Description: Edge's 'interrogation' of a hostage leads to a high-speed brawl rife with explosions and hurled daggers, and finally... to an explosion rocking the very foundations of Gedo High. STAB STAB STAB BOOOOOM!
A resounding clang sounds through the underbelly of Gedo High as the door to the boiler room is slammed shut, two more following when bolts are subsequently slid into place. Oddly there is no shrieking of protesting metal; someone keeps the entrance very well maintained, and presumably it must see a fair amount of use. Not the jauntiest of thoughts given how this chamber is currently being used... what's far more jaunty is the whistling that floats down the stairwell, some generic eighties heavy metal number being butchered by a happy gangster.
Ladies, gentlemen, hostages: Edge has arrived. Continuing to whistle, he slouches down the metal steps to the hard concrete floor, posture habitual with hands as always residing in his large pockets. Nothing else is different either, except for the pleased gleam in his eye. He has an interrogation to carry out, a classic street brawl to look forward to, and has won one hundred percent of today's fights. Life is good when you're Gedo.
Making his way over to one corner of the vast cellar, the purple punk pauses a short distance from his intended destination to look around with a wary eye; ensuring nothing has been moved, that nobody has come to disturb the careful Feng Shui of the chamber, and most importantly? That Nassir is exactly where he was left, chained by his wrists to a support strut just a short distance from the corner, far enough away from the hot central part of the room as to be comfortable. Relatively speaking.
Surprise, Surprise. Nassir is exactly where Edge left him, almost down to the milimeter. How long was he down here? Hours? more? The young soldier wasn't entirely certain, and to some degree wasn't certain if he cared. He spent the vast majority of his waking time trying to grow acclimated to his new surroundings, gauging just what exactly was down here, what interesting tidbits might be sharing the boiler room with him.
What little time remained between assessments were spent idling over the events that lead to Nassir's capture...the young girl who seemed to handily beat not only the Gedo High Lieutenant, but Nassir as well. The fact that they were willing to keep their own prisoners both surprised and impressed the Shanksquad member...and when combined with his earlier curiousity, it was more than enough to convince him to stay around and ride things out.
Of course, some concessions needed to be made. Prayertime, for example. If he were going to stay down here for much longer, he would need to make accomodations. Obstensibly, he could break his bindings...or failing that, make use of some of his...trickier tricks. Deciding upon a course of action should it happen to be necessary, Nassir spent the rest of the time waiting and listening...and after enough time near the boiler, sweating. It's not as bad as if he were placed virtually atop the building's heatsource, but still enough to bead along his face.
Anybody would be surprised at finding themselves captured and locked up in Gedo's basement - even those who know the school and its workings very well - as this is hardly something done on a regular basis, by any but a select few. Edge is one of these, knowing the ins and outs of the building, the student body and the staff like he knows the hidden partitions in his pockets. His instincts led him to volunteer for boiler tending service some time ago, and now his entry and exit from the room goes unnoticed by his superiors and subordinates alike. Though it's highly likely some of these suspect the truth and choose not to indulge themselves in verifying it... he's quite the asset to the gang, after all.
"Ehehehehe!" The sight of Nassir exactly where he was left causes a burst of merriment from Edge, the music finished now he has arrived at point B. Tossing his head back, tongue protruding at the end of his cackle, when the delinquent is done he swaggers forward to cover the distance to his hostage - seeming satisfied that he isn't going anywhere, and making no attempt to appear armed or prepared in any way. Dropping to his haunches a few feet from Nassir, he leans forward and says with a sneer, "How is our little guest enjoying his stay? Is everything to sir's satisfaction?"
As much as he looks to be having fun, it's immediately clear that Edge isn't here just to get his kicks and leave. Something about his posture suggests he'll be staying here as long as it takes, and his mocking questions seem to not at least be purely rhetorical. Backing up the former, he pulls his hands from his pockets and lays his arms more comfortably across his knees.
Nassir's lips pursed, shifting at an extreme angle to one side of his face. It was plainly obvious that Edge was hoping for the question to earn a submissive response...and yet the soldier couldn't be certain he was prepared to give it. During his tenure as a Shank Soldier, Nassir was subjected to all manners of brutality and torture, much of it administered by Rolento's hand himself. Shank Soldiers usually operated around sensitive information or objectives, and were to be as resiliant to torture and interrogation as possible.
