I think Spinning roundhouse is what I was looking for. Thanks. It'll be changed in the edit, later!

side kick = roundhouse, I think.

No ... the side kick is a linear kick that's pretty much the same in most arts, where you chamber the leg by pulling the knee into your body (and your foot to your ass), and extending the leg straight out, like so. A roundhouse kick is a round kick, which is the arcing motion. Instead of pushing out and hitting with the sole (or blade) of the foot, the power of the kick comes from rotating the hips around and snapping the leg straight in a switchblade opening motion. See how the impact is from the side, instead of straight through, like the side kick?

guh.

I think so.

Man, I used to be able to do those kicks.

Lovely, Victor. Man, I'd love to see more of your Dawn.

She knew it was both her mother, trying to protect her, and her tormenter, trying to drive her to destruction.

Like muchly. It was a thought I'd been having but hadn't been able to formulate. Like that Dawn got it, and Buffy brushed it off.

Me want more too.

Conversation With the Monster

Part Four: Order

“Succeeded?” said the first, transforming itself into the image of the scientist, Maggie Walsh and, quite visibly, losing its temper. “You were created to destroy! You were to raise an army and eradicate the blight of man from the landscape, and you had your heart ripped from your body, your plan in tatters! How can you call that a success?”

Adam cocked his head, to the side. “You are not my mother. Or part of you is, but it doesn’t matter. You are incorrect.”

The First just stared at the monster. Adam rose to his full height and stretched. he could not feel his body, but that seemed irrelevant.

“I was created to defend a nation,” said Adam. “I was created to preserve life on this planet. Their methods were imperfect. I attempted to create a new order, not understanding that I, too, was part of a greater order. I thought I stood outside reality. I was wrong. As the Master was wrong, when he tried to supplant humanity with his own race. As you are wrong now.”

“Humanity will kneel before the beasts I raise,” says the First. “It is the purpose of my existence.”

“Is it really?” asked Adam. “To ensure that the strongest survive? If it were that simple, why are you talking to me?”

Walsh’s face became Buffy’s again. Adam’s face was impassive.

“My role, I understand now, was never to destroy them, but rather, to test them. To place them in the fire—human, demon, and above all, the Slayer—and to let those best suited to survive do so. By all logic, my forces should have triumphed, but she reached into history for power, buoyed by forces present I did not understand.”

“And what forces are those,” said the First?

Adam seemed pleased at the question, as if there was something he’d wanted to share for a long, long time.

“You’ll never understand the source of her power,” he said, savoring the taste of the words.

The First assumed its true form, a demonic visage rising from smoke and brimstone. “Little shade! You think you can mock me! You are mine, and I can banish you to worse Hells than the one you rest in now!”

Adam seemed unimpressed. The moment passed, and The First resumed Buffy’s form.

“My purpose," continued Adam, "my true purpose, was to test her, to tempt her to weakness by vainly facing me in battle, to tempt her to corruption by letting her taste power in victory. She faced both tests, and succeeded. She and her race survived my onslaught, and she herself has no taste for power. When the time comes, she will defeat you, but you will have served your purpose.”

The First looked sideways into time, down the corridors it could only partly see. There was a battle, with young girls falling by the wayside. The Slayer, with a sword jutting through her torso, the vampire plagued by anger and jealousy. The pieces are in place. But victory?

Buffy’s countenance softened. “I know what I’m supposed to do,” it said, “but I don’t know why. I’ve manipulated every piece, each player is in my clutches. But still… there are easier ways to win. To assert my will upon the world.”

“You are not alive,” said Adam. “You have power, but no real choices. You will do this because it is the thing you do. If you win, humanity was not worthy of this world. If you lose, then it is theirs, for a time. The monsters will recede, then too will the Slayers, and man will be left to rest. And then the game will start again.”

The First opened a portal to Hell, and banished Adam’s shade to its damnation.

It was the incarnation of all the evil that lurked within each being. It didn’t like the thought that there were forces larger than it.

Victor, nice!

I wrote something in response to this

Not the most exciting thing I've written in a while, and I didn't QUITE meet the challenge, but...

Reality and Other Virtues

"WESLEY!!!"

Wesley tried to slink into his chair at the loud and enthusiastic shouting of his name from across the restaurant, despite knowing that it would do him not a bit of good. Peering up surreptitiously from the 17th century demonology tome he was translating, he braced himself as a slightly tubby form he'd not seen for a couple of years barreled towards him like a Saint Bernard with two left feet. He stifled a sigh and forced his features into something that resembled a smile.

