Match of the Millennium

Description: Enter the mysterious Zack of All Trades! A humble little shack on the outskirts of the island, filled with powerful .. clothing. But perhaps that's not all? Once freed of the burdens of competing in the tournament proper, the shugenja Homura is able to move as he pleases. However, why is he sent here? And what is the mystery surrounding the dashing fighter hidden deep in the bowels of that tawdry little shoppe? He looks an awful lot like a ... z.. what was the word again...?

[HOMURA]
"Iye...."

The little swipe of steel heralds the arrival of the shugenja in the sprawling little houseboat-style hut on the marina, by now overgrown with vines and cattails and all manner of little bits of shrubs and othersuch, no doubt the result of a few potted plants left or run rampant on their own in the moist air and perfect (formerly perfect) weather.

It leaves Homura somewhat comically spitting and 'pff'ing trying to clear some vines out of the way as he strides in from somewhere in the back of the shop, swiping little bits of vines out of his way with his new sword, and trying to get a good sense of where he is.

Of course, there has been a cameraperson chasing him around for awhile, deeply suspecting him of hiding some kind of a scoop. Preposterous! But also very troublesome, as the shugenja is currently looking for things that may or may not qualify as said scoop. Do ancient shinobi weapons count?

Impossible, there's definitely no such thing as ninja anyway.

However, this -has- led Homura to ditch his cameraperson, at least temporarily, by walking through a door that doesn't exist at the back of the shop. "Unlike terrible ninjutsu, shugenjutsu -definitely- exists, and is far superior," Homura opines to no one in particular. Dumb shijou.

"Aie," Homura complains further in a very eloquent way, starting to sort his way through the varying piles of junk. "If I don't find anything valuable, maybe I can find some of those coins they were talking about, at least..."

Homura frowns, looking towards his feet. He plunges his katana straight downwards, harpooning.. something. A length of fancy black chromed fabric ends up dangling on the end of his sword for his examination. Composed entirely of two loops, the entire affair looks like an oversized slingshot. It takes Homura a second to identify it as a form of swimsuit.

"Ugh, worthless," the boy frowns, before slinging the glittery article over a shoulder.
"What is with this island..ano.."

[JOHN DOE]
"Hhhhrrrrrrhhhmmhhhh..."
The low, whispering groan creeps through the abandoned shop, conjuring grainy mental images of leaning wood -framed shacks and creaky old country signs. It's the sort of noise that belongs in only the most dilapidated of dusty haunts, and certainly not this Jurassic Park meets Bikini Land rip off resort the shugendo finds himself in.
"Hrmmmmmhhhh."
A second groan murmurs through the lonely interior, clearly resulting from some sort of tropical draft blowing through.
'THUMP'
A bump and shuffle quivers against a door half hidden behind a leaning surf board, the knob giving a soft, inquisitive rattle.
...
'THUMP.'
A second bump causes the board to rattle, dislodging the tiny black and chrome bikini that had caught at the very tip of the glossy pink and yellow novelty. Dropping lightly from above, the glittering scraps snag on the edge of the dead bolt, dropping it just enough that a soft click can be heard.
...
'CRASH!'
Thrust violently open, the forgotten door flings a wave of displaced knickknacks bouncing across the room. Little clay Buddha statues tumble alongside pink plastic kitties and 'To Scale Proportions' Kasumi dolls. A Zack bobble head bounces off the wall and wobbles about on the floor, head nodding toward a figure that staggers out from the abandoned back room.
A figure in tattered grey clothes.
A figure with two gleaming spots of silver glinting behind a curtain of tangled black hair.
A figure that lets out a low, croaking groan...
It, it must be...
A ZOMBIE!
One of the glittering points drops from the figure's eye and hits the ground with a metallic clatter, bouncing and rolling its way across the floor before spinning to a gradual halt between them.
It's a Zack Island coin...

[HOMURA]
"Ugh, what miserable construction," Homura thinks of the eerie creaking and moaning in the abandoned shop, kicking aside some stray partly-inflated innertubes out of his path as he inspects the shelves. A little souvenir ninja knife is selected, a face made at the unsharpened nature. Ugh. Swipe, swipe.

"Ano. First being eliminated, now getting sent to chase down dead ends. There's no worse fate than this mission," the boy grouses mildly, noticing the discarded slingkini catching on a surfboard nearby, but overlooking it entirely. Surfboards aren't really his interest.

"Even so, I suppose I should search more earnestly. That guy is sure to find his way in here to try and interview me or something soon enough..."

'Hrrmmnngh.' "...Ano?" THUMP. "Ano ano?"
CRASH! "Itte??"

The red-eyed boy looks up over the rims of his shades as there's a small avalanche of bric-a-brac at the far end of the shop, where a dark form comes shambling out, with incredible hair but -very- poor skin.

Homura squints as the shambling monstrosity proceeds to swiftly begin that shambling in his general direction. Or something like that. And for a moment, the boy's mouth hangs slack open. What!!

"Are you Zarine-sensei's husband??" Homura demands. "Was our team callously abandoned for date night on this .. this.. 'Horny Island!'"

Pause. "No? Not a Nosferatu-sama? No? Boatman? No, he -takes- the coins from the eyes. Ano--ano, um, Thriller-kun? It's a -- uh, it's a Michael? No, that's not right, that was the performer I think...hold on..." Homura consults a little flip-pad he's been keeping in his pants pocket, referencing the whole section he's devoted to verifying and figuring out exactly what his so-called sensei's entire deal was. He gets past 'vampire,' goes by 'demon,' and "Oh, yes. wh--what? That's a real thing?? WAH."