In campaigns, that torture would be delivered by a professional, the kind of men and women who spent their entire lives perfecting a craft. How would Edge--a High School student, albeit gifted--compare? Could he compare, even?
"...Quite."
Nassir's demeanour is not on lost on said High School student, his keen eyes fervently searching for any sign of emotion from the younger boy. Whatever training he's had has apparently been very good - and his skills as a warrior were displayed against Juli, even if these proved inadequate against a much more powerful force. It won't be held against Edge's prisoner regardless, given her apparent track record thus far, and skill is not what matters here. Intent is what matters, intent and origin.
"Quite?" The gang leader echoes the response he's given with a wry smirk, leaning in just a touch closer and staring into the eyes before him. "That's no kind of answer, but I'll let you off. Not a good time to be polite, eh? Heh." Shaking his head, Edge leans back and glances off to one side, into the corner where a small heap of items has been placed. The outline of a few sheathed knives and a grenade or two identify the owner of this pile easily enough. "Let's cut the crap then. I dunno who you are, what your name is, or why the hell you turned up outta nowhere yesterday... care to help me out?"
Looking back around, an eyebrow shoots up, Edge's mouth twisting a little further, enough that his expression is mocking by its very nature. He doesn't /need/ to voice anything else - the fact he neither needed or appreciated the aid given against Juli, nor the intent he harbours to cause vast amounts of pain if he's not enlightened as to the situation.
Even more needless to say, if it comes to that? He's going to enjoy it.
"I am Nassir Mahomet. I hail from Riaydh, Saudi Arabia."
The answer comes quickly, though the words themselves are spoken in measured, clipped tones. It's almost as if he's merely repeating something he memorized from a book somewhere, as opposed to generating a thought-over answer. Mantralike.
"I am to engage in studies in a Southtown school. The choice is left to me, and I will be choosing the school which suits me best. To this end, I have done much study, and engaged in much information gathering."
With the second portion said, Nassir's words don't so much end as they abort...someone hitting the 'stop' button on his mental tape recorder. Too practiced in the response, and yet not carrying the telltale signs of a wholecloth fabrication.
"...huh." Edge stares levelly at his hostage for a few long moments after the mechanical flow of speech comes to a halt. The Gedo lieutenant may not be the brightest spark around, but he's certainly not stupid and can easily draw the obvious conclusion from this. The only problem is... he can't spot any flaw in the information, can find no reason to justify his mistrust, or his chosen approach to the trespass. But there is an unwritten, barely spoken code that if a stranger comes to the school with no indication of their intent - if they sneak in unannounced - their guarantee of good health is forfeit.
From a rational perspective though, given the reputation of Gedo High and the relationship it has with the outside world as a whole... was the Arabian justified in his actions? Perhaps making his way inside could have been forgiven, if he'd done what Juli had done, but he interrupted a battle between welcomed parties. Edge clucks his tongue as he mulls all this over, displaying a surprising level of sanity given his actions this far, and seems to come to some conclusion after shooting a thoughtful gaze at the ceiling.
"Well, Nassir Mahomet, you put up a good argument," the delinquent snickers for a few seconds before giving a quick wink, "Almost making me feel /bad/, here. But none of that explains why you'd sneak in an' start throwing weight around without checking in with the Boss. So," Pausing once more, this time Edge gives a wide yawn, looking tired already with all these words in place of action. Pushing himself to his feet, he crams his hands back in his pockets and looks down at Nassir, "You got time to explain that?"
The reply is more of the same, that stilted, mechanical reiteration of facts pouring forth like someone hit 'play' on his monologue again. "Gedo High School holds one positive distinction that none of the other schools can claim. Gedo High school on paper is no different from the others, save for abysmal attendance records and grade point averages which generally can't crack two-point-one-nine. There is a principal, there are staff members and other support staff on the payroll as needed. However, none of those individuals happen to be in charge of the day to day maintenance of the school."
Pause for breath, a motion which makes the explanation seem slightly more...human. Slightly.
"Daigo Kazama runs the school as a beneficiary, according to intelligence...an intelligence which is old, and possibly outdated. It has been confirmed that the school still runs under that model, at least as much as a school can. However, the school also has an issue with rebellion, which may render that a moot point."
Pause, round two.
"You are familiar with current events? The turmoil in Afghanistan? Leaders are removed constantly. Checