Match of the Millennium

Description: The deck of the Black Noah plays host to another apocalyptic battle as son challenges father in a Bernstein Brawl. Will the mighty carrier survive World Warrior?!

[RUGAL]
Years ago, the legendary Sagat tired of only being known as the King of Muay Thai. He wanted be known, unquestionably, as the strongest fighter in the world. To that end, he organized and hosted the original World Warrior tournament. It was a humble affair by today's standards. The idea of global martial arts competitions was a new concept that Earth's population did not yet know that it so desperately wanted. Attendance was low, the event ignored by many of the most powerful men and women.

World Warrior, in spite its low production values, was an instant success. By the time Ryu and Sagat's climatic final match, the world was engrossed in the fighting event like none other before it. Suddenly, big money entertainment conglomerates began to realize the potential in competitive fighting based entertainment taking off and several scrambled to cash in on it. Since World Warrior, a number of huge tournaments have come and gone, fighting leagues have been established, and the world has become crazed with the intense, violent competition that only world class fighters can deliver.

And now, at last, World Warrior has come again, sponsored by its new host. Once more it sets out to establish the world's strongest martial artist. Just like the previous tournament, it is not being held in gigantic arenas or setup at fancy, elaborate venues. There are no stage crews or an army of officials and coordinators to make sure everything goes perfectly smooth.

This competition is fighting at its purest. Two contenders meet and do battle, the necessary data transmitted by their assigned watches, and the results continue to be tallied up.

As another week of the tournament rolls by, Rugal Bernstein can be found on his floating sea fortress, the Black Noah. A massive carrier, the ship has since left the seas north of Germany to drift out into the more open waters of the Atlantic. It continues to be trailed by military vessels from multiple European nations, but as always, the arsenal of nuclear missiles stored in the array of launchers near the command and control tower serve as a deterrent to keep any actual military strikes on the crime lord's vessel at bay.

As one of the leading threats within the tournament, Rugal seems to have little initiative for going out and pursuing challenges. Sure, there are names in the roster that intrigue him, and the deck of the Black Noah still bears evidence of the violent battle between the Mad Dog and himself... but the proud Lord of War is confident that if anyone is sufficiently worth his time, they will come to him.

Case in point, an expected visit this afternoon. The sky is clear blue and the seas as calm as they can possibly be this far out away from land. Not that one would be able to tell - a ship this size doesn't seem to respond to the ebb and flow of the waves in the slightest, after all.

Dressed in an immaculate crimson suit, the tyrant of 'R' waits on the command bridge of the warship, watching the horizon for the expected arrival of his second most ambitious project in life - the heir he has molded since birth to someday inherit the vast, seedy empire of 'R'. The relationship has always been a tense one, filled with nearly impossible expectations, little in the way of compassion or fatherly care, and occasional bouts of violence as his eldest progeny is put through periodic 'trials by fire.'

This afternoon promises to be one of those moments - a ruthless evaluation, an in-person exam of just where Adelheid Bernstein stands in his path toward becoming the crime lord Rugal wants him to be.

A wine goblet in his right hand, his left arm behind his back, the powerfully built monster gazes out from the bridge with an impassive air. It has been a while since he has even seen the boy as Adelheid has become more and more independent in recent years.

Having received notice of his son's request for this World Warrior bout, he expects to not be kept waiting...

Rugal says, "let's see who's actually done fights this week"

[ADELHEID]
Rugal will not be waiting long on the arrival of the Prince of War. There, spotted on the far horizon over the rolling waves of the Atlantic Ocean, a dark shadow emerges, rising up from the furthest reaches of the sea.

Sky Noah.

The sister to Rugal's own carrier, the Sky Noah is the modern update for a more modern Bernstein. The Heir of R. Adelheid. He had claimed the airship not too long ago, just before he and his beloved sister Rose had determined their course to travel the world, proving the strength of the Bernstein line by way of this most recent of World Warrior tournaments. It is an immense thing. A nearly impossible thing. It's engines roar, jet thrusters and turbines holding a behamoth aloft in the air, uncaring of the sea or land below it. Unphased by turbulence, if only by the sheer mass of it. It is the sort of vessel that would have made Howard Hughes weep in awe and envy.

And now, it closes the distance towards its seabound counterpart, looming larger and larger until its shadow casts the deck of the old fashioned carrier in darkness. Adelheid has arrived to the place he had once called home. To the father who he both feared and respected in equal measure. Adelheid has come to present himself before Rugal, and show him just how far he has come in his training. And, he hopes, to prove to the Lord of War that his spawn is worthy of his legacy.

Sky Noah descends to a mere hundred feet or so above the deck of the Black Noah. A cargo hold in its belly opens up, like a large, yawning maw, and there he stands. Adelheid. His platinum blonde hair whips about fiercely in the wind. Crimson eyes glisten in the sunlight, appearing as two rubies reflecting the light of a fire. He is a much smaller man than his father, but his bearing is no less proud for it. Where Rugal is a picture of unbridled power, Adelheid is something far more svelte. He's a predator. A predator, it would appear, clad in a well tailored tuxedo. Black as pitch, the coat tails flutter violently behind him, lined in crimson. The white shirt is pristine, sporting a pintucked bib, and a bootlace tie in ebon silk about his neck. Fingerless leather gloves, reenforced with brass plating sporting the sigil of R, stretch over his delicate hands. His slacks are pleated, and pressed so finely that one could imagine that he might slice through his enemies with how razor sharp the crease down each leg is. His slacks, however, are tucked inside a pair of German tanker style combat boots, polished to a velvet sheen and wound with straps of leather around them.

Without hesitation, Adelheid leaps from the ramp presented by the lowered cargo door. He descends like a bomb, boring through the air until just moments before he touches down on the tarmac, he kicks one leg casually, summoning forth a destructive burst of wind that kicks up a whirlwind of dust, but cushions his fall so that he steps out of it with the casual and proud stride of one befitting of his station.

"Father," he says, his voice melodic and yet, monotone. A soft voice that defies the violent nature of the youth. "I will spare us both the formality and wate of time that is small talk. Shall we begin?"

[RUGAL]
The Sky Noah is a modern marvel and proof of the extensive wealth generated by the Business of War. Many Third World despots are only able to hold onto their tyrannical power thanks to the weapons purchased from 'R' and even First World nations will often engage in secret trades for cutting edge military technology. The recent war in Japan was just one more bull market year for armaments. But while the Black Noah has served as a floating city at sea, a landing strip for the countless flights used for smuggling weapons deliveries around the globe, the Sky Noah represents something far more imposing - mobility and the power to move over the land.

It may be far from stealthy - the flying citadel radiating a commanding presence wherever it hovers - but when it comes to maintaining an aura of dread that keeps 'R' in a hands-off category for most of the world powers, there can be no better vessel.