Homura makes a face, brandishing a stuffed Kasumi. "Z--zombies!" He should have known.
With a mighty heave, Homura throws the plush entirely ineffectually, like an Ahab wielding a stick of cotton candy. "Why don't you go bother that Texas girl! She loves purifying stuff! Or dipping them in barbecue! You can't have my hair zombie!" He may not have gotten the note about zombies eating brains.
He throws a Zack bobblehead. Again, it will do nothing.

COMBATSYS: Homura has started a fight here.

[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  <
Homura           0/-------/-------|

[JOHN DOE]
The initial lurch in Homura's direction might have been the start of a shuffling zombie charge, or maybe just the random fumbling's of someone recovering from being stuck in the closet for a week and a half. Either way it is pretty threatening, and definitely deserving of retaliation.
'FWUMF'
The extra soft chest of a Kasumi plush bounces harmlessly off of the figure's head, doing little more than catching his attention. Closer observation reveals the figure is assuredly mail, and even reasonably muscular beneath all that caked on sand, dust, and dirty ragged clothing. Shaking himself, the stranger dislodges the other coin to go pinging away across the abandoned countertop, then fixes its hidden gaze on Homura himself.
'PONG'
The discarded bobble head hits next, causing the stranger to flinch, then settle with a slightly put out grunt.
Hair? Did this man just say that he, John Doe, would callously and maliciously attack another man's hair unprovoked and in cold blood?
As the Texan so recently referenced might have said, them's fightin' words.
Rolling his shoulders, John Doe shakes his glorious, luxuriantly tangled mass of locks back from his dirty face and fixes Homura with his soulful, if deeply wounded gaze. Very deliberately he places his feet, bends his knees, and lifts his left hand into a blocking fist. Extending his right palm out between them, he gives a challenging beckon of graceful fingers.
This zombie has apparently seen at least one Kung Fu movie. Also, he's kind of hot, for a zombie...Hot, and sort of familiar.
Weird.

COMBATSYS: John Doe has joined the fight here.

[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////////]
John Doe         0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0           Homura

[HOMURA]
It is entirely possible that Homura has the intentions of the zombie wrong at first blush. After all, zombies and vampires and werewolves are, according to his research, not terribly interested in peaceable pursuits. And furthermore, most things that have been locked away for what is obviously 10,000 or more years are definitely no good at all.

Homura stumbles back briefly, skidding a touch across the ground to put a corner of one of the merchandise tables in the way of his assailant. "But, ano sa, aren't zombies supposed to be .... like, kind of ugly," the boy thinks out loud, tapping the spine of his katana against his shoulder. "Are you sure you're not a vampire? I guess vampires aren't supposed to shuffle like that. Even if they're the bouncing type. And they are certainly supposed to not be dressed in rags..are you sure you're not a Michael? You're awful familiar."

The shugenja seems genuinely perplexed, the fittings and beads draped over his hand rattling as he flicks a page in his self-made research guide. Red eyes scan the page, then look back up.

A kung fu stance?
Homura looks genuinely chagrined.
He shuts his book, his blade gleaming in the dark.
"Ah, there's no categorizing this, is there.."

The gleam that crawls along the edge of his blade is pure moonlight caught from a dim, cloudy sky, casting a weird crackle of light over his haori. The shugenja frowns, tucking away his book in a back pocket. "Itte... I guess there's no helping it."

He knows a challenge when he sees it.
"I guess I have to put the mission on hold for a second."

In an instant, he's off. The boy's waraji slam into the surface of the desk as he mounts it, whirling with a flash of moonlight. There's a flicker of white light, and the boy doesn't seem to occupy his own silhouette for an instant, as if he took a step out of discrete space for a single moment.

In the next, his blade's edge is inches away from the curiously beautiful not-zombie, flying in an arc to lay him open.

COMBATSYS: John Doe blocks Homura's Power Strike.

[  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////////]
John Doe         0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0           Homura

[JOHN DOE]
When the intruder moves, it is with surprising speed of his own. The shugenja's presence returns to focus not two arm lengths away, blade primed to cleave through rags and flesh alike. Lurching forward, JD's beckoning hand snaps up to close over Homura's own, fingers cool but strong as they share the hilt of the weapon. Muscles flexing along his arm, he shoves back against the swing, managing to slow the cut enough that the energy-infused blade merely parts cloth and scores a shallow line into the pale white skin beneath, rather than cleaving him wide open.
"Hrrmmrmrrphk..." is the muttered response, tone and expression somewhat accusatory.
Then, whether Michael, Vampire, or some other monster spawned from the nightmarish depths of Hollywood, JD throws himself beneath the hilt of the blade and brings his guarding fist swinging around in a heavy hook punch aimed for Homura's thigh. There is a lot of power behind that single blow, the actor following it with an upward heave against the hilt of the sword, only to release it and bring that fist lashing forward in a wild blow toward the other man's stomach, before the left swings around again in a rising hook aimed for the taller boy's ribs! Three quick, heavy blows meant to drive him backward over the edge of the messy merch table, only for the Not Zombie to grasp his edge of it, dip his shoulders, and try to flip it over onto him in a cascade of random bric-a-brac!

COMBATSYS: John Doe successfully hits Homura with Bone Yard.

[   \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////       ]
John Doe         0/-------/----===|====---\-------\0           Homura

[HOMURA]
Suboptimal.

Homura finds himself caught by another contradiction in expectations. This pop culture thing is definitely not serving him well when he can just be callously attacked and beaten up by what all appearances indicate is a zombie idol of some kind. Who knows kung fu! "Who's teaching them this!!"

