The Bellators

1:12:4

Breezes bombard the island below the dark gray clouds, rustling blades of grass in powerful gusts as bulks of blades formally facing upwards like stakes are bent forwards by the overwhelming winds as the whoosh flies by them.

Before the breeze can pass, the sole of a black boot crushes the bulk of grass blades in a slow step. Above the boot, the wearer is dressed in a fiber-woven suit that fits slimy to the body, the material colored black. Resting against the right thigh of the being is a black small firearm construct resembling a pistol with its stubby barrel and sleek profile. The weapon is connected to the hand of the gunslinger, and the sleeve too is adorned in black fabrics as seemingly is the whole body.

Over the shoulder of the gunslinger is another man who stands in front of the closed silver door of the stronghold out in the open field, the valley surrounded by the mountainous trees, the one leveled spot in the center of the remote island.

Across from him, that man in front of the stronghold also wears black, although the material is more in line with spandex, and the suit also has the design of orange branches which drape down his arms and body. The suit covers most of the body with the exception of the head, as even the complementary hood lays down, revealing the face of the man to be rugged with a black beard and a scar along his left cheek. His arms remain by the side as he behaves calmly, his blue eyes peering through the breeze in silence.

Staring back at the gunslinger, the leader of Generation S gazes at the black face-shaped mask that conceals the identity of his opponent, who silently peers back in front of the dense trees behind a long bush. He watches however as the man in the black suit reaches his left arm to the ear of his mask and taps it, which causes the mask to dematerialize, his disguise vaporized to reveal his true face and free his unkempt brown hair.

Staring back, he also has a similar scar on his right cheek, and a similar toughened facial structure. He stares back with gray eyes, unafraid to reveal himself regardless of the potential ramifications, for it was a cause he truly did believe in.

Neither speak, only stare, as the leader of Generation S keeps his right arm by his side, with no telling what the supernatural abilities of the leader of supernaturally empowered fighters would wield, as it can best be interpreted that he'd likely be the strongest of them all.

It seems he's aware, as he doesn't give a hint to it, avoiding any revving or drawing to keep his abilities ominous until the last second so his opponent wouldn't have the luxury of planning a counter.

Instead, the leader stares calculatedly through his blue irises, his pupils calm, his lips parted to let him breathe steadily through, a common habit of Exhumans as remaining in peak condition nearly always translates to stronger use of their abilities.

Facing back, the leader of the Watchdogs glares composedly through his gray irises, his pupils calm, discreetly breathing through his nose, the intake nearly silent.

Blue eyes staring.

Gray eyes staring.

Blue.

Gray.

Swiftly, the pistol is raised up at the leader of Generation S right as the opposing leader aims his arm up, prepared to reveal his secret ability.

Emerging through the bush in the back, the man in the black leather jacket glides forth into the open area, his azureus lenses blazing as his right hand is connected to a curved blue cable, and on the other end it connects to the green mask of a Watchdog volunteer, whose body flies limply behind without a soul to pilot it.

Landing on his feet, the man in the mask enters the field, and behind him the limp body falls on the ground face first. The cable then retracts back into the hand that it was projected from, which then rests by the man's side.