Battle of Armors

Spoiler:

It was dusk.  The sun had just set over the Gulf of Mexico, and the city was still turning on the lights.    Icarus was in his pickup truck and off into the night, armor in the trunk.  He had a new weapon to test, and the best place to do that was the scrapyard.  There was no one there (normally) past closing time, and there were plenty of things to cut and maim and destroy and blow up and so on.  It was a place to exhibit raw power, and a place to test your might and skill.  

Icarus felt a chill go down his back.  Hopefully it wasn't a foreshadowing of a battle tonight.  He had faced off with other meta-humans before, with more or less successful results.  His combination of heavy assault, strong defense, mid range attacks and lightning quick punches, plus martial arts moves downloaded from the internet, made him a formidable opponent.  But there were things out there that science and ingenuity had nothing to do with.  Icarus had heard tell of those who really could use "magic", whose meta-powers couldn't be explained away by mutations or technology.  They were the ones that Icarus had some sort of preternatural fear of, those things that screeched and clawed and glowed with power that was not of this earth.  Icarus had been raised in a catholic school.  He had been told that those things were evil, and that they really existed,  and that their intentions were the enslavement of your soul and the destruction of your body.  

Lightning flashed out over the horizon.  An afternoon summer squall was coming in, a common thing in Florida, especially in the summer.  However, its ominous feel seemed to have a an effect on Icarus he couldn't explain away.  Naturally Icarus held those silly tales he heard in HighSchool about demons and such in an air of disbelief.   But there were dark nights on the internet, where reports of magic users with fully documented evidence came up into his brain, that defied belief and enforced it in the supernatural.  

The pickup, an early 2000's Ford model, rolled into a well shaded lot in a couple of blocs from the scrapyard.  The night lights in the buildings all around glowed softly yellow, and somewhere out there an owl hooted just as Icarus turned off the truck and stepped out.  Behind the truck he stood, held out his arms in a cruciform shape, and mentally commanded the armor to come out.  From under the tarp seeped several limb-sized pieces of metallic-tan and muted-red metal, accented strongly with dark and light grey.  It was an expensive piece of machinery.  Once again Icarus wondered how on earth his father had afforded so much graphene and titanium.   Titanium was expensive, but graphene was rarer then diamonds and 200 times stronger then steel - and lighter then paper.   For decades now, scientists had tried to find a way to manufacture it commercially, but the synthetic substance had defied manufacturing processes that were technically cost-effective.  Perhaps, thought Icarus, some people in the system didn't want it made.  Graphene was the key to space travel, the energy crisis, super-human containment and jailing, and so much more.  Imagine if every metal every made, every car, every plane, was made of paper, and 200x stronger then steel.  The world would be a different place.  

The effects of that would be mind-boggling.  But Icarus didn't have the patience to go over that again.  He had a weapon to test, and test he would.  He had taken a spare piece of titanium, and had it customized to include a flow of ionite along the edge.  He then had the piece cut into an awesome, intimidating, 17-inch blade, and installed it into a retractable, airtight sleeve on his right arm.   The edge would glow blue with charged ionite, and then the weapon could practically cut through anything, although anything higher then grade-A stainless steel would take some saw-like action to cut through.                  

SPOILER FOR THE BLADE:

Spoiler:

The armor enveloped Icarus with a successive series of metallic clangs and clicks, as the minute gears and pistons and hinges motored together.  The small, circulatory ion engine in the chest hummed to life, and 2.7 seconds later the whole thing was online, on 4G- LTE, (backpacked from Verizon).

The sun was setting, and one quick walk and ion-booster-assisted jump later Icarus was in the massive scrap-yard compound.  Piles of metal scraps, cars and trucks and engines and driers and refrigerators were everywhere.  Near the center of the compound Icarus found his usual spot, cleared of debris for about an acre, only the worn-smooth concrete, like what one would find at a skate park, covered the ground.  On one side was the old junk crane they used to lift cars up with, electromagnet hanging from its arm, motionless.   All around were literal hills of junk and scrap, black, jagged silhouettes against the fading-orange horizon.

Icarus shivered again, and mentally turned down the AC in the suit.  The whole place looked like an arena from a 2000's something video game, cryptic, yet modern.  

He dragged out a beat up drier machine, rusted, yet still covered in white flecks of paint.  It was getting dark, and so Icarus turned on the floodlights mounted on the crane.  He ejected the blade, and it automatically powered up, edge glowing dull blue.  Satisfied with that, he raised his arm and brought it down hard on the corner of the old drier, and it cut through it like - well, like an ionite blade through old iron-aluminum composite.  Icarus laughed to himself.  He was such a nerd sometimes.