Of course, the reply is not terribly enlightening, involving being thrown off balance and being summarily and quite smartly pummeled. Those are smooth moves, and Homura goes flying.

Kind of. "Kuh! unh!"

Homura doesn't have the same response to being beaten and thrown about as normal people might, and his version of 'being sent flying' is actually closer to tumbling through the air, as if each blow was sort of robbed of its actual kinetic force to leave the boy floating in slow-motion in mid-air.

This sort of gives attempts to smash him with the table more of a 'fighting a bee with a broomstick' kind of mien. Oh well. It works. Kind of. "Wah!!"

The table flops over and pins Homura in swift recourse, bringing an end to his freewheeling in short order. At least -- right up until the boy splits the table in half, floating kind of haphazardly through the split, as if the rules of gravity -don't- apply to him.

Hrmmhmrphk? "Hey! I resent that remark!"

It takes a little bit of a roll, but the white light of his sword blooms, flashing down on a carefully executed diagonal aimed across the grumpy and curiously well-trained idol's shoulder.

COMBATSYS: Homura successfully hits John Doe with Mitsurei.
-* CRITICAL HIT! *-

[          \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////        ]
John Doe         0/-------/=======|===----\-------\0           Homura

[JOHN DOE]
With That Crow Guy temporarily pinned beneath the heavy table, John Doe takes a moment to take stock of the important things. Casting about himself, his eyes alight on the glimmering cup of a very exuberantly sized bikini, and he shifts to check his reflection in the convex surface. Wincing a bit at what he sees, he pats ineffectually at the tattered rags of his clothes, arranges his tangled hair just so, and...
Gets cloven brutally across the back by a descending silver blur.
"Hhhhhhh...."
Breath escaping him in something that sounds a lot like an exasperated death rattle, the Not Zombie actor attempts to turn his head enough that he can see the gaping rent that has been torn from right shoulder to left hip. Clothes sagging away from his pale back, Homura can see that, well...It's pretty bad. Bone shines dryly through the split open skin, muscles exposed and a sluggish line of blood beginning to drizzle out from the edges that smile hauntingly up at him.
"Uuuugh..."
That much, at least, can be easily understood. Head shaking at the raw barbarity of attacking him in such a vulnerable state, JD turns away from the makeshift mirror and reaches out for the Shugenja with both surprisingly strong hands. Where a lesser actor would have to stop and recover from such a hit, such is JD's determination to the craft that he ploughs right on through the grievous injury, attempting to grab a double hand full of the front of Homura's outfit.
Then, and only then, can the actor throw himself backward toward the floor, recently injured back striking the wooden planks with a wince-inducing rattle as he attempts to turn himself into the anchor to Crow Guy's floaty power and drag him head-first to earth into a shop-shaking suplex!

COMBATSYS: Homura dodges John Doe's Cemetery Man.

[           \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////////         ]
John Doe         0/-------/=======|===----\-------\0           Homura

[HOMURA]
"itteitteitte---!"

Waraji fluttering across the ground as the shugenja pumps his legs in midair, the boy skitters in place to reassert the ground's influence over him, floating down and getting his feet under him, somewhat miraculously without flipping upside down again.

"Oh. Ew. Um. Sorry? Kinda? Though, I guess it's not like it matters to a zombie. Or.. hey, what are you staring at? Don't get any ideas, there's nobody on the island who could even fill that thing out--h--hey!"

Being deadhandled by a monster was not on Homura's itinerary, truthfully, and being laid upon with such a matter-of-factness forms the basis of a double disagreement for the young shugenja, the iron grip of the actor(?) laying hold of the carnations at the sides of his haori. At least, until they pop off.

It turns out keeping a grip on the boy is a bit like trying to catch mist, the boy slipping the zombie's iron hands with a quick flick of the hand and a deep crouch, crisply leaning into the motion, and pressing the point of his sword down the zombie's midline in a fast, sharp thrust.

Space is enforced by way of that moonlit chakra, the burst of shearing silver light emanating from the boy's blade more than enough recoil to blast him straight back and away from the beautiful but damaged dead person, his switched hands keeping the blade outstretched all the way until the boy is forced to vault a few unaccounted-for obstacles behind him, a trajectory that may in fact see him land on a toppled surfboard.

COMBATSYS: Homura successfully hits John Doe with Karasu Reverse.

[               \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ////////////////////          ]
John Doe         1/------=/=======|====---\-------\0           Homura

[JOHN DOE]
T A rip, stab, and crash sees JD flopping backward to the floor with a carnation in each hand and a fresh cut down the center of his chest, while Homura bobs away through the air free and unslammed. Glancing down at his front, JD eyes the slice in his filthy rags, then slots one of the two carnations into it, widening the gap just enough to show a strip of muscular chest behind the decorative piece. It's a surprisingly dashing effect for one so ragged, though maybe not as stirring as if he were of the chestier variety.
"Hmmph."
Shaking dust and sand from his already destroyed outfit, the totally not a zombie lurches clumsily to his feet and sways about, searching for his lost challenger. When he finally spots the shugenja balanced atop the bright yellow board, he seems to consider the image for a moment...
A single nod of approval follows, JD offering an approving thumbs up from his empty hand. Stylish game recognizes stylish game, it seems, and the actor is nothing if not polite.
Tucking the other carnation into his hair, the dogged brawler sets off toward Homura at a determined shuffle. That shuffle becomes a stumble, then a jog as he approaches a rack of flowery shirts slumped wearily against a half-busted shelf of tiny jean shorts.
Speeding up to a staggering run, John Doe plants his lead foot against the rack, runs two quick steps up the length, then catches his bare toes on the edge of the shelf and goes flying forward into an uncontrolled tumble that sees him flip once head over heels, arms and legs flailing, before his back foot descends toward the Crow Guy in what might be the world's sloppiest unintentional summersault heel kick.
Whether the attack hits or misses, JD comes crashing down amidst the rubble in a grunting heap.

