Circuit of Champions - GAUNTLET: WW Champion Belt - Rust vs Zach

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Description: In an effort to reinvigorate public and competitor interest in the Circuit of Champions, almost all the promotional effort went to the gauntlet matches for the Blue Pro Belt. One would think it's odd, then, that the higher-tier World Champion title would seem like it's been left in a lurch in terms of venue and production values. Zach Glenn, the Blue Champion Belt holder, goes to challenge one Howard Rust, Jr., for the right to hold the title of World Champion. A glimpse is thus given into how both men are holding up after their escapes from a long, harrowing trial as witnessed by those ignorant and/or uncaring of the specifics leading up to now.



[RUST]
In the hubbub over the desire to fill belt vacancies, there is at least one main event pull that - in the majority of circumstances - would get top-most billing, no questions asked. This is the time and place for advertisers and investors to step up and claim a piece of the pie - a long-awaited Title Defense match for the Champions of the Circuit of Champions.
The problem is that the 'defender' in question is... uh... that guy. They've had problems making contact with him - lots of people, actually - who have since returned, but even then, our particular 'that guy' was considered a bit of a problem for marketing. Enough that they've decided to lower the financial risk by going to a venue that still struggles today to return to being one. Metro City has deep scars running through it, both physical and spiritual, that may never truly heal. Even this long after the Majigen incident, this arena - the SlamMasters Arena - has yet to be fully repaired... but some are wondering if keeping this place half-open, half-constructed in appearance might lend it a certain charm from here on out so long as everything remains to code. (This is a tricky bureaucratic and engineering feat when there's still scaffolding and fencing in place of a proper wall, but capitalism finds a way!)
"WELCOME, METRO CITY FANS, TO THE CIRCUIT OF CHAMPIONS... CHAMPIONSHIP MAAAAATCH FOR THE CHAMPION BEEEELT!!!" Even their announcer is a second-stringer, in favor for some of the Professional-level talent they're pushing for the time being. The seats are at about 85% capacity - this being the damaged SlamMasters Arena - so their conservative estimates for ticket sales seems to have been on point. Taking in a breath, our kinda-okay announcer continues. "It's been a long time coming, but the time has come today to measure the mettle of two of those who dare to wear the label of Champion!"
The lighting and decor are modest, as to best squeak by the fire code, as a chilly breeze seeps through the open air hardly held back by a chain link fence in-between restored but still incomplete rows of seating, and also an accurate measure of the lukewarm feelings for who comes to be announced...
"Introducing, born in Red Deer, Alberta, Canada, weighing in at two-hundred and forty-nine pounds, standing five-foot ten..."
"The World Champion," the announcer coughs a few times, as though putting the following words together were painful for the throat and soul (they are), "Howard Russst.... Juniooooorrr....!"
He doesn't come out the entrance ramp. They wonder what's going on, for a while.
They have their answer when he faceplants from an undefined height above the ring, hitting the canvas inside the American flag-colored ropes face-down to stunned silence, murmuring, and some mocking laughter.
"Ow." The out-of-shape, clownish man of a Champion stands up and starts to re-adjust the fit of his shorts nonchalantly. "Sorry, ah, was working on the lightning and got stuck." This explanation is lost, because the guys in charge have decided leaving the microphone on near him while he's mumbling leads to nothing good.
"...Yes, he's there. That's him. The World Champion, everyone. Now, introducing our challenger..."

COMBATSYS: Rust has started a fight here on the top side.

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                 Rust             0|-------|-------


COMBATSYS: Zach Glenn has joined the fight here in the center.

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                 Rust             0|-------|-------
                 [ |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
                 Zach Glenn       0|-------|-------


[ZACH GLENN]
Zach Glenn stops short as he makes he steps onto the approach leading up to the ring. He is wearing jeans and a USMC t-shirt, a wooden claymore resting against his shoulder, and his physical condition indicating a good amount of training and conditioning. He blinks a couple of times as Rust picks himself up off the ring before heaving a sigh.

"From Cleveland, Ohio. He stands five foot, ten inches, and weighs in at one hundred and sixty pounds..." the announcer calls. "Zach! Glennnn!" The psion nods once, and starts a slow walk towards the ring. He seems to be in nothing like a rush, allowing the Champion to get his bearings for a moment before climbing into the ring himself.

Zach rolls one shoulder, then the other, then sets the wooden claymore in the corner of the ring. He turns to face Rust, and snaps into what appears to be an orthodox boxing stance. Fists at shoulder level, left foot forward with even weight distribution. He waits patiently for the start of the match.

He never really explained /why/ he signed up for this fight, and he could not really put down a definitive reason, other than to maybe tie up what he felt was a loose end.