Maxamillian Wayne, otherwise known as the Red Knight, was currently traversing through a city called Tampa Bay, Florida. The reason he was in the sea side city was because he had heard rumors of an armored super hero, who could fly none the less, currently resided there. Tales of the man’s feats had spread so far that even the great ‘Son of Set’ heard what had been accomplished by the man of metal. Of course he was intrigued by this as any normal combatant would be and thus he decided he would simply have to scout out the city and find out if the man truly lived up to the reputation he was given. To do this of course Maxamillian would challenge the man in combat, and if God be willing he would once again emerge victorious.

Rumors spread around bars were of course where The Red Knight found out most of the information he had on this man, and he hardly believed most of them but one rumor held true it seemed. The rumor of course was that the man in the highly advanced suit of armor liked to test out his new weaponry in an abandoned dump. This of course was where the Red Knight headed to very quickly after, only to see what he could only believe to be was the man in the advanced suit testing out what seemed to be an advanced sword of some sort. With a smile on his face the Red Knight laughed a hearty laugh and stepped out into the view of the other armored man, as he too was wearing his armor but minus the helmet.

“Thou seems to have a blade and armor of some technological might dear friend!” He called out to let the man know that he was in the area and was now of course presenting himself. Yet when he did a bolt of lightning shot through the air, letting all around know a storm was soon to come. It was of course a storm that would greatly fall under the advantage of the Red Knight in the course of battle. “I dare say that mine own blade and armor are more than a match for thine. Would though care to put thy newly crafted weapon to the test? I have yet to receive a true challenge from a worthy opponent in quite some time!” He strode forward and stuck out his hand that did not hold his helmet and shield, awaiting the man’s own hand to shake. “Forgive me for not introducing my own self, but I am called by many The Red Knight, thyself must of course be the one called ‘Mercury’, yes?”

When the man shook his hand, or didn’t whichever, Red would step back and place his own helmet on the top of his head. “As I challenged the, it would of course only be fair that thy set the rules of the duel. So, out with them yes, and let us make haste dear friend! Though I do beseech one rule if I may, that thy loser must buy the winner a drink or two!” Red spoke, calling out his end of the challenge, sure the man could decline or he could call Red a freak and fly away but if the man was truly a man of arms he would not back down from a challenge. To do so would be hypocrisy, and cowardness which there was hardly any worse sin than that…to the mind of Red at least.

Icarus nearly peed himself when the voice sounded out. It took him two seconds to turn, and look the big man up and down, at the armor, the conveniently creepy lightning striking at just the right moment, the cape, the massive sword...

"Computer, scan my air filter." He commanded. "Someone spiked it with LSD. Or I'm having a breakdown. Probably both."

Unfortunately neither of these facts were true, according to the AI. The man in the red cape was real, and a quick scan showed bones and real metal in his armor. He was real. And he had asked Icarus a question.

"Thou seems to have a blade and some armor of technological might, dear friend! I dare say that mine own blade and armor are more then a match for thine. Would thou care to put thy newly crafted weapon to the test? I have yet to receive a true challenge from a worthy opponent in quite some time!"

The man stepped forward, stride greater then Icarus' own, even when he was in the 6-foot-5-inch armor. He struck out his hand, and beseeched Icarus -

" “Forgive me for not introducing my own self, but I am called by many The Red Knight, thyself must of course be the one called ‘Mercury’, yes?” "

Icarus shook the massive paw of the man, his own metal clanking slightly against the man's gauntlet.

"Yes, I am Mercury." He said, voice electronically processed to disguise his voice.

" As I challenged the, it would of course only be fair that thy set the rules of the duel. So, out with them yes, and let us make haste dear friend! Though I do beseech one rule if I may, that thy loser must buy the winner a drink or two!” "

Icarus swallowed. This guy was for real. He was a knight of some sort, transported here from the past, by some arcane means. Or Arthur somehow forgot to take this guy with him, you know, when he died. Still, if he really was a real knight, and not a history professor high on something hallucinogenic, then this could be serious. It would be Icarus' first encounter with the arcane, first encounter with the flip side of reality. Actually that sounded exiting, when Icarus put it that way.

"I accept your challenge, with one stipend." Said Icarus, knowing full well that most of him thought that this really was just a young guy who was high. "Only, that this contest does not end in death for either of us, and mercy be extended at the earliest opportunity. Also, that, if I win, you buy me a milkshake. I don't drink. Alcohol, that is."

Maxamillian laughed a hearty laugh upon hearing the terms and regulations set upon him by the tiny man in the big suit of armor. “I wouldn’t have the challenge any other way Sir Mercury!” He called out to the man standing before him. “Yet I must say a milkshake truly? Are ye sure it be what ye want? No Alcohol is a worse fate than death, but if it be what ye want than if ye somehow defeat me I shall give it!” He called unsheathing his sword and raising it into the air letting it be known that the challenge had been accepted on both sides of the field as lightning crackled through the stormy sky, touching down close to the two of them.