As the aircraft's shadow passes over the ship, Rugal Bernstein places his win glass down on a polished wood table and steps out from behind the glass panoramic view of the bridge onto one of the balconies adjacent to it. His right hand rests on the railing as he gazes up at the flying behemoth commanded by his son and occupied by his priceless gem of a daughter. The tall, broad-shouldered man's expression is impassive. Just as when Azrael made his brazen charge to the ship, his cybernetic eye is already churning with data being streamed from the hacked watch granted by Krauser. To carry a beacon in his suit pocket that can always be traced directly to him is a reckless thing for one of the most dangerous men in the world, but such is the pride of Rugal Bernstein that he never has the tracking device away from his person.

If challengers are to come his way due to the beacon, so be it. He will welcome them all the same.

When the cargo bay doors open and Adelheid leaps daringly to drop, his father responds in turn, vaulting over the railing to drop to the deck three floors below. He lands with a heavy crash, a shock wave of force radiating out from around his point of impact as he rises up to his imposing six and a half feet tall height. A soft grunt of acknowledgment follows a cursory inspection of his boy's appearance.

Looking his best when appearing before his father... Rugal expects nothing less.

The deck of the carrier still shows evidence of the battle against Azrael. Though the burning wrecks have been cleared, the fires long since put out, there are still dents in the armored plating, and a few places where thick grooves of steel have been torn completely open by whatever forces were at play in the deadly battle.

The deck is empty of people but for the two Bernsteins. While the fight against the Mad Dog was a spectacle that 'R' soldiers brave enough to be in the vicinity were privileged to watch, this match with his son is 'Family Time', and none of the ship's extensive crew are to step foot on the deck until it has concluded.

That isn't to suggest there isn't a fair amount of gawking from portholes and other locations off the deck, especially at the appearance of the Sky Noah overhead. Getting stationed aboard the Sky Noah is surely considered a special recognition for the more elite members of the 'R' forces. Adelheid himself would be the one charged with maintaining the roster of worthy men to serve alongside him, a logistics matter Rugal is more than content to let him handle.

At his boy's controlled landing and succinct greeting, the tyrant of 'R' actually chuckles, his left arm lifting, his right hand tugging the leather fingerless glove on it snuggly into place. His coat and black scarf sway in the ocean wind blowing across the deck and as ever, there is that ruby red LED glow in his right eye as the piece of technology continues to pipe a ludicrous amount of data into the man's mind.

"Adelheid, my boy." Rugal's deep voice rumbles as he takes a step forward, his neck length golden hair tousled in the wind. "You already know the the battles in Wolfgang Krauser's spectacle are nothing compared to the test you will receive this day. Come."

He stands up straight, his stance relaxed - but the Prince of War would know there will be nothing relaxed about his father's combat skills.

COMBATSYS: Rugal has started a fight here.

[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  <
Rugal            0/-------/-------|

COMBATSYS: Adelheid has joined the fight here.

[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////////]
Adelheid         0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0            Rugal

[ADELHEID]
When his father matches his own dramatic entrance, Adelheid is only left to watch the more imposing figure of the man before him with his own ruby eyes. His expression is impassive, where others might have blanched, or been struck with awe. For Adelheid, he would expect nothing less from the man who he calls his progenitor. The man that he would one day succeed.

Adel's booted footfalls resound on the tarmac beneath them, creating a cadence that quickens with every step as he approaches his father. He doesn't respond to the words that Rugal speaks. He knows them to be true. His father is at the top of the standings of this tournament. Adelheid is certain that no other man can unseat him. In fact, Adel knows in his heart that this is a battle he is unlikely to win, himself. But this is not about winning. This is a demonstration. This is a declaration. The Prince of War is coming to his own. Through this match, though it may be part of the tournament, he is showing not only to his father, but to the world, that Bernstein line is strong and fearless, and that Adelheid is just as worthy as his father, of the fear that the elder Bernstein has instilled in the world.

That cadence of his footfalls carries faster. Faster. Many might take this for the eagerness of a young man to find a warm welcome in the embrace of his father after some time away from the home. But the Bernsteins are not that kind of family. Adel's warmth exists solely in the eyes of his beloved Rose. For his father, there is none of that warmth. His respect is a distant and formal thing. And a thing tested by virtue of brutality and violence. And so it goes to follow that as the swiftness of his gait rises, Adelheid's fist clenches, and the light in those crimson pools that he calls eyes becomes something fierce and determined.

Immediately, he launches two swift jabs. A one-two combination, right and left, in the direction of Rugal's face. The jabs fall short. They're just a tad wide. Feints. Designed to draw his father's attention away from the sweeping kick he makes with his boot at his father's shin. He follows through with that kick, sweeping his leg inward and upward, bending his knee only to snap it out overhead and bring it crashing back down at the crown of his father's skull.

It seems that Adel might have picked up a few things during his last match against Lee Chaolan.

COMBATSYS: Rugal just-defends Adelheid's A. Kunst Zwei!

[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////////]
Adelheid         0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0            Rugal

[RUGAL]
Most fighters would echew the thought of doing battle in formal wear. Even when properly tailored to an immaculate fit, the layers of finery are without a doubt more restrictive than more simple attire. But for Rugal, it had always served a purpose - for a man to truly be considered the undisputed strongest, he must be able to dominate his opponents while maintaining the air of authority that comes with such expensive tastes in clothing.

The training regimens of the past where such values would be espoused as essential would not likely be fond memories for the boy. His father was savagely demanding, and most living souls would consider his expectations beyond superhuman. But how could he settle for anything less than that for Adelheid?

Only Rose would have been spared the gauntlet of abusive training. The princess of 'R', she was afforded every whim and no expenses were spared in providing her with the best trainers in the world as she pursued her own bladed variant of the Bernstein family arts. But for Adelheid, a life of orders, physically exhausting training, and harsh punishments for any failures were his legacy - all for his own good, Rugal would assure him in his ambition to forge the perfect replica of himself. One must wonder at the tyrant's own upbringing to produce such a man.

And now that critical mind is being applied to evaluating every nuance in Adelheid's combat prowess. It has been a while since they last fought like this. Rugal will need to see where his son has come in the time since.

Just surging toward Rugal implies a temerity beyond the normal man. There is a presence about him, felt even when he stands silent, that even many of his own well paid men find suffocating to be around. And the thought of advancing on the warlord to actually attack him is beyond the thoughts of nearly anyone. That the crimson-eyed youth surges in without hesitation is a testament to a willpower that cannot be ignored.

It is will known by the boy that his father has been exposed to nearly every martial art in the world, many of which he casually mastered in his own training rituals. The same near impossible expectations he places on his son he holds for himself... if any man alive claims to be able to perform a feat of martial prowess, Rugal Bernstein wants to be able to prove definitively that he can as well. This daunting knowledge makes fooling him in the slightest a difficult task and the twin feints are regarded with a stoic indifference as the man doesn't even flinch.

It's when Adelheid's long legs sweep into motion that he does as well, lifting his foot so that the shin strike collides against the side of his father's expensive shoe. His foot stomping down, Rugal takes a half step in on his son, left arm raising to intersect the ax kick at a height that denies it any true crushing force, threatening to upset the youth's balance in the process.

"Not good enough."