COMBATSYS: Homura blocks John Doe's Improvised Kick.

[              \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////             ]
John Doe         1/-----==/=======|======-\-------\0           Homura

[HOMURA]
The boy catches his balance on the surfboard with a surprising minimum, but non-zero amount of wobbling and pinwheeling. The board is lodged halfway between the floor and a rack, so the boy has just a bit of a height advantage over the strangely ethereal and polite beginning-to-suspect-as-definitely-a-Michael. Even so, once landed, he barely seeks to press hid advantage, straightening and dusting some shinobi dust off of his pants, or what he hopes is shinobi dust. He's allergic to Horny Island dust.

"Yeah, did you like the landing?" Homura replies idly, fastidious in his dust-dusting. He's completely distracted with the process. "I really have been working on my balance, and I think it really shows. Man, you're a nice guy. And that carnation looks good on you too.."

Pause.
"Wait, what am I saying? We're totally fighting!!"

The boy comes to mind just in time to catch the incoming hang-ten vault off the rack, his height advantage evaporating in a puff of wild flying Hollywood rizz. The boy's sword lifts across his shoulder, the nameless artist's heel kick absorbed across the flat of his blade and into his shoulders, with a rattle of the fittings against his beads with the sound of wood and steel. Both hands brace across the sword, one sliding up the mune to physically -lift- the babyface off balance and spin him, with the rotation of his sword to flip false in his hand.

"Don't get all nice guy on me now! Then I'm gonna feel bad!" the boy shouts, smoothing out the motion and following it up with a tiny pitched whining sound from his off-hand, crackling energy building in the length of his katana. Potentially as a result of a sudden infliction of charisma and rapport, the boy's followup is -not- to try and take his assailant's head off at the shoulders, but a lightning crack of a check blow, stepping in and tilting the surfboard to hit the actor in the midsection with the sword's blunt end, a crackling pommel spear.

COMBATSYS: John Doe blocks Homura's Random Strike.

[                \\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////             ]
John Doe         1/----===/=======|=====--\-------\0           Homura

[JOHN DOE]
With his kick caught on the flat of Homura's sword and his momentum already being reversed into a backwards tumble, John Doe has only enough time to grumble out a muttered, "Hww, fftks mmmm..." in response, his tone modestly humble in the face of the Shugenja's obvious skill.
Dropping toward the piled debris shoulder first, he has just enough time to bring his forearms in and catch the lunging pommel against them before he impacts with a CRASH of broken novelties. Crumpling up into a heap, he lifts both arms, shaking the burning moonlight off of them, and gazes up at Homura upside down.
"Hrrrgh..." he grumbles in commiseration, running one of his newly scorched forearms across his face.
Then, seeming to sense their battle is not yet at an end, friendly or not, JD lifts himself up to kneel in the trash. One hand planted in the heaped thongs and innertubes of party life, he gathers himself. Then, all at once he is surging back to his feet, right hand lashing out to try and grab a hand full of Homura's robe at the chest. There is easily enough strength in the mysterious actor to heft the other man clean off his feet and hold him up and out with his arm perfectly straight, just like a villain from the movies.
There is also enough strength in the Probably A Michael to bring the Crow Guy crashing down in a brutal slam that would snap the surf board cleanly in two, then heft him up and swing him around to plough through the jean shorts and flowered shirts. Then bounce him off a rickety wall and set the whole shack to shaking. Then finally launch him spinning up toward the ceiling with the casual might of a monster from a horror film.

COMBATSYS: Homura manages to escape John Doe's Dawn Of The Dead!

[                \\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////             ]
John Doe         0/-------/------=|=====--\-------\0           Homura

[HOMURA]
"Ah! That's impolite!" Homura blushes. "Ano, luckily I eluded the camera-person...think of what the hosts would say.."

NOTE: Homura has not at all eluded the camera-person, who has cleverly disguised himself as a thong to get this candid footage of mano a zombo.

Of course, Homura is scratching the back of his head and paying more attention to the very suspicious pile of bikinis in the corner than his opponent, recovering in a pile of trash. Maybe he really should -- by the time he remembers he's in a fight, his opponent furiously has him fully tackled, and this time there's no carnations to save him. "W--AH!!"

"H--hey, w-ait a minute!" The boy's waraji skitter as he's drug bodily off his feet. Even in loose robes, the boy's legs pump the air as he's dangled -- and nigh effortlessly, at that, as if he weighed no more than a mouse. "Can we talk about this? T-th-this isn't SLAMFEST!!"

Then Homura goes right through a surfboard, snapping it in twain like his opponent were wielding an axe. But there's a problem. It takes measurably more effort to break the surfboard than it normally would with an opponent's body. The weighting is different, the force required is too great, as if the entirety of the boy actually -did- weigh no more than a mouse.

"Ano... it's a-a-a-a-lm~~ost like you coulda been a contender--"

And then -fwip-. It's like with a sudden assertion of the boy suddenly and violently weighs nothing, and doesn't strictly exist. The prettyboy's undeath-grip on his lapels slips. Not for any want of purchase, but more that there is no longer anything to gain purchase on. The boy's voice breaks, passing through a watery echo before his momentum drains to zero, sending the zombie's swing all the way through the image of his current location. The boy is suddenly set free-wheeling through the air, tumbling end-over-end in the opposite direction, like a soap bubble.

