Description: It just so happens not all vehicles are equipped with tons upon tons of armor. As a matter of fact, not all vehicles even have guns! These disgusting pieces of garbage are only fit for one thing: TOTAL ANNIHILATION! We've helped ourselves to Lee Chaolan's favorite useless piece of garbage; a bone white 2016 Honda S-2000 Custom! Nice car? Is it better than a Lambo? Who cares!! We're going to put a soldier and a wrestler on the hood and drive it by wire through the PFW BATTLEZONE! If it's not scrap by the time we're through, we haven't done our job!!
The Honda S2000 is a marvel of modern engineering. Light and nimble, the mini-supercar weaves through city traffic with the greatest of ease. Its road-hugging stance, however, is poised to take advantage of the open highway, where its 305hp turbo engine can thunder well in excess of the local speed limits, for those owners willing to thumb their noses at authority.
Which, unfortunately, means the car is not in its ideal environment here in the war-torn island designated as the PFW BATTLEZONE. As the low undercarriage of the S2000 would get hung up on most of the thick underbrush that coats the floating hellhole, PFW has bulldozered a crude racetrack into the island. The rectangular impressions of the bulldozer's treads can be seen on the periphery of the makeshift track as it winds its way through the thick jungle. In the occasional bare patches of the jungle, felled trees have been dumped unceremoniously into piles. The track has no particular pattern or configuration that can easily be identified; it looks like the bulldozer operator was just told to start doodling his way through the forest with reckless disregard for nature.
Let the record further show that nature is protesting the violent scars carved into the jungle. The mud stinks, the air still thick with the mix of diesel fuel and devastation from the other fights. The snakes are hissing. The birds are crying out. The insects are swarming, their wings rubbing against each other in most unsettling fashion. It's a bad day for a leisurely drive through the jungle, let alone the prospect of walking through it by foot.
It'd be difficult to ascribe any particular emotion to the Shadaloo Doll as she surveys the track from the high vantage point. Her red-gauntleted arms are crossed, the two ends of her nunchaku dangling from the goldenrod-colored sash at her waist. Her garrison cap is perched atop her short, raven-tressed hair. The young Chinese woman has a big red Chinese opera mask on her face, making her true mood inscrutable in the absence of further motion. She could be frustrated, or she could simply be bored and waiting for the fight to commence.
With a sudden shudder, the bone-white S2000 purrs to life. No driver is at the helm; jury-rigged mechanical devices attached to the steering column and gear shifter appear to be handling the services for this evening.
Xiayu slowly turns her masked face towards the car. The Psycho-Powered Doll shows one sign of impatience as her fingers fidget with the black band on her left arm, marked with the Shadaloo lightning bolt; the bare piece of fabric floating upon on a sea of her yellow-tinted flesh. Air deflects off the inside of the mask, for a second sign of irritation; silently, the Doll prays that battle can begin soon before she loses her nerve. It was bad enough for the impulsive Doll Leader to stick her with this job at the last minute, but to leave her without her twin sister is even more cause for anxiety.
COMBATSYS: Xiayu has started a fight here.
"GONNA TELL AUNT MARY, BOUT UNCLE JOHN!
HE CLAIMS HE HAS THE MISERY, BUT HE'S HAVIN' A LOT OF FUN!
OH BABY, YEAH BABY WOO BABY! HAVIN' ME SOME FUN TONIGHT, YEAH!"
As Little Richard sang and rocked his little heart out all through the helicopter PA system, the sitting area was bathed in deep red lighting that made the current seven foot guest look all that more sinister. Crew members cracked jokes around him, passing beers and porno mags, but the giant man mountain of wrestler just kept his freakish looking eyes dead ahead in silent preparation. Every once and a while he opened and closed his right fist, but that was all. Soon, the predator would hunt the prey, like he always had.
Xiayu might be bored, but she soon has some fresh entertainment to keep her busy...like the dull green chopper slowly descending into the fight zone, waving and tilting this way and that every so often until its package, getting tired of patiently waiting, just drops down about 15 feet up from the landing spot. He drops down hard on both booted feet and kicks up such a cloud of dust, that it obscures his features slightly as he starts walking up toward his opponent, and their super dangerous 'arena' that they'd be fighting on top of.
Starting at the bottom, those were some truly huge feet being hidden away by a pair of laced up combat boots, looking to be steel-toed and designed for maximum utility, with the 'sleeves' of the man's grey urban combat pants being tucked into said boots. Over the knees he wears a pair of hard metal, painted black kneepads, designed to absorb landings without too much trauma to the joint itself. The waistband of those pants is obscured by a curious looking thing, what looked like a sleeveless black flight vest, secured tightly and not going anywhere. Tellingly, each of those pouches and 'openings' looked to be filled with something, perhaps Xiayu would find out exactly what a bit later. Those powerful, beefy arms were massive, with a swirl of tattoos going down his left bicep and ending at around the elbow, both elbows were covered by similar pads to the knees, of course. Each hands were covered by a pair of padded black gloves, with a skeletal motif on the outside just to add a little bit of color to the ensemble.
Up top, the man's face was also hidden by a mask, but his was perhaps a tad less colorful. Made of dull, thick black leather, it looked like the parody of a human face, something that, combined with his eyes(unblinking, with no irises but just pupils) pushed the figure right over into 'uncanny valley' territory. Curiously, there were white markings on his mask this time, a white skeletal 'socket' over the left eye area, which lead down to some markings, and what looked like cleverly designed skeleton teeth that covered the entire 'mouth' of the mask. With his long black hair swept back and going down to his shoulders, the big man walked right up to the smaller, nunchuck holding girl so that he could get in her face.
"You ready to get your head broken, little girl? Huh? Get your little fucking batons an' let's get yer funeral underway."
That was all he had to say, before storming off, and quickly hopping up to the roof of that automobile. Of course, Mick being Mick, he gave the back windshield which he was standing near a little stomp with the heel of his boot right in the corner. Something that caused the whole thing to start cracking and spiderwebbing. Why not get this match off to the right start?
COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE has joined the fight here.
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MURDERHOUSE 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Xiayu
Even amidst the distant sounds of warmachines thundering about in the distance, the sound of the approaching helicopter had not gone unnoticed. Squinting through the dark tinted lenses of her opera mask, the Doll silently runs through the list of prepared responses. Unlike her layabout sister, Xiayu prides herself as a woman of action, and being forced to sit around while her opponent's helicopter circles about in circles of diminishing radii is only delaying what is, in her mind, inevitable: the braggadocious wrestler's defeat.
The Chinese beauty would definitely not be placed against him in the wrestling ring; the limit for the middleweight division is almost three times heavier than the young fighter. But yet, the diminutive warrior stands before him, clad in a dress of black fabric. Light grey leggings cling tightly to her form, showing that she's every bit as thin as her sprightly frame would suggest.
She is not, however, cowed by the impressive appearance. Many at her tender age would quake in their boots at a man whose every acoutrement is chosen for maximum durability and optimal invocation of fear. Skulls, tattoos, pouches of unknowable danger, and that terrifying mask -- all of them are received with the same blank and hollow eyes of her red mask, ringed with lines of white and yellow.
The hand falls away from the armband. All signs of anxiety fade away at the man's arrival. The skull-like visage is met with a quiet nod -- an acknowledgment that yes, she is ready to meet her fate.
Or, at the very least, meet his attempt at delivering such a fate to a talented practitioner of the Chinese martial arts.
The red mask casts its gaze upward to the man, caring less about the glass than of the stability of the vehicle. She says nothing -- the man does all the speaking for her.
The engine growls; the car shudders forward without actually moving.
That is all the signal Xiayu needs to hop onto the roof of the car, from the front.
As soon as her boots click down onto the hood, the vehicle lurches forward, beginning its circuit along the dirt road carved through the jungle. Low-hanging branches loom ever closer, as the Doll throws both hands out to either side for balance, her nunchaku jangling away at her sash.
After a moment, the remotely-piloted vehicle stabilizes, she makes a motion for her waist. The next motion has the nunchaku whipping forward with lightning speed, the burst of energy flaring with the brilliant purple of Psycho Power. Her approach is simple: she seeks to strike him low in the shin, just south of the kneepad, in an attempt to tease out exactly how -much- of Mick's form is truly armored, all while being cautious to keep her balance upon the rapidly-shifting S2000 beneath her.
COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE endures Xiayu's Thunder Cracker.
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MURDERHOUSE 0/-------/------=|=------\-------\0 Xiayu
The car zips forward and Mick nearly lurches backwards, his upper body swaying like a reed in the wind while his two feet remain planted. However, his height mixed with his weight, mixed with all of his rugged, relentless training as a wrestler, meant that he had the kind of balance that some only associated with Chinese acrobats. And very soon, he righted himself, towering over the masked Doll even as he was stood on the 'lower' ground, so to speak. She dashed forward until she was stood right on the hood of that Honda and driving a length of wood covered in swirling purple energy against Mick's leg. He grunted in pain, but he didn't move or yield the way she might have been hoping for. As they dashed past howler monkeys and swarming hornets looking for where their nest was, Mick ignored everything and just stared her down...until suddenly he wasn't. Soon his left hand would shoot outward, grabbing for the back of her head and trying to pull her forward into a front headlock(with his right arm). If that worked he'd spin suddenly and violently through the air and throw himself backward, until he was hitting his protected back, and her unprotected skull, both into the front hood(or 'bonnet' if any readers are English) of that speeding car. The haste with which this man moved was phenomenal.
COMBATSYS: Xiayu blocks MURDERHOUSE's Spiral Architect.
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MURDERHOUSE 0/-------/------=|==-----\-------\0 Xiayu
Xiayu offers a sound which can only be called a grunt in response to her nunchaku crashing against the wrestler's braced knee. She can tell he has something in mind -- fulfilling her requirements for the test she had laid out for him. The question remains, though: what does he have in mind?
The Doll gets her answer soon enough, for as the car bucks and weaves through the rugged jungle overgrowth -- all according to the ephemeral whims of its distant pilot -- "MURDERHOUSE" Mick rushes forward with a grab for the Chinese opera fan's head.
She ducks, first of all, raising an arm above her head in defense. The wrestler's speed exceeds her expectations, and while she is nimble enough to have interposed her right gauntlet above her head, she is -not-, however, successful in eluding the wrestler's grapple entirely. Her head is trapped, but so is the massively counterbalanced gauntlet, which could weigh forty pounds all by itself.
The violent spin which follows gives her the opportunity to attempt to free arm and head from the wrestler's pull, but her hands are diminutive in comparison to the sheer beeftasticness of Mick's biceps -- her fingers unable to effectively pry his grip away in time to dissuade him from plowing her into the roof of the car.
It's about midway through her flight that she realizes the futility in such a tactic -- all due to a lack of leverage from her left hand.
It's her -right- hand that enables her to pry herself to some measure of freedom. At the very last instant, she shoves outward, twisting herself about. It's not totally successful: her head can still be heard going 'thonk' as a concave dent is added to the once-pristine hood of the exotic sportscar, but it's a glancing blow in comparison to the concussive force she would have received had she not leveraged herself that miniscule air gap. A whinnying moan of pain escapes her -- but that's as good as he's likely to get out of the Doll for the moment.
Stars flood her vision for a moment, but the young wushu prodigy is practiced enough to act on reflex even when she cannot see or hear her opponent. As she fights to break her right arm and head free of the hold, the lithe acrobat again relies on leverage, and her mastery thereof, to deliver a crushing counterattack. Her left knee hyperextends outward for one moment, and then with a twist of her hips, she wheels it around to deliver a driving knee right into the washboard abdomen of her opponent, married with a forced expulsion of breath. If allowed, she repeats the blow a second time, attempting to break free of the masked wrestler's formidable grasp -- and with any luck, slam him backwards against the windshield of the piloted vehicle.
COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE blocks Xiayu's Power Strike.