The declaration is made as the man continues to move, left foot solidly planted as he sweeps his right leg in for the boy's shin for a fierce collision before the foot continues up and over into an ax kick mirroring the one that was just attempted, threatening to come crashing down atop the crimelord's son with devastating force.

"Feints become viable only when your opponent's focus is divided!"

COMBATSYS: Adelheid blocks Rugal's Double Tomahawk.

[   \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////////// ]
Adelheid         0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0            Rugal

[ADELHEID]
Adelheid knew that his father saw through the ruse before that first kick had even been launched. However, he was already committed to the ruse, and to try to abort the assault would not only afford his father the opportunity to take control of the pace of the fight, but it would also display cowardice. Neither of these things are in Adelheid's interests. Cowardice is something wholly alien to him.

And so, when his father lifts his arm and defelcts the hammering force of his downward arcing heel, Adelheid, in fact, leans forward himself, stretching that blocked kick into a full on forward split. It's a subtle message to his father. He is not so easily unbalanced.

As Rugal decries his assault as not good enough, and admonishes his use of feints, Adelheid's soft, pliant lips curve upwards at the corners into a smile that cold best be described as cruel. He lifts his leg directly up, and over with a fluidity and grace of motion that is nearly inhuman, and as his father makes to mirror his own attack, Adel's sweepign foot comes swooping down to intercept the shin kick, and he, much as his father had done, takes a step forward, and lifts his arms in an X above his head to capture the descending kick in the wedge created between them.

"Trying to best me using the same technique that I used only displays predictability and hubris, Father. Please do not think so little of me. I am not a standard opponent."

With that, Adel's lurches forward, shoving his father's deflected kick back as he himself dances away, his footwork light and airy as he springs on the balls of his feet.

But he doesn't press the assault. Doing so now would only continue the cycle. His father, of course, knows every technique he has. Adel cannot claim the same. He'll have to focus all of his concentration, in order to maintain an edge in this battle against a foe he knows is superior. Assuming his stance, Adel's knees bend loosely, and remain spread just about shoulder width apart. He defensively extends one loose hand before him, while the other remains posed at the ready to unleash a punch with a swiftness of a cobra. Still, he does not go on the offensive, as he starts to read his father's movements more carefully.

It's a long shot, but, perhaps speed and youth can prevail where power and experience would not.

COMBATSYS: Adelheid calculates his next move.

[   \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////////// ]
Adelheid         0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0            Rugal

[RUGAL]
And with the opening exchange between the two warriors, no one could deny they were seeing father and son duel it out. Adelheid's defense perfectly mirrors the older Bernstein's from an instant prior, and following the exchange of two twin kicking techniques, the two are at a stalemate.

The press against Rugal's raised leg forces the larger man to correct for the jarring interception of the boy's arms, his left foot, once firmly planted on the deck skipping back half a step while using Adel's crossed forearms as a lever to move himself out of range without losing an iota of balance.

The retort from the boy is answered not with condescension but rather a chuckle. For all the strict disciplines he has had inflicted on him, the one thing Rugal never demanded was that he avoided speaking his mind. No Bernstein will be afraid to speak - silence out of fear of reprisal is the way of cowards and worms. Standing up for his own worth in the world is precisely what Rugal expects.

"No, no you are not." the man agrees, as he lifts his arms, fists clenched tightly, the creak of supple leather gloves audible. Even beneath the sleeves of his coat and shirt, the bulge of his muscles is unmistakable.

"Which is why you must tell me-"

Adelheid would be familiar with this demand. Rugal was always asking for his thoughts, his perspective - not to heed them, per se, but to evaluate them, to determine if he was maintaining as sharp a mind as demanded of him.

The Lord of War has shifted into something of a boxing stance - not the tightly guarded, closed off posture of a heavy weight boxer, but rather the quick on his feet, agile movements of an out-boxer. In spite his imposing size, it would be a mistake to think the man slow on his feet or in his reflexes. It will take every ounce of the boy's concentration to keep up with him.

"What happened in the battle against Krauser's pet. What did you learn!?"

The question is punctuated with a surging charge toward the young man. The older man's fists flare to live with an azure flaming chi as he slides in, leading with his left arm with a crushingly strong hook punch, then stepping into a direct, right armed straight punch packing the kind of fight-ending force championship boxers train all their life to develop.

A rush of wind closes in behind the swing of the man's burning fists as he tests not only the boy's defenses, but also seeks to understand how aware he is of what went wrong against the Spanish Matador... and what he will do to make sure it doesn't happen again. Failure is not the end, but failure to improve from it... will not be abided by.

COMBATSYS: Rugal successfully hits Adelheid with Strong Punch.
-* CRITICAL HIT! *-

[            \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////////]
Adelheid         0/-------/--=====|==-----\-------\0            Rugal

[ADELHEID]
Adelheid is intimately familiar with his father's technique and strategy. He, himself, emulates it, after all. It is what he was trained to do, since the moment he could stand on his own two legs. But the defining trait of the Bernstein style is assimilation. It is an ever growing, ever changing thing, utilizing the best aspects of each style that they encounter, and perfecting on those aspects beyond what the original style has achieved.

So he knows exactly what his father is going to do when he comes in after that question. He knows full well that he'll lead with a left hook, and follow through with a devastating straight.

It doesn't mean that he's swift enough to defy it. He tries. As the first flaming mass of meat and knuckles comes rushing at his face, Adelheid moves to duck under it. Instead, the punch collides against his temple, instantly blacking out his vision and causing every muscle in his body to grow as rigid as steel, locking him in a frozen state as the follow up smashes directly into his face.

That hurt.

Adelheid is sent flying, ragdolling as he tumbles back, landing hard on his back and bouncing head over heels to skid to a stop on his stomach.

"I learned..."

He says, as he picks himself up. There is no hesitation. No trying to regroup or clear the ringing from his ears or to assert his dominance over the world as it spins in his eyes. He knows his father will not afford him such time. He stands up immediately, as blood runs freely from his nose and lips. Still, he does take a brief moment to crane his neck from side to side and straighten his string tie. "I learned not to allow my opponent to unbalance me by my emotions. Insults to my bel--to Rose anger me. This is a weakness to be purged, Father."

Drawing his fists up, Adelheid comes back in, closing the distance to his father with a dashing step. He barely even comes to a halt before he pivots on the toe of one boot. The other leg tucks up, knee to his chest, and as he snaps his hip to one side, he launches a sidekick, utilizing perfect form and technique to wrench more power out of his body, and curling his toes upward so that only the ball of his foot impacts his father's chest. A smaller point of impact is greater for the smaller focus. The difference between a knife and a cudgel.

After the kick is thrown, Adelheid finishes his rotation with the grace of a ballet dancer's pirouette, spinning to face his father defensively. The Prince of War isn't out of the fight just yet.

COMBATSYS: Rugal blocks Adelheid's Fierce Kick.