A fingertip rises to his lips, conspiratorially: shh.

The fight suddenly and violently becomes a battle between paranormal forces, as the ghost shugenja alights as a feather on the wall of the little shop. Katana flips correct in his grip as the boy's physical mass reasserts itself as he stands on the wall at a ninety degree angle. For a split second, gravity has him.

And then he's across the room, and a flicker arc of moonlight and steel trails in his wake. One cut, perhaps two. That's really all it's going to take, for the boy to shear off what's left of those rags from his opponent to the waist. In any other context, it would be a head-taking strike.

The NFG, OTOH, gets a cornucopia of fanservice. Uh, maybe a -little- violence. Homura isn't really -that- surgical.
The strike looks way cooler than it is, and it is a lot to prevent the boy from outright crashing into the same rack of jean shorts he was about to get smashed through. Hey, cut him some slack..

COMBATSYS: John Doe dodges Homura's Oni Accel.

[                 \\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ////////////////              ]
John Doe         0/-------/------=|=====--\-------\0           Homura

[JOHN DOE]
The final flailing swish of John Doe's hand, now free of the insubstantial weight of his opponent, flings forward through empty space with unexpected speed. Caught utterly off balance, the actor punches through an oddly pristine rack of sunglasses, sending 100 dollar frames flying in all directions. One of these just so happens to impact the disguised mass of colorful fabrics with a loud CRACK of breaking lenses, though whether it's the glasses or the camera within is anyone's guess.
"Huh." JD mutters, withdrawing his hand with a pair of darkly mirrored shades balanced on his palm. Turning back to face Homura, he shows the wall-walking Totally Not A Ghost his prize, grinning beatifically at his good fortune.
It is in that moment, with his smiling eyes meeting the other fighters, that some sort of connection clicks into place. Whether its instinctual showmanship, or a bro message beamed directly from one brain to the other, JD knows exactly what is about to happen.
The Shugenja leaps...
The actor leans...
Moonlight flashes along the length of a glittering katana...
With twin slashes and the minutest of gentle sways, the pair come apart, Homura nearly acquiring a face full of Daisy Dukes while JD steps passed and turns his back toward the wall so recently stood upon. In dramatic slow motion the actor's ragged shirt comes apart into three pieces, cloth scraps drifting to the ground to reveal a pale, beautifully muscled torso with only the faintest of scar marks running across it. Winking at Homura for the assist, JD snaps open the sunglasses, already void of a price tag, and slides them cooly onto his face.
Stylishly done.
Then, the actor steps forward, cocks back his right arm, and attempts to slug the ghostly guy right across the jaw.
Manlyly done.

COMBATSYS: Homura dodges John Doe's Cross Punch.

[                \\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ////////////////              ]
John Doe         0/-------/------=|=====--\-------\0           Homura

[HOMURA]
Well, would you look at that.

"Ugh, that's so cool," Homura grouses as the Michael finds his hottest look yet, admittedly with a teesny bit of help that the boy is now kind of regretting. It's true, the shugenja just a moment ago was spitting out scandalously high-cut jean shorts from what turned out to actually in fact -be- a meeting with the rack he had been so hellbent on avoiding. He ends up slaying one or two on his way out of the tangle, little swipes of his sword getting him loose.

"Ugh, this mission has been a disaster," Homura complains a bit, pointing at JD with a pair of nunchaku held feverishly gripped. "How is it you get to find all the cool loot and I'm stuck with a bunch of glittery underwear wannabe stuff! This is absolutely not Myo'o approved! I--wh?"

Homura notices he's somehow blundered into a pair of nunchaku, the little weighted metal clubs making a satisfying ring as he holds them. Unfortunately, Homura doesn't get too long to figure out how to wield it, because a haymaker is torpedo-locked right on his jaw.

The cold-cock passes through a semblance of him as the boy is little more than a blur, moving -just about- fast enough at the waist to leave an afterimage for JD's punch to cut through. The boy bends and shifts at the waist, bobbing out of the way of the blow, and almost losing his balance to the exchange. Would you imagine the boy's first instinct is NOT to club his assailant?

True as well! Homura is not really a kung-fu master, and his first thought, being curiously off-balance, is to go on one leg, flicking a nimbus of light down to kick through it -- and maybe kick one of the actor's legs out from underneath him -curiously- hard.

COMBATSYS: John Doe dodges Homura's Light Kick.

[                 \\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ////////////////              ]
John Doe         0/-------/------=|=====--\-------\0           Homura

[JOHN DOE]
SWOOSH!
Fist meeting only air, JD plants his foot and pulls back from the blow, seeming to gain slowly in awareness and coordination the longer the pair of them duke it out. There is a bit of a bounce in his step when he retreats, avoiding the low kick by pure chance, and takes up position near to the center of the trashed shop. A looseness to his boxer's sway that wasn't there before.
Grinning broadly now, the Michael nods his head toward the nunchaku in Homura's hand, dark brows quirking in an impressed sort of way.
, "Lllcck fffffd..."
Fist raised in a loose guard, he allows his attention to wander down toward the toppled rack of jean shorts. Seeming to eye the survivors, he considers...
But surely not...
"Hmmm..."
Absolutely not!
The notion is shrugged away.
Now with a little distance built up between them, John Doe returns his full attention to Homura's face. Bouncing on the spot, he produces a little 'clap clap' of bare feet on wood, moves back and forward to shuffle up his timing and prepare himself, then suddenly bolts forward off of his back foot and sprints forward to meet the Shugenja!
'slap slap slap!'
Steps echoing off the walls, he performs the cleanest run he has yet, right fist cocked back low against his ribs. Leaning in, he twists his torso and fires the punch forward and up, driving toward the ghostly Not A Crow with speed and might!

