.
"Are we done now, Diablo?" Joachim asked, trying to belittle Eros and ironize the situation.
Eros' eyes snapped open, the four-second lapse in unconsciousness barely registering. He let out a low, guttural groan as he pressed his palms against his battered face, his features twisted with a mixture of blood, dust, and annoyance.
"Now that was a dirty trick, Joachim," he growled, accusing Joachim of cheating. "You asked me not to play tricks on you, and now you go and pull that kind of nasty shit?"
Without warning, Eros' feet left the ground, his body levitating a few inches off the floor as he assumed a fluid, defensive stance, a jiujitsu stance if I am correct. The shift in his demeanor was palpable, he wanted to finish him.
"It ends now, Joachim," he said. "Come at me."
Joachim seemed to hesitate for the briefest of moments, for the first time in his life, he felt doubt and fear. His gaze locked with Eros' as they sized each other up for the last dance. But then, he decided to trust his instincts and with a roar, he surged forward, his remaining hand clenched into a fist, ready to deliver another god killer blow.
Joachims massive frame surged forward with the speed and power of a bullet train. But just as he closed in on Eros, the smaller man's face curled into a devilish grimace.
"Gotcha, gorilla," Eros purred, and with a casual flick of his finger, he conjured a small stone seemingly out of thin air.
In the blink of an eye, the stone appeared directly in the Rail Tracer's path, causing him to lose his footing. His forward momentum worked against him, and Joachim suddenly found himself pitching headlong, his balance completely shattered by Eros' nasty trick.
As Joachim was gonna crash on the ground, Eros pounced, moving with the grace and speed of a jungle cat. In a flash, he had Joachim trapped, his long, legs wrapped around the larger man's neck in a vise-like hold.
It was a textbook flying triangle choke, a maneuver that disrupted the flow of blood to the brain, forcing the victim to either submit or lose consciousness. And Eros wasn't about to let Joachim off the hook – his grip tightened, the pressure of his thighs against the killer's neck represented a tableau similar to a spider catching a mosquito in its net, an inescapable fate.
Was this the end of the epic clash between The Giant and The Feline?