[RUST]
The Champion - a label even the narrative finds difficult to type - does not look the part he has won. The same odd get-up that puts him in-between a handyman and a tourist, the same dumb hair done up in a hairstyle culturally considered inappropriate for both his age and gender (in this case, braided pigtails), the same silly, oblivious, pleasant demeanor.
"Oh! Oh. The belt, yep." He pulls it out from... somewhere. It's a fancy thing! The referee comes by and snatches it out of his hands as though understanding that the sooner it's out of his grasp the better, showing it to the crowds and Zach to understand the stakes.
Meanwhile, there's some brief discussion going on behind the scenes. They had /him/ work on lighting? For the arena he'd be fighting in? Whose idea was it? There's a lot of screaming between suits back there. 'We can't use the lighting he touched,' which is a fair issue to consider. 'Well, he's licensed, and our go-to guy was sick--'
The end result is that the arena is a bit darker than the usual standards imposed for visibility's sake. A bit tougher for the crowd to see, especially those in the back. Then again, this man is, one quotes, a 'ninja.' The idea that he may or may not have arranged such a scenario to the benefit of being a bit tougher to see cannot be discarded.
Even if it's someone like him, who seems all too casual. Too relaxed. Too friendly, before someone clearly hungry for a victory - someone who seems to treat him with utter, focused seriousness, befitting of a challenger who is ready to become the World Champion.
"Hello! So, this whole title defence thing, let's got 'er done like," he rears his hands up into the air, pointing his head downwards. The toes visible from his sandals wiggle erratically on the grounded left foot as he raises the right, pointing it out to the side like he were trying to kick someone to the side in slow motion. His right hand comes down to support it as his lips come together in a puckering shape, one eye closed, gently blowing air out his n-- okay what the hell is that pose, shouldn't he draw the length of pipe coming out the right hip of his toolbelt...?
...
"And now," the announcer speaks with weakened enthusiasm, calling only the last word with any emotion to the signaling of the referee in question, "fight!"
The bell rings.
In other words, 'this is painful to watch, please hit him right now. Please.'

COMBATSYS: Rust gathers his will.

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                 Rust             0|-------|---====
                 [ |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
                 Zach Glenn       0|-------|-------


[ZACH GLENN]
Zach, for his part, does not charge right in. He knows, from the last time he fought Rust, that would be a good way to burn himself out quickly. Instead, Zach waits, and watches. He seems content to let Rust initiate combat for the moment.

The psion's bearthing is measured, calm. He bounces lightly on the balls of his feet to keep himself ready and mobile. Perhaps he plans a war of attrition?

COMBATSYS: Zach Glenn focuses on his next action.

                 [ |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
                 Rust             0|-------|---====
                 [ |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
                 Zach Glenn       0|-------|-------


[RUST]
A war of attrition it is - and Zach is given a full display of a grown-ass man moving in ways reminiscent of a young child exploring and enjoying the way their body moves relative to their surrounding environment, as though the novelty of having flexibility at all never waned.
It's more than a little weird!!!
"Our challenger is looking as confused as I am," the announcer murmurs as he taps the table, kind of bored, "is that some kind of yoga? What is that?"
Indeed, the random posing is odd to consider. There doesn't seem to be much in the way of inner energy flows - too much wasteful movement. Zach would also be aware that he doesn't have the gift of drawing power from oneself. What purpose does any of that accomplish?
It is a mystery unlikely to yield any answers, tonight.
Having at last decided to stop doing this, the length of pipe is drawn from the toolbelt by his left hand - his leading one - as he goes down to a crouch that is kinda-sorta a cool enough traditional pose as the one closed eye remains closed.
"Oh, the fight started, right? I heard 'em say 'fight.'" Yes? It did. Why is he even asking? Maybe everyone involved is confused, tonight.
Nonetheless, the first thing comes for Zach to deal with, the strange so-called shinobi going down low to the canvas to sweep the length of pipe outward, just above one of Zach's ankles.
It's a familiar technique from... a long time ago.

COMBATSYS: Zach Glenn interrupts Foundation Layer from Rust with Dragon's Tail.

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                 Rust             1|------=|=======
                 [    |||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
                 Zach Glenn       0|-------|----===


[ZACH GLENN]
Zach does something... odd. He steps in, taking the pipe to the side of his shin even as he brings his right hand back. Golden energy flares around the outstretched limb even as he takes another step in and slams the energy-coated fist down directly on the top of Rust's head in a high, broadly arcing strike. After feeling the hit, and sizing up the damage, he takes a couple of quick steps back. Bringing himself /out/ of what would probably be optimal fighting distance withou /some/ kind of weapon at hand.

"Show me more," Zach mutters, barely audible to anyone. "Show me what you have."