[           \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ////////////////////////////  ]
Adelheid         0/-------/---====|===----\-------\0            Rugal

[RUGAL]
There is no reprieve as Adelheid lands, bouncing along the unforgiving metal deck of the Black Noah. Already, Rugal is striding forward. Not sprinting, not rushing in with that incredible burst of speed he is capable of when needed. Just a steady, inexorable approach, his foreboding aura broiling about him.

The youth is wise to rise immediately. His father would show no mercy should he linger on the ground. Battles must be fought as if one's life is on the line every single time, holding nothing back, for the time will inevitably come when that is truly the case. Those who never train for such moments of life and death can never imagine what it truly feels like, to fight, to struggle, and to defy fate with every breath.

That is what the Lord of War expects of his son.

"Mn," the acknowledgment rumbles from deep in his throat at the young warrior's explanation. "Yes." Perhaps he too knows well the burning anger that comments on family can inspire, that seething rage as vermin belittle his own.

And of course he knows what it does to the mind of a protective father... or brother. Did he not take advantage of such in his heinous crime against the Ikari Warrior commander?

"You must be on guard against such."

The boy is fast. At times, his speed even rivals his father's legendary swiftness. And in this moment, his aggression is rewarded by forcing the larger veteran briefly on the defense. A sleeve covered arm raises at first, a meaty forarm prepared to intersect the initially perceived trajectory of the kick. But the Prince of the Underworld has a more technical kick in mind, drawing his leg up tighter, then unleashing a picture perfect strike that would slip right past where his father's arm was positioned to guard.

Only a last second raised knee of his own wards off the incoming piston-like attack, a Muay Thai styled leg block, Rugal rocking on the heel of his other leg as he shifts his center of gravity in an instant to correct for the kinetic exchange of force.

"Better." he growls. "But what of Heihachi Mishima's pup?" Lee Chaolon, that conniving fighter who's vexing style of brawling has flustered many a fighter throughout the years. Naturally, Rugal demands to know what was learned from that encounter!

Though he would never admit to it, the Tyrant of 'R' himself had to come from somewhere, had to battle his way up, take his losses early on, in spite access to the best trainers in the world, in spite a family lineage that seemed predisposed to the art of physical violence... But now here he is, on top of the world, and the number one threat in the World Warrior phenomenon. To this end, he expects Adelheid's ambitions to aim as well. There can be nothing less.

Turning, slipping out of his leg block, knee still raised slightly, arms now elevated up a little above the level of his head. The stance of a Muay Thai practitioner - adopted for only a fleeting moment, before he launches. Large for a fighter, but evenly built rather than simply possessing upper body strength like many of the world's strongest, the man's hop through the air has a certain brutal grace to it. His right leg scythes out into a forward arc as it comes crashing down, heel first, along with all of the elder Bernstein's weight and strength.

The power behind it is to dent even the armored steel of the deck, or drive even the worlds strongest fighters to their knees!

COMBATSYS: Adelheid just-defends Rugal's Medium Kick!

[         \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////////// ]
Adelheid         0/-------/---====|===----\-------\0            Rugal

[ADELHEID]
"Lee Chaolan," Adelheid says the name at the mention of that match. There is a small curve at the corner of his lips. "I learned from him that the battle isn't over until my opponent lies crushed beneath my heel. At the start of the fight, I was clearly superior. But he fights like a pool shark."

Adelheid notes the way his father adopts that familiar Muay Thai stance as he launches the kick. It telegraphs the Lord of War's intention to the Prince, and as such, he responds accordingly. He knows that he cannot match his father's sheer strength, and so, as the heel comes down at him like a guillotine, Adelheid adopts a gracefully flowing demeanor, that of Tai Chi. His hands rise, palms open, wrists crossed, capturing the ankle of the larger Bernstein and redirecting the attack with a sweeping, circular motion to the side, while his own feet work to sweep him around in a tight, circular movement that is intended to draw him out of the 'R' leader's direct facing, and catch him at a flanking angle to open up a chink in his defenses.

Not that Rugal really has these.

Still, the grace of his movement is undeniable, but his power is not inconsiderable, either. He'll demonstrate that power now, as he lashes out with one gloved hand, his slender, elegant fingers attempting to wrap themselves around the girth of Rugal's throat, with long, glassy nails digging in to the flesh deep enough to leave crescent moon shaped marks in their wake.

Should he succeed in his gambit, the Bernstein heir will rush forward with his prey, dashing along the deck of his former home towards the wall of the deckhouse. There, he'll use all of his surprising strength to drive the behemoth body of his father not just into that steel wall, but rather through it.

COMBATSYS: Rugal dodges Adelheid's G. Drucken.

[         \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////////// ]
Adelheid         0/-------/----===|===----\-------\0            Rugal

[RUGAL]
Adelheid's skilled defense sends the falling heel driving into the armored plating of the massive vessel, a crunch of bent steel audible along the deck from Rugal's landing. Given the sheer ferocity of the attack, even in its miss, there is never any question that he is attacking the youth with every bit of force he is capable of. Of course, holding back was never the cartel leader's way.

Tests should not be scaled to the magnitude of the man, but rather the man must become powerful to measure up to them.

Rising out of his wide stance landing, drawing his forward foot back closer to his bracing left, the master demonstrates his savage speed as the crimson-eyed prodigy flanks around him. Relying on sense of hearing and an instinct honed by a lifetime of battle rather than actual sight, the crimson suit clad living weapon moves with the speed of lightning, leaning back around the younger, yet still dangerous man's reach, evading his vise-like grip intended for his throat in a coordinated lean back and side step.

It proves to be just enough, Adelheid's fingers brushing over his father's collar but failing to secure that much needed grip. And in that instant, the two are dangerously close.

"Yes," the older man muses, his left hand snapping out with the striking speed the world's fastest serpents would be envious of, seeking his son's own throat in retaliation. Not to haul him off into a mad dash across the deck, but rather to heft him up off his feet, using the strength of one arm to wrest the young man into the air before turning and slamming his right arm in, closed fist, toward the Prince of War's sternum while releasing his neck.

"Assume your opponent is armed even when they show an empty palm."

Though the man rarely utilizes deception in his own combat style, he has never judged those who do. Weapons, deceit, illusions... tactics for the battlefield. Fights to the death hardly care what options were resorted to, only who actually continues to breath at the end.

COMBATSYS: Adelheid fails to interrupt Scorpion Blow from Rugal with A. Kunst Eins.

[              \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ////////////////////////////  ]
Adelheid         0/-------/---====|=====--\-------\0            Rugal

[ADELHEID]
Of course, The Lord of War was too swift and too keenly aware of Adelheid's own techniques to fall for such tactics like attacking from the flank. As Adelheid tears at his elusive father's collar, he knows that he is going to be countered with pain and misery. He can only do what he might do prevent it by pushing himself further.

As the massive meathook that is Rugal's hand reaches out for him, Adelheid ponders how it is that, no matter how much he has grown, that looming hand still seems larger and more intimidating than anything else he's ever seen. So terrifying, that approaching, outstretched palm, and thick, clawing fingers. He lashes out against it, in an attempt to duck out of reach and punish his father with a straight snapping backwards kick to his chin.