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MURDERHOUSE 0/-------/-----==|==-----\-------\0 Xiayu
They both fell, and while Xiayu got the worst of the exchange, Mick didn't get the satisfaction of feeling her go limp in his grasp. That meant there was fight left in her, and that he had much more work to do. Quickly he wheeled up to one knee while the car sped along the winding dirt path, potholes and rocks making every movement uncertain, every moment dangerous. Perhaps this is why he wasn't as focused as he should have been on his kung-fu using opponent, despite her head still being in his left hand as he started pulling her up to a standing position. That's why before he knew it he got the dainty woman's knee ramming into his muscular stomach, and absolutely winding him. Unfortunately for the enigmatic Doll, however, she might not find the satisfaction of a solid impact, but instead feel something armored protecting the man from impact. Could it be, that he dressed for the occasion of standing on a speeding car, and took some form of precautions?
The second blow hit even harder and protected or not, Mick did fall backwards, with his hand finally leaving her form. He fell to a 'seated' position on the top of that windshield...but that wasn't a good thing for Xiayu. With both of them that close, the seven foot Irish monster had a definite reach advantage, one that he took advantage of by sweeping forward with that right hand, to try and sweep her off her feet...and grab one of her ankles before she fell completely off the car. This wasn't to save her, though, as Mick quickly stood tall and tried to lower her down in front of the grill of that automobile, her face and front facing the road, and with any luck, her face being lowered until it was skidding and slamming against that dirt path with all of its rocks, pebbles and imperfections. He'd hold her this way for a few moments, before flipping her up over his head, and trying to slam her down behind him, right on the roof of that Honda they were both dangerously surfing on.
"You catch any bugs down there, bitch?!"
COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE successfully hits Xiayu with Improvised Throw.
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MURDERHOUSE 0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0 Xiayu
Xiayu reels backwards from her own knee strike, staggering from the sudden shift of momentum. The speeding car is really not doing her any favors, with its sport tuned shocks doing almost nothing against the rally race conditions of the crudely carved raceway. The Doll hears the leaves of an approaching branch, rustling at the sudden shift of wind caused by the approaching car; she's able to duck just in the nick of time, as the branch sweeps over both her head and that of the semi-seated Mick.
Unfortunately, her knee kinda hurts after all that: unlike Mick, the young operative is suited up for ease of mobility rather than self-defense. And Mick's iron body and heavy reinforcements do not make it easy for the young woman. The nunchucks whirl around in anticipation as the Irishman rises to his full height, in the wake of the low-hanging branch. And while she expects motion, she expected his hand to be striking, rather than sweeping: behind her mask, her eyes widen in surprise as she finds herself flung from the car, only to be mercifully/mercilessly jerked backwards.
Her eyes soon find themselves shutting, as the Doll is speared forward into the ground like an improvised cowcatcher. Her mouth is unable to stop the agonizing screeches ripping forth from her throat, as rocks, mud, and branches pelt her beautiful opera mask, her shoulders convulsing with each hard impact as her arms flail to gain purchase on the sportscar's slick front end -- and find none.
The mask flies right off, streaking mud across the young woman's face. She'd be pelted with a few rocks in the interim, but she's spared from having her face peeled off by being hauled into the air and slammed against the roof of the vehicle. Weighted gauntlets and boots alike splay out to the side from the strike, as the hardtop roof caves in -- if there were a driver, he'd definitely have felt -that-.
When she gains her wits about her, the Chinese Doll realizes she's gained a moment of respite from the warrior, and backflips herself to the trunk of the vehicle. Eyebrows lower as the Shadaloo operative's face contracts into a rictus of anger. Boots slam down upon the (egregiously short) trunk lid; rubber treads squeak as she rapidly reverses her direction, vaulting forward to meet her opponent head-on. The Shadaloo elite leads with her armored left gauntlet, the raised knuckle projections aimed at Mick's face. But while her left arm is leading the charge, it's her right hand that brings the treacherous nunchaku to bear, with a blistering barrage of lightning-fast strikes, each infused with a burst of Psycho Power. The added padding might be able to block the simple physical strikes, but it would be significantly less effective against a whirling, stinging wind that would sear past armor and flesh, straight into Mick's psyche.
COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE fails to counter Storm Surge from Xiayu with Cemetary Gates.
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MURDERHOUSE 0/-------/-----==|======-\-------\0 Xiayu
Mick had all the momentum in the world...until Xiayu dashed forward like that. Her left came in even as Mick's right hand was surging forward, but it seemed she'd hit her mark before he got the chance to clasp it around her throat. This was good for her, because it meant that the rest of her attack would strike just as true as her initial gauntleted fist across Mick's masked face. Nunchucks and a searing soul wind would batter the man violently, causing him to stagger backward with every blow. When the young girl stopped, Mick would stay standing after a moment...then drop to his knees with a hard metallic 'thud'. Right there on the hood of the vehicle, Mick looked up dazed and tired. But his eyes were burning with sheer hatred, glaring up at the young girl even as he clenched his hands into fists, and beat them over the armored chest of that vest. It was a silent challenge, even now as she'd gotten the best of him once. Would that happen again?
An array of cuts and scratches criss-cross the young Chinese woman's face as she flashes a hot-blooded stare back at Mick. Her form-fitting attire might hide the bruises to her body, but it wouldn't disguise the fatigue evident in her expression. With the mask on, she could effectively portray herself as someone full of calm, stoic determination, but now that the mask is gone, it's clear that the young woman has been seething with burning vigor all along. Her muscles stay taut as she watches Mick warily -- not sure if the gorilla-like chest-beating is a herald for something bigger, something stronger in the wings.
She does not get very much time to contemplate that, as the car suddenly bucks to its right, forcing the agile Shadaloo Doll to throw her shoulders in the same direction to keep from being thrown from the vehicle.
