Rdr2 How To Block Punches Novels & Stories

I order, gesturing with my hand. The men exchange glances and then nod. The first one steps forward, throwing a right hook. I blocked it with my forearm, but before I could retaliate, I took another punch from the second soldier. I let them advance and strike, constantly defending. When they start to tire, I begin my counterattack. Two quick punches and a knee to the abdomen take down the first man. The second one lasts longer. I find an opening and land a punch to his ribs, then finish him off with a blow to the jaw, sending him to the ground. I feel the fabric clinging to my body as I breathe heavily. The men who stopped to watch the fight whistled and cheered, celebrating my victory.

I dodged his strike before tackling him to the floor and constraining both his hands behind his back. He then tried to negotiate peace. “What are you doing?” “What I should have done a while ago.” Then I began raining punches down on him, hitting him. Since his hands were constrained behind his back, the best he could do was to swerve his head from right to left, dodging the attacks to the best of his efforts.

Once the punch went past me, I popped back up and grabbed the back of X’s head, slamming his face into a nearby concrete pillar. That hurt him. Or maybe it hurt the vetala. It didn’t matter. I got a groan and a stagger. Blood dripped from his nose. “X, I know you’re in there,” I said, circling. “You’ve got to fight this for J.” He came at me again, and this time I used the Control-issued multi-key I still carried. I didn’t have much in my toolkit, but I had that. I flicked it open mid-dodge and jabbed it straight into the side of his thigh. I wasn’t a trained fighter. I just hoped I hit a pressure point. Nerve cluster. Something.

I screamed and dropped to the wet floor. Anthony didn’t stop. He pivoted, using his grip on the gun to twist Vladimir’s wrist. Vladimir grunted in pain but didn’t let go. Anthony slammed his forehead forward into the bridge of Vladimir’s nose. There was a sickening crunch. Vladimir staggered back, blood immediately streaming down his face. The guard Anthony had punched recovered and lunged. Anthony sidestepped, grabbed the man’s outstretched arm, and used his momentum to slam him face-first into the edge of a marble table. The man slumped, unconscious.

“Sometimes you can't avoid the hit. So you need to redirect it.” He demonstrates, showing me how to use my forearms to deflect punches away from vital areas. The technique requires precision, angle wrong and I'll just hurt myself worse. We practice until my arms are covered in red marks from the impact. Each block sends jarring pain up to my shoulders, but I keep going, because the alternative is being helpless. During a water break, I catch sight of myself in the mirror. Sweat plasters my hair to my forehead. My face is flushed, bruises still visible beneath the exertion. I look exhausted.

The third ducked—but Carlos came in from the side and dropped him before he could recover. “Let’s move!” He barked. I did as another wave closed in from the left. Closer this time. Too close. A man lunged at me from the blind spot— I turned just in time to block the strike, catching his wrist mid-swing and driving my knee straight into his stomach. He folded. I grabbed his collar and slammed his head into the side of the car. Once. Twice. Then finished it. No hesitation. No wasted motion. More footsteps. More gunfire.

He stands still, eyes roaming over me. I guess I'll be the one to attack this time. I take a step forward and instantly Adan moves, leaping to the side and charging from the left. He draws his fist back and aims it for my face, but I block with both hands and squeeze his fist as tightly as I can. I twist, trying to do as much damage to his wrist as possible. A hit from him would hurt, and I'd like to avoid getting punched in the face.

With his rhythm in disarray, the ensuing result was only a beat-down. Bang! Raiden threw a punch to his opponent’s heart, followed by a blow to his temple, and then a kick to his abdomen.

We both groan as we hit the floor on our backs. I act quickly. I slammed my fist into the intruder's chest and raised my other hand to land a punch. I could faintly make out the outline of his or her face. A mask covered its head. A hand shoots upwards and wraps around my wrist. It was a man's hand. Using my free hand, I repeatedly punch him on the forehead like a hammer hitting a nail, but he doesn't budge or loosen his grip. I didn't relent. I continued as he groaned.

I whisper in anticipation of what is coming next. He comes at me in full force. But it was quick enough for me to see as I manage to block the impact with my right arm. From there he starts to dish out punch after punch which I continue to block while being on the defensive until he stuns me by giving me a kick on the leg. That slight distraction almost gets me a bloody face as I was slightly brushed on the cheek. The attacking mode of his continues until I manage to stop him with my hand holding on to one of his fists.