[RUST]
For a split-second, Zach gets a visible widened eye (and a closed eye that somehow also widens without opening - a feat!) at the point of impact that violently bounces him against the mat off his smashed face, legs comically sticking straight up into the air as he finds himself bounced into the ropes where--
--yes, he gets tangled, again.
"Just one punch, and the champion's already on the ropes," the announcer says, just barely holding back commentary about how there's no refunds for the seating tickets. Then again, who would penalize him? That someone like /him/ is World Champion is an affront to a broad many sensibilities.
Given his age, it's kind of impressive just how contorted he can get when liberally applied to a ring's topes. Like some kind of amazing, hidden talent.
But that's assuredly not what Zach means when he wants to be shown 'more.' To show him what he has.
Shaking his head with a weird noise escaping his lips, a prominent bruise on the forehead and blood trickling down his mouth, he gets back onto his feet and out of the ropes as improbably as he entered them.
"More, eh?" The man mumbles, rubbing his forehead for a moment with his right hand. "Ahh, what you see is what you get, I got... screwdrivers."
Case in point, right hand goes down to yank a handful of screwdrivers from the toolbelt and fling them with appreciable precision, adequate grace, acceptable velocity, and appropriate pointiness.
Except that one of them is a hammer that is flying the wrong way, handle-first.
Will that satisfy his desire for more?

COMBATSYS: Zach Glenn fails to slow Tools For The Job from Rust with Caladbolg EX.
? Strange Hit! ?

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                 Rust             1|------=|=======
                 [       ||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
                 Zach Glenn       0|-------|--=====


[ZACH GLENN]
Zach plants his feet, and slams his right fist forward, creating a blast of energy that knocks the screwdrivers aside. Unfortunately, it flips the hammer around so that the heavy end manages to smack him clean between the eyes and send hims staggering back. Blood runs down his nose as he shakes his head back and forth to try and clear his vision a bit.

He keeps his stance, though, and tries to get eyes on the man once more.

[RUST]
Zach Glenn is known as a slightly above average, if technically sound fighter. Nobody would have faulted his choice of defense against the wave of projectile tools - but no one would have foreseen the idea that this man may or may not have thrown that hammer /on purpose/ to overcome such a reaction, as the tools nonetheless scatter about the canvas bearing a residual golden glow from contact with the warrior's will given form.
Howard Rust, Jr. on the other hand is known as a washed-up buffoon who seems to embarrass himself between every other public appearance. Shamelessly cheerful, laughing and smiling at a world that laughs at him when they aren't groaning in annoyance or - in some select cases - running in fear of higher-end stupidity that risks collateral.
Just as Zach shakes his head to get his bearings, his opponent is already moving right into range with a short hop (more of a skip) across the canvas before going into a lunging strike that, by most perspectives, looks like it's going to nail Zach in the gut.
It doesn't. He misses entirely as he comes down to a stylish kneel, swinging the length of pipe up and back towards the back of Zach's head, towards the right, which is probably an accident in misgauging how far away from Zach he is after thinking he pulled off an awesome dash-and-smash that he most certainly did not.
Even has his right hand raise up the two fingers in that classic ninja hand gesture and everything with a little sly smile, oblivious in the oafishness of the whole thing (unless Zach otherwise sees it fit to wipe it off his face before his face even thinks about it).

COMBATSYS: Zach Glenn blocks Rust's Random Strike.

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                 Rust             1|------=|=======
                 [         ||||||||||||||||||||| ]
                 Zach Glenn       0|-------|-======


[ZACH GLENN]
Zach frowns as he twists a bit, hunching his shoulders to catch the pipe on the meat of said shoulders instead of the bone of the skull. He considers; he is already turning with the defensive move. Might as well continue with it. More of that golden power spins up, quickly sheathing his lower left leg with energy as he attempts to deliver that time honored technique.

A boot to the head.

COMBATSYS: Zach Glenn successfully hits Rust with Power Strike.
- Power hit! -

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                 Rust             2|<<<<<<<|<<<<<<<
                 [         ||||||||||||||||||||| ]
                 Zach Glenn       0|-------|=======


[RUST]
He doesn't even look behind himself when he feels the impact of touching something with the end of his pipe.
"Whoop, sorry," about what? He rolls his shoulder and starts to lower the pipe down and away. If Zach didn't come rushing in, it'd have made for a fine, powerful intercept, or at least stymie his ability to get in reach just from being pushed around by the weapon in question.
Instead, Zach lines himself up well enough to not only slide past the meager defense, but to also deliver...
* THE BOOT TO THE HEAD *
"Bood to the head!" The announcer's kind of into it now as the audience gets to see front-row footage of the man not only face-planting against the canvas...
...but also being POWER SLAMMED across it, sliding face-down through the ropes and collapsing out the ring with the noisy clatter of disturbed chain-link fence and the sudden rustling of a gust of wind that passes by from outside.
"Where did our Champion go, everyone?" This is a good question to ask. Once everyone's done laughing and gasping, the guy is nowhere to be seen... "Perhaps our Champion is in the ring, right there! Everyone give a warm round of applause to our future World Champion, right here, right now, in the Circuit of Champ--"
They catch sight of movement around the perimeter of the ring, behind where Zach stands. Not a noise, just a shadow. Thanks to the decision not to use any of the lighting this man touched - out of altruism and just as a can-do sort of guy, or maybe something more sinister? - it is only Zach's sixth sense that will detect his presence at all.
"Behind you!" Now the announcer's taking Zach's side?!
When he's coming in from behind, on the /opposite/ side of the ring, lunging out with the pipe towards Zach's jeans, trying to hook into them on one end and... lift them up?
A familiar technique.
It also threatens to give him a terrible wedgie, as the light outside reveals a bloodied nose and a smile that has yet to disappear - not a sneak attack of malice, but all the wholesome feel of a well-organized practical joke.
...But there's nothing wholesome about getting a wedgie from hell.

