The air hummed with tension as the two entities faced off, their vivid silhouettes striking against the stark background. Alastor stood with practiced elegance, his dark red form leaning slightly against his microphone cane. A wide, sharp-toothed grin stretched across his face, his glowing red eyes locked dead onto his opponent. Across from him, Plasma radiated a brilliant cyan hue, energy tendrils crackling lazily around his wrists like contained lightning. Without a word of warning, Plasma raised a hand. The wisps of energy around his wrists converged into a bright, swirling sphere of superheated energy. With a sharp flick of his wrist, he launched a medium plasma sphere directly at Alastor’s chest. The projectile tore through the air, leaving a faint blue vapor trail behind it. Alastor didn't flinch. At the very last second, he spun his microphone cane with effortless precision. The tip of the cane caught the plasma sphere, redirecting the volatile energy harmlessly into the ground, scattering cyan sparks across the floor. Alastor chuckled, a static-laced sound that echoed eerily, and took a sharp step forward to retaliate. He swung the cane horizontally, unleashing a dark, jagged wave of red energy that surged forward like a tearing rift. Plasma reacted instantly. Utilizing his sleek, agile frame, he leaped high into the air, completely clearing the crimson wave. As he hovered momentarily at the apex of his jump, both of his glowing blue hands brought themselves together in front of his chest. The energy around him shifted violently. The small wisps vanished, replaced by a massive, blinding concentration of light as he began to charge his giant plasma cannon. The air grew hot, and a high-pitched whine filled the space between them. Alastor’s grin widened, his posture tensing as he braced for the incoming onslaught, his cane held firmly ready to meet the blast. With a deafening roar, Plasma unleashed the giant plasma cannon. A massive beam of blinding cyan energy erupted from his hands, illuminating the entire space in a stark, futuristic glow. The sheer force of the blast rippled through the air, hurtling directly toward Alastor. Alastor’s eyes flashed a dangerous, bright red as the oncoming light washed over him. Instead of dodging, he planted his heels and drove the base of his microphone cane into the ground. A dense, interlocking barrier of dark crimson energy materialized just inches from his face, forming a jagged shield. The giant plasma beam slammed into the barrier with a concussive shockwave. Sparks of hot blue and dark red flew violently in every direction as the two opposing forces collided. The ground beneath Alastor's feet cracked under the immense pressure, but his grin never wavered, his hands gripping the cane with iron strength to hold the line against the overwhelming energy. Seeing his maximum output held at bay, Plasma cut the beam short and used the lingering smoke as cover. He dropped swiftly back to the ground, immediately charging a pair of medium plasma spheres in both hands, preparing to flank his opponent from a new angle before the dust could even settle. As the smoke cleared, Plasma lunged forward, unleashing the twin medium plasma spheres in quick succession. They streaked through the air like cyan comets, aimed perfectly to catch Alastor off guard. But Alastor was already moving. With supernatural fluidity, his form seemed to glitch and shadow-step to the side, leaving the plasma spheres to detonate harmlessly against the far wall. Before Plasma could reorient himself or charge another blast, Alastor slammed the tip of his microphone cane into the ground a second time. "Let's bring this to a close, shall we?" Alastor's voice echoed, layered with a menacing, radio-static feedback. Suddenly, the floor beneath Plasma fractured. Bursting from the shadows, a manifestation of glowing, ethereal green chains erupted into the air. They moved with lightning speed, snaking around Plasma's limbs, torso, and wrists before he could summon enough energy to blast them away. The vibrant cyan light radiating from Plasma's body began to flicker and dim as the mystical green links tightly bound him, locking his movements completely. Plasma strained against the bindings, but the glowing green chains held fast, humming with a restrictive power that completely neutralized his plasma energy. Alastor stepped forward out of the shadows, his sharp-toothed grin stretching wider than ever as his eyes glowed like radio dials. He leaned heavily on his cane, looking down at the restrained cyan stick figure with smug satisfaction, securing absolute control over his opponent's very essence.