He's not fast enough.

Grasped, Adel is lifted from the ground. His fingers claw at the unyielding wrist of the arms dealer, but his bloodied face betrays no fear. Alizarin eyes simply stare into his father's own, defiant and proud.

The fist collides with his chest at the same moment that Rugal releases his death grip on the boy's throat. Adelheid buckles over the punch, his body collapsing in a sprawling flail of limbs, as he's sent thrust back and falling to the ground. No sooner than he does so, he flips backwards nimbly to his feet, and wrenches the now torn and tattered tuxedo coat from his body, tossing it aside to be forgotten. Fists clenched, and his broken face looking more determined than ever, Adelheid readies himself for what comes next.

[RUGAL]
Pulled off his feet before he can get the leverage to execute what could have been a clean hit on his aggressive father. Of course, at this range and speed, what other options did he even have? The taller man's reach and height advantage coupled with over a generation of additional experience on his son proves to be decisive in this part of the exchange.

But even with a dangerous hold on the skilled youth's neck, Rugal knows better than to keep him held for long. With one arm occupied with holding him up, and his own feet firmly planted to support the dead lift, Rugal is in a poor position to defend himself the instant the young prodigy tries to break free with a violent attack. Thus there is hardly any delay before his fish comes slamming in with brick pulverizing force, dropping the platinum blond to the unforgiving deck of the sea fortress. Adelheid is left to his own devices to recover his footing, and as before, he knows better than to delay. To pause for even a moment is to invite a fight ending attack from a man who will strike without remorse.

He does have a moment to rip his jacket off, the coat torn to the point of being doing more harm to his image than good - a threshold his own father will cross at times when truly pressed in battle. But the only reason he has a moment is because the elder Bernstein isn't running him down.

Instead, he is holding his ground, leaning forward, fists clenched tightly in front of him, powerful muscles beneath his layers of clothing seeming to bulge to the straining point of the expensive fabrics. A black aura builds around him, ebony flames that ripple up to the level of his knees as he grits his teeth, drawing in heavily on the breath of life available to most fights who learn to manipulate chi.

But while most balanced fighters develop an almost symbiotic relationship with the world, gathering energy to themselves then releasing it in an altered, but no less pure form, Rugal seems to be tearing it from existence around him. His soul is a voracious thing and in this moment, only the swirling maelstrom of power drawing in over the deck with the crimson suit-clad man as its epicenter can sate his appetite. Rather than borrow the breath of life, he seems to be taking it forcibly, infusing it with his own dark aura.

"This evaluation isn't over yet." Rugal's voice thunders out along the deck, his commanding presence continuing to ripple off around him, an unseen but most definitely felt thing that could steal the breath away from lesser men.

COMBATSYS: Rugal gathers his will.

[              \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////////]
Adelheid         0/-------/---====|=======\=------\1            Rugal

[ADELHEID]
Where his father is a force of dark energy, devouring the life force of the very earth itself to fuel it to his own unholy ends, Adelheid is far less monstrous. And this is where the difference in their character truly becomes apparent. Where Rugal is a creature of darkness, evil and corrupt to the core, Adelheid is a man of honor. Oh, he's ruthless to his enemies, and those of his father. He's loyal to a fault, to 'R', to Rugal, and to the Bernstein legacy. But he is not the same kind of creature that Rugal has turned himself into. So maybe it is a wonder that Adelheid has come this far emulating the creature that now ripples with dark energy before him.

"No, Father. I'm no coward. I fight until I can no longer move at all. If I can't move my limbs, I'll bite my opponent. I'm still standing, so the battle shall continue," he replies to the Lord of War's proclamation. His stance doesn't change. He remains in the same stance that his father uses to fight, though his posture is more relaxed.

Where Rugal's gathering of energy is something violent, in and of itself, there comes a stillness over Adelheid. A sense of unerring calm. Almost tranquil, even. His crimson eyes remain focused on his father, but there is no malice or ill intent within their ruby gaze. He merely draws in breath through his nose, releasing it through his mouth. Slow. Steady.

COMBATSYS: Adelheid gains composure.

[          \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////////]
Adelheid         0/-------/----===|=======\=------\1            Rugal

[RUGAL]
In spite having been raised in the presence of a man who's blood boils with the furious influence of an enraged nature god, Adelheid has always managed to be his own man rather than simply a more slender replica of the Lord of War. Even as the vengeful corruption within Rugal's dark soul taints all he touches, somehow his own progeny has developed his own code of ethics, a strict honor that he held himself to. It was a curious divide between the two, but one that Rugal abides as long as it didn't get in the way of the 'R' Cartel's logistics or his own ambitions... and of course, what he doesn't know about whatever Adelheid does with his growing autonomy can't hurt him, can it?

There is a deep, subtle rumbling in the deck, as if the ship itself was being stressed by the power the elder Bernstein was drawing in on himself. But it finally peaks, as if a passing storm was finally moving on. Adelheid's answer is met with a roar, "That's right!" Rugal laughs, clearly pleased at the resolve readily apparent in the boy even as he fights on through the pain of his father's attacks.

A new power begins to build even as the black flames die away. Standing up straight, Rugal stretches his arms behind his back, his entire powerful limbs encased in sheaths of churning, light blue wind chi. The prodigy would know the posture well enough, that build up of power, just one more demonstration of his father's phenomenal wellspring of chi energy.

Rugal stretches back even further as the power in him builds, his coat and scarf whipping around his shoulders as a corona of light builds behind him.

"Kaiser....!"

He slams his arms forward then, smashing all of that pent up, violent energy into a singular wall of chi that explodes out toward Adelheid. Though the build up was easily observed, the sheer speed and accuracy Rugal brings to bear when launching it would be a challenge for even the world's fastest fighters to contend with.

As the wave of chi explodes forward, steel and wood buckle and snap up from the deck, drawn up in a tumultuous wake of debris behind the attack, leaving wide grove carved in the surface of the ship.

"WAVE!"

COMBATSYS: Adelheid reflects Kaiser Wave from Rugal with G. Kreis+.

[           \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////////// ]
Adelheid         0/-------/-------|=======\=------\1            Rugal

[ADELHEID]
Adelheid remains there, stoic and focused on his father. His father is the hurricane, but Adelheid is like the Eye of the Storm. While the deck of the ship groans in protest under the strain of Rugal's spiritual pressure, and the detritus of their battle so far whips about on gale force winds stirred up by Rugal's gathering energy, around Adelheid, there is nothing but stillness.

And then, the Lord of War unleashes that attack. The king of all ki blasts. The Kaiser Wave. Adelheid only knows of very few techniques that even hold a candle to it, such as the Haohshokoken of Kyokugen fame. But even then, they can barely be called a match for this monstrous wall of ki.

It comes rocketing at him, churning up the tarmac and leaving a swirling whirlwind of debris behind it's blinding, cometlike trail. Any fighter who finds themselves in front of such a fearsome, definitively endgame attack such as this would be right to feel a deep rooted fear down to the very core of their soul. This is the kind of attack that can strip flesh from shattered bone.