COMBATSYS: Zach Glenn blocks Rust's Wrecking Ball Swing EX.

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                 Rust             2|<<<<<<<|<<<<<<<
                 [           ||||||||||||||||||| ]
                 Zach Glenn       1|-------|=======


[ZACH GLENN]
Zach twist, feeling an... uncomfortable wrenching in his pants as the pipe hooks. That... seems to ignite something in Zach. He growls as he reaches for the pipe, and the hand holding the pipe, seeking a firm grip.

Assuming he gets that, the psion will pivot and use the heavier man's arm as a lever to simply plant him on the mat before slamming a hammer of raw force down on Rust's back!

COMBATSYS: Rust auto-guards Zach Glenn's Fragarach EX.

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                 Rust             2|<<<<<<<|<<<<<<<
                 [           ||||||||||||||||||| ]
                 Zach Glenn       0|-------|-------


[RUST]
Zach reintroduces the world to the man that the Circuit of Champions was ready to forget. Heavier as he is compared to the fitter, faster, fiercer Zach, he seems to come right into prime striking range a little too easily.
Almost like it's a set-up...?
Planted onto the mat face-down, Zach brings down that hammer of raw force against someone that the Circuit of Champions probably wouldn't mind if one went the extra mile to break his spine and take him out of everyone's sight, but...
All he does is let go of the pipe and just roll off a bit to the right, and the amazing force brought to bear hits only the center canvas. The absorbed force ripples through the mat, shooting the otherwise prone-laying 'ninja' up off the mat and into--
No, onto one of the turnbuckles with one of his sandal-clad feet delicately balancing upon it. He makes that silly hand gesture with his right hand again - two fingers pointed upwards, the rest curled in.
For a moment, he might convince everyone of his ninjahood, a smile on his face even as blood goes down his face.
"How've ya been?" He asks. Too cheerful - this seems wrong. Both of these men have been pushed to the utter brink, and at least one among them has seen beyond the veil of mortality. What these two went through are experiences that change men forever, and rarely for the better.
Sizing him up, Zach may have cause to consider whether this man has even changed at all in terms of power or technique. He's still making all sorts of silly movements that you simply do not get away with in truly serious battles - and against someone that he's been trounced by before in a straight one-on-one fight, whether he realizes that or not.
It doesn't seem right. How can a man, mentally, emotionally, and physically, appear to shrug off the immense trauma and stress not only as someone selected to potentially represent THE ENTIRE EARTHREALM, but as someone who had to protect their helpless son throughout?
Leaping forward off the turnbuckle, a leg swings wide towards Zach's face, followed by a second thrusting kick with the opposite leg that for whatever reason propels him back in mid-air - another oddly familiar technique that appears to have passed... generations, or an even wider gap than that.
Is there more to this man than has met the eye, all along, that he can approach even something like this as so free, so eccentric, so lucky, so resourceful?!?!
The announcer has nothing to say one way or the other, except for resting a hand over their forehead.

COMBATSYS: Zach Glenn auto-guards Rust's Girder Sway.

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                 Rust             2|<<<<<<<|<<<<<<<
                 [           ||||||||||||||||||| ]
                 Zach Glenn       0|-------|-------


[ZACH GLENN]
Zach replies to the kicks with a pair of precisely placed palm strikes, seemingly /catching/ both blows with the exact amount of force needed to negate them. Zach has a frown on his face. The man in front of him... this Rust... can't take a hit like the man he remembers. Is far too /agile/ to be the man he remembers. He has been trying, since the King of Fighters, to shake the confusion caused by the memories.

Zach closes his eyes and casts away the errant thoughts, forces out the clawing of the storm of emotion surrounding the fight. There is nothing here but Zach, and the man who is not the Howard Rust he remembers.

When Zach opens his eyes again, they focus on nothing at all, taking in everything without seeming to note anything...

COMBATSYS: Zach Glenn gets himself in the moment!

