King of Iron Fist

Affiliated Kazuya Mishima Blog Affiliated with Fate/Stain Lens

[jellyfishcaptain-blog1]

Fist-First Philosophy

[trueironfist-blog]

jellyfishcaptain:

“Well you clearly won.” Johnny replied with a dry tone.

Watching the body fly into the masses, the ring expanded between the two big shots as the crowd backed off, things were getting..

Dangerous.

The man in all black shrugged using his whole body, one bent knee with a new step splashing against the water on the street, his arms stretched out wide and open. “Saviour? Master? I suppoooose those are things you could call me, but…”

He flipped a golden coin out of his pocket into the air, spinning at such speed it gave the illusion of having a force field around it from the heavy rain.

“Let’s just think of me, the great captain Johnny, as the man with the feet to fill in the shoes that were clearly too big for the last guy.”

Johnny stood upright, catching the coin he flipped and put it back into his pocket. A hand resting against the wooden handle of his sword underneath his large coat. 

The contrast between the two could not be any more obvious, the flippant and nonchalant interloper versus the ruthless and bloodthirsty instigator. Kazuya had certainly seen many men like this before. Yet as the first of his ilk to step up to face him now, he couldn’t help but be somewhat amused. Seems that no matter where one went, there were always fools reaching for the moon.

“Is that right?”

Great Captain? How annoyingly pretentious. True, he couldn’t question the validity of that statement, but from what his voracious gaze could size up from this man, he doubted there was anything “great” to him. A slight adjustment to his gloves, as a smirk crossed his face, one that many of the people in the crowd would quail at. It spelled out the doom of his opponent, as was displayed already.

Fists were brought up before him, one foot forward.  taking on his standard fighting posture. Whether or not there was more to this man, Kazuya was more than willing to find out.

“I applaud your bravery. Maybe you can back up your bark.”

But he rather doubted it.

[jellyfishcaptain-blog1]

Fist-First Philosophy

[trueironfist-blog]

jellyfishcaptain:

@trueironfist

“Oi, oi, oi.” A voice of concern rouse from the encircling crowd. The downpour flooded the streets, yet people were not seeking shelter. Inside the circle of excited rabble, not only water flood the street but blood painted along with it.

On one side, a man in a suit, barely spotting a scratch. On the other side, a man curled up on the ground. Looked like not all fights were being duke out by Servants in this world.

To Johnny, the reason of this fight was unknown. But it was clearly one-sided to an extreme once the heat got things boiling between them.

The voice of concern originated from a new challenger entering the fray. His large cowboy hat keeping his head dry in the downpour.

“Theeere’s such thing as overkill, you know? Ya should stick to your own weight class, mister suit. Hooow about you call it quits before you bite off more than you can chew?”

It was a warm-up, nothing more than a test to get himself back into fighting shape. The NPC’s weren’t even on par with his own soldiers, and so he set his eye on a master. Sadly, that’s where the matter of individuality lied; not all are created equal. The one he found now, in particular, was a grave disappointment. 

The resulting beatdown was enough to completely crush the poor fool, with hardly a scratch on the other. Annoyance was clear on the Mishima’s face, tempted to continue his actions until a point was made. That was until a man in utterly outlandish attire decided to step in and calm him down, resulting in further irritation.

“He accepted my challenge, and thus the consequences of it.”

However, at this point, what else was there really to say. With a growing scowl painted on his features, he walked over to the prone figure.“Let this be a valuable lesson. Some people are heroes. Others are meant to be saved. You are clearly the latter.” And with a solid kick, he sent the prone figured flying into the crowd. The spark of a smile crossed his face for a moment, but only briefly. Then, it was all business as usual, as he returned his gaze to the interloper.

“And who is his savior? Another master, I presume?”

[trueironfist-blog]

A New Challenger!