But Adelheid knows it well. Though his mastery of it was not so complete as to unleash it as willingly as his father, Adelheid is capable of performing the same feat. A feat stolen from Strolheim, no less.

Adleheid feels no fear.

The Prince of War responds by twisting his body, torquing to the side and crouching, before launching himself towards the darkened sky overhead. Wind infused chi flares around his booted foot, and his long, slender leg sweep inward and up in a large, circular arc. The blinding light of his chi creates a nearly two dimensional scythe, which meets and collides with the wave of Rugal's attack. The two meet in a blinding flash, but the power of the wind ultimately overcomes.

"GROß KREIS!"

The Kaiser Wave buckles in on itself, and bulges out the back, before racing like lightning in the direction of its progenitor, the cartel leader Rugal, with all the same destructive force that it was sent with. The deck between them is now nearly completely destroyed, leaving only the steel beams that brace it exposed like a skeleton stripped of it's flesh. Wires and hoses spew forth electrical sparks, hissing steam, and flowing water, like veins and nearves exposed in a gaping wound. Father and Son are both likely to survive this battle, but will Black Noah?

COMBATSYS: Adelheid successfully hits Rugal with Reflected Kaiser Wave.

[           \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////////////     ]
Adelheid         0/-------/-------|=======\===----\1            Rugal

[RUGAL]
Rugal stands, his trunk-like arms extended, leaning into the discharge of phenomenal chi sent toward his son without any sign of holding back. For most, it their life would flash before their eyes before the inevitable end, such is the magnitude of power titans of war can manifest at this tier. And even Adelheid, with as refined and stalwart aura as he may possess, could be assured of a painful experience if he responded to the threat with anything less than absolutely flawless timing, a feat he accomplishes with perfection.

The scything kick that proves to be his defense is the next generation Bernstein's take on the dreaded Genocide Cutter technique of his father, with an interesting spin that his old man's version was never designed to execute - the ability to scythe through and deflect energy, leaving the crimson-eyed prodigy unscathed. It was a token of his ingenuity that he could take a technique that was designed for such raw, brutal aggression, and turn it into a skillful defense.

And as the large portion of the legendary Kaiser Wave hurtles back at its creator, it's clear that he has succeeded in his precision-timed gambit. The taller old warrior draws back, raising his arms, preparing for impact as the remnant of the chi wall smashes into him, sending him sliding back along the deck, further from the deep pit carved into the ship by the dueling powers.

When Rugal's feet find the traction needed to come to a stop once more, he lowers his arms, the sleeves of his coat tattered by the violent reprisal of his son. Even the white dress shirt before is torn in places, victimized by the churning violent wind chi of House Strolheim's most feared technique.

"Ha ha ha ha!" Rugal laughs, standing up straight then. His own boy is learning how to defeat some of the most feared signature moves known throughout the globe. How can a father not be proud of that?

"Acceptable!"

The praise is shouted across the gulf that divides them now, before Rugal rushes forward three steps and hurls himself into the air, his right arm drawing back, crisp, blue energy surging along his limb. His trajectory is directly toward Adelheid now as he falls from the sky with all his fearsome power, swinging his fist forward with perfect timing to smash into his son with a giant burst of chi!

COMBATSYS: Adelheid dodges Rugal's Dark Smash.

[           \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////////////     ]
Adelheid         0/-------/-------|=======\===----\1            Rugal

[ADELHEID]
The praised heaped upon him by his father does elicit the most faint of curvatures on Adelheid's pliant lips, as if only entertaining the idea of a smile. Of course, he is proud to have won that much from recognition from a father that has been nothing if not distant and holding him to the highest of expectations. The Scion of Bernstein has worked nearly his entire life for that.

And that alone has invigorated the young blonde fighter. He moves with a renewed sense of purpose. His shoulders are straighter, his bearing more regal. His fists clench as his father leaps across the divide at him, and he peers up with those inscrutable red eyes, watching and waiting. And at the last moment, Adelheid drops to his hip, tucking his legs up and rolling on his shoulder to the side. This takes him out of reach for his father's disastrous chi attack.

His movements are fluid and graceful, and uninterrupted, Adelheid rolls onto his feet, and immediately he turns, his right leg lashing out with the swiftness of a serpent strike. The kick is immaculate, a perfectly executed front kick that leaves Adelheid poised on the ball of one foot in the splits. But it isn't the kick that one should worry about.

From that kick, Adelheid's chi creates a flare of wind-powered chi. The chi flares in spikes as it cracks through pavement and concrete, tearing it asunder as it courses at Rugal. Another familiar technique, mirrored from Rugal himself, which in turn, was stolen from the infamous Geese Howard. The Reppuken, with Adel's own flare.

COMBATSYS: Rugal just-defends Adelheid's G. Kicken!

[            \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////    ]
Adelheid         0/-------/--=====|=======\===----\1            Rugal

[RUGAL]
Perhaps in the moment he witnessed his son capable of driving back the tremendous force of the Kaiser Wave, Rugal felt a sense of accomplishment in and of himself. To have the young man not only stare down such destructive power but launch himself into it, trusting in his own power to defeat it... And then to have such bold self-assurance met with success. Pride, when it comes to Rugal Bernstein, may be a purely selfish thing, but that doesn't mean it can't manifest in a way that allows his crimson-eyed right hand of 'R' share in the moment if but a little bit.

And the effects of such are reflected immediately in the young man's accurate and timely evasion of the crashing attack. Rugal lands hard, his fist smashing into the deck with an accompanying discharge of the gathered chi. More metal and energy erupt around the man as Rugal rises to his feet, immediately forced on the defense so swift is his son's retaliatory technique.

Even as the tall Purveyor of War turns into the incoming violent storm of an attack, he whips his left arm up, drawing residual energy from his explosive landing up into a backlash wave of chi, an effortless gesture, yet one that causes energy to collide with energy, the two nullifying each other out, scattered into a harmless display of brilliant white.

And then from out of that almost concealing display of energy, Rugal launches forward, his left leg leading the way, a swath of that crimson, bladed chi his dreaded Genocide Cutter is known for possessing following in the wake of the strike as he aims to plant his foot squarely into his son's stomach.

The impact would be followed by the elder Bernstein turning into a backward sweeping kick to the torso with his right leg, followed by a sharp snap kick with his left intended to dislodge his only pupil from off the deck and into the air a small distance.

Each sweep of the tyrant's leg would be accompanied by that sharp, bladed chi, and should he succeed in launching Adelheid in the end, his right arm would snap out, grabbing him out of the air and slamming him back down hard against the deck.

The entire sequence would pass in under a second - four dangerous strikes, each one bearing more danger and force than most fighters can muster if they put everything they have into an attack. Should the energy miss Adelheid all together, each edged swath of energy will gouge into steel, leaving deep grooves in the already mangled front deck of the carrier.

At the rate World Warrior is going, the ship isn't going to be able to launch jets for months!

