Tails eldest. The Master of Fighting Arts remains the most prestigious terminal degree in
the world of combat. Our curriculum offers a deep and extraordinary library of coursework
energy, projectile attacks, CHI, energy control, advanced tactics and telepathy and
telekinesis, mystic weapons training, and so much more. Since eighteen forty six,
the Master of Fighting Arts program has produced the very best and brightest across
all combat industries. Each year, thousand supply twelve are admitted, but only
one student earns the MFA. My name is doctor Theodosia Roman, and I
look forward to your application. The Master of Fighting Arts featuring the voice talents
of Sladehvid, Crystal Cohen, Gail van Kott, and Alexis Coogan. Avery
Morse made a promise to his mother to make her proud and uphold the honor
of their family's legendary fighting style before her life was brought to its conclusion.
Sadly, the terminal illness that's plagued her body for months is about to claim
her life, much sooner than they both anticipated. As the woman lay peacefully
still, drawing ever closer to her final breaths into the sorrowful eyes of her
son. In two weeks, the MFA Finals will take place, and she
knows exactly what's on his mind. Avery. It's part of who you are,
Mom, the MFA. I was only going to do it for you,
for us. It was hard enough after Dad passed. It's too much,
Mom, I can't. His mother grips his hands with an assertive firmness
that surprises him, her fingers shimmering with golden energy. Believe who you are.
The golden energy slowly fades away, and with those final words, his
mother was gone, but her message to him was clear. Quitting would be
the easy way, but not the Morse way. The woman trains at nightfall,
far away from her decrepit home in the inner city slums, away from
her siblings. She trains her muscle throb, her face drips with sweat,
her teeth grind with each strike, power surging through her body. On a
normal night, Monica Mitchell would be at home, fixing dinner and putting her
brothers and sisters to bed. But this week, her mother left work early
in order to take care of the others, also that she could train and
prepared to face Avery Morse in the MFA Finals. Initially, Monica refused.
With finances being as tight as they were, those work hours, as well
as the checks that came with them, were very much needed. However,
the MFA is the only path to Monica's ultimate goal, and in order to
reach that goal, sacrifices had to be made. No one in her life
understood sacrifice more than her mother, and so she trains power surging through her
body, ignoring the urge to stop. Ignoring the aches and bruises, Monica
Mitchell trains the energy in the room is fervent, Champagne flows. That's our
place, and projected winners are debated. This place is called the Amphitheater of
Fist, and in a few moments it is where the final match of the
Master of Fighting Arts Program will take place. Hundreds have gathered to bear witness.
However, this spectacle is an invitation only event. These people are not
fans. Rather, many of them are alumni of the MFA program, members
of an elite society of combat practitioners who represent wealthy families or prestigious fighting styles.
Some are champions from the professional leagues, others are liaisons from the military
or from major corporations, and then a primal anticipatory hush permeates the arena as
the final to MFA candidates step on to the wide circular fighting platform finalless one
approach. On one side is Avery Morris early twenties, dressed in the standard
blue and gold uniform of the MFA program. Avery represents the famous Morris family,
whose members have produced an abundance of MFA graduates over the course of several
decades, known for their balanced fighting style, the hyperwave, the rushing knee
bomb, the overdrive, uppercut cornerstone techniques upon which the Morse name was built.
As a candidate, Avery Morris represents everything the MFA program stands for,
tradition, legacy, prestige. As he admonishes the audience, it is very
clear that everyone expects him to win, except a tiny corner a small family
sitting near the edge of the arena. Finalists two approach, and then Avery's
opponent steps forward. Monica Mitchell barefoot, blue tank top, black pants,
her hair wrapped in an ultra type bun, her eyes bursting with pink energy.
The MFA Program is essentially a twelve person single elimination combat tournament, the
winner receiving the most coveted academic degree in the combat world. Unlike Avery and
the other candidates, Monica does not possess an elite name or a refined fighting
style passed down to her through an inherited legacy. Instead, her raw talent
and ruthless aggressive approach is what got her through the program and into the finals.
Her motivation is simple, when the MFA changed the fortunes of her family.
The autonomous referee, a robotic humanoid painted with a gold and blue finish,
steps onto the platform. It is now time for the finalists to determine
the rules and conditions for this bot. Finalists, please step forward. Monica
and Avery walk towards the center. The referee pulls out a black deck of
cards and holds them out front. The two of them each pull. Avery
draws a ten, Monica pulls a six. Morris has draw the highest card.
Avery Select your rules Professional. Avery. Morris has chosen professional rules,
which means this fout will have no time limit and all advanced level attacks are
allowed. Monica select your victory conditions Verbal. Monica has chosen verbal submission as
the victory condition, which means that this vout can only be stopped when one
candidate verbally concedes victory to the other candidates at your guard. The referee steps
back. Monica smoothly contorts her body into a relaxed fighting stance, arms outstretched,
palms open, eyes glowing with dangerous energy. Avery takes some more traditional
stamps, hands up, elbows tight near the ribs, knees slightly bent.
Candidates proceed immediately. Avery dashes forward, punches, and knees attacks that Monica
easily evades. The hyperwave is a traditional Morris family combat technique, a devastating
projectile attack that allows the fighter to mold their internal kinetic energies into a concussive
blast. As the swiftly moving projectile approaches Monica, she does the unthinkable.
She rushes towards the blast, then, just before the moment of impact,
she swings her arms in front of her chest, slicing the projectile in half
before it dissipates. Avery is shocked. Previous opponents had evaded his hyperwave before,
but no one has ever outright repelled it until now. Monica's hands surge
with pink energy. She throws her arms forward, and a burning ball of
pink energy shoots out from her palms and travels towards Avery, it collides into
his chest, sending and flying into the air and landing hard on his backside.
