Match of the Millennium

Description: Zack's finally managed to clean his house up after having it trashed by Zack (?) and hosting an Emergency Dance Party. Will it survive a match between fire-breathers, beast-people and sword-slingers? What does Zack's insurance company have to say about all this?

[HAWKSLEY]
There's no signs of any aftermath from the emergency party as Hawksley enters Radio Zack, home of the island's main (only) music station, as well as the DJ himself. The whole gathering had been a strange sort of affair. Sure, there'd been booze aplenty, which suited the Irishman just fine but the whole atmosphere had been kinda edgy and tense, since the partygoers had known there was going to be a discussion at some point, meaning nobody could truly relax and let go. It'd also been kinda fecked up seeing his old mate, John Doe again. He seemed the same as ever, other than the absence of his entourage, which in the brawler's humble opinion was a blessing.

The reason for Hawksley's presence at the property on this occasion is to play his part in one of the semi-finals of the tag team tournament, alongside Henry, who with him forms Hollywood Heat. The boxer can't help but feel like a bit of a fraudster, since he hasn't had to throw a single punch to get here. Due to their position in second place on the leader board after the Odyssey rounds, he and Henry had received a bye straight to the second round. In the quarter-finals, one of their opponents, Genie had dropped out, meaning that her partner, Arisa had gone to join the also abandoned Braun, leaving the way clear for the lads to progress again. Some people might like the smooth route that Hollywood Heat have had but Hawksley is more of a rough kinda fella.

The Cork cruiserweight has dressed for today in his only remaining items of clothing, some blood-splattered denim shorts and a red paisley tank top, a gift from the aforementioned John Doe. Fans of the fiery fella will know that the top is unlikely to stay on however, once the fighting gets underway. One of Hawksley's eyes is still looking slightly swollen, though he can at least see out of it now. He's also covered in numerous cuts and bruises but then what else is new? It seems the Irish lad can't ever seem to avoid injury for long.

There's no sign of Zack in residence today. From what Hawksley has heard he's going off somewhere with Kenzo, Ishida and Arisa. No doubt he'll find out more about that later, but for now his focus is on the upcoming fight.

[HENRY]
Henry makes sure to arrive with Hawksley for what ludicrously seems to be both their first fight and the semi-finals. His mentor's sentiments echo his own, but he's not about to give them voice. He's just worried whatever tabloid or rumor mill covers this tournaments is going to call any potential win on their side unearned.

Though perhaps he earned his place here on the back of those damned meerkat things alone. Heaven only knows that was one of the most difficult fights of his very young career. And he's not looking forward to this next one either.

He doesn't hold anything against Max for what she is, but he's have to be an idiot to disregard it. So, although his clothes are far from their usual neat and orderly appearance, more rumpled and stained than he'd ever usually allow himself to be seen in, his sword and shield look like they have been polished, and in the case of the sword sharpened to a gleam.

He stands nervously, not too far from where Hawksley is, shuffling from foot to foot as he impatiently waits on their opponents for the day.

[BUCK]
"Hawks! Where you at, bro?!" Come the call of Buck's voice way before he finally strides into the radio station, practically bouncing on his toes. If there is at least one person that seems better off for being trapped on the island its Buck Finley. If anything the whole ordeal only seems to have energized him. Evem if he's 0 and 2 against the Irishman he seems raring to go and hardly worried at all. In fact he is bouncing on his toes the last few steps into the radio station.

"There you are! And with the blue kid, too!" He shoots them both with a pair of finger guns as he starts to pace the interior of the room.

He's dressed like he just came in off the beach, in just a pair of trunks, his signature hat, and a pair of sunglasses the he pulls off after a moment to perch atop the hat. Who needs a shirt? Really? He ruins those so quickly he ran out pretty much day one.

He tilts his head back and sniffs at the air. "Max shouldn't be too much longer." He says as he moves to the opposite side of the dance floor from Hollywood Heat, popping a squat. "I'm feeling good about today, ain't gonna jinx it though." He says, mouth breaking into one of his slightly too wide grins.

[MAX]
As always, the Gear's new mentor seems to have a knack for sniffing her out. She still hasn't figured out quite what it is that gives her away. It can't be her fur since he's noticed her presence even while she's untransformed. Her magic, perhaps? She can sense magic herself so that wouldn't be too far fetched, though she was literally designed for that purpose. He seems to be, for the most part, a normal human with some unusual powers. It's a mystery that vexes the little trickster as it makes it pretty much impossible for her to jump scare the man.

Max has, in fact, been here the entire time. While the radio station is lit up like a nightmarish fusion of a kaleidoscope and a game of Simon Says there are still plenty of dark nooks and hidden crannies for a small girl to conceal herself within. She had been planning to give their opponents a good scare, maybe throw their game off a little before the fight even started. The kid with the blue hair seemed particularly nervous - a perfect target for a little bit of sneaky mischief. But now that Buck has alerted them to her presence that sort of bursts that bubble.

Or does it? He didn't actually say that she was in the room, just hinted that she might not be far off. Perhaps the game is still afoot.

Max grins as she slowly crawls from her hiding spot atop the massive disco ball, slinking silently down the back side of the glittering sphere so that Buck doesn't spot her and give away her position. Calling it a hiding spot might be a bit of a stretch, to be honest. While sizable the hanging decoration isn't big enough to completely conceal her from view. But, as she's come to find out, humans almost never look up.

The Gear pauses, considering her options. Buck knows she's around but he isn't her target. The sword-wielding boy is probably alert now but doesn't have any idea of her whereabouts. Hawksley seems mostly relaxed and she's never gotten the impression from their previous encounters that he possesses any sort of preternatural senses; plus that shiner he's sporting is sure to hamper his vision a little. Obviously the other contestants have run into a bit more trouble than anything she's found on this island.

With the room flashing like a Christmas tree, whatever she does will have to be quick. Fortunately, there's always the old tried and true method of distraction. Plucking one of the smaller reflective panels off the top of the disco ball, Max flips it so that the shiny side is facing the ceiling and then wings it at the far side of the room. The tiny square whizzes quietly through the air towards its target, a small glittering flash amongst the sea of visual noise. Upon colliding with the DJ booth it shatters in a spectacularly noisy fashion, hopefully drawing the attention of the Irishman and his new companion for the few brief moments she needs.

No time to wait and see, however - fortune favors the bold! Wrapping her tail around the orb, the Gear releases her claws and plummets straight down towards her targets like a bungee jumper. The magical appendage hits its normal length and then continues to grow at an incredible rate, extending continuously as she falls until Max is roughly level with the heads of the two men.

"Graaawr!"

The Gear lets out a playful growl and flexes her cartoonishly oversized paws as she suddenly appears in front of Hawksley and Henry, dangling upside-down like some kind of inverted fuzzy purple Jack-in-the-Box.

[HAWKSLEY]
"Are you ready for today, fella?" Hawksley asks Henry, putting an arm around the blue-haired boy's shoulder and giving it a friendly but pretty hard squeeze. "Can you believe this is the first fight we've had in an official capacity, like? Let's hope it goes better for my good self than it did with those sneaky feckers in the jungle. You handled yourself beautifully though. I've got high hopes, so I have."

Before the brawler can make any further comments to his mentoree, Buck bursts in and boy is he on form. A broad grin appears on the Irishman's face, as he watches the bouncy American in action. "I'm right here, fella." He responds to him. "Why, are you looking for some trouble?" The tone of his voice clearly suggests that Hawksley is teasing. "Where've you been hiding anyway? I've hardly seen your gorgeous face since we got here. Not that there's been a lot of down time, what with the hunting, gathering, rescue missions and getting called to emergency parties. Grand job to you and Max on getting past Kenzo and the bassist kid, by the way. They seemed like a tough team to beat."

As Buck wonders about the whereabouts of his teammate, Hawksley hasn't given it much thought. From his experience of Max so far, she likes to make an entrance and he's happy to enjoy whatever show she wants to entertain them with. Between her and the Hollywood stuntman in waiting, it's sure to be quite the spectacle.

Thus, when the gear girl decides to give the swordsman and the scrapper a surprise, Hawksley falls for it hook line and sinker. His dark eyes dart towards the DJ booth, causing him to call out. "Well, would you look at that? The place is dropping to bits before we even get to brawling." The shouting is followed by him pointing in that direction, to aid the mischevious Max further in her display of distraction.

He only turns back towards his tag team partner at the sound of the playful growl and finds himself up close and personal with some purple paws. "Jesus! You'll be going and giving me a heart attack, cailin. Have you been hiding out here all this time? It seems like you've got your hands full with this one, Bucky Boy. Mine is pretty well behaved for the most part." He follows his statement with a wink towards Henry, using his good eye for the purpose.

Hawksley then raises his fists in the air, mimicking the feline's own gesture. It's not with the intent of violence, just joining her in her game. He needs to get past Buck first before he can get a shot at seeing what Max is made of.

[HENRY]
"Ready as I can be." Henry replies a little stiffly, more from keeping his nerves under control than anything else. The fight in the jungle definitely shook his confidence quite a bit, even if Hawksley is praising him for it. He feels like he failed since his mentor went down, and that means he let the Irishman down. Not that he's verbalized that, but it is clear something has been eating at him since then.

Buck is one of the mentors he has not had the chance to meet before, and his fellow American seems to leave him not knowing how to respond. He's used to big personalities, but the entrance just has him shaking his head. "Blue kid?"