COMBATSYS: Adelheid fails to deflect B's Destruction from Rugal with G. Wand.
# Disabling hit! #

[                   \\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////    ]
Adelheid         1/-------/=======|=======\=====--\1            Rugal

[ADELHEID]
As Adelheid witnesses the purity of his father's skill and mastery of spiritual energy, deflecting and nullifying his attack, Adelheid can only try his best to prepare for the backlash that he knows is coming. Where most would feel a sinking feeling in the pit of their stomach, Adelheid, in truth, feels a rush of exhilaration. This is, after all, his birthright. This is the legacy that he is destined to inherit. Rugal Bernstein's power will be his, someday. And a part of him, rooted somewhere deep, deep in his blood, relishes that fact. It craves the power. It wants to give in to the violence.

Such thoughts create a mild distraction for the Prince of War. That distraction is, however, just enough. As Rugal comes in with that leading kick, Adelheid does his best to mount his defense. He knows that the assault that follows is going to be infused with chi. So, he does what he knows is the best solution. He summons forth a sparkling, shimmering barrier of emerald hued chi himself. It flashes, and starts to spread into a twirling disk, but...

But Rugal's attack punches right through it, sending sparks scattering and dissipating in every direction.

Adelheid is lifted up by that first kick, his booted feet leaving the ground. Suspended, he is victim to the ruthless assault, every sweeping kick following tearing at him, shredding the pristine white shirt that adorns his body, until there is nothing of it left but tattered remnants peeking out from under the leather belts wound around his waist like a cummerbund, and in turn, exposing the tight fitting black, sleeveless shirt that he wears below, along with the suspenders that loop over his shoulders.

Slammed down into the concrete, Adelheid doesn't make a sound. No. He knows better. To cry out in pain is weakness, and his father will tolerate none of that for him. He accepts his punishment as a learning experience. Do not be distracted, even by the thrill of combat or the promise of violence.

He twists and turns, his body spinning, legs akimbo, like a break dancer, before he bounces back up to his feet. He wipes the blood from under his nose, and his mouth, against the back of his gauntlet and smirks. Then, he rushes in at his father.

His first kick sweeps in low, looking to unsettle Rugal's balance with a kick to the shin. It's a gambit he tried at the start of the match, but it's never a bad gambit to try to destabilize a fighter's foundations if you can. Without pause, he switches legs, lifting the other high, in nearly the full splits, so that when he releases his bent knee, the straightening of his leg sends his steel capped toe down to crash at Rugal's face. Without even letting that boot touch ground, the Bernstein heir rechambers it, pivoting his hip away from his target, and launching a forcefully thrusting sidekick with the intent of driving it directly into the solar plexus of the larger monster.

As Adelheid witnesses the purity of his father's skill and mastery of spiritual energy, deflecting and nullifying his attack, Adelheid can only try his best to prepare for the backlash that he knows is coming. Where most would feel a sinking feeling in the pit of their stomach, Adelheid, in truth, feels a rush of exhilaration. This is, after all, his birthright. This is the legacy that he is destined to inherit. Rugal Bernstein's power will be his, someday. And a part of him, rooted somewhere deep, deep in his blood, relishes that fact. It craves the power. It wants to give in to the violence.

Such thoughts create a mild distraction for the Prince of War. That distraction is, however, just enough. As Rugal comes in with that leading kick, Adelheid does his best to mount his defense. He knows that the assault that follows is going to be infused with chi. So, he does what he knows is the best solution. He summons forth a sparkling, shimmering barrier of emerald hued chi himself. It flashes, and starts to spread into a twirling disk, but...

But Rugal's attack punches right through it, sending sparks scattering and dissipating in every direction.

Adelheid is lifted up by that first kick, his booted feet leaving the ground. Suspended, he is victim to the ruthless assault, every sweeping kick following tearing at him, shredding the pristine white shirt that adorns his body, until there is nothing of it left but tattered remnants peeking out from under the leather belts wound around his waist like a cummerbund, and in turn, exposing the tight fitting black, sleeveless shirt that he wears below, along with the suspenders that loop over his shoulders.

Slammed down into the concrete, Adelheid doesn't make a sound. No. He knows better. To cry out in pain is weakness, and his father will tolerate none of that for him. He accepts his punishment as a learning experience. Do not be distracted, even by the thrill of combat or the promise of violence.

He twists and turns, his body spinning, legs akimbo, like a break dancer, before he bounces back up to his feet. He wipes the blood from under his nose, and his mouth, against the back of his gauntlet and smirks, prepared for the next attack delivered to him.

[RUGAL]
And he need not wait long for the next attack to come. For the now relentless chain of some of Bernstein's finest techniques, he is bearing witness to the momentum his father can generate when fully absorbed into the heat of battle. This isn't the violent, wild thrashings of a crazed maniac - though let there be no doubt, at times madness does seem to overtake the man, causing him to lash out with forbidden power or savage combinations of raw brutality against anyone unfortunate enough to be in his vicinity...

Instead, this is the precision clockwork execution of a master in motion. Each sweep of his leg, each snap of his arm all part of a sequence of attacks that leaves almost no room to recover or counter attack. From the moment the elder Bernstein was struck by his own reflected Kaiser Wave, he has been attacking in a singularly relentless manner, incomprehensibly fast yet no less dangerous for the pressure he maintains. No words now, no pausing to interrogate or demand explanations. Adelheid will know, he's seen him like this before, when his father becomes lost to the moment of battle and all other considerations will do nothing to distract him from his goal. There will be /no/ reprieve until the fight is resolved now.

As Adelheid recovers to his feet swiftly, he will have but a moment to wipe the blood away before the shadow of his father will be immediately upon him. With the forward momentum of a runaway locomotive, Rugal Bernstein aims to collide with his son, his tree trunk of an arm smashing into him in a devastating lariat in a bid to hook in the more slender fighter and carry him along with him.

And if the young man is caught, the master of countless martial arts, veteran innumerable fights, and adapter of hundreds of fighting techniques... will rely on a surprisingly simple but no less effective show of force as the two hurtle toward the thick steel of the command and control superstructure.

From a meter out, Rugal would pivot, twisting his body to the right, slamming his arm out to smash his son into the unyielding armor with a truly staggering convergence of forward momentum and phenomenal muscle power!

COMBATSYS: Adelheid blocks Rugal's God Press EX.

[                      \\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////    ]
Adelheid         1/------=/=======|=======\=====--\1            Rugal

[ADELHEID]
Oh, even when The Lord of War might give in to the violence inherent in his nature, Adelheid has enough insight to know that there is never any real, true madness. There is always a cunning to his father, even at his most violent and ruthless. Even with he froths with rage, the man is a brilliant tactician and the appearance of a mad, rabid dog is little more than an illusion. It may be hard to see that, at times, but this... this is not one of those times. The elder Bernstein is in rare form for this match, his momentum building perfectly to meet and overpower that of his son. It is the perfect example of the difference between them. For Rugal, that momentum is effortless. For Adelheid, it comes in fits and stops. Small victories keeping him adrift in a sea of failures against this superior foe.