Raising his shield into the air and up to a defensive position with his sword faced down and forward out at the technologically advanced man. Allowing the man to take the first strike of course, as was the honorable thing to do as he issued the challenge, but when the strike came he would of course deflect it with his own shield by pushing back towards the man who issued the attack. Then with his own sword would he retaliate by stabbing forward at, or close to, the center of the iron robot man’s chest. Hopefully the strike would hit home and this would allow Maxamillian to test just how strong the suit of metal truly was. He could only hope that it would be strong enough to hold up to his own blade from more than one strike or this fight would surely be more boring than he had thought.

Of course, should the man somehow deflect the stab or the armor did indeed stop it Maxamillian had plans of his own. Ideas that would hopefully lead to him becoming victories over the man that stood before him.

Icarus quickly looked up medieval rules of combat, the vast amount of information downloading into his brain, a fantastic series of 100101011101010101's. He looked up battle strategies and moves, history and lore, and found out the ten most common moves for a sword and shield carrier. The internet had all the answers, thought Icarus, if one only knew where to look. He learned that the closest thing his wrist blade could be compared to was a Roman Gladius, and that it was primarily a stabbing weapon. That was not going to be much use against this man's broadsword. Icarus's little 17-inch titanium blade was primarily designed for cutting wires and non-living things, to save ensnared citizens. Icarus was not one of those people who had the death of the villains in mind - he had weapons that were designed to incapacitate, not kill, and his little Gladius reflected that.

Icarus next did a quick scan of the man's weaknesses, at least the outwardly visible ones. His mask appeared to have twin eyeslits - other then that, the armor the man had on offered no significant gaps, and seemed to offer almost complete protection from any physical assault. Naturally, it would stand to reason that such a complete set of armor would be very heavy, and limit the Mr Red's movement.

Next, Icarus did a quick spectroscope of the man's weapons. The sword was the one that most intrigued him. The metal it was made of seemed to be unidentified, not categorized - that alone was impressive. It was a new alloy, and seemed to have some sort of residual electron charge - a type of charge that Icarus knew from high-school only occurred on substances that had sustained incredible electric charges. It was an effect of metal that was used by power plants - and found in lightning rods. And judging by the amount of residual electrons, this man's blade had received a ton of charge, lighting strikes worth of power, gigawatts on gigawatts. That could only mean two things: (1) This man had made a sword from metals found in a power-plant wire, or metal from a lightning rods, or (2) This guy could control lighting, and was some sort of MetaHuman.

Lighting touched the ground close to them, right on Que. That settled it. He was a meta, and the fight just escalated to a new level. Icarus felt his adrenaline rush, and the computer in the suit responded with an increased power output from the ion generator. He retracted the 17in blade, and clenched his fists, raising them to a martial arts stance, a 90-degree angle away from his body, hips dropping a little, pistons for increased strength clicking into place underneath the armor.

Medieval rules of combat dictated that the challenged parry first, (According to Wikipedia), and with that Icarus leapt forward, boosters roaring like a mini jet, right fist pulled back, left hand open and in the aim position, voice yelling as loud as it could, throaty and magnified by the computer in his helmet to be twice as loud as normally possible. It was an intimidation tactic - but too late Icarus realized the man did not even flinch a little, and the man's sizable shield snapped froward, blasting Icarus out of his attack position, and an instant later the sword, glinting in almost angry glee, came out from behind the shield, point aimed right for the center of the armor's chest. It's point scrapped along the edge of the armor, a 10 inch scratch with peeling edges, and Icarus staggered back.

It took him a fraction of a second to access the damage. There was a 10.225 inch scratch across the surface of the graphene-reinforced titanium, about .2341 inches deep, mostly because the graphene reinforcement was thinest there. Icarus stifled a gasp. He could roll on concrete in this suit, and stand up without a mark on it. That this man could actually damage it was impressive. And, the fact he was strong enough to knock Icarus and all 410 pounds of his armor back, told Icarus two things. This man was stronger than any normal man, and he had some sort of alien weapon in his hands. Only top grade diamond could cut through titagraphene, and this man's sword wasn't made of diamond.

Icarus straightened himself, hopefully before the man could strike again. This was not going to be a push over battle. He raised a hand, palm RT glowing and giving off a high-pitched whine as it loaded for a second, the ions inside readying to blast out with impressive concussive force. If the blast connected, it would be like being hit with a 300-pound weight at 50 mph, or so. Even if the big Red guy raised his shield, he would still be knocked back, maybe even off of his feet. Icarus could then move in, and take it from there, jump on him or something, knock the wind out of him.