COMBATSYS: Homura blocks John Doe's Dash Punch.

[                \\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ////////////                  ]
John Doe         0/-------/-----==|=======\-------\1           Homura

[HOMURA]
Ohno, he's learning.

While Homura likes to think of himself as at least competent, the boy would not go so far as to call himself clever. As a result, he doesn't really pick up on the fact that JD's dodge was more luck than raptor-like learning, and so the boy puffs as he stumbles, getting his feet underneath him from the largely reflexive attack, his whiffed kick unbalancing him a moment or two more with a thoroughly vexed 'itte-itte--ta--'

Bouncing on one foot like a kabuki until he is able to spin in place, the boy follows, doing the only thing he can do, which is flip his newfound nunchaku around in his hand to catch the powerful alpha Michael's uppercut on the twin staves, lying along his wrist and forearm. The boy is about to say something, when the shock causes his arm to crackle noticeably, the few beads wrapped over his arm sparking with silver energy that dances warningly across the ground.

"Eehhhh--" the boy makes a face as he absorbs the shock of the blow away from the strike site and into his knees. "No good," the boy comments absently to himself, and it is briefly rather clear he's not paying attention.

He lifts one heel.
"It would be a pain to break up this entire shop, so..."

Homura leaves the nunchaku dangling around the stylish actor's wrist as his silhouette suddenly loses coherence.

First, his hand slips through the clubs of the nunchaku. Then, his body slips windlessly, as the entirely of the boy tries to blow through the actor, this time with no more corporeal distinction than a passing shadow. It's almost like for that second that he's not made from anything at all again, the moors of his appearance flickering noticeably as he tries to cross through the actor's physicality.

And if he does, every nerve in the dead(?) actor's body is going to be set alight with moonlight fire silver, the energy flowing like water into every surface. Energy, powerful, rolling and unrelenting, it'll transfer the crackle of silver from man to man, making the energy excess very much JD's problem.

This also potentially might have the unintended consequence, Homura belatedly realizes, of making JD glow, Last Dragon style.

Well, we're not having any of -that-. The boy flips his katana front to back in his sword hand, presenting the blunt spine of the blade forward. And then, like a sickle, the boy whirls, to try and take the actor's head clean off before he can grow too strong.

Well, not really; it's surprisingly hard to clip someone's head off with the blunt side of a sword, even if you're really really good at it.
He can't help it! That guy is stylish and nice. Why can't the guy interrupting his mission be more of a jerk?? It's seriously causing a problem!!

COMBATSYS: John Doe blocks Homura's Lower World Shinsoku.

[                \\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ////////////                  ]
John Doe         0/-------/-----==|=------\-------\0           Homura

[JOHN DOE]
Knuckles meet wood with a CRACK, JD remaining poised with his arm thrust up before him as silver energy sparks around them both. Hidden gaze shifting to the nunchucks hanging from his arm, he grins slightly, clearly pleased with his reward.
Then things get weird.
Homura's statement draws his attention back to the fight just in time to witness the slight blurring of the other man's outline. Not really comprehending what is happening, he moves his arm as if to offer the Nunchucks back, assuming that is what is being reached for. But, instead of a friendly exchange of ninja weaponry, the Shugenja passes right through his outstretched hand, energy crackling across his perfect skin, and continues forward through his probably dead form.
As the crackling Crow drifts forward to fill JD's space, he learns more than a few uncomfortable facts about the design of the Michael he has been fighting. First of all, whether or not he is a Michael comes back into question, as passing through him reveals a dense network of binding and routing symbols worked throughout his body in fine silver wire. It's like trying to force a path through a chain link fence, silver energy snagging on the intricate infrastructure and being shunted off in all directions.
"G-g-g...ggghhuuuuuh..."
Muscles spasming at the outpouring of energy, JD shivers and jolts, eyes sparking behind his expensive shades. Lines of silver pulse beneath his skin, visible through flesh and the blurry form of the Crow Guy as they reach full merger.
For the briefest moment, Homura passes through the first half of the cage and finds himself stuck in the center, sharing the space with another occupant. A being so stripped down and altered that it would be hard to call it a person, more a battery of raw psyche that all of this wiring is plugged into.
The being roils and lashes out against the stranger, but is a weak thing, floundering and ineffective.
Then Homura is passed, emerging through a large gap in the cage at the actor's back.
John Doe grunts, the wound down his back releasing a spray of sparks from the ends of nearly invisible split wires. Flush with power far beyond what he is normally capable of, his motions are smooth and precise as he turns, bringing the nunchaku up in a sweeping block that catches the spine of the blade against their taught chain with a clattering clack. Thrusting up on the sword, JD twists beneath the blade and spins, whirling the chained clubs around in a broad sweep that circles his entire body and ends on a collision course with Homura's ribs, before following the blow with a quick pivot into a thrust kick to break them apart and gain some distance. Behind his shades his eyes still glow with bright silver light, skin lumenous with the power cycling within.

COMBATSYS: Homura interrupts Random Weapon from John Doe with Gravity of Nagano.
-* CRITICAL HIT! *-

[                 \\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////                   ]
John Doe         0/-------/----===|=------\-------\0           Homura

[HOMURA]
Hrm. It was different from before.

The process of shunting excess chakra allows Homura to spy much more about the exact composition of this increasingly suspicious Michael. For an instant, the actor's body lights up like a Christmas tree, exposing a dense collection of nominally imperceivable co-relations of circuitry. "!"