"My mask fell off..." she comments, in her first actual words since the start of the fight. The rest of her words shall have to be interpreted through a whirling and unpredictable series of nunchaku strikes. First, an impact to the chest armor, to meet the challenge. Then a clearing strike to the left, and a followup to the right, cutting a swath so that she can approach her true goal... "It's only fair that you remove yours as well...!" The final strike, should it be allowed to land, would be an upwards swing of her nunchaku aimed at cracking right under Mick's chin. It might not -remove- the mask, but it would certainly hurt!
COMBATSYS: Xiayu successfully hits MURDERHOUSE with Random Strike.
-* CRITICAL HIT! *-
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MURDERHOUSE 0/-------/---====|=====--\-------\0 Xiayu
"Ohhh, lost your mask, did you?"
Mick taunted her with that whispery voice of his, even through the onslaught of strikes to his collarbones, his arms, his sides and the sides of his skull, the impacts heavy and quite painful indeed. But they weren't shutting him up, not until that upward nunchakuppercut caused him to suddenly start looking upward. His pupils dilated slightly from the pain...but went back to normal as he brought his head back down. That mask was strapped to his face and skull through a collection of buckles and other locks, but she did possibly make him bite his tongue, by evidenced by the blood that was starting to drip down. He gave her a wink with his right eye...then spoke again.
"Then by all means! Let's stop and go find it."
With that said, still on his knees? He dashed PAST Xiayu, his right fist smashing through the side window of that car, grabbing the wheel...and JERKING the car suddenly into a pile of logs and dirt and mud that had been dropped down. The car(and its riders) would be launched nearly 30 feet into the air, the vehicle flipping and hurtling. And Mick was flying off of the car, almost in slow motion as he aimed for the lithe Chinese girl...and tried to tackle the girl in mid-air. If this worked both he and she would go plummeting down, but he would aim her to take the brunt of the impact, as they went smashing down into mud and dirt and insects. That was enough to break one's fall, wasn't it?
COMBATSYS: Xiayu just-defends MURDERHOUSE's GORE! GORE! GORE!!
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MURDERHOUSE 0/-------/-----==|=====--\-------\0 Xiayu
With all due respect to the Mick, Xiayu is a Shadaloo Doll, and quite well-adapted to creepy men half-whispering at her. The taunting words mean little; they do nothing at all to dull the impact of her metal gauntlet, nor her whirling nunchaku. The Doll's face burns, her jaw muscles pulled taut with determination to complete the combat challenge alloted for her.
The wrestler's resilience, however? That means something to her. She takes a hesitant step backwards as the car tips sideways, fingertips splaying out to give her an additional measure of balance. She expects the wrestler to make another motion to grab hold of her, as her mind processes the words shouted at her. "... Sarcasm," she concludes drily.
Instead, he attacks the car, driving it up against a pile of the logs carved away to make room for this deadly track. Xiayu crouches sharply upon the vehicle's battered roof. One hand curls around the roof for grip, while the other presses nunchaku batons flat against the roof surface. Xiayu holds on tightly as the car begins to flip; cold precision takes command of her facial expression as her gaze flits about to the logs thrown into the air. Rather than hazards, the analytical mind of the Doll classifies each log as a chess piece, forcibly put into play by the dramatic maneuver.
The Chinese Doll's gaze snaps back to Mick in the instant that he closes upon her. From her crouch, she leaps backwards, her head and back paralleling the roofline of the spinning car, while her arms, legs and hips arch towards the car -- even as the world itself goes topsy-turvy. It looks like she's dropping all pretenses at defense and instead committing fully into an evasion.
But if she'd done the motion even a moment later, she would have been caught full in the stomach by the log which had also been hurtled into the air. The mechanically precise Doll programming allowed her to account for the motion of the individual objects, and assess the one of most peril for herself. That would be the log.
As the six-inch-thick tree trunk interposes itself between herself and Mick, the chain of her nunchaku can be heard slinging into motion. An instant later, the log's chaotic motion stops, as it is jerked into tow -- braced by the nunchaku and her free hand. Mick will find that, instead of Xiayu, he will need to brace his fall with the log instead.
The Doll, for her part, brings her toes together high on the log and springs backwards into a wide flip, leaving Mick to his own fate.
For a few delirious moments, the car continues to spin in mid air. Felled logs fly in seemingly unrelated trajectories, amidst explosive clouds of mud and dirt.
Xiayu lands in a three-point crouch upon the ground, her nunchaku-bearing hand held off to the side as she casts her analytical gaze back to Mick.
And then the car slams down, wheels-first. Something cracks -- as luck has it, Honda doesn't engineer cars to survive a 30-foot vertical drop. And yet, it still manages to roll forward at an unsteady 5 mph, despite the hideous grinding sound of a rear axle that is no longer perfectly straight...
Xiayu blinks quietly. "We are missing our ride," she states coldly, leaping at Mick. The car will wait for her to pull the fearsome wrestler's arm downwards while she scissor-kicks around his head, right? Should she land the hold, she would leverage herself into twisting sideways, sending Mick flying into the beleaguered S2000. Man, whoever owns this car is gonna be -pissed-.
COMBATSYS: Xiayu successfully hits MURDERHOUSE with Delta Through.
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MURDERHOUSE 0/-------/----===|======-\-------\0 Xiayu
Mick was working his way to his feet, pushing up off into the world and using a broken in half log as support. Even armored and protected as he was, even as powerful as his muscles and as thick as his bones were, that impact was vicious, and he was showing the effects of it. Blood pouring down his right arm from a few cuts courtesy of the side window, with more blood running down the side of his face, and leaking down the nose-hole of that horrific mask. He was covered in sweat and mud, and when he turned around, he was completely unprepared for a woman's leg to wrap around the back of his neck She planned to send him flying...well, that didn't exactly work. Sure he bent, sure his spine and his lower back creaked out loudly in complaint of this predicament, sure the strength of that 'kick' was going to cause some serious bruising and need some serious physical therapy later. But he didn't move, and in fact, with a roar of anger and a surge of strength he righted himself suddenly. He didn't care if it threw her backward at all, because suddenly he was grabbing that broken length of log(even split in half, it was still nearly his height, and much thicker than his frame) and hoisted it over his own shoulder even as he started to spin towards her. This...this was bad.
Shrugging his shoulders, he would suddenly grip the end with two gloves hands, hurtling it upward and trying to smash her in an impromptu 'uppercut'. Whether it hit or missed that weapon would hurl upwards...and arc down towards that poor, poor Honda. That was a bad situation for a car to be in!
COMBATSYS: Xiayu dodges MURDERHOUSE's Huge Random Weapon.
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MURDERHOUSE 0/-------/----===|======-\-------\0 Xiayu
Xiayu frowns as her 115-lb form proves to be insufficient at fully leveraging Mick off his feet and onto the rolling car. It's not a big frown -- just the barest amount of displeasure allowed by the lock-step of her Doll programming in the wake of necessary calculations. Still -- the nimble Shadaloo Doll is able to recover in time, backflipping out of the way of her opponent.
The car is, by this point, hobbling its way down the track. Its rear axle is bent, and it's making a pitiful series of noises as the remote pilot urges it onward. The show must go on, they say!
Xiayu, though -- is in much better shape than the car. The bruises are swelling, and as she steps backwards, she raises one gauntleted hand to stanch the blood flowing from a wound upon her cheek that had been reopened from the storm of debris kicked up from Mick's last attack.
She eyes the log, as Mick roars and hefts up the log. A girl her age might be scared, but the Doll programming prevents fear from overriding her combat sensibilities. "Analysis: That log is -much- too large..."
The Doll's programming does not allow her to finish her sentence, hard rationale forcing her to cartwheel abruptly to the side to avoid the deadly arc described by the swinging log. The wind alone is enough to blast the wushu prodigy off-balance, forcing her hand to scramble around for purchase on the muddy track in an attempt to regain her standing position...
The poor S2000, though. Gosh. It's =impaled= a moment later, the log spearing right through the passenger-side door, deflecting off the gearshift and breaking the poor handle off, and knocking the whole kit and caboodle sideways a good ten or fifteen feet. A shower of bent aluminum and shattered fiberglass pieces falls to the ground a moment later.
And yet, the remote pilot is still gunning the engine, trying to get it to go somewhere. It's... moving? Kinda?
Xiayu winces slightly at the sound of the collision, but as she rights herself, tucking her nunchaku back into her sash, she continues her belated statement. "... to hit someone of my speed. Conclusion: Possible brain damage and/or intoxication." The young woman surges forward, leading with her right gauntlet in a fully committed punch to the sternum -- punctuated with a loud ki-ai. She follows up with a left aimed at the solar plexus -- and she follows through fully by delivering a fierce backhanded strike with her right hand, aimed at knocking even the mountain of muscle called MURDERHOUSE over. "Ha! Ha! HUWAAAAAAOH!"
COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE blocks Xiayu's Fierce Strike.
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MURDERHOUSE 0/-------/---====|======-\-------\0 Xiayu
Mick watched as that log was hurled into the air, and then watched as it came down like javelin from god right through that trashy, tacky Honda. Well that whiffed, but it getting this girl off balance, at least a little bit. It meant that, even if she'd get right back into the attack(and really, why wouldn't she), that she'd be just a bit easier to predict.
It meant that, when she ran in with that first punch, the big man was able to turn around, to glare down at her even as he flexed his chest at the same time that he grabbed the center of that rugged, armored flight vest...and ripped it right off of his body, letting it fall to the ground. It meant that instead of armor plating, that heavy gauntleted fist smashed right into bone and muscle, bone and muscle that didn't give in the slightest. And he didn't flinch, just glaring down at her with eyes as wide as hatred.
"HRAAAGH! Go ahead, slag, you can't break me. Go ahead and HIT ME!"
When she followed up with that left-handed strike, she'd find much the same result. He did not bend, he did not double over, he did not stagger backward. He grunted out with the impact, but he seemed ready to take on the world.
When she went for that backhand, though...he decided to change tact. Finally he raised his hand, letting the back of her right fist collide into his left palm. It stung...but it also allowed him to close that hand right over said fist, and allowed for his right hand to clasp her wrist. He looked down at her. And he winked.
Mere moments later he spun in the opposite direction she pivoted earlier, using his phenomenal strength and his great balance to try and 'force' her to run around with the ever increasing momentum. The inertia was getting more and more violent until finally he'd let go, and let her go flying. Ideally? She'd go flying right into that Honda that she tried to launch HIM into, moments prior. And if that worked? Well, then he'd finally start walking towards her evil intent in his eyes...
COMBATSYS: Xiayu blocks MURDERHOUSE's Rebound Throw.
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MURDERHOUSE 0/-------/----===|=======\-------\0 Xiayu
Xiayu's face expresses consternation at her armored knuckles crack into not armor, but bone and flesh -- and yet, the net result is almost inconsequential. The man is a mountain, and mountains do not budge. The challenge to her strength is issued, and sweat beads on her brow as her onslaught continues; clearly the Doll programming works better upon a target actually showing some response to her attacks. When he maintains standing through not one, but -both- of her strikes without being forced back a step, she starts to get nervous.
Hence, she overcommits slightly on her third backhand, allowing her slender arm to get caught in the wrestler's grip.
"... PCP, perhaps," she admits with a strained expression as Mick closes his hand upon her armored wrist.
The gauntlet does its fair share of insulating Xiayu from the compression, but it also means that she's forced to match the wrestler's running pace. Redness stains her cheeks, and irritation creases her brow. The frustrated Doll can potentially run -faster-, but not at the unnatural angle her arm's being clutched at, and certainly not in a circle with such a radius as MURDERHOUSE was spinning her. "Release me!" she barks, attempting to impose her military discipline into the situation before she's overtaken by waves of nausea.
Though it was not by her direct command, she is released. She weakly runs -- for moving forward under her own command is preferable to being flung into the mud at such high velocity. The only trouble with that is the car in front of her -- the car so weakly attemping to move forward even with a log impaled inside it. It's a sad little wreck of a thing, yes, but it... might not be totally beyond repair yet... The frame's still good, yeah?
Xiayu grimaces at the car as inertia continues impelling her forward. With considerable frustration, she hops into the air, planting one boot after another along the side of the car, just forward of the impaling log. Metal creaks and bows with each step, demonstrating the considerable momentum imparted onto her from the Mick centrifuge. But in the end, much of her momentum is transferred to the car as she runs up into a backflip, twisting about in mid air to land in another crouch -- once more facing Mick.
He will notice, however, that one hand is curled about her mouth. The nausea is... pretty overwhelming at this point. Her shoulders jerk forward involuntarily as she spits a small amount onto the ground. After the rapid spin, a backflip was probably -not- the best course of action for her stomach.
And yet, the embodiment of evil marches towards her. The Psycho-Powered Doll can sense his intentions radiating outward. And yet...
"Shall we continue, then...?" she asks, rising back to her feet. The redness is gone from her face, replaced by a sickly pallor. But while her body may be shaken, her will is not -- her hand drops back to the nunchaku on her sash, withdrawing it. And the young wushu prodigy leaps into action, swinging her chained batons as wildly as if it were live steel, swirling about like a cyclone. The purple Psycho Power flares around her, empowering each of her rapid-fire attacks: A long slash is delivered at thigh-height, followed by a ravaging blow to chest-height, then one to the waist. The searing intensity of the strikes may be enough to chip away at the mountain, but unlike before, she's not counting on that alone -- she's also aiming to lash the nunchaku around Mick's head. If the High Church of MURDERHOUSE will not fall, perhaps it's time to ring its bell instead!
COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE blocks Xiayu's Cyclone Strikes.
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MURDERHOUSE 0/-------/---====|=======\-------\0 Xiayu
The Man Mountain, "MURDERHOUSE" Mick kept staggering after the girl, his arms at his sides, his hands clenched into fists. As she shows signs of motion sickness, the wrestler issues another challenge when both of said fists, each one possibly the size of her face, came up and slammed his own chest a number of times. Even with the blood streaming down, even with the welts and bruises, even with the man looking tired as he was, it was clear that he wasn't going to quit. He was going to keep attacking, keep pushing forward, keep trying to claw for the life and the soul of the smaller girl that, thus far, was eluding him. Unfortunately, at this stage in the fight he wasn't paying much attention to those speedy, swirling nunchucks because the first evil purple slash cracks across his left upper thigh.
His arms still down, the second attack slapped diagonally across his sternum and ribs, causing him to back up just a step, and then the third mid-hit caused him to bend inward, tilting that tower just enough to allow the final nunchuck strike to nearly embed itself in that black leather mask of his. His hair flew backward as his upper body was knocked back, and his legs followed soon after with a few staggering, retreating steps. Things were tense for a few moments before, there in that muddy field, the giant soon fell on his back. It seemed that last attack really was what it took, to bring down a seven foot hardcore wrestler.
Or...was it? For a few moments he lay still, his eyes rolled up in the back of his head and his muscles occasionally twitching from the effort. Until he SAT UP. Without any warning, without any stirring prior, the big man sat back up, looking like the last beatdown had never happened. He was glaring right at her, again, and he began to climb back to his feet. His hands, once again, were slowly closing into fists...
COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE Mick catches a breather.
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MURDERHOUSE 0/-------/----===|=======\-------\0 Xiayu
Shadaloo operates in the shadow of a monster: Lord Vega. The entire organization is, in fact, based around the fact that at any moment, Lord Vega could be right there behind your shoulder, watching. Punishment is delivered swiftly, but for the most grievous offenders, the penance is quite enduring. The screaming has left indelible marks on the psyche of the Wushu Doll.
In a way, Mick is kind of a surrogate for what it would be like to confront Vega himself -- a fearsome, unstoppable mountain with an oppressive aura that chokes all the happiness and sunshine out of the air. Were it not for the Doll Program, Xiayu would have fled this battle long ago. The programming bolsters her flagging confidence with the knowledge of past results and a reasonable expectation of future performance. She may not have battered him down before -- but she /has/ accomplished similar feats in the past.
So when Mick's head flinches backward, and the mountain moves...?
A faint smile actually flits onto the Doll's face.
The Doll does not immediately press her advantage; she withdraws, whipping the nunchaku around in a clearing pattern, before parking the loose end alongside its brother. Cold, dark-brown eyes fixate upon the masked behemoth as he rises back to his feet.
Confidence drips out alongside her accented words. "I brought you down once. I can do it again!"
And the Doll leaps forward. She leaves bootprints behind in the mud as she vaults into the air, twisting about to impart her momentum into one whirling roundhouse kick. She plans to crack the back of her boot against the man's left cheek in a scything strike, the rest of her willowy body a mere accessory to the vicious and committed attack. She aims to do exactly as she said: to fell the Mountain once more, and possibly for the final time.
Meanwhile, the car sputters forward, its wheel rolling into a spot of deeper mud. The car lurches forward and halts -- the rear wheel spinning ineffectually in place and churning up a stream of mud in its wake.
COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE counters Strong Kick from Xiayu with Cemetary Gates.
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MURDERHOUSE 0/-------/-----==|=======\=------\1 Xiayu
Back to a vertical position, the Mountainous Mud-covered MURDER artiste did not move when Xiayu took to the air, except maybe to shift his body to the side even as he shot his hand out blindly. And struck true. It was here that having a massive reach advantage came in handy, as that gloved hand clasped around the girl's throat, while her kick was cut short and reached almost the middle of his bicep. Close, but no knockout. There, with the girl off the ground, that hand squeezing ever tighter around her neck, Mick pulled her in, closer, those unblinking eyes glaring right into hers as he practically screamed in her face.
"LOOK! AT! ME!"
And here Xiayu would learn a little secret about Mick. She'd learn that she wasn't the only Psi talent in this fight. It was true, Mick didn't bend spoons with his mind, or throw purple glowing energy around that looked like it would be right at home on a gypsy stripper or a pop diva, but the massive behemoth had his own particular talents. Right now, with his gaze locked into hers, that latent power of his would be reaching into her consciousness and tearing things apart with all the finesse of a raging bull in a chemo ward. But it was certainly effective. Every moment of nagging doubt, every feeling of self consciousness, of shame and fear, of depression and isolation, every memory pre-Dolls that she'd never get back, thrown there next to memories of Vega's vicious and heartless form of 'teaching'. Xiayu as a girl and woman had probably spent her entire life organizing her mind, and operating a certain way to keep the ship from sinking. Mick's stare was something akin to a sudden iceberg. In short? It was really fucking bad.
Of course, "MURDERHOUSE" Mick had no idea he was doing any of this, he just thought she was in fear of his deadly maneuver he'd yet to lock on her. And indeed, as he walked them both around to the front of that car(ignoring the spray of mud that graced them both), he'd 'break' her out of that awful infinite moment of Hell himself, by finally lifting her high in the air above his own head, holding her there for a few brief moments...and then finally slamming her down with that sheer strength of his. Unlike his usual chokeslam, this time he threw her forward instead of just letting gravity take its course. This is so that he could throw her, right through that front windshield for added effect. Then and only then would he climb up on that hood, again, and work on trying to rip that roof open, try to turn this shoddy piece of shite car into a convertible. After the trip down Suicide Lane Xiayu took, maybe she'd appreciate getting some sun and sky along with their scenic drive...
Due to Tropical Storm MURDERHOUSE, Xiayu's travel itinerary was cancelled, rebooking her into the much less desirable Cemetary Gates. The accomodations are much, much worse than she'd expected -- instead of the satisfaction of felling the mountainous Mick once again, she's forced to settle for a glove cutting off her air supply. The pale Wushu prodigy flounders within the grasp of the meaty wrestler: her legs scissor ineffectually to the side as surely as a cat hauled up by the scruff of the neck. Only, y'know, that doesn't hurt cats, and this choking definitely hurts.
Xiayu recoils as the masked man gives her a direct order: her neck may not be allowed to reel backwards, but literally every other part of her spine does arch back away from the terror. The fear slams into her like a tsunami, drowning her in waves of agony, sorrow, and bittersweet memories---
On that fateful Tuesday, Jianyu had been sitting on the couch watching television, lazily running a hairbrush through her long, silky hair. The synchronized competition was two days away, and the expert bo wielder could not be arsed to practice a routine that she knew by heart, inside and out.
Xiayu knew the routine just as well, but lazing about all day was completely against her temperament. In a fit of frustration after practicing solo all morning, she had barged into the room. The little hothead nearly tripped over a bowl of ramen on her way in, but managed to recover her balance without disaster. "<Sister, You make me sick! I've been out there working my ass off and you just... you-- RRRGH!>" And just as her fists had squeezed shut...
The room exploded in a conflagration of purple flames. The martial arts school was ablaze. The walls reflected the ghastly signs of a supernatural power the likes of which young Xiayu and Jianyu had never seen before. The two shrieked out, their two voices as one as panic had set in.
"<H-HELP! FATHER!! MOTHER!! Save us!>"
Rather than use the martial skills honed through years of dedicated practice, all she could do was cling to her sister and bawl her eyes out, as everything and everyone she knew and loved stood to be taken from her in one blistering onslaught.
The memory strikes her like a hammer to the forehead. Tears splash outward, as surely as if she'd been nailed with a water cannon. Her lower lip curls. For the moment, no amount of Doll programming is able to keep the girl's most terrifying memory walled up inside. For as far as she knows -- this is the very same moment. And MURDERHOUSE Mick, the arbiter of destruction.
In Xiayu's mind, the purple flames still rage on. The car, the jungle: none of that exist to the young woman who is trapped between memory and reality. Her body shivers, trapped in that moment of fear, allowing Xiayu only to look down upon her executioner with a mix of fear and anxiety. Those eyes... those pupilless eyes...
To Mick, it may have been but seconds. To her -- it could have been at least ten minutes of horror as she comes to grips with her predicament. Her hands do not reach upwards; she is only a mere child against the monster who destroyed her school.
The school collapses all around her, the tinkles of shattered glass intermixed with her spine slamming into the splintering log. To her, it feels as if the timbers supporting the roof had collapsed upon her.
This is it... right?
The vision is different this time. In the moment of silence in which she is allowed to think, she insists: There was no glass in that room.
The hardtop roof of the S-2000 is ripped off, the frail metal joints sundered by the sheer muscle of her executioner. They were meant to hold down the roof during high-speed travel, not withstand the might of a seven-foot-tall wrestler. The roof is ripped away, and the cloudy sky above is revealed once more.
Xiayu pants for breath, her heart skipping a beat. Reality reasserts itself. The school is not on fire -- it hasn't been for years.
Her body aches. And she -has- a chance to resolve this, not by cowering in the corner with her sister, but by taking decisive action.
Xiayu draws in her breath, her eyes growing glassy as the programming reasserts itself. The purple flames are no longer in her head. The flames are in her -hands-, her nunchaku long-forgotten in the brief reverie.
"Mission parameters changed. New Priority: Acquisition."
Xiayu's legs curl up. Her boots plant themselves on the fancy lumbar supports which will be totally useless in just a few short moments. She springboards forward, forcing the bucket seats backwards in the midst of her strike. Her muscles groan with the effort, but as the opportunity presents itself, the heuristic algorithm had determined that the best time to strike was when Mick was literally standing over her.
The rage manifests itself in her fists: Psycho Power suffuses around her hands like boxing gloves, tinting the red gauntlets into a maelstrom of intense and vivid fuschia. The Doll surges forward, rolling one punch after another with reckless, callous disregard for the conditions of the fight. She no longer seeks to merely do battle, per the high concepts of the PFW organization.
Every bit of her rage -- not at MURDERHOUSE, but at her younger self's own helpless despair -- is being channeled into her attack. Even with the Doll Program in full lockdown mode, tears still continue to stream from the very human girl's eyes as she thunders forward.