He shoots a sideways look at Hawksley as if to ask if this guy is for real, but he's distracted by the shattering of glass.

"What was.. AHG! MEERKAT!" He shouts as something comes springing out of the rafters in their direction. "They followed us!" He shouts, already beginning to swing his sword in the direction of the beast from the darkness, only to stop mid swing as he stares at Max. "Oh.. or not."

He coughs, his face flushing from embarassment as he lowers his sword and tried to act like he didn't just comepletely freak out there. It's actually fairly uncanny how quickly he goes from panicked to dead calm again, as long as no one can hear his heart still pounding quite a bit faster than it should.

"That's everyone, right?" He asks, brushing off the front of his shirt before picking up his shield to slide on his arm. "Might as well get started." Yup, nothing to see here.

COMBATSYS: Henry has started a fight here on the left meter side.

[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  <
Henry            0/-------/-------|

COMBATSYS: Max has joined the fight here on the right meter side.

[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////////]
Henry            0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0              Max

COMBATSYS: Buck has joined the fight here on the right meter side.

[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////////]
Henry            0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0             Buck
                                  >  //////////////////////////////]
                                  |-------\-------\0              Max

With his declaration of getting things started, he's suddenly spinning on his back foot. Turning quickly to face Max once again, and the blade that he stopped so carefully from finishing its swing before licks out quickly, the tip steady as he takes a lunging stab at the feline gear.

COMBATSYS: Hawksley has joined the fight here.

[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////////]
Hawksley         0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0             Buck
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////////]
Henry            0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0              Max

[BUCK]
"Been helping keeping us fed, man." Buck replies when Hawksley asks where he's been. More like keeping himself fed the way the country boy eats. Probably just been swimming the ocean eating fish or something weird like that. But that's Buck.

"When ain't I looking for trouble? And Kenzo is always a problem to get past. Still getting static shocks from door knobs." He mutters with a grin. "Though I ain't givig you an easy pass like last time." He declares, extending from his squatting position just as Max makes her presence known. He's starting to get used to her antics, and just grins as she pops out for the jumpscare on their opponents.

He breaks into a wide grin as the blue kid decides to start things off and he locks eyes with Hawksley. "Well, the kids have started, guess we might as well get going." Kids? He's barely out of his teens himself, but he does a good job sounding like an old man, he even works his knuckles into the small of his back.

QAnd then he's launching himself forward, around the two mentees as he makes a path right towards Hawksley. No fancy tricks this time, he's meeting the brawler with his own fists to start off with, swinging a right hook as he closes the distance to his friend and momentary foe.

COMBATSYS: Max blocks Henry's Quick Strike.

[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////////]
Hawksley         0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0             Buck
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ////////////////////////////  ]
Henry            0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0              Max

[MAX]
The reactions are pretty much perfect.

The Gear's mouth stretches into a Cheshire Cat-sized grin, her sharp feral fangs reflecting the swirl of rainbow colors from the dance floor. Someone is clearly pleased with herself! She doesn't even seem concerned by the naked steel whipping through the air in her direction, as if she can sense that Henry will draw up short of the mark.

"Nah," Max says, lifting her giant paws in a casual shrug. "I only got here a few minutes ago."

Still doing her lemur impression, the girl playfully shadow boxes with Hawksley for a few seconds when he squares up with her. She's more than happy to waste time horsing around. Most of the crew have been busy tending to the necessary tasks for survival on this mostly deserted island and haven't had a lot of time to play with her lately. Even Tanwen has been difficult to pin down.

But, it seems like the nervous fellow partnered up with the Irishman is less inclined to engage in a little fun and games. Max shifts her gaze to regard the swordsman with her curious unblinking stare. She opens her mouth, about to question his strange fear of meerkats, when the sword comes swinging her way again.

"Nya--ngh?!"

A swift demonstration of the small girl's inhuman physiology is promptly put on display as she snaps her teeth down on the tip of the blade, stopping it dead mid-thrust. The bioweapon blinks once at Henry, as if confused by his sudden aggression. Then her eyes suddenly undergo a dramatic transformation, the neon pink of her irises bleeding out to stain the entire sclera until only a pair of cat-like vertical pupils remain in the twin seas of brilliant color.

Max's mouth twists into another grin, her lips bending around the deadly blade trapped between her teeth. Lifting one of her gigantic mitts, she extends a fuzzy index finger and waggles it at the impatient fighter, tut-tut-ing him through clenched teeth.

The other paw comes up in a far more dramatic fashion a moment later. Not wanting to accidentally slash the human's face, the Gear folds her fingers - and the razor sharp claws protruding from them - into a monstrously huge fist and whips it sideways like a wrecking ball at the side of Henry's head.

COMBATSYS: Hawksley blocks Buck's Medium Punch.

[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////////]
Hawksley         0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0             Buck
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////////   ]
Henry            0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0              Max

[HAWKSLEY]
"Attaboy!" Hawksley encourages Henry as he expresses his readiness to fight, even if it's said without much enthusiasm.

There's a nod of his dark head as the California checks in with him about Buck. His buddy is the real deal and it's part of why the Cork fella is so fond of him. Perhaps he'd even vocalise this, if he wasn't busy laughing his arse off at the cry of "MEERKAT!"

"Ah, it's just Max now being friendly." He assures the teen, playfully air punching with her, then giving her a grin. She's a pleasure to be around for a fun loving sort like himself.

As Henry gets stuck in, his mentor roars with approval, moving out of the way, to give him plenty of space, as he sets his sword a swinging at his feline foe. For the duration of the fight at least.

Then it's time for the Season One stars to get started. As Buck approaches him, Hawksley has an amused expression on his handsome face. "Giving me an easy pass? Is that what you were doing? Here is me thinking you just messed with a drunken Irishman on Saint Paddy's Day, when I was at the peak of my powers."

Since it's brawling time, the red paisley tank top is pulled off and thrown over the boxer's tanned shoulder, coming to land on a speaker. When the right hook launches towards him, Hawksley lifts his own fist up to meet it and then shakes out his hand before bringing it to his lips to give his knuckles a kiss. "Don't be breaking my fingers, fella." He warns Buck. "Not this early in the fight anyway."

Slipping forwards, Hawksley twists into a left snap elbow to try and put Buck off-balance. If this works out, he will pivot into a devastating right-handed haymaker towards the farm boy's centre of mass with the intention of knocking him backwards.

COMBATSYS: Max successfully hits Henry with Hammerpaw.

[  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////////]
Hawksley         0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0             Buck
[     \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////////   ]
Henry            0/-------/----===|=------\-------\0              Max

[HENRY]
Biting is not a response he's used to. Even the dreaded meermonsters did not try that particular tactic. Afterall, most would probably consider putting their mouths right on sharpened metal to be a bad idea, there's a reason moms always say not to eat off your knife.

Not to mention, Henry just doesn't like the idea of someone biting his sword. It's enough of a distraction that he can't manage to bring up his shield in time and ends up taking the hammering fist to the side. "This is gonna be a weird one." He mutters as his feet find their traction once more on the stations dance floor.

His grip on his sword shifts, and hopefully for Max she's released it, or else the next part might be a little unpleasant. Red chi flares down along the blade, and he uses the remaining sideways momentum to launch himself into a top-like spin, crimson chi arcing around him in a circle, if nothing more trying to get the gear to back of a little for some breathing room.

COMBATSYS: Buck blocks Hawksley's Detonator.

[  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ////////////////////////////  ]
Hawksley         0/-------/------=|===----\-------\0             Buck
[      \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////////   ]
Henry            0/-------/----===|=------\-------\0              Max

[BUCK]
"Don't damage him too much, Max!" Buck calls out, perhaps a bit cheekily as he closes with Hawksley. His initial swing meeting only with the Irishman's defenses. "Yeah, felt bad about beating up a drunk." He quips back to Hawksley with a grin. "Had to let you win." Buck is quite obviously just teasing the Irishman in his own way. Or maybe trying to lighten the impact of a quite thurough loss on his own morale. His grin is wide, as usual, and meets Hawksley with a wink.

"Aw man, I'll try not to break anything that won't heal up quick." As for himself, no such request comes. Buck's never doen for long, unfortuneately for some. Unless he's in a post hamburger feast coma, which only lasts a few hours at best anyway. The man just does not have an off switch.

He catches Hawksley's elbow in the palm of his hand with a solid THWACK!, keeping it from striking anything too important, even as he lashes out with his other hand, palm open and aiming right for Hawksley

It's less about the blow and more about making contact, as silken spiderwebs burst from his hand at the end of his strike, something repeated a couple more times as he just tries to lay hands on Hawksley and get the gooey sticky strands connected to the brawler.

COMBATSYS: Max blocks Henry's Lion Rampant.

[  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////////   ]
Hawksley         0/-------/------=|===----\-------\0             Buck
[      \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////////////     ]
Henry            0/-------/---====|==-----\-------\0              Max

[MAX]
"Don't worry," the Gear calls playfully, even as she clocks her opponent square in the jaw with a fist bigger than his entire head. "I know how fragile you humans are!"

Having opened her mouth to speak, the sword is allowed to slide free of her teeth without any resistance. She could have easily bitten the top few inches right off and used the tip for chewing gum but as always she tries to keep in mind that this isn't a serious fight and the poor guy would probably not be terribly happy for her to mangle his weapon like that. Everyone needs to be in top shape to handle the dangers of the island as well.

Which sort of begs the question why they're continuing to go through with the tournament under the circumstances, now that she thinks of it. With them all separated like this it would be a pretty opportune time for the crazy firebird to pick them off a few at a time. It's what she would do in her place.

A question for another time. Henry seems more inclined towards action than chatter, unlike their mentors. Max lets out a little huff. This is the second time she's been paired up with some overly serious warrior type. It's like the organizers are going out of their way to prevent her from having someone to banter with! Well, whatever. Even if the swordsman doesn't feel chatty, that doesn't mean she has to be a stick in the mud.

The whirling slash is met with a swift swipe of the Gear's paws. Her claws flash out, crimson-wreathed steel meeting magical bone in a brief but energetic clash as the small girl deflects his strike with ease. Despite her claws being only a couple inches long - and Max herself still dangling upside-down - she manages to align the strike both in timing and angle to precisely deflect the sword so that its path dips below her head and cuts nothing but empty air.

"Ooo, spicy," she says, wiggling her hand in the air like she just touched something that was hotter than anticipated.

Grinning again, the bio-weapon lifts her claws up menacingly as if planning to lash out at him. Instead, her tail releases its grip on the disco ball above and she drops towards the floor as gravity takes hold. Max's upraised paws are used as landing pads, catching her fall and shifting her momentum into a backwards tumble. The excessively long tail that was holding her aloft starts to retract at absurd speeds, like someone hit the release switch on one of those extending rulers used by carpenters.

This combination of retraction and downwards momentum turns the Gear's big fuzzy tail into a big fuzzy club. It plummets down upon Henry from above and Max rolls forward at just the right moment to bring the meaty tip slamming down towards his head before it finally reverts to its normal size again.

COMBATSYS: Hawksley just-defends Buck's Spin Doctor!

[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////////   ]
Hawksley         0/-------/------=|===----\-------\0             Buck
[      \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////    ]
Henry            0/-------/---====|==-----\-------\0              Max

[HAWKSLEY]
"They're all weird ones in their own way." Hawksley comments to Henry. "That's part of the fun." He has to admit though, even he's never been mad enough to clamp his knashers down on a sword, although there was that time he tried to bite the metal door handle of a hotel room after a few too many.

The crimson red flash briefly catches the Irishman's attention and he looks across at the other battle. "So fecking fancy, fella." He praises his protégé. Max manages to fend it off but it was a good effort by the lad and the older man looks forward to seeing more.

Right now though, he's got a duel of his own to deal with. Buck continues the banter before brushing off Hawksley's opener without too much trouble, stopping his sharp elbow and the punch that follows. "Spoilsport." The Cork Cruiserweight quips, around the same time as he sees the spiderwebs forming in front of him.

"Ah feck no. You're not getting that sticky shite all over me." He protests. As he tries to prevent the silky substance from making contact with his skin, he turns his torso this way and that and dances his fists through the air to fend off the threat. It stops Buck from being able to get a good grip on his body, allowing Hawksley to back up out of harm's way.

He doesn't keep his distance for long though and soon he's back in his friend's face, launching a left-handed jab at his jaw. His right hand follows up with a cross, the combination coming together to try and throw off Buck's balance and break open his guard. If it all works out, he'll aim to grab the other man's shoulders and pull his head down to become acquainted with his rising knee.

COMBATSYS: Henry blocks Max's Hammerblow.

[  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////////   ]
Hawksley         0/-------/------=|===----\-------\0             Buck
[        \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////    ]
Henry            0/-------/--=====|===----\-------\0              Max

[HENRY]
It's true that Henry normally isn't this quiet during fights, at least not in the brief experience his mentor may have with him, but part of him seems to think Max thrives off banter, and he's being quietly stoic on purpose. There's a little smirk at one corner of his mouth as he meets the gear's eyes when his attack is once more blocked.

A smirk that grows a little stronger after he positions his shielf above his head to take the majority of the blow from that massive tail club with a dull thunk.

He arches one eyebrow at Max, before giving his sword a quick flourishing twirl. Showy and completely unneeded, but he's gotta show off a little.

The end of the flourish strikes downwards, first seemingly at Max's feet, but instead cutting a gouge through the floor in front of her causing a curtain of red sparks to flare up between the fighters in little pops and crackles.

COMBATSYS: Buck blocks Hawksley's Buzzkill ES.

[  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////////////     ]
Hawksley         0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0             Buck
[         \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////    ]
Henry            0/-------/--=====|===----\-------\0              Max

[BUCK]
"You never let me have any fun." Buck tease-complains, chuckling after he does so. Even as the webbing goes firing off into the distance away from its intended target.

Unfortunately for Hawksley, Buck seems to be a bit more on his game today with his defenses, and he brings up his arms in time to take the blows aimed at his face. "Heyhey, watch the face. Chevy might get ticked if you break anything there." He jests, as if it wouldn't heal up shortly after the fight anyway. What he tries to keep from the bruiser's attention is the webbing still connected to his one hand, which he twists around his fingers even as he keeps his forearms between those blows and his nose.

Afterwards, he jumps back quickly, yanking back on the silken strand as he does so, a small scrape of glass on wood coming from behind Hawksley at the bar.

The bottle of rum that got webbed instead of Hawksley comes tumbling through the air at the back of the Irishman's head, still slightly wrapped in spidery strands.

Though perhaps the threat of being smacked with a liquor bottle will make Hawksley feel more at home.

COMBATSYS: Max endures Henry's Hound Couchant.

[  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////////////     ]
Hawksley         0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0             Buck
[         \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////       ]
Henry            0/-------/=======|====---\-------\0              Max

[MAX]
Thrives? Not really.

Enjoys? For certain.

As a literal living weapon that was designed for infiltration and assassination, Max is perfectly capable of suppressing her childish nature to focus on a given task. Anyone who has witnessed her 'getting serious' and concentrating all of her predatory senses on a particular individual would no doubt be able to testify to the chilling level of focus she can manifest if properly motivated. Henry may yet get to experience a taste of the little Gear pushing her basic transformation to its limits. But, at the moment, she's still feeling him out, both in terms of his combat style and personality.

Having failed to clout the swordsman upside the head for a second time, the purple menace finally drops to her feet and turns to face the teenage warrior. His smirk is countered with another wide grin, the Gear shifting into a loose stance as she squares up with Henry properly. His lack of verbal engagement doesn't seem to stifle her playful mood - if anything, she seems more amused by the decision to communicate in body language.

Following his example, the girl remains silent as he comes at her again. Again she seems unfazed by the overly flashy flourish, her neon eyes unblinking in the face of the blade that comes streaking down as if to strike at her feet. Her ability to perceive motion and gauge distance appears to be impeccable because the Gear doesn't even shuffle backwards a step to avoid the feint at her precious tootsies. Instead, she waits for the blade to spark its fireworks show before crouching down, her butt and tail wiggling eagerly like a house cat preparing to make a death-defying leap onto the drapes, and launching herself straight through the fountain of energy!

Massive fuzzy paws lead the way as Max turns herself into a purple torpedo. The claws come out this time, two-inches of curved black keratin protruding from each of her thick fingers like little razor blades. These she aims at his center mass, trying to latch on to his shoulders or chest as she bears down on him with the momentum of her powerful leap. The sheer strength in her legs defies human biology, propelling her at speeds that turn even the diminutive Gear into a rocket-propelled battering ram that tries to knock him right off his feet!

COMBATSYS: Buck successfully hits Hawksley with Thrown Object.

[    \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////////////     ]
Hawksley         0/-------/---====|=====--\-------\0             Buck
[         \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////       ]
Henry            0/-------/=======|===----\-------\0              Max

[HAWKSLEY]
Henry is handling himself just grand. The gear girl is no pushover and her purple paws pack enough punch alone, even without all her numerous other talents to contend with. "Keep it up, fella." He encourages the swordsman before stealing a glance to see if he can spot what she might try next. His look can't linger there too long though, as Buck has protected himself from the boxer's punches and is back on the attack.

"I've let you have plenty of fun." Hawksley protests. "How about our battle on the beach or when I let you see me singing at karaoke?" He grins. "Some people are never satisfied. As for Chevy, don't be worrying yourself about her. She's not the kind to be frightened off by a few bruises."

As the bottle of rum appears, Hawksley turns his head and his brown eyes go wide with wonder. "Oh lovely. Don't mind if I do." He enthuses, perhaps forgetting that he's supposed to be in a fight, rather than indulging in a booze-up with his buddy. So distracted is the dark-haired drinker that he's smacked in the side of the head, having him seeing stars.

"Ah, you're a cruel man, Buck Finley." He groans. "Lashing out at me with something I love." Bringing his hand to his head, he rubs at the wounded area, then starts to stagger as if he'd actually been sampling the spirit. "Feck, you're gonna have to give me a second. I'm seeing two of you and I'm not sure which one to smack."

COMBATSYS: Hawksley focuses on his next action.

[     \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////////////     ]
Hawksley         0/-------/---====|=====--\-------\0             Buck
[         \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////       ]
Henry            0/-------/=======|===----\-------\0              Max

COMBATSYS: Henry fails to counter Pounce! from Max with Stag Guardant.

[     \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////////////     ]
Hawksley         0/-------/---====|=====--\-------\0             Buck
[              \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////       ]
Henry            1/-------/=======|=====--\-------\0              Max

[HENRY]
Perhaps he misjudges the timing, or maybe it's the force with which Max can leap at him. Up until now his opponents have been human. Skilled and decidedly strong in their own ways, but human. His first experience fighting anything with peculiar abilities having been in the jungle, and that did not really go all that well.

So in a move he's practiced he brings up his shield on the other side of the spark spray, readying for his usual follow up to the flashy sparks, only to get hit with what feels like a wrecking ball.

He oomphs and goes sprawling backwards before his retort can fully form, the chi that was glossing over the front of his shield sputtering a winking out as he crashes to the dance floor.

Though as he loves to point out, there's a good reason he doesn't wear armor, and that would be if he was he'd basically be a turtle on its back at this point. Fortunately with only his shorts and tee on, he's able to kip up to his feet, bringing his shield back up as he face Max with another grin.

Finally he speaks. "Okay, not afraid of getting burned, good to know."

He flips his sword in his back hand in another showy flourish that really serves no purpose but seems to put his confidence back in place despite the fialed maneuver.

[BUCK]
"Thought you could use a drink, not my fault you're bad at catch." Buck teases Hawksley, sticking out his tongue. "Besides, I know you love me, bro." And of course the feeling it mutual, Buck sees Hawksley as another of his brothers, despite the H starting his name, but a fight is a fight.

"At least I didn't hit you with the good whiskey." He points out, as if he really decided on what bottle to pull off the shelf.

"Two of me? The horror." He jokes, but doesn't seem about to grant the Irishman's request for a moment of respite. Normally he might, but he's intent on maybe actually taking out Hawksley this time around, he has a lot to prove to himself after their last encouncer. Instead he crouches down, into a quarterback's ready stance, grinning a little madly. But instead of charging, he whips around, a thick reptilian tail sprouting from his spine as he does so, thick spikes repturing from the end as it comes whirling around from the side.

"Sorry, bro. This might sting." Might being the operative word.

[MAX]
Against this particular foe, armor would have not provided him much aid anyways. Gears were created to stand toe-to-toe with the dark stalkers, creatures of myth and legend. Most are far more resilient than the average human and many possess even more robust defenses such as regeneration or hard carapaces that even modern firearms struggle to overcome. Werewolves, yeti, vampires, naga - even dragon scale would struggle to withstand the magically-infused claws she was created with. After all, what good is an assassin that can't even harm its target?

Fortunately, the restrictions placed on her magical energies by the good doctor and Max's own reluctance to inflict serious harm make the small Gear's vicious lunge more akin to an overly enthusiastic pounce from a playful house cat. Sure, her claws leave him with several nasty new holes to contend with but it's a pale shadow of what those hooks could have done once they had hold of him.

As such, the small girl is quick to release her grip when Henry goes tumbling down under her weight, withdrawing the deadly claws from his flesh lest their tumble accidentally cause more damage than she intended. Max bounces nimbly off the human's chest and tucks into a quick acrobatic twist-flip that sees her whirl around in mid-leap so that she lands facing him once more. While not quite as ridiculously agile as she is, he proves quick to recover, and the Gear grins back at him and lifts her claws playfully once more.

"Wouldn't be much of a monster hunter if a little thing like fire scared me off!"

True to her boasting, the Gear doesn't seem that much worse for wear despite having taken the swordsman's energy blast right to the chest. Her t-shirt is definitely abit scorched. But, despite having dived face-first through the curtain of chi, there aren't any obvious wounds on her face or giant purple paws.

Rather than take advantage of the pointless showmanship that her opponent chooses to engage in, Max allows the teen his moment of reprieve. She's always fascinated by human behavior, particularly how they act in battle. She's heard plenty of people talk smack from the moment the first fist goes flying until one - or both - opponents are lying face-first on the floor. This is the first time she's seen someone give themselves a little psyche-up routine though.

The girl drops into a cat-like crouch, her paws resting between her feet, and watches Henry quietly. Even after he finishes his encouraging flourish she just sits there, pinning him underneath the intense scrutiny of her wide-eyed stare.

Her mother had informed her, many times, just how unsettling it is that she never has to blink. It is an obviously inhuman quality and just tends to creep people out. Naturally, rather than going out of her way to change this behavior, she weaponized it and began taking great pleasure in giving the occasional delivery worker who transported supplies to their remote forest home the willies by staring at them like some kind of gargoyle perched on the roof.

Henry now finds himself on the receiving end of that unrelenting silent gaze, the bio-weapon's long fuzzy tail swishing idly behind her as she stares him down and waits to see how he'll react.

COMBATSYS: Max focuses on her next action.

[     \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////////////     ]
Hawksley         0/-------/---====|=====--\-------\0             Buck
[              \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////       ]
Henry            1/-------/=======|=====--\-------\0              Max

COMBATSYS: Hawksley blocks Buck's Thagomizer ES.

[        \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////////////     ]
Hawksley         0/-------/--=====|======-\-------\0             Buck
[              \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////       ]
Henry            1/-------/=======|=====--\-------\0              Max

[HAWKSLEY]
"Get back up, Hollywood." The man from Eire encourages his mentoree. "Keep on dancing." Surely Hawksley means fighting? Although given the setting, neither would be out of place. "Just remember, kitty's got claws."

Back to his battle with Buck, and Hawksley is seeing straight again. "Put your tongue away, fella or someone might bite it off." He warns playfully. "It might even be Max here. As for loving you, course I do. It doesn't stop me from wanting to punch you though."

Talk of the good whiskey has the dark-haired man almost drooling at the thought. He's been trying to hold off on using his magic mug since he got to the island, saving it for when things got really desperate but maybe the Irishman will indulge this evening and even share some more of the spirit with his opponent, whatever the result.

As the American pulls out a position from what he'd call football, Hawksley watches as the tail starts to form from the bottom of his back. As it comes in to whack him, he lifts up his leg, blocking it with a muscular thigh, meaning it might not sting quite as much as it might have if it'd hit somewhere more sensitive.

"That didn't feel as bad as this bee that got me good one time. I was just bringing in the washing for my mammy and the fecker attacked me thumb." He shakes his head at the memory and then pulls a flask from the pocket of his shorts. "You know, all this talk of booze has given me a thirst, so it has. Fancy some too?" He offers the shapeshifter, before swigging, spitting and then setting the spirit alight, as he directs the flame towards his friend.

[HENRY]
"Too bad I'm not a monster." Henry says perhaps a bit blandly, but with a smile as he meets Max's gaze. Sure, he has to blink, but he doesn't flinch away from the stare either. He's used to having eyes on him and being stared at, the fact that these eyes don't blink really is of minor consequence. At least they don't come with camera flash.

He lets a puff of breath escape his lips, directed upwards to blow some of his blue dyed hair out of his eyes. It's a bit long and the black at the roots is starting to show, he'll need to hit up the salon on the ship when they finally get back. Appearances and all.

He lowers his shied arm in front of him, twisting his wrist in such a way that the shield comes loose and falls off his forearm, though he catches it by the rim before it can clatter to the floor.

Fingers tap on the rim as if he's considering for a moment, then in a flurry of motion he's off again, he starts moving to Max's side as he brings up his shield arm, then with a leap and a mid-air twist, he send it soaring through the air, chi bursting out the sides in a giant pinwheeling buzzsaw that flies through the air towards Max, even as he continues his run around her to the opposite side the shield is curving towards her from.

COMBATSYS: Hawksley successfully hits Buck with Hedonism.
- Power hit! -

[         \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ////////////////////          ]
Hawksley         0/-------/=======|=======\=------\1             Buck
[            \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////       ]
Henry            0/-------/-------|=====--\-------\0              Max

[BUCK]
"Sure.." Buck says with a chuckle, the tail slipping back behind him and slapping the floor with a solid thunk. "Want me to try a bee? A two foot stinger might really suck though." But he's looking contemplative about that. "The toxin would suck even more, are you allergic to bees?" He asks, "What if I cam up against someone allergic to bees? Nah, better not." This is why you don't get Buck thinking on something like that, he falls down a rabbit hole.

At least until Hawksley whips out the flask, "Oh going for the fire again? Wait? Really?" Yes, for moment he actually falls for the offer and is about to put out his hand, and then takes the flames right to the face.

"Ahg! Dude, you got flaming spit in my eye!" He mutters as he takes a few steps back, rubbing at one of his eyes even as the rest of his face is reddened from the flames.

He holds up a finger, "One sec, eye spitting dude? Really?" He looks up at the disco ball, blinking as he tries to clear his vision.

COMBATSYS: Buck focuses on his next action.

[         \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ////////////////////          ]
Hawksley         0/-------/=======|=======\=------\1             Buck
[            \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////       ]
Henry            0/-------/-------|=====--\-------\0              Max

COMBATSYS: Henry successfully hits Max with Leviathan Naiant.

[         \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ////////////////////          ]
Hawksley         0/-------/=======|=======\=------\1             Buck
[            \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ////////////////              ]
Henry            0/-------/-------|=======\=------\1              Max

[MAX]
There are some who might argue that humans are the most dangerous monsters. Fortunately, the Gear isn't the sort to dwell on philosophy and so Henry is spared that particular bit of commentary. While she does like to chatter on about a great many things, the difference between good and evil is still a little bit too much for her information-oriented mind to grasp the nuances of. Her world view mostly boils down to 'is it fun?', 'is it dangerous?', and 'will my mother yell at me if I do this?'. The bliss of innocence.

Max continues to watch the swordsman as he changes tack, releasing his grip on the handle as he prepares to use it for a Frisbee. Strangely, the bio-weapon appears confused by this maneuver, her head tilting to the side in curiosity like she's never seen something like it before. Guess she never got around to watching Captain America.

Whatever it is he's up to, however, she assumes is part of some sort of combat maneuver and prepares herself to react. The sudden lunge to her flank causes Max's head to swivel after him, her unblinking stare catching every motion and muscle-twitch in such high definition that it's almost like time is moving slowly to her perception. It is here that her lack of experience proves detrimental. When his arm flexes in preparation for the throw the Gear tenses as well, her legs quivering with anxious energy as she prepares to hurl herself out of the way. But the attack comes much sooner than she anticipated and in a form that catches her almost completely off guard.

"Nya?!"

Kicking sideways, Max attempts to hurl herself out of the path of the whirling discus. Again, she makes a critical error, assuming that the path of the projectile will remain straight; instead, the heavy shield slams square into her side as it curves along a parabolic arc. Caught in midair, there is little she can do to defend herself as the blazing boomerang buzzes painfully against her ribs for a few moments before pushing her away and continuing on its path back to Henry's hands.

Max lands in a sprawl on the shiny dance floor but her body has hardly touched the floor before she's back on her feet, rolling with the momentum into a low scamper on all fours. Her lips peel back in a tiny snarl, fangs flashing with the faint reflections of neon light - a reflexive reaction born of bestial instincts. She's not really mad at him, though that might be difficult to discern as the Gear comes barreling at him like a pissed off purple gorilla.

Of perhaps greater concern is the crackling red energy that now effuses from her bulky arms. Energy that looks rather similar to the power that just carved a skid-mark across her skinny torso. Tiny arcane bolts crawl across her fur like static electricity, spider webs of red-white power that make her already cartoonishly massive muscles bulge with even greater strength.

With a high-pitched roar of challenge, the feline chimera throws herself into a wild assault. Pumpkin sized fists slam down at Henry in a frenzy of slams, claws, bites, and tackles as the tiny monster goes completely ape on him in an effort to simply overwhelm his defenses with raw speed and ferocity. She tears at the shield in particular, attempting to rip it away from his grasp or simply crush her way through it like a used beer can. Now that he's twice revealed its importance to his fighting style she seems to think getting rid of that asset is a solid strategy.

[HAWKSLEY]
The shield soaring from Henry has Hawksley letting out a low whistle from his lips. "Well would you look at that." He states, flashing a glance to the feline gear to see how she handles it. His look lingers long enough to see her smacked by it before he's back to Buck.

"A Bucky Bee." The Irishman murmurs, trying out the title for size. "I think I'm grand for that." He decides. "I'm not allergic like, but the little fecker hurt enough, without someone your size stinging me."

Buck should probably know better than to accept his buddy's offer of a drink in a combat situation. As the shapeshifter belatedly suspects, he's soon faced with fire flying his way and scorching his face. "My sympathies on the eye. I had one of those jungle creatures get me good in one of mine. Fecking agony."

He does briefly pause when the finger is held up but he's not gonna give the other guy too long to recover. All is fair in love and bar brawls. Moving up behind the American lad, he tries to lift him in the air and launch him in the direction of the bar. Should Lucky be, well, lucky enough to manage the move, Buck will likely land behind the bar!

The expression on Hawksley's face as he attempts this is one of pure mischief. Even the possibility of pulling it off sets his dark eyes dancing. He's clearly having fun with this fight and is ready to step things up further.

COMBATSYS: Henry blocks Max's Reckless Assault.

[        \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ////////////////////          ]
Hawksley         1/-------/=======|=======\=------\1             Buck
[               \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ////////////////              ]
Henry            0/-------/-----==|=======\==-----\1              Max

[HENRY]
Henry's equipment tells a tale. While he keeps his sword sharpened and polished to an almost mirror like gleam, as any swordsman who respects their weapon should do, his shield tells another story. The metal studded wood is dinged and dented, scratched and scarred. Nothing to the point of endangering the sanctity of its defense, but where the sword shows off its sharpness, the shield tells a story of blows withstood.

It is an important part of his strategy as Max sumises, but that also means he knows it as well as he knows his blade.

So as he catches it out of the air, slipping it back on his arm with practiced ease and with the aid of straps made for quick release and gripping, he turtles down against the gear descending upon him.

It's not a large shield, but the way it always seems to be in the way of each blow of Max's almost berserk assault might be more than a little frustrating. That is to say, he's not completely protected, his arm still takes a good deal of battering even as the shield absorbs the brunt of the assault. But Henry remains in a crouch, braced against the blows.

Once he feels the rain of blows is coming to an end, he rolls away from Max, trading his shield forward for the sword, the tip of which lashes out even as he retreats to put some distance between them, seeking to land a quick strike even as he goes mostly on the defensive for the moment.

COMBATSYS: Buck fails to interrupt Power Throw from Hawksley with Wingman ES.
-* CRITICAL FAIL! *-

[        \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////                 ]
Hawksley         1/------=/=======|=======\======-\1             Buck
[               \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ////////////////              ]
Henry            0/-------/-----==|=======\==-----\1              Max

[BUCK]
Really, Buck does have something in his eye, not that he really does expect a moment's respite from his opponent to clear out his vision. He braces himself when he seesa a blurry Hawksley coming at him from the corner of his vision, letting out a soft sigh. "Guess not." He says, though as Hawksley moves in fromt he throw, Buck tries to respond, his arms starting to shift to bat-like wings as he makes to catch himself before he can be tossed too far, but unfortunately for him, or luckily for the Irishman, he manage to grip Buck in a way that interferes with one of the wings snapping out, senging him flying as intended to the bar.

Or behind the bar.

But perhaps a little too far, as instead of just landing behind the bar he crashes into the wall of bottles in a cacaphonous explosion of shattering glass, which rains down with him as he lands on the ground.

IT's a moment before he works himself to his feet, shards of glass embedded in his skin in places, including a particularly large piece of a bottle sunk into his shoulder.

With a grunt, he grabs that hunk of bottle by the neck and tears it free, tossing it aside with a groan. "Now that was uncalled for."

COMBATSYS: Max blocks Henry's Random Strike.

[        \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////                 ]
Hawksley         1/------=/=======|=======\======-\1             Buck
[               \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////               ]
Henry            0/-------/-----==|=======\==-----\1              Max

[MAX]
Sparks fly dramatically once more as Max lunges forward, refusing to relent for even a moment. Her claws clash with the defensive sword swipe, battering the weapon aside and largely preventing it from delaying her more than a moment.

Now that the initial shock of being clobbered by the rebounding shield has worn off, the Gear's expression shifts from one of snarling rage back towards her mischievous grin. The faint glint of mayhem in the corner of her eyes isn't completely gone, however, though that could just be what it looks like when she's having fun.

Having failed to divest Henry of his defensive gear, Max instead shifts her focus. While the shield is protecting him, he's only human, and the effort of warding of her powerful blows is clearly proving taxing. If she can't get around his guard then she'll just make him pay for every deflected strike. In a war of attrition the odds greatly favor the inhuman weapon that never tires.

Dropping down onto all fours, the Gear crouches just a few steps out of range from the sword. The shield might have a chance to catch her before she strikes, if Henry wants to stop her before she can gain momentum, but she's betting his reflexes aren't nearly that good. Max's claws dig into the colorful dance floor and she adopts a pose somewhere between 'cat preparing to pounce' and 'professional runner on the starting line'. Her bottom wiggles in the air as she gathers power in her legs, the long purple tail flicking wildly back and forth in anticipation.

"Ready or not, here I-!"

The small girl explodes into motion, once again torpedoing herself at the human like a fuzzy rocket. Instead of attempting to tackle him to the floor, however, one of her giant paws draws back in a massive wind up that immediately turns into a massive haymaker. She doesn't even bother trying to pull any tricks on this one. No last second flanking moves or a sudden shift in aim to throw him off. She just tries to put her absurdly large fist right through his center, daring him to try and stop the wrecking ball that is her knuckle sandwich!

"-come!"

[HAWKSLEY]
"Keep at it, lad." Hawksley encourages Henry in his battle.

The brawler can't help but look Max's way as she adopts the pouncing pussycat position, but it's only for a brief few seconds before his brown eyes are on Buck again. "Damn right it was uncalled for, fella. You've only gone and broken the bottles of booze, so you have. Why did you have to land on them?" He checks cheekily. "Oh well, you might as well let yourself have a drink while you're down there. You can probably sup some of the spills if you're speedy about it."

Making his way over to the American man, Hawksley bends down beside him and tries to force him into a side headlock. If able, he'll start punching Buck repeatedly in the head.

COMBATSYS: Henry parries Max's Wrecking Claw!

[          \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////                 ]
Hawksley         1/-----==/=======|=======\======-\1             Buck
[               \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////                ]
Henry            0/-------/---====|=======\==-----\1              Max

[HENRY]
But can anyone in this competition really be called a normal human? Even if they are? Henry rolls back to his feet, shaking his head at the gear's relentless assault as she's already closing the distance to him again. "Good thing I didn't pick up archery." He mutters, as the distance between them once more disappears, his back against one of the radio station walls.

He doesn't attempt to put his shield between himself and that wrecking ball of a fist coming his way. Instead he jumps, pulling his legs up into a midair crouch as he wait for the fist to pass harmlessly under him.

He twists mid air and kicks off the wall that was at his back, sending him a few more preciouss feet into the air, with another acrobatic spin.

And then he lets gravity take over, bringing him back down, his blade bursting alight with chi as he drops on Max like a shooting Hollywood star, because he is, a star that is.

COMBATSYS: Buck just-defends Hawksley's Submission!

[          \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////               ]
Hawksley         1/----===/=======|=======\======-\1             Buck
[               \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////                ]
Henry            0/-------/----===|=======\==-----\1              Max

[BUCK]
Buck is such a bad mentor, he's not even shouting encouragement to Max, he just sort of expects the wildcat to take care of her own business, besides, he has to keep his attention squarely fixed on Hawksley. His own personal white whale. If Ahab liked to go drinking with Moby that is.

The alcohol fumes wafting up from around him make him let out a roar of a sneeze, and for once he has to dim the senses he's been letting ride high.

"Oh man, I do not like the smell of tequila. Bad mojo there."

"Like I had a choice!" He quips back with a bit of a snap, but still good naturedly to HAwksley when he gets admonished for landing on the bottles.

Hawksley should really talk to Chevy about pig wrestling some day, because a geased pig is a hard thing to get sure grip on, and aparently a shirtless Buck soaked in booze is almost as slippery.

HAwksley tires to lock him down, and he just sort of slips out of the attempted headlock like a cat fleeing bathtime.

He doesn't take long to retaliate either, as his arm begins to spark with blue bioelectric sparks.

Then he swings, a strong right hook aimed right for Hawksley's jaw, the electricity flaring as his fist flies through the air, a sound like an electric whip cracking through the room.

COMBATSYS: Max blocks Henry's Hawk Descendant EX.

[          \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////               ]
Hawksley         1/----===/=======|=======\-------\1             Buck
[               \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////                   ]
Henry            0/-------/--=====|=======\====---\1              Max

[MAX]
"Nya?"

Visible surprise crosses the small Gear's face as her target manages to elude the powerful lunge with unexpected agility. She quickly shifts her body to account for this error, dropping her huge mitt to the floor and digging in her claws. The sudden traction acts like an anchor, dramatically slowing her momentum and, after tearing up a ten foot patch of the floor, allows her to pivot rapidly in place.

Not a moment too soon either, as the swordsman comes bearing down on her in an attempt to capitalize on her over extension! Max's other paw snaps up and closes around the blazing sword as it plunges towards her like a miniature comet. The bio-weapon's unnatural strength stops the falling weapon cold, arresting Henry's momentum completely and leaving him hanging awkwardly in the air for a moment.

The sharp sword hardly seems to bother the little monster with naught but a scant few splotches of red staining the weapon's edge for her audacity of bare-handed a naked blade. The burning chi surrounding the weapon, however, proves more difficult for her to quell. The smell of burnt fur wafts into the air as her purple fingers start to blacken. While she doesn't feel pain, per se, it's obvious that holding onto the weapon for any longer than she has to is foolish. With a modicum of effort, she shoves the sword and its wielder back, tossing them out of immediate reprisal range.

"Pretty impressive... for a human," she taunts, eyeing the singed black line on her palm. "Guess I have to stop playing around now."

Max isn't built for prolonged confrontations. Were Henry her target in any other context, she would consider the attempt to confront him a failure and retreat. There would be other chances to take him out, either by catching him off guard and alone or through some other means of skullduggery. As with her fight against the Iron Monk, her usual tactics of 'strike hard and fast' are meeting with difficulties against an opponent that seems adept at weathering her assault. In Ishida's case his special training gave the man unnatural resilience while Henry's mastery of his weapons and quick foot work is making it hard for her to land a strike at all. All the strength in the world doesn't mean spit if she can't land a solid strike.

But, be that as it may, he's still only human. And it's clear that his reliance on the shield and evasive tactics is an attempt to cover up for what she can only assume is a relatively normal amount of durability. If she can just get one good hit on him it might be enough to sway the fight.

In other words, it's time for a crucial gamble.

Dropping to all fours, Max adopts what has now become a familiar pose as she prepares to hurl herself into the fray again. Her unblinking neon eyes lock on Henry, the feline slits of her pupils narrowing to near vertical lines as she focuses all of her attention on keeping him in her sights. The corner of her lip peels back in what seems to be another of her adorable attempts at a menacing snarl, a gesture that has thus far proven ineffective at portraying her menace to the confident warrior.

That might quickly change, however, as the bio-weapon taps into her thus far unused chimeric abilities. The tiny fangs revealed by her cute growl suddenly start to extend, swelling from dainty little triangles to something out of a 'horrors of the deep sea' documentary. The already absurd muscles of her fuzzy forearms ripple with extra mass as they swell in size, taut tendons visibly shifting beneath the surface. Her claws likewise experience a surge of rapid growth, the inch-long talons utterly shredding the colored dance floor as they snap out like the blades of Exacto knives being pushed to their limit.

Opening the nightmare of razor-sharp teeth that is now her mouth, Max's chest swells up as she takes a deep inhale and lets out a proper leonine roar that rattles the cracked floor panels around her. And then she comes at Henry again.

The speed and ferocity of the Gear's assault is every bit as intense as before, the addition of extra size and mass seeming to have no impact on her ability to move disturbingly fast. The zoanthrope bounds forward in a couple of rapid leaps, zig-zagging once then twice to throw the human off before finally lunging at him.

What can only be described as a purple tornado of claws and teeth attempts to engulf the warrior, the bio-weapon unleashing a non-stop barrage of wild strikes. She seems to come from three different directions at once, every attack sending her zipping past him to strike an exposed flank or smash against the bulwark of his shield. Whenever she manages to get past his defenses, claws or teeth grab hold of whatever they can find purchase in, pulling him back and forth, dragging him to the ground, and otherwise tossing him about like a ragdoll. Even the girl's tail proves to be a threat, slithering around to smack him from directions he doesn't expect or give him a quick slap as she darts past!

COMBATSYS: Buck successfully hits Hawksley with Shock & Awe.
- Power hit! -

[                \\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////               ]
Hawksley         1/=======/=======|=======\-------\1             Buck
[               \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////                   ]
Henry            1/-------/=======|-------\-------\0              Max

[HAWKSLEY]
Henry's Hollywood stuntman moves have Hawksley whistling in approval. The Irishman is impressed by the cinematic acrobatics on display and he even gives himself a moment to applaud the showmanship before focusing back on his own role.

"You don't like the smell of tequila?" Hawksley asks in disbelief. "Does it remind you of a shite party or something? Did you get the worm stuck somewhere you shouldn't have?" He gives Buck a sniff, since they're up close and personal. "I gotta tell you, fella. I'm tempted to lick you right now, since you're covered in liquor and all."

His words are followed by laughter and a look of disappointment as his opponent slips easily out of his attempted headlock. "Ah, come on now. I was only playing with you. Are you not having fun?"

As the sparks and the swinging right hook head his way, the dark-haired lad is too late raising his hands to defend himself, likely because he's too busy bantering away. His jaw starts to throb with the impact of his buddy's brutal blow and his head is knocked backwards against the bar wall, dislodging the one remaining bottle that was somehow still sitting there on the shelf. It smashes into smithereens, shattering into sharp splinters that stick into Hawksley's skin, and spilling the contents of the scotch. Opening up his mouth, the brawler from Eire makes the best of a bad situation and savours the taste of the strong spirit. "Shame it's the Scottish stuff but it's better than a smack in the face." He says, licking his lips. "Oh wait, I got one of those too."

Brushing off the broken glass as best he can, Hawksley rises to his feet. He's got blood trickling down his bare chest. It's bright red in colour, as opposed to the dark and faded stains on his shorts. Despite being back upright, he's still feeling distinctly dizzy, so as he lashes out at Buck, it's in a chaotic and clumsy style, his right fist fumbling in the general direction of the shapeshifter's face.

COMBATSYS: Henry parries Max's Maximum Carnage!

[               \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////               ]
Hawksley         2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|=======\-------\1             Buck
[               \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////                   ]
Henry            1/------=/=======|-------\-------\0              Max

[HENRY]
Even as his blade is caught and Henry hangs midair for a moment he doesn't seem overly perturbed, in fact he's grinning a little. As long as he can continue to land knicks and cuts, he's sure he'll slow down Max eventually. It's just a game of which of them gives out first, and he's aware he might be at a bit of a disadvantage there, but that's why he signed up for this game in the first place. To prove himself, and what better way to do it than against a literal killing machine.

He backflips as he's freed from Max's grip, landing in a superhero crouch with his sword out to the side, the blade still hovering steady.

It's not that Henry isn't mildly terrified of Max and her antics, it's just that he's been taught the actor's trick to keep a tight rein on his emotions and display the one he intends. Should the gear be able to smell emotions, some fear does indeed waft of the Hollywood scion, along with excitement and eagerness, but the only thing displayed on his face is a mild amusement.

Sure, one eye twitches at the horror maw display and he takes a small step back which he quickly covers by making it seem he's merely adjusting his stance.

He takes one centering breath as Max launches her assault. What follows takes every ounce of his concentration and training to pull off, but his mind seems to fall for a moment into the mythical 'Zone.' Every blow that tries to land is simply stymied in one way or another, either pushed aside by a twist of the blade, defelted off the surface of his shield without a direct strike, or his footwork simply carries him out of the way so that all that lands is a passing breeze.

As the blows seem to slow, Henry hops back a step and flips his blade around to point the tip forward, chi engulfing the blade until the sword seems to entirely disappear into a lance of light.

HE kicks himself forward, another sall burst of chi from his feet propelling him in a rush, in which he tries to land a jousting strike in an effort to knock Max of balance as he speeds by, only to stop and pivot once he's on the other side of the gear, whipping around the weightless spear of chi to land a second strike at her backside.

COMBATSYS: Hawksley successfully hits Buck with Improvised Punch.

[               \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////                   ]
Hawksley         2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|=======\===----\1             Buck
[               \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////                   ]
Henry            0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0              Max

[BUCK]
"Bear got me drunk my first time on tequila." Buck mutters about his oldest brother after the crack of his swing, wincing a little in sympathy as his friend's head bounces off the wall. Sure it's a brawl, and he did just get thrown into a bunch of glass bottles, but Hawks is his friend and he can feel a little tinge of sympathy. Not guilt, though, dude deserved it. He did almost the same thing to Bear because of the hangover. While the two mentors go for a slugfest in the remains of a bar, and really that is a perfect setting for them, he can't help but glance sideways at the effort of the rookies. "Don't get frustrated! Keep cal.." He's trying to shout some encouragement, but honestly he really should have been paying attention to his opponent as he notices the punch a split moment to late to pull out of the way like he tries, taking it square on the jaw.

"Nice one." He muffle mutters as he wiggles his jaw, making sure its not broken then poking a loose tooth with his tongue. Eh.. it'll grow back if it falls out.

"Okay, let's play in the dirt a bit." He says with a laugh. He shifts his feet, boots grinding on broken glass beneath him as he adjusts his tance just a bit, then lashes out with one of those cowboy boots, snapping a simple kick right towards HAwksley's midsection.

COMBATSYS: Max interrupts Unicorn Respectant EX from Henry with Cat-a-pult.

[               \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ////////////                  ]
Hawksley         2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|=======\===----\1             Buck
[                   \\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////                       ]
Henry            0/-------/---====|====---\-------\0              Max

[MAX]
It's a display that's so elegant and flashy that the viewers at home might well think the entire thing was choreographed. The swordsman faces down the monster with heroic aplomb, standing firm against an onslaught that would give even more experienced fighters pause. For her part, Max doesn't relent for an instant, seemingly immune to the frustration that a human might feel upon being so thoroughly stymied. Even as her claws are deflected again and again, she just turns around and hurls herself back at the teen confident that her efforts will wear him down eventually. She can't smell fear but his body language tells the story that his face tries to hide.

Wisely, Henry decides not to give her the chance to grind him into the dirt. As the initial surge of motion begins to die out and her attacks to slow the swordsman finds a moment to escape the eye of the storm. Some quick footwork sees him clear of the Gear's next strike and for a crucial moment it seems as if she's overextended and offered him an opportunity.

Sensing the shift, Max's head tilts slightly as she zips past, her neon eyes narrowing as the lance of light forms around her opponent's blade. How exactly an inexperienced human managed to so deftly avoid her barrage is a point of curiosity; no doubt her mother will be keen to examine the footage later and offer the insight she needs to adjust her tactics to avoid such an outcome in the future. At the moment, however, she has a slightly more pressing concern.

Possible scenarios play out in her mind at lightning speed, her mind more akin to a biological super-computer than a human's lump of gray matter. She considers as many factors as time allows: the strength behind his previous attacks, movement patterns, technique, the angle of attack, and their relevant positions. Even the tensile strength and sharpness of Henry's blade is taken into consideration. The weapon doesn't seem to be enchanted so there's no possibility of it penetrating her skin. But her magical reserves are dangerously low and the failsafe that keeps her from zeroing out completely is about to kick in. The prognosis doesn't look favorable.

After a couple of heartbeats of tense consideration only two viable paths exist. She can simply grit her teeth and try to withstand whatever it is that Henry has planned. Even if he surprises her and manages to inflict a serious wound her regenerative capabilities will be able to undo the damage; without magic or a truly excessive amount of firepower destroying a Gear is almost impossible. But with her reserves so low he could certainly hit her hard enough to force a shut down. She might be able to get one last spiteful swing in, under that scenario, but it would be mostly for show.

Instead, she picks the alternative path.

As Henry propels himself into a burst of incredible speed the Gear's movement shifts ever so slightly. In the intensity of the moment the human likely wouldn't be able to spot the subtle change in her gait or the way that the bio-weapon's claws dig into the floor to give her the necessary traction for what she's about to do.

A flash of brilliant light fills the dance floor as Henry the Comet rips past his target, his path leaving a contrail of chi from one side of the room to the other. The lance of light bears down on its target but, when victory seems all but certain, the Gear's careful gamble bears fruit. Dropping into a sudden crouch on all fours as if she plans to launch herself into another attack, the blazing spear rips right past the tiny figure. Her timing is immaculate and her movements swift, offering Henry no chance to adjust his aim as the powerful strike rips past its mark by centimeters.

As impressive as the timing of her evasion is, Max doesn't walk away unscathed. The plume of chi surrounding the blade scours her from tail to ears, singing the right side of her body like a charcoal briquette. The damage is registered in her mind but ignored, falling well within predicted tolerances. Her tail flicks once with an eager snap and then she launches herself at Henry, claws extended.

The swordsman is caught just as he pivots, weapon raised to smite her a second time. Max slams into his chest, pushing past the shield to dig her talons into his soft flesh. The impact outright knocks the man straight off his feet and bears him to the ground, the world going topsy turvy for a few moments as the girl pulls him into a tumble. After a couple of rolls across the dance floor, his head and shoulders bearing the brunt of the impacts thanks to her weight being centered on his shoulders, the Gear kicks her feet out with a sudden powerful thrust and gives the human a taste of ye olde tomoe nage - kitty style.

COMBATSYS: Hawksley interrupts Medium Kick from Buck with Shining Light ES.

[                 \\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///                           ]
Hawksley         0/-------/<<<<<<<|>>>>>>>\>>>>>>>\2             Buck
[                   \\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////                       ]
Henry            0/-------/--=====|====---\-------\0              Max

[HAWKSLEY]
"Feck, fella. You're on fire, so you are." Hawksley praises Henry, fascinated by his finesse and fancy footwork. "Yeah, you're definitely the Hollywood in this partnership. Even without the famous mammy and da."

Max has plenty of flair of her own though and as the swordsman steps in to strike, she swiftly acts to evade the weapon before slamming into his fit frame. There's a sympathetic wince from the Irishman but he's no time to console the teen too much when he's got his own fight in full swing.

"It was the black stuff for me." Hawksley reveals to Buck, as they share first time drunk stories. "Our Shane made me drink a full four cans before I gawked all over his new trainers. It didn't put me off it though. I just had to get a bit more practice to build up my tolerance."

His fist connects with Buck's face and Hawksley recognises the familiar signs of a loose tooth. He remarkably hasn't lost any himself so far in his brawls but he's cost a couple of other fellas theirs.

"You wanna get down and dirty?" He asks, raising his thick dark eyebrows at Buck's invitation. "You don't wanna be having Coco and Chevy jealous now."

His gaze drops towards the American's familiar cowboy boots and he sees the kick coming his way, directly towards his gut. "Nah, fella." He says, shaking his head. "I've got enough grumblings there from the hunger."

Dropping down dramatically into a crouch, Hawksley sets his right hand alight and then rises rapidly into the air before Buck can take the chance to kick him elsewhere. His fiery fist forms into an uppercut that smacks square on the shapeshifter's chin.

[HENRY]
For Henry, it doesn't matter that his move is only half successful, any blow landed against the gear helps, even if it's pulled short mid assault. And so it's a bloody smile that he gives Max in the moment where they're face to face before he gets knocked away. He hits the ground in a roll, perhaps for a brief moment looking like he's going to stay down as he comes skidding to a halt against the wall.

But Max isn't so lucky, not yet. The stunt trained Henry knows how to take a fall, and maybe he even has enough in him to make it look worse than it is. Or else he's still covering as he gets back to his feet, shaking himself out.

Blood plastered some of his blue hair to his forehead, staining it black from a scalp wound, which always look worse than they are.

He puffs his cheeks, and exhales in a quick huff, centering himself back into a fighting stance. No, he's not done yet.

A quick glance aside to his mentor, all he's willing to take his eyes off Max, has him smirking slightly. This might very soon be a two on one of if he can hold out a little more.

He rotates his wrist, spinning his sword in an arc besides him before leveling it at Max once more.

Then he bounds forward, pulling back the blade as if he's going for another thrust, but at the last moment he changes tact and goes into a slide. Right in front of Max, he whips one of his legs upwards, and at first it appears he may have launched the kick too soon, as his foot is on a path to whiff inches away from his target, until a blade of crimson chi extended out from his heel in a flash, aiming to score another searing strike against the feline.

[BUCK]
The flaming fist connects with Buck's jaw with a crack, and the Oklahaoman reaches out, digging his finger tips into the bar and the wall shelves to keep him from getting knocked back from the punch, thick claws that sprouted in an instant digging into the wood.

It's over, he can feel it. For the third time, and as he lowers his head back down to regard Hawksley frsutration is clear on his countenance, and maybe more than a little anger, which is a strange expression on the normally cheery fellow's mug.

He's not going to let his friend off easy, and he can at least try to tenderize him once more time before Max has to take one both the surprisingly acrobatic teen and the Irish brawler.

The frown turns into a wicked, if mischievous smile before he opens his mouth. He's gotten quicker at pulling off this particular trick, his jaw cracking and distanding as his mouth opens far too wide.

AS always, there's a click as if a gas stove is being turned on. No doubt the flaming brawler knows what's coming, Buck loves it as a finisher to his fights after all.

The curtain of flames comes rushing out of his open maw, an explosive wave of fiery heat to match the Irishman's own flames.

Though when they die down Buck sags, some how, ridiculously, keeping himself standing from where he's dug those claws into the furniture, but the energy gone from him, the soft sound of snoring coming from him as he expends the last of his energy in that final salvo.

COMBATSYS: Buck can no longer fight.

[                 \\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////                       ]
Hawksley         0/-------/<<<<<<<|====---\-------\0              Max
[                    \\\\\\\\\\  <
Henry            0/-------/---====|

COMBATSYS: Henry successfully hits Max with Crane Vigilant.

[                 \\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///                           ]
Hawksley         0/-------/<<<<<<<|======-\-------\0              Max
[                    \\\\\\\\\\  <
Henry            0/-------/--=====|

[MAX]
Unfortunately, one of the main goals for this fight has managed to go unfulfilled thus far. While her mentor's techniques are impressive in their own right, she's been too focused on dealing with her own opponent to really absorb any of Buck's experience in action. Whether or not that is actually a downside is debatable considering the shapeshifter remains unable to score a win despite facing the same opponent multiple times. But hey, at least the pyrotechnics are flashy.

Max would probably appreciate her coach's attempt to impersonate a dragon more if she weren't similarly backed into a corner. She'd planned on bashing through Henry's defenses and finishing him off with a couple of powerful strikes. His unexpectedly impressive showing against her onslaught has left her in a bit of a rough spot, however. That last counter strike had taxed her reserves to the limit and she can already feel the magical power starting to recede as the contingency failsafes her mother had programmed in start to activate so that she doesn't burn herself out entirely.

The Gear falls into a crouch once again but it's obvious that she isn't preparing to launch another attack; if anything, it looks like she's having trouble staying on her feet. The horror-show of fangs and claws begin to morph back into their more demure forms to the usual tune of gut-churning crunches and pops like an entire orchestra of people cracking their knuckles in unison. Fortunately it only takes a few seconds for the impromptu ASMR session to come to a close leaving the tiny bio-weapon back in her mostly human form.

A quick glance at the sudden plume of flame and the subsequent snoring tells her all she needs to know about how grim things are. Nor does it seem like Henry plans to cut her any slack after being tossed used like a ball of yarn. With both her foes still standing and her energies mostly depleted the odds are definitely not in her favor.

An effort is made to ward off the swordsman's rush but Max knows it's mostly a token gesture. Only one of her arms retains its gorilla-like bulk and she swings it up to intercept an attack that doesn't come. The feint catches the tired chimera perfectly, drawing her into anticipating the obvious strike only to be caught completely off guard by the plume of energy that rakes her from hip to shoulder as his foot swings up.

"Nya?!"

Pain lances through her body and this time her mind fails to edit the sensation out of her subconscious perception, a warning that her defenses have failed. In a field scenario this would be her last chance to try and find a way to flee or come up with a plan that would make her destruction cause as much damage as possible. Fortunately, no one is trying to take anyone's life today, so the actual threat to her is minimal. But one of the primary reasons for her participation in this contest is to get real world experience so she decides to treat this scenario as if it were a live exercise.

Pretending to recoil from the energy blade dramatically, Max staggers backwards several steps to make sure that the human can't interfere with her plan. Once she's out of immediate swording range, the tiny girl spins and unleashes her final gambit. A hefty triangular chunk of the colored floor paneling that she had torn out while crouching whizzes through the air like a ninja star, zipping not towards Henry or Hawksley, but the ceiling. A moment later her aim is revealed as the sharp projectile neatly severs the thick cable holding the massive disco ball over the dance floor.

There is an almost cartoonish moment of calm as the sharp crack of fraying wires announces the impending crash followed the realization that a ten-foot wide ball of mirrors is now plummeting towards the center of the room. With more than enough time for the two humans to get out of the way of the sparkling bomb that she's unleashed, it's fairly obvious that this can't be anything more than a showy finale to the battle, courtesy of the mischievous little cat.

Exhausted, Max still manages to muster up the energy to hurl herself clear of the impact site and promptly lays face first on the neon floor. She isn't breathing heavily or sweating - neither of those things being necessary for the Gear - but her tail's incessant twitching has slowed to an enervated pace which is a far more accurate way to judge her energy levels.

"Ugh... s-so... tired... nya..."

COMBATSYS: Max can no longer fight.

[                    \\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////                 ]
Henry            0/-------/--=====|>>>>>>>\-------\0         Hawksley

COMBATSYS: Buck successfully hits Hawksley with Burn Out ES.

[                    \\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////                         ]
Henry            0/-------/--=====|>>>>>>>\>>>>---\1         Hawksley

COMBATSYS: Hawksley dodges Max's Huge Thrown Object.

[                    \\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////                         ]
Henry            0/-------/--=====|>>>>>>>\>>>>---\1         Hawksley

[HAWKSLEY]
The blue-haired boy is bleeding pretty badly now but Hawksley can tell he's still standing tall. Well, when he's not taking falls anyway. As Henry looks his way, the Irishman gives him an encouraging smile and shouts. "You've got this, fella."

Meanwhile, back with the mentors, the Cork cruiserweight hears the crack as his uppercut connects with Buck's chin. It sounds like a break but he knows that his buddy won't give up till the bitter end. There's a sweep of the boxer's dark eyes towards the bar, registering the claws and then the emotion on the American's face, before it starts to form into the familiar dragon like features. "You're planning to cook me for dinner, fella?" He questions with amusement, but he knows better than to take what's coming lightly. He tries desperately to throw up his hands to shield his face from the ferocious flames but the force of them is just too overwhelming. The Hollywood Heat star has to drop them as he falls backwards, bashing his head on the corner of the bar on his journey to the floor, which leaves him both burned and bloody.

Things aren't looking good for the man from Eire, but one advantage him taking a tumble has is it means he manages to dodge the dangerous disco ball that was heading he and Henry's way. That truly could have been a dancefloor disaster!

COMBATSYS: Hawksley takes no action.

[                    \\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////                        ]
Henry            0/-------/--=====|=======\====---\1         Hawksley

COMBATSYS: Hawksley has reached second wind!

[                    \\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////                        ]
Henry            0/-------/--=====|=======\====---\1         Hawksley

"Feck." This single word can be heard from the broken body of the Irish brawler sprawled out on the damaged tiles. Somehow, he manages to stagger to his feet, using the wooden surface of the bar to support himself. Running a hand through his short hair, he grimaces as he hits a sore spot, of which there are currently many.

There's no doubt that today he has taken a beating at the hands and claws of Buck Finley. His friend had fought fiercely and like their battle on the beach, the brawl had been super close. It seems that once again however, Hawksley is to prove victorious in their violent struggle. He's happy of course, but his main concern now is for Henry. Did the teen manage to avoid the murderous mirror ball, as he had?

COMBATSYS: Henry blocks Max's Huge Thrown Object.

[                      \\\\\\\\  < >  //////                        ]
Henry            0/-------/=======|=======\====---\1         Hawksley

[HENRY]
Even Henry seems surprised when he gets a clean hit with the scything chi blade kick. He rolls back to his feet, stopping in a crouch with the tip of his sword planted in the wooden dance floor. Sure, it may be rude to scratch that up, but they've dinged up the rest of the station pretty badly so what's one more gouge in the wood?

His eyes remain firmly locked on Max, both still open, though one starting to swell a little. That's gonna be dark as a plum in a couple hours. His grimace of determination turns into one of curiosity as he watches Max suddenly bound away when he's expecting another direct assault from the Gear, then she doesn't even aim her attack at him.

He figures out her plan just as he looks up and sees the large mirrored ball glittering overhead. "Oh, heck no."

Already crouching, he curls himself into a ball and brings his shield up over his head, wrapping his sword arm around his forehead to protect his face. The disco ball hits the shield with the crack of a direct strike, and the poor little shield that could withstands another blow, the ball, flashy as it is breaks apart, raining glittering mirrored glass over Henry like celebratory confetto, if confetti had the unfortunate habit of being sharp. A few of the glass shards nick him and draw blood, but as the tinkling rain of falling glass comes to a stop, Henry slowly lifts his head and looks around. "Is it over?" He asks, actually sounding a bit nervous to hear the answer to that question.

His eyes seek out Hawksley, who he last saw getting broiled over at the bar, and that is not a euphamism for getting drunk. "Alright?" He asks, trying to sound casual, but his voice is marked by weariness as he pushes himself back to his feet, his grip on the sword planted in the floor possibly the only thing letting him keep himself upright for the moment.

Log created on 08:54:14 08/14/2024 by Hawksley, and last modified on 14:14:07 09/07/2024.