For an instant, Homura is trapped only so far and cannot move, the enervated network dragging against his senses. That moment is long enough for the boy to see what needs to be seen, and his landing is almost a complete 180 in grace, the boy holding the strike against the chain, blade tightening in the rattle of force output by the creature.

Red eyes sheathe shut.
"Ano. I see now. A being of 'instrumentality...'" He recognizes. "Hitokugutsu? Kinjutsu? Fuuin? Tenchuu? Jinkougaku ... or simply bakemono? Myo'o decides what place there is in the world for things like us."

"Uff--!" It's as if time reasserts itself in brutal fashion. Homura is thrown off-balance by the push against the blunt side of his katana, forcing his weight off and back. But the strike against his side is still strange, without resistance, as if the actor assails a stuffed animal more than a flesh and blood human, cracking against his ribs and sending the boy into a full 360 head over heels. Except that the boy never actually hits the ground.

Struck like a soap bubble, the boy floats over the chasing kick, denying the space as if the very breeze of the mysterious creation's passing limbs had an effect on his trajectory. "Uah! For the time being..."

"No matter how cool or dangerous, the mission continues... you must be the source of what I was sent to find here."

The boy lifts the blunt end of his sword. As he wheels in the air, gravity suddenly takes hold of the boy arbitrarily, as if physics were just a state of mind. An instant later he rolls into his swordstroke, dropping like a sledgehammer down on the empowered Michael's centerline.

[JOHN DOE]
Despite a sudden influx of energy super charging his internal workings, there is only so much that can be expected of the ravaged soul directing his beautiful shell of a body. So it should be little surprise that as the more technical words come flowing out of the other fighter, all JD can offer in reply is a slight, apologetic smile, a minuscule shrug twitching the muscles of his bare shoulders.
Then time reasserts itself and he is whirling through his two strike combination, bare foot blasting through the suddenly empty space beneath Homura.
"HhhH."
Nunchaku still arcing back toward his waiting hand, foot retracting toward the ground, he is completely out of position to intercept the descending cut that falls toward his forehead like a bolt from the heavens.
THUNK!
The blunted spine of the sword strikes JD square in the center of the face, splitting skin from forehead to chin and sending the shattered halves of his sunglasses flying in opposite directions. Dark blood squirts from his nostrils as his nose cracks to the side, hair flying forward and knees going limp as he topples backward to strike the floor pancaked flat on his back.
Nunchucks rattling down around his right hand, John Doe's glowing silver eyes blink once toward the ceiling, perspective reorienting to its new position.
Then, with all the careless airs of a man who wasn't just struck flat, he sits himself up and grins a 'Well, that happened.' sort of grin. Bringing a forearm up to his face, he smears the blood across his cheeks in an attempt to remove it, notices that his nose is crooked, and frowns. Then, he shrugs, tosses the nunchucks clattering away, and reaches out for the other supernatural stranger's knees.
Seeming to be a slow learner, JD attempts to snatch a double grip of the Crow Guy's loose clothing, hopefully using it to claw himself up hand over hand until he is back on his feet, gashed back still spitting silver sparks. Then, unless the grip has been slipped or broken, he will clamp an arm down to trap the katana beneath it, rear back his head, and bring a thundering headbutt mashing forward into the spooky fellows mouth.
"Fffftff." he mutter hisses in scrappy retaliation, seeming oddly good natured about the whole thing.
Then, and only then will he wrench himself sideways, left arm attempting to keep the blade trapped while his right hand flails for a grip on the side of Homura's neck to force him over and down in an only slightly wobbly assisted hip toss.

COMBATSYS: Homura parries John Doe's Grave Mistake!

[                     \\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////                   ]
John Doe         0/-------/---====|==-----\-------\0           Homura

[HOMURA]
"Man... you're tough," the shugenja reflects, rubbing the back of his head with a free hand as the actor suspiciously rises, like that one guy in that movie with the witches. The husband of what's-her-face. But this is an even tougher showing, the actor rising to his feet with a wicked face injury and little more than a humble shrug about the whole matter. Ooh, that nose.

"Eeeh, sorry about it..." Homura frowns. "That really was supposed to be the end of it...gah!"

Of course, Homura is just affronted enough by the beyond-max-powered actor throwing nunchucks that he's easily caught up in a groping parade, the surprisingly pesky assailant crawling up him like he were nothing more than a silk ladder. "Hey, unhand--hrgnh!"

The boy's own shades have somehow escaped punishment up until this point, but this time they follow suit with the actor's own. They take the brunt of the damage from the sudden powered-up headbutt, smashing and scattering in pieces as the boy is captured and ragdolled, being pulled to one side and leaving the boy's red eyes wide with surprise.

"I guess I'm going to have to learn a little more about you..."

Laying hold of the boy's neck is like trying to grip an eel. Even with his sword locked in place, the shugenja is exceedingly dangerous in close quarters, slipping the handhold bonelessly. It's not quite the same as the more ephemeral nature of the boy's motions, but the boy seems to have no trouble rolling with the actor, mirroring his wrenching spin in a confusion of silken speed.

A small glass bead is produced from the boy's sleeve, as silver energy focuses into his arm anew.

"Hya!"

His grip is held on his sword, and only until the last does it become clear that Homura is trying to lock him in place long enough to make contact, a single fingertip moving to set the bead square in the middle of the actor's chest, to stick it there -- and then, to blast it beneath his skin with a silver flash.