She seeks to beat MURDERHOUSE Mick within an inch of his life through nothing more than the incessant barrage of fists, moving faster than mere human eyes can see. The car's dashboard will not halt her advance, nor will the mud, or trees, or anything else.
It would take a mountain to stop her.
COMBATSYS: Xiayu successfully hits MURDERHOUSE with Fists of Fury.
- Power hit! -
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MURDERHOUSE 0/-------/-======|=------\-------\0 Xiayu
Ain't no mountain high, ain't no valley low, ain't no river wide enough to stop the fury and might of the small, nunchuck-wielding Shadaloo doll. Right now though it wasn't the nunchucks doing the damage, it was those heavy, weighted, gauntleted fists smashing into his body, each blow smashing into ribs or his stomach, with every punch doubling him over more and more and more. Occasionally he was straightened back out by a punch right into that masked face of his, and the entire process of slowly whittling and crumpling the giant would begin all over again. Xiayu would not be stopped, she would not be countered or deterred until Mick was on his knees, with his arms draped over the doors of that "speeding" automobile. Half dead with blood oozing down his mouth and nose into the upholstery and possibly on Xiayu herself, it seemed that the rage-filled flurry delivered to the big man did exactly what it was supposed to do. It seems like it stopped him dead in his tracks. Until in an instant, he was back.
He probably wouldn't have moved, if not for the sudden pothole. Right tire hits an uneven part of the dirt road, and the sudden lurch seemed to trigger an automatic, mechanical response. As if Mick was actively unconscious but still acting on some horrible instinct. Like a dead shark, still digging its teeth into a surfer's leg, Mick's left beefy arm quickly reached up to try and wrap around the throat of the girl in an improvised headlock. It was probably messy, but it was still rather painful if it worked. His eyes wide, the garbage wrestler seemed to scream out in a raspy whisper, working through every pain response in his body in order to even form words.
That was all he said before he grabbed the side of her long-skirted outfit...and hoisted her into the air while also leaping nearly 10 or 15 feet high. And from a seven footer, that was no small issue. Whether it was calculated timing or just plain stupid luck, if this worked he'd somehow be able to catch the car as he lands, His own back and body going into the seats and cushions...and her own spine, upper and lower back smashing into the front hood in a way that was sure to halt any progress dead.
That was assuming any of this worked, of course. The winds could blow any which way they desired when it came to a sloppy, half-dead slow bruiser and a furious lightning-fast acrobat girl.
COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE can no longer fight.
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COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE successfully hits Xiayu with Brutal Throw Chain.
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Amidst the explosions being volleyed at one another in the distance is the high-pitched roar of tandem jet engines -- the sound of an aircraft closing in on the jungle battle.
Xiayu had really hated her younger self. She had every opportunity to make her family proud. To charge defiantly through that fire, to put a stop to those terrible, terrible men.
It was a nightmare she'd experienced often while soaking in the vats of regenerative fluids in the Shadaloo headquarters. It was a memory the Doll programming sought to bleach out of her mind, yet due to the intensity of the memory, it never truly could. The only thing the Doll programming could efface was the identity of the man who would eventually appear next.
The man who she desperately wants to introduce to MURDERHOUSE Mick.
Xiayu stands over the blood-streaked wrestler, even as the car continues to limp forward. Fully in control, the Shadaloo operative understands that the memory was not part of her own programming, but something the man... =did= to her.
Drops of sticky blood have spattered all over her black dress and the charcoal bodysuit; less obviously so on her red-lacquered gauntlets. As she stands over top of Mick, the Doll is just about to add another charmless comment about acquisition.
And then the pothole is hit. The Doll lurches forward, her arms out to either side for balance to weather the turbulence. It's a moment's hesitation.
That is all the time Mick needs to latch onto the young Chinese woman. Her eyes widen in a mix of anger and alarm -- but Mick is -much- too fast to afford her even another moment to react. The pair takes an express trip into the air. Xiayu bravely tries to break herself free from the hold, kicking and twisting about, but it's to no avail...
Honda's engineers really didn't plan for their speedster to withstand two people slamming down onto their vehicle from fifteen feet up. Their build quality is good -- but it's not -that- good. As Mick crashes downward, the upholstery buckles. What's left of the log shatters into a cloud of smithereens. The tires shudder...
And yet, he gets off much more lightly than Xiayu, slammed through the remains of the windshield. Jagged protrusions stab into her bare shoulders and back, fresh blood glistening on the shattered glass. The Doll left her own mark on the car hood as well, a Xiayu-sized dent impeding the air flow to the engine. Most assuredly, she broke bones in the fall -- from her pained expression, Xiayu would -really- rather not move right now. Let alone contest the insult that was slung her way.
The car sputters to a halt, starved of its crucial airflow by the Shadaloo operative now effectively crushing its windpipe in similar fashion to the way Xiayu's was. It's like a daisy chain of choking.
The Doll's hand twitches in agony. She begins to rise from the hood of the car, only to find herself stuck on the glass. It's... not a pleasant sensation; more tears begin to flow from her eyes, even though her expression remains... irritated, but steadfast. She balls both her fists and slams them down into the hood... And only -then- is she able to pry herself free.
From a distance away, the VTOL begins to lower to the ground. Two spotlights snap on, their halogen heat blazing down onto the two combatants.
Xiayu pushes free from the car, one gauntleted hand clamping to her bloodied shoulder as she looks back to MURDERHOUSE. She stares at him for a good long moment, making sure that there are no other surprises from the car before proceeding. It's... not moving, so the risk of potholes is diminished.
Her silhouetted form may be difficult to read from the light, but her voice is... shaky. "You fought well." She clasps her fist in her open palm, the strain apparent in her stiff motions. "We will be in touch."
And with that, Xiayu turns and begins walking to the long rope ladder dropped from the VTOL -- primed to make her escape from the hellacious PFW Battlezone.
COMBATSYS: Xiayu takes no action.
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COMBATSYS: Xiayu has ended the fight here.
Log created on 09:38:35 08/23/2016 by MURDERHOUSE, and last modified on 15:46:15 08/31/2016.