He has made it this long, which is more than many would be able to boast.

The looming figure of his father brings Adelheid's ruby eyed stare upwards and he knows the intent behind his father's movement. He manages to step forward, lifting his arms to collide with the inside of Rugal's bicep as he swings his massive arm at his son. It is like having a side of cow thrown at him, but Adleheid weathers that rather than the brutality of what would follow. But the very thought of it makes Adelheid's blood sing. An ancient song. A song of destruction and rebirth. Something older than time and primal.

Adelheid's eyes flash, and his lips part in a grin from ear to ear, looking almost feral with wild glee. His hand erupts with bubbling red ki that looks... bloody. As if the energy itself was smeared in the walls of reality, and beading up in the air like water on a smooth surface, before it dissipates into crimson mist. That ki infused hand lashes out, clutching like talons at the throat of the master of 'R'. Mirroring his own intentions, Adelheid plans on dashing forward with his father in tow, right towards one of the many jets resting on the tarmac. Provided his grip is a success, the larger form of his father will be crushed against the fuselage of the jet, and followed up with a brilliant eruption of alizarin ki, bursting forth from the ground in a pillar that threatens to pierce the very heavens themselves with its unholy light. The column emanates a soul-chilling shriek, like a thousand wraiths calling out at once, while the image of a skull appears briefly in the midst of that ruby light, screams, and distends as it travels upwards along the column.

COMBATSYS: Rugal interrupts G. Sklaven from Adelheid with Genocide Heaven EX.

[                                < >  /////////////////////////     ]
Adelheid         0/-------/--=====|====---\-------\0            Rugal

[RUGAL]
As Rugal is stopped by his son's stalwart defense, a backlash of air surges past the two, rushing in from the elder Bernstein's wake. By all accounts, he should have swept the more slender fighter clean off his feet and carried him along with ease. Strength, reach, and momentum were on HIS side. But as he had instilled in the youth from a very young age, technique can overcome raw, unadulterated power... and technique merged with an adamantium will can withstand attacks that can scatter lesser men like so many autumn leaves.

Fully engaged in the colliding attack, and so swift is his son's retaliation, there exists no window at all in which the Lord of War could have defended himself against the reach for his throat, the tremendous force applied by the smaller warrior as he carts him back along the deck toward the nearest parked jet. The chi spilling from his fingers burns on contact, melting away the collar of his father's shirt, boring into the flesh of his muscular neck. An instant later, Rugal is slammed against the side of the aircraft, causing metal to buckle, screeching in loud protest to the damage inflicted upon it, the entire plane rocking backward from the kinetic forces in play.

But for all that damage, of being choked, slammed, and burned by chi born of a forbidden influence, none of that would compare to the excruciating agony that would away anyone caught within the pillar of crimson hell that erupts up out of the deck at the point of impact. A hell Rugal will not endure this day.

Rather than be stunned by the impact, he sweeps his leg out and up, that harsh bladed chi unique to the Bernstein lineage trailing along with the arcing strike as he launches himself off the ground with his other foot. The carving blow of the first kick is enough for the savage fighter to break free just before the corrupted column of blood red death explodes up behind him.

His momentum caries him up into a second strike with his other leg in one continuous motion, delivering a second ruthless blow to his son's chest. At the apex of their ascent, his right leg swings up again from below for a third strike before Rugal flips forward in the air, both of his feet crashing down on Adelheid from above, still laced with that deadly chi.

The fourth, crushingly strong hit is the last of the combination, Rugal dropping to the ravaged deck of the Black Noah, knees bending slightly before he stands up straight, breathing in. His right hand reaches to the upper third of his shirt and with a singular, powerful tear, rips both the shirt and the tattered coat from his torso, hurling them aside, leaving the skin tight forest green muscle shirt being worn beneath.

He turns to look for Adelheid then, his teeth grit. The thrill of battle was nearly all consuming, surging adrenaline in his blood resonating with the ancient fury of a sealed god. He was not satisfied yet. He needed more. More violence. More bloodshed!

His hands clench tightly as he begins to stalk forward, murder in his eye, his cybernetic eye flaring with a piercing crimson light. Fingers clench and unclench as everything in his body cries out for more fighting, more-

There is a flash of recognition in his human eye and the man pauses, control settling in swiftly, his face shifting through an array of expressions as he fights back the madness that struggled to the surface. The Tyrant of 'R' comes to a stop, standing up straight.

"See that you take this tenacity of yours with you to your next fights," the man rumbles, brow furrowed in thought.

COMBATSYS: Adelheid takes no action.

[     \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  <
Rugal            0/-------/---====|

COMBATSYS: Adelheid can no longer fight.

[     \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  <
Rugal            0/-------/---====|

[ADELHEID]
There it is. The intangible and indistinct feel of something stirring inside of him. It is as a serpent, coiling around in some hollow part of his soul, sibilant in the way it whispers profane secrets to him, if he would only listen. But listening to those whispers means giving in to the violence. And giving in is so very enticing. It promises jubilation. A rapturous bliss. A release from all of his cares. That is the seductive nature of Orochi coursing through Adelheid's veins.

And that curse flares as Adelheid gives in to it, with his fingers, so slender and delicate, like things molded in porcelain rather than flesh and blood, wrapped around his father's throat. The corrosive energy bubbles up, out of his flesh, through his pores as a baleful crimson light that decays everything that it comes into contact with. His grip is so tight that a lesser man than the Lord of War might have had their windpipe crushed. On his delicately sculpted features, the rictus that he wears looks alien. There is tension in it, and turmoil in his eyes. It's clear that he strains against the madness.

And as he slams his progenitor into the aircraft, Adelheid nearly gives in completely. It threatens to overwhelm him, an--

Before he can unleash the full fury of his corrupt spirit, he is rocked. He's not even certain what his father had done, at first. He just knows that the world goes dark and there is a keen ringing in his ears. He feels the pressure of his father's blows, but only in a sort of dreamlike haze. Distant. Surreal. His body goes completely rigid for a moment, with every supple muscle becoming akin to tensile steel. He's lifted up into the air, and as Rugal's next blow rains down on him, he is knocked limp, and then, he is driven under heel to the ground with enough force to create another crater of cracked and destroyed tarmac beneath him.

But, the unholy energy that had surrounded him, at least, has subsided.

Adelheid hears his father's words as though they were muffled and distorted. A background noise that barely makes it past the ringing in his head, and the sound of his heart raging and pounding against the confines of his ribcage. He gasps for breath, drinking the ocean air in deep gulping. Fingertips claw at shattered concrete, and he strains to lift himself up. But he manages. He even raises his fists, as if he were about to go back in for more. He takes a step.

And he falters.

Dropping to one knee, Adelheid keeps his balance only by virtue of holding himself up on his hands. His face lowers, blood pouring freely from his nose and mouth, thick and syrupy, to spatter on the pavement. Quietly, he replies, "Yes, Father."

Log created on 10:48:43 02/18/2018 by Rugal, and last modified on 00:47:27 02/23/2018.