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                 Rust             2|<<<<<<<|<<<<<<<
                 [            |||||||||||||||||| ]
                 Zach Glenn       0|-------|------=


[RUST]
This Howard Rust also appears to have natural hair, and a lot of it. This is also a distressing talking point, because he has found ways to misuse this fact and give long hair on men an even worse name.
This is immaterial now, as Zach enters a trance befitting that of a budding champion. To shut out the extraneous - the substandard lighting, the distracting cool breeze from the rattling gates, the somewhat mean-spirited commentary that blatantly takes sides in a high-stakes professional fight, the uneven footing from the powerful slam that might have damaged the stability of the tarp...
Gracefully (sort of), the aberration to Zach's familiarity lands on his feet with arms outstretched wide as though he were bowing to an audience, before suddenly lunging forward at Zach in what looks like a dramatic dive...
...that turns into a reasonably good tumble, a grunt of pain as he pushes the limits of what aging 46-year-old man joints really ought to be doing...
...as he tries to retrieve the dropped pipe. It's assumed that he's trying to retrieve the dropped pipe, but the bounce of the canvas flips the pipe as such that when his left hand moves to grab it, it just flips it up in the air towards Zach's chest.
...
It is possible that maybe this goes above and beyond trying to shut out familiarity with another man who shares his name.
It may be that this man, for all his foibles and weaknesses in the form and function of his technique, may not be best approached as that of a fellow warrior whom has mastered rote technique to be able to perform everything with nary a variance or misstep when they fight.
He may be much better appreciated as a farce of nature that transcends the collective understanding as to what defines a champion fighter, flaunting fate and probability with nothing more than spunk and the idea that some greater force is having a big laugh at everyone else.
More appreciated than the possibility of having a flipped pipe nail Zach's chest, anyway.

COMBATSYS: Zach Glenn dodges Rust's Thrown Weapon.

                 [                |||||||||||||| ]
                 Rust             2|<<<<<<<|<<<<<<<
                 [            |||||||||||||||||| ]
                 Zach Glenn       0|-------|------=


[ZACH GLENN]
Zach slips to one side, allowing the pipe to pass him by harmless. He'll look back at this fight, and would not be able to tell you exactly how he did it, either.

The psion doesn't speak, just closes the distance with the flailing would-be-ninja before planting his feet. The punch that follows is not /quite/ textbook, but it's close. Somewhere between a hook and an uppercut, and reinforced with more of that golden power that defies proper explanation.

If the punch connects, it's sending Rust for another ride. Perhaps Zach plans on testing how well the man handles being thrown around?

COMBATSYS: Zach Glenn switches his Mindset.

                 [                |||||||||||||| ]
                 Rust             2|<<<<<<<|<<<<<<<
                 [           ||||||||||||||||||| ]
                 Zach Glenn       0|-------|------=


COMBATSYS: Zach Glenn successfully hits Rust with Explosive Strike.

                 [                       ||||||| ]
                 Rust             2|<<<<<<<|<<<<<<<
                 [            |||||||||||||||||| ]
                 Zach Glenn       0|-------|---====


[RUST]
There are two men, in the space that rests in Zach's mind. Two men and a pipe. A fist finds itself purchased somewhere around the other's left side. Shutting out all invasive, unneeded details, it becomes easier to summarize the results as thus:
There is now one man, in the space that rests in Zach's mind. One man and a pipe. The other appears to have disappeared entirely.
For everyone else, the World Champion - no matter how undeserving the title he might be in both retrospect and right now - is launched way, way up into the lighting set-up above, something he's no stranger to given how he launched himself up and out of the way of a great killer wave of golden energy in which to even claim the belt.
Because they aren't using those lights, they don't turn them on. He simply cannot be seen. They can hear the sound of a body hitting something, even some shards of glass hitting the canvas.
The wind grows a little louder as a silence passes through.
"Looks like we have ourselves a new champion, and not a moment too soon, if you ask us here at the Circuit of Champions!" The announcer says. That's not his job to declare.
The referee looks up with a hand over his eyes as if unsure as to whether or not to count the man out. There's a compelling case, if he's not coming back dow--
Something sharp stabs through the canvas.
Then another.
It's reminiscent of a light drizzle, matching the one that starts outside.
The referee gets off the canvas as lightning flashes from outside, painting a sinister backlit silhouette up above in the unused lighting. Long hair flits freely in the short amount of time in which he remains visible.
Then, a sense of movement, as they leap right down barely into sight, somehow obscured by shadow even as the little daylight afforded by the gathering stormclouds outside reaches them.
In either hand, a handful of tools, all of which get flung down towards the dual-natured psychic.
And another.
And another.
And another, and--
Like a maelstrom from above, a whole load of tools come raining down upon Zach like a near-endless wave of tiny knives that might look to rain down upon him - even pin him - to the canvas.
(Can we raise the possibility, however fleeting and unlikely, that this is some stranger interrupting the fight at the moment of Zach Glenn's victory and not entertain the possibility that this man might be doing something wicked cool? We don't want to encourage him. -Mgmt.)

COMBATSYS: Rust successfully hits Zach Glenn with Hard Day's Work.

                 [                        |||||| ]
                 Rust             1|-------|=======
                 [                 ||||||||||||| ]
                 Zach Glenn       1|-------|=======


[ZACH GLENN]
Zach gets hit with... a shockingly astounding array of tools. There are simply too many of them for him to find the gaps to move into. The sheer weight and number of the strikes is enough to drive the man to one knee. Zach does not have eyes on Rust, and that is a problem.

He rises to his feet, and starts looking around, trying to sight in on the handicrafts ninja.

There is a flicker of awareness in Zach's senses... /there/.

Zach leaps towards a seemingly random section of the rafters even as Rust drops towards him. The psion lashes out with a kick to the midsection, followed by another by spinning horizontally. And then another kick. And another. He throws kick after kick at Rust, and the momentum of each kick carries Zach a little further, as if to stay close enough to Rust for yet another kick. He shows no sign of stopping until either Rust is down, or out of the line of travel.

COMBATSYS: Rust narrowly escapes Zach Glenn's Stoirm!

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                 Rust             1|-------|=======
                 [                 ||||||||||||| ]
                 Zach Glenn       0|-------|-------


[RUST]
The long-haired maybe-kind-of-grudgingly-a-shinobi-after-all-if-you-squint twirls down in descent as he finishes the last of his tool tosses, continuing to spin and otherwise deal with Zach's mid-air kick-fest with a grace that is, sadly, lost to all but people who are sitting in specific parts of the half-rebuilt stadium.
...Looking eye to eye, there's another story at hand every time Zach passes by with every whiffed kick.
The other man looks... dizzy? Eyes are unfocused as he dances and twirls about the air like he might actually know what he's doing!
As he fast approaches the canvas, he does not contort or twist to prepare for landing... because he doesn't, at all.
His lips stretch wide, tongue fully extended as his eyes bug out and spin on impact against the canvas, gagging and retching as he vomits all over the canvas as he bounces /into/ his own vomit and rolls with the help (well, hindrance) of inertia as he rolls up against one of the turnbuckles.
He coughs out some laughter as vomit-drenched hair now drips the contents of his most recent meal dangle in another breeze that comes in from the fences, barely pulling himself up with one hand.
"Ahh, sorry, messed that one up with," he says, turning to face Zach whenever they land, if they do, as he scoops up some of the tools from the ground. The stores of his toolbelt are in disarray, "let's try that again, eh?"
Again? Is he--
...Evidently, yes, we are doing this whole thing again. Springing back up off the turnbuckle and (miraculously, through some unexplained means) making it back up to the rafters, even the lightning flashes seem to give this man a mulligan. Are the heavens themselves scripting this very encounter?
The same movements, the same twists and turns, all those tools are coming down /again/. What the hell did he get wrong about it last time?!
This time, Zach is prepared.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer says, "I don't know what to make of what's going on here."

COMBATSYS: Rust successfully hits Zach Glenn with Hard Day's Work.

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                 Rust             0|-------|-------
                 [                      |||||||| ]
                 Zach Glenn       0|-------|--=====


[ZACH GLENN]
Zach's eyes narrow as none of the kicks seem to land. He lands lightly on one foot, and turns to face Rust, expecting a counter attack.

It comes. More tools rain down on him, driving him to the mat once again. He growls at the pain, energy starting to bubble within him, all but demanding to be used. That, he knows, is a trap.

He takes another deep breath, taking note of every flicker of light, every bit of dust that falls. He waits. He listens. Rust will come in to finish this up.

And then Zach will have him.

COMBATSYS: Zach Glenn focuses on his next action.

                 [                        |||||| ]
                 Rust             0|-------|-------
                 [                      |||||||| ]
                 Zach Glenn       0|-------|--=====