The finely clothed man’s strides through the street were unopposed, the residents giving him a wide berth as he walked. A ravenous aura seemed to surround him wherever he went, and most would simply quail in fear of him for it. It was only those few who could stand their ground in his presence that gained even a fragment of his attention. So when a boy of peculiar look and standardized attire managed to simply walk past him, he was alerted immediately.

And slightly put off.

Really? This boy was worth his weight? He certainly didn’t look like much. Then again, he had long learned to avoid taking fighters at appearance alone. The more he focused on this boy, the evident it was that he was someone worth acknowledging, a latent power that gave him more than what the eye could see. Something that Kazuya could understand all too well. 

With a look over his shoulder, he called out to the other, a bark of command underline with a cautious curiosity.

“You there. Boy. A word.”

@foolofdeath

[trueironfist-blog]

Irritation

The forms of the civilians would skitter away, the prone body of his fallen foe decorating the ground. The man scowled in disappointment, recognizing the wasted effort for what it was. A thuggish looking NPC, hardly worthwhile, and not even worth the damage to his suit. Kazuya would sweep the dust off his arms and torso, having now gauged the strength of the typical “fighter” NPC in a short lived experiment. It was one way to pass the time whilst waiting for the announcement at the edge of Utopia.

“Tch.”

Without a servant, he couldn’t be informed of what will occur unless he was here himself. Normally, he would have one of his soldiers handle this tedious work whilst he went about his more important business, but he had neither here. A fact that which grated at his nerves constantly. Most impertinent though was the fact that there seemed to be no shortage of cowards from the masters here. His form, his demeanor, the hungry look in his eyes, to any real fighter, this would be a challenge. And yet none have stepped up.

These were supposed to be the saviors of Humanity? What a joke.

@gentlysweeps

[trueironfist-blog]

Kazuya Mishima - Tekken

Son of the Year

Dad of the Year

Wants to take over the World (Of course!)

One of a long line of absolute dirtbags

Can turn into a Devil

Thinks a person’s worth is dictated by what they offer him

Dirtbag

Snappy Dresser though

Threw his dad into a volcano

Is not impossible to get along with on his terms

Is waging WWIII against his Son

Respects his followers

His haircut is ridiculous

[trueironfist-blog]

Alright, lets throw a starter call up. As I feel I should warn, Kazuya is a largely confrontational character who’s dialogue usually entails a challenge while mocking you. So, in the case of a master, it’s likely he’ll try to beat the crap out of you unless he doesn’t see any merit in it. Servants are...up in the air. Anyway, capping at 3.

[trueironfist-blog]

Fingers drummed upon his arms, rising and falling in perfect sequence. The cold look on his face warded off most from approaching, an aura of general malice seeming to radiate off him. Of course, for the other masters and servants, they had no choice but to wait, but they all gave him a wide berth. He had long learned the value of patience, but he could not deny the frustration when forced to follow the orders of others, especially so soon upon entry. 

And there was just something irritating about being left to wait.

[trueironfist-blog]

He took all the information in stride, command seals burning into his arm. Salvation of humanity? What a joke. Wasting their breath on him. Being a savior? It wouldn’t be the first time, but much like the time before, it would be on his terms. Knuckles clenched, and his neck craned from side to side, popping it. A gleeful tension was building inside him, the prospect of something building up that was bigger than anything before.

It had been a while since he had been so eager.

In his world, his work, and his name, were a mess. Thanks to the actions of his now deceased (and good riddance) father, Kazuya Mishima was a name regarded with trepidation and fear. The unveiling of his Devil Gene to the world was a massive setback. Repairing the reputation of G Corp and the Mishima Zaibatsu was going to be a hell of a task. 

But now, here in this pathetic place, he could start fresh. No risk, a servant gained in due time, and by the look of it, none of his worthless blood relatives to get in the way. A hapless populace, just waiting to be ruled by a greater force, and now him, the greatest force there could ever be. A one sided sneer painted his face.

It was perfect.

[specta-a-deactivated20180419]

[trueironfist-blog]

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