As Avery struggles to an upright position, Monica grinned it was all worth
it. She thought, the endless hours of training, the resulting aches and
pains that lasted for weeks, all worth it, because now she gets to
prove them wrong and crush their precious hero. Monica throws another projectile attack.
Avery evades it, leaps into the air and aims a flying knee at Monica's
head, his body shimmering with a golden radiance. But just before the attack
connects, Monica sidesteps in, grabs his ankles, and slams him to the
ground, slow, predictable. Unlike the other eleven MFA candidates who hailed from
elite combat families, Monica was admitted to the mf program through tryouts, an
initiative largely seen as a kind of propaganda tool employed by the university in order
to maintain the illusion that people like Monica, people who come from impoverished backgrounds,
could become an MFA candidate. For Monica, the tryouts label became a
nearly endless source of torment she became an easy target of ridicule and shame.
Avery steps forward. I get it, you're angry, but think about it.
Have you ever heard a single negative word about you come out of my
mouth? To a point. This was true. Avery had never taunted or
mistreated her directly. However, he also never made an effort to stop the
others. Monica rushes forward and the two of them engage once again. At
the end of the scrummage, Avery lands a clean hyperwave directly into Monica's face,
carving a diagonal bruise on her cheek. Monica's eyes widened, and so
does Avery's. He knows he's in trouble. Now, big mistake mores.
Monica hurls a larger, darker ball of energy at Avery. It obliterates him,
ripping his uniform into tatters. Monica stands over him, seething. Then
Monica points to the small family at the edge of the amphitheater. See that
my mother breaks her back every day, providing for nine kids. She couldn't
afford to send me to school, so I had to earn my spot in
the MFA program through tryouts. She elbows him in the sternum several times before
tossing him away. Get up. Do you remember the names you and your
friends called me on my first day? Roman's rat, the tryout trick,
the pr puppet. Monica blasts him again, then points at the ref All
right, ask him. The referee approaches Avery. Do you wish to conceive?
Ay? Do you wish to conceive? No, you want to keep
being stupid mors fine. Furious, Monica shifts her body into a tight horse
stance, her body surging with pink and black electricity. With a powerful stump,
Monica places her left foot behind her. Then she opens her palms,
grits her teeth, and concentrates all of the wild moving energy into her palms.
The orchid mantis flash Monica's signature technique, the one she used to defeat
all the others, the one that got her into the MFA finals. This
move requires a concentrated burst of cheat energy, followed by a giant, devastating
spear of electrical power launching out of her palms. The entire arena reverberates as
the sphere of energy plows into Avery's body before bursting into a colossal explosion.
For several moments, there is confusion, dust, and debris cloud everyone's vision,
and inside that massive fog of chaos lay a remorse. Barely conscious,
do you wish to concede? Avery? Believe in who you are? And
then emerging from the settling dust is a remorse. Clothes torn to shreds,
cruises all over his flesh, but purposely limping forward. Quitting would be the
easy way, but not the Morse way. Monica throws an energy ball at
Avery. A golden force field reflects it back at her, and then Avery
goes on the attack. The flying uppercut puts Monica down. The referee approaches
her, Monica, do you wish to concede? Monica attempts to get up,
but her legs buckle. She falls to her knees. She pounds her
fists on the platform in tears. Do you wish to concede? Monica?
She couldn't believe it. All of that time and effort, all of that
training, all of that studying. She's so close being the first person in
her family to graduate from college, to help her family in way she never
thought possible, So close. The referee approaches her again, do you wish
to conceive? Monica? I? I? And just when she's about to
answer. Monica turns to the crowd and finds her siblings standing together holding hands,
and though she can sense their collective concern for her well being, their
expression delivers a clear message to Monica, We're with you no matter what.
Avery also notices the family watching. Exhausted, they rush each other one final
time. Both students are faced down, and for several moments, the amphitheater
of fists is silent, and then the two candidates sit across from each other
in the infirmary. Avery holds a bag of ice against the back of his
neck. He notices Monica nursing the scar around her cheek caused by one of
his hyperwave attacks from across the room. Avery outs wretches his hand. His
fingers glow for several moments, and when the glow fades away, the scar
on Monica's cheek is gone. How did you do that? That's a Morris
family technique, not as well known as our more offensive maneuvers. I tried
to use it on my mom when she was but it didn't work. Monica
had heard something about the matriarch of the Morris family passing away. Until now,
she had blocked out any and all forms of emotion or sympathy for her
adversaries. However, now that the battle is over, she couldn't help but
feel slightly remorseful. Even though Monica had never met the woman herself, she
had just met the fighting style that pushed her to her absolute limit. Doctor
Roman says, the program has had a drawing over fifty years. Maybe we'll
give us both the MFA, or maybe they won't give it to anyone.
Neither of us deserve it. How can you say that in every contest there
has to be a winner and a loser. It's the reason why we fight,
not always. I thought to honor my parents today, our style,
our legacy. Well that's great. Good for you, Avery, I don't
have a name or legacy. All I had was a chance, one chance
to win this degree and make a better life for my family. And now
Monica's family burst the brothers black for the first time. Avery notices a genuine,
warm smile on Monica's face. I'm so proud. Looks like you have
a pretty strong family name to me, and then the autonomous robot enters the
infirmary. Monica Mitchell, Avery Morris. The MFA board of Directors has made
their decision regarding the results. If the final MFA matched, please follow me.
As the two of them follow the robot out of the room, Monica
stops. She turns to Avery with an assertive granted, Hey, Morris,
you better hope they don't ask us for a rematch, because if they do,
I'm coming for you, no mercy. I'll be ready. To learn
more about Tails of Fists and Fireboss, as well as other cool projects like
this, visit a d h X two dot com. Until next time,
this has been Tails Up Fists and Firepause