[RUST]
He's coming in to finish this up, spiralling again with a descent that seems noticeably more purposeful this time. As Zach takes in that breath and accounts for every change in the environment, he can see it in the eyes. There's no hiding it.
To whatever capability this man ever achieves true martial excellence, he brushes up against it as his posture straightens out, bending one knee inward as he goes from head-first to knee-first. That familiar attacking maneuver...!
The golden energy casts a glorious light upon the damaged canvas of the SlamMasters arena. Everyone will get to see the true, final, amazing clash between those who have either earned the right to be - or to challenge - a World Champion.
Where Zach growls, Rust Jr. grins, like he's having the time of his life while gravity hastens their next violent reunion. He's coming to finish this up...
...
As he closes in with that posture, he suddenly flips in mid-air.
Life is a cycle. Birth, growth, reproduction, and eventual death. Knowledge is passed from generation to generation, and it is generally understood that every generation that passes stands to grow stronger, to move ever forward.
...
The cycle of life, the theories of evolution, the gut instinct, the conspiracy theory...
None have any solid answers as to why, right then, he flips with his back facing the ground, pointing his (currently empty) pipe-holding hand downward in that strange punching motion. His off-hand clenches, save for his pinky. One leg forward, one leg backwards as one leg frees itself of the shackles of the weighted mass of cloth and accompanying tools that... continue to not make a sound even now, somehow.
The lightning outside cracks half-way, thinking better of ruining the moment.
The crowds are agape.
The announcer leans closer, at the edge of his seat, mesmerized.
The referee seems ready to make the final call.
The moment of truth arriv--
No, it doesn't. He completely misses Zach by overshooting his descending angle, faceplanting against the turnbuckle. His now empty toolbelt jolts free as it was nearly taken off by the rapid hand movements of the second grand volley of all the tools. It flies in the air towards the expectant, defiant psychic whom aspires to ever greater mastery of himself.
There's just enough weight left in that belt that it's some kind of makeshift - and completely accidental - bolo, going into the path of Zach's feet and threatening to pull him down then and there, but, in flight, there is one thing of note that a psyche which struggles with the past versus the present to ponder.
That... that is /his/ toolbelt. The color, the wear, the fact that there's a toolbelt pocket which has been previously ripped out from underneath but then patched up to account for the handedness of its current owner versus the previous.
In yet another completely ludicrous development, in some way, it is as though a man of both forty years and also forever ago is coming to say hello.
...
"Really?" The announcer asks.

COMBATSYS: Zach Glenn dodges Rust's Thrown Object.

                 [                        |||||| ]
                 Rust             0|-------|-------
                 [                      |||||||| ]
                 Zach Glenn       0|-------|--=====


[ZACH GLENN]
Zach's eyes narrow. The toolbelt is noted, and there are questions for later. Maybe /never/. Zach is suddenly right in Rust's personal space, in a low crouch. His right hand is clenched in a fist low at his hip.

"We're done here," Zach mutters.

Zach launches a flying uppercut, aimed squarely at Rust's jaw, at the exact same place he aplpied the cutlass during the King of Fighters. The drive from the legs is enough to carry Zach straight upward.

COMBATSYS: Zach Glenn successfully hits Rust with Soaring Dragon.

                 [                             | ]
                 Rust             0|-------|----===
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                 Zach Glenn       0|-------|-======


[RUST]
Headbutting a turnbuckle on the second pass for an amazing, climactic clash from above should, alone, be enough to put a stop to the crazy madness that is this man. As the toolbelt flies wide to go into a spin against to rest up against the tools that stick up out of the canvas, the man that staggers to face the man who has declared as having been completely done with all of this utter nonsense looks... pretty done.
"That... that didn't work either," the vomit-drenched handyman ninja is not steady on his feet. One can see the eyes fail to focus upon the aggravated psion at all - any referee worth their salt should have called it off the moment he impacted the turnbuckle like that. "Sssssooo... 'm good for a take three--"
He almost convinces the rest of the world of this as he steps onto the ropes, still facing the aggravated would-be World Champion before him. How does he think he's going to pull that again? Toolbelt's off, all the tools are spilled everywhere, pipe's laying around the canvas somewhere--
Zach, to the solemn thanks of every last good sensibility among the gathered, does not allow this man to show off what a proper 'take three' would be in these circumstances by bringing the simple, effective, no-nonsense flying uppercut right to the jaw.
The jaw shuts so tightly that one could be led to believe that one or both rows of teeth disintegrate under the force, one eye coming this close to flying out of his skull outright while his tongue shoots up and explores the inside of his bloodied nostrils with a bone-cracking impact that echoes throughout the arena.
"I think he got 'em, way to go-- uh oh," and so one of the small concessions made for the imperfect venue and the lesser budget allotted to what traditionally /should/ be a headliner match as the Circuit of Champions spins their way back to prominence is laid bare.
Howard Rust, Jr.'s body is a near-miss for the announcer that was picking favorites right from the beginning, having been shot through what meager protection there was. The half-conscious body settles in a seated position next to him.

"So, I'm... sitting here, next to the former World Champion. I think he's former by now. Is he? I can't tell where the referee is from here. How about I call you the former World Champion? I mean, that's what you are to me."
"sagdksdpoprguhlgrlb."
"Great! We agree!" The announcer slaps a palm on the booth. "How's it feel to be exposed as a fraud on your first title defense?"
"Sagdghslbmwifelkashdgrelativesjdgsgdlkhg."
The referee climbs back into the ring, having decided it's safe to come out of the bunker that just happens to exist just off the ring. What was he expecting to have happened? There's a few signals, and then an invitation for Zach to come along over and take the World Champion belt. (Zach is not the only one 'done here.')
"Now that we've established this was all a giant accident that was terrible for business and given your advancing age, can we expect you to leave us alone?"
"Sgkshdgcomplaingsgkhgskdhgsklhghomesdghgldsglkjnosauoghdgoshworries." There's a goofy, spazzy smile in there as he drools incoherently where he sits.
"Great! So, why don't we all have a hand for our new World Champion, Zach Glenn, who we all knew deep down was the more deserving fighter! Were you all watching him? That calm, that lack of wasteful movement like this joker sitting right next to me! Such awesome power! That is a World Champion right there, don't you agree, World Chumpion? I can call you that, right? It's catchy. Please say yes."
"kljhligenkhffkhgsdscalpdghsdklgslgsdghhappygkdshgsdghlkglbp." With this final words of... something, the now-dethroned World Champion passes out on the announcement table.
"Some of that was probably 'yes' in a given language somewhere!" (Actually, yes it was, dear log reader, but that's up to you to determine which one.) "Well, to all of us here in the recovering SlamMasters Arena, here in Metro City, this was the Circuit of Champions World Champion Title Defense, and absolutely none of us were surprised about the outcome-- hey, let's see if we can interview the World Champion-- hey! Over here!"
Will Zach honor the guy?

COMBATSYS: Rust takes no action.

                 [                      |||||||| ]
                 Zach Glenn       0|-------|-======


COMBATSYS: Rust can no longer fight.

                 [                      |||||||| ]
                 Zach Glenn       0|-------|-======


[ZACH GLENN]
Zach lands heavily, dropping into a crouch after landing that final punch. He takes a long breath, releasing it slowly before accepting the offered belt. He slings the ornament over his left shoulder, grabs the wooden claymore with his right, and then leans over the ropes to address the announcer's table with a polite wave.

"Sure," he says politely. He looks tired, but somewhat content.

COMBATSYS: Zach Glenn has ended the fight here.


[RUST]
"Hot damn! Great! Yeah, don't mind the other guy next to me, he's of nobody's concern now." The announcer is all too eager - somewhat by urging from the people up above - to get all the focus on the new Champion. The one they can market, the one they can put all over advertisements, without feeling like something has gone completely wrong with the world.
Shouldn't ringside medics be removing him from there...? Maybe they're having too much of a laugh over how ridiculous this all looks, seeing a bloodied and passed-out punch-drunk guy who vomited himself just snoozing off in the nearby announcer's table. There are so many etiquette violations across the board for this particular match arrangement that it's just looped around the other end as something special that, ironically, might instead be lauded.
Simultaneously, the peak and nadir of the Circuit of Champions, right here.
"Okay! So, we all got to admit, you deserve this belt more than anyone else in the line-up, right?" Armor King isn't here to protest... FOR NOW. "How long have you been looking forward to finally being recognized as its rightful holder?"

[ZACH GLENN]
Zach grins softly before regarding Rust. "Oi," he says brusquely to the EMTs laughing at Rust. "Help him out." Then he turns to answer the question. "About..." he glances at the clock. "...two seconds after he hit the ground. I try not to count my wins before I get them," he admits.

[RUST]
It's not certain if the EMTs really hear what Zach has to say, or what he means. Eventually someone comes to the conclusion it's time to remove him from the side of the announcer - as he has been a thorn in the side of a lot of people just by /being/ - but the cameras ensure as little time is spent as possible covering any of his movement as he's removed on a stretcher.
After all, they have a new World Champion!
"Oh hooooo, boy, that's a cool one-liner, I gotta remember that one." This close, the announcer in question exudes a certain... sliminess. The only reason he's here is because all the good ones are covering the Professional Belt stuff. He doesn't seem too worried about his job security. "If you asked me you should've been ready to count it twice the moment you both came into the ring! So, tell me, do you have a message to anyone else who thinks they have what it takes to pry the belt out of your hands - unlikely, I know - but you rose to the challenge, so give one back to the rest!"

[ZACH GLENN]
Zach frowns a bit, then slides between the ropes to exit the ring. He starts heading for the locker rooms. "Any and all comers," Zach calls out over his shoulder with a wave. "Any and all comers."

[RUST]
Any and all comers. A man so completely focused on the fight, compared to all else. A man who decides his mastery is as such that there will be nothing more to him than explosive power, relentless determination, and concise commentary. A bold challenge, from the new World Champion, indeed.
"Any and all comers, he says... well, folks, if any of you out there watching think /you're/ a better fit for the World Champion belt, c'mon forth to the Circuit of Champions! I'm," sudden microphone feedback, "and I speak for all our sponsors, executives, and probably the entirety of planet Earth and beyond that everything worked out for the best today, and that if you were watching the Professional Belt matches, boy, you were missing out."
"Bye now!" The announcer waves. "This was the Circuit of Champions... World Champion Title Defense!"
There's also some commentary in there he blatantly says to the camera about what he's going to do with his spare time after this but it's not worth saying now. If someone must know, it's guaranteed there's already a whole lot of memes being spliced out of what crazy things this man has said.
As for the former World Champion... who cares? Yesterday's news. Let's all look to violent fighting to come again!

Log created on 18:04:48 04/08/2017 by Rust, and last modified on 02:30:25 04/09/2017.