The bead itself is actually harmless. Inconsequential, even buried deep in that body, or located later and discarded. But being hit by the boy's energy assault that follows is a bit like being hit with a charging pike, the spear of energy threatening to jolt that already-enervated frame with power, a blast that's followed up with several more, the boy's seal-wrapped palm open to power through several of the potent fist-sized blasts. The boy's goal, on the surface, is to break JD's composure and (hopefully) force the nigh-invulnerable assailant back and distract him from the business of pulling innocent shugenjas apart.

"--- you're starting to feel less like a Michael and more like an Arnold!!" Homura shouts.
This is what happens when a ghost fights a zombie.

COMBATSYS: Homura successfully hits John Doe with Tsukiyomi Buster EX.

[                      \\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////                   ]
John Doe         0/-------/---====|===----\-------\0           Homura

[JOHN DOE]
Bare feet slip and skitter across the dirty floor as the two fighters, now both shadesless, whirl together between stacks and piles of near worthless STUFF. Silver sparks jump and glitter enchantingly, and for just a moment, one could almost believe they were dancing. Embracing as men amid a swirl of sparkling glitter.
Right up until the lightest touch of a finger against flexed pecks unleashes a bolt of silver doom.
"Hrrrgh..."
There is nothing muttered or unintelligible about the pained grunt that escapes John Doe as the glass is bulleted deep into his sternum. Eyes crinkling around the edges, he gives a very relatable sort of wince, still nearly face to face with his slippery opponent.
The second blast jolts his entire torso back, blade slipping half out from the protective grip of his armpit. The third finally breaks them apart, JD staggering free of the clinch as energy writhes across his form, unable to enter the already overloaded seals within.
"Sssssssshhhoooot..."
Being a man of class, JD is far above the notion of cursing in polite company. But even his legendary composure is tested as the energy within him reaches a critical point.
THER'CRRRACK!
With a sound like thunder, a magical circuit is tripped, and all the energy cycling in and around the actor's body is directed down toward the soul of the earth. In practical terms, this means a big ass lightning bolt of chi comes blasting out of his right heel, shattering the floor and sending a spray of burning planks flying in all directions. Stumbling forward through the smoke, his right foot still very much on fire, the mighty Arnold sways on his feet, eyes no longer glowing, and lets out a huffing breath of relief. Though his face is smeared with dark blood, and his hair is still a tangled mess, he seems utterly at peace now that he isn't all juiced up on World Stuff.
Meeting Homura's eyes, the battered combatant slants his first one way, then the other, as if to indicate the crowds of people absent from witnessing their epic clash. To indicate the secret moment that has been shared only between them. Then, swaying his shoulders back, he readies himself for one last push.
Nearly overbalancing backward with his wobbly fatigue, JD balances on his burning heel, sways, then lunges forward into a final dive. Coming low, he skids his left knee across the ground, right knuckles glancing off of the floor as he hunches all the way forward and down over his bent leg. Then, like a true legend of their time, he explodes up from the ground, entire body straightening and fist rocketing toward the sky in a full-body uppercut, attempting to punch the other man clean up through the top of the level.
As God Intended.

COMBATSYS: John Doe can no longer fight.

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

"Fwoouh." comes the exhausted grunt after, JD's legs already beginning to give out and drop him back toward the floor in an exhausted kneel. After that rumble, the actor is completely and utterly spent, shoulders sagging and hair falling forward across his bloody face. He might not be moving for a while. Like, at all.

COMBATSYS: Homura auto-guards John Doe's Dead Rising.

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

[HOMURA]
It does seem rather like a kung-fu movie, doesn't it? The shugenja and the actor whirl in place like twin dervishes for even the slightest whiff of an advantage, only to break violently with the release of the shugenjutsu, a series of buster bolts that drives Homura away -- and almost knocks him to the ground when the powered up actor discharges all of that power into the floorboards.

"Umm. Uh-oh," Homura guesses. "Feeling better?"
"Uh-oh," he repeats, when the actor starts to get legendary.

Of course, Homura only does have those few seconds to recover, bouncing back on his waraji, letting one toe drum against the floorboards, as if to sense out the actor's intentions. "Wh.. um...hey, your, uh... foot.." oh dear.

Homura, to his merit, doesn't -just- panic as Jeet Kune Dead comes wailing in after him like a jilted banshee. He tries, again to that merit, to dissuade the inexorable approach of the walking dead with a few choice swipes of his sword, and a very calculated retreat, until the boy finds himself backed up and his route of escape cut off by some -more- thong bikinis, a set of half-busts styling them and sharing space with a rack of tourist cameras. "How many of these are there!?" Homura complains.

Then he gets it in the -jaw.-
(In the -jaw!-)

Tumbling end over end from the expression of extreme form and dead reckoning, Homura doesn't really have a whole lot to say in the star-studded moment, erupting in a violent cascade of popped flash bulbs as thong-wearing plastic vixen waists and cameras from every major modern period since the late 70s go off in a full on paparazzi event to immortalize that perfect form, sending Homura's weightless form flying.

There is literally nothing Homura can do but close his eyes and wish himself out of existence.

Which is kind of what happens.

The boy's rocketed upward trajectory meets the ceiling not with a huge crash, but with a howling, flanged sound as the boy simply exits stage up, his entire body floating through several ancient layers of ninja thatch without incident, sending him rocketing off at least four or five more feet clear upwards into the sky, before the boy makes a -much- more solid landing, with a deep -paf- of impact.

On the roof.
"S--super cool.. but not very mindful," Homura complains a little bit, before dropping his head back into a pile of straw, puffing out a small puff of consternation.

Maybe if he stays up here the Arnold won't come back to life and get him.

COMBATSYS: Homura has ended the fight here.

Log created on 05:19:07 06/27/2024 by Homura, and last modified on 03:19:08 07/13/2024.