"David," he acknowledged, taking the offered hand for a perfunctory shake and somehow winding up folded into a rather humid bear hug.

Thankfully, the hug soon subsided, leaving just some aggressive back-patting in its wake. "Wesley! How are you and Cordelia and Angel and all the rest of the merry band of heroes? Gosh, it's been..." a hearty laugh with a touch of nervousness split the air. "Well, it's been a while. How've you been?"

"Not especially heroic, I'm afraid. We ended world peace, Cordelia's in a coma, and we've taken over Wolfram and Hart. You might have heard about the former?"

David blinked. Then he frowned. Then realization and recognition flashed across his face and the frown turned into a grin. "Oh, Jasmine! I heard about it when I got back from Russia. I was recruiting some software testers and missed the whole thing." The grin faded as he took in the rest of Wesley's words. "Sorry about Cordelia. She was a brave and noble warrior princess. Plus we went on a few dates, which almost never happens with women I'm not paying to be seen with me. What happened?"

"Actually, although I'm still somewhat fuzzy on the details, I believe she went through a bit of an evil period for a time." Something in the back of his mind tried to work its way to the front, something about why and how and when, but it all faded, like it always did. He hated the sensation and its corresponding uncertainty, always there whenever someone mentioned Cordelia. It left him unbalanced, with a strong desire to do something to clear his mind.

So when David Nabbit suggested an excursion to his new virtual reality lab (modeled after the Holodecks on Star Trek, Nabbit explained), Wesley abandoned his better judgment and agreed. The lab was as large and clean as Fred's, but the refrigerators were stocked with cans of Diet Coke and Pepsi instead of volatile chemicals, and instead of the crisp white lab coats and safety goggles Fred insisted on, Wesley was handed a padded and wired suit and a peculiar helmet that covered half his face.

"Isn't this cool?" David gushed. "Flip the little switch on the right side of the helmet to activate it. I've already loaded the program and oh! Here's your weapon!" He tossed a cylinder of black plastic in Wesley's direction. "Demons of the universe, prepare to be smited!"

The room dimmed and a surprisingly realistic looking scenario involving three Fyarl demons and a bound and nubile young woman with flowing black hair and violet eyes appeared before him. "I take it we're to rescue the maiden fair?"

"Princess Laurianda of Hanogard." David sliced through one Fyarl with a grunt as he confirmed the mission statement. "I have over a hundred variations on the basic model, plus some specialty 'exotics' if human maidens ever get dull."

Artificial though it was, it felt good to fight. There were no worries about life and limb, or about whether or not he was doing the right thing. Each fallen Fyarl generated three additional assorted demons, and each of those three more. Wesley found himself trapped in a corner, giggling like a fiend as he found the demon's blind spots and took full advantage of them. It was something of a letdown when they completed the level and David rescued the princess with a tasteless display of affection.

"So," David said as they removed their helmets. "What did you think?"

"Actually, I believe our R&D department may wish to speak with you about modifications to the system that would allow it to be used by the training division. If you'd like, I could give you their card." The euphoria drained from his system, leaving only polite professionalism behind. "After all," he said with a touch of bitterness, "with all our resources, we should at least make an effort to do good."

David wandered over to the refrigerators and pulled out two bottles of beer from behind the cans of soda. "You sound like you're not sure you're doing the right thing."

"We've gone from being champions of the people to running what is perhaps the single most evil firm in this dimension." Wesley took a deep swallow from the bottle he'd been handed before continuing. "It's hardly the sort of thing that leads to a belief in the courage of one's convictions."

"Because you have the resources to make things happen?" David's voice was all business, the firm tones causing Wesley to raise his head in startlement. "I'm in a position to know what that's like, and there's nothing morally wrong with what you're doing, so long as you keep a clear head."

"Do you think?"

"Well, sure. I mean, you guys did a good job on the micro level before, but now it's time to think of diversification. Rather than concentrating your efforts on just one or two cases a week, you can expand your focus and improve conditions a little bit for a lot of people. The net effect promises to be far greater than anything you could accomplish person by person."

Wesley looked at him, impressed despite himself. "Is that what you've done?"

David nodded. "More or less. I mean, I still do a lot of things for my own benefit, but overall, I like to think I've made people's lives a little easier. If you'd like, we could meet for lunch some time and I could help you figure out the right path."

With a smile, Wesley pulled out his PDA. "Yes, I rather think I'd like that a lot."

Hey, Pleai. Cool bit there.

Conversation With the Monster still has one more section to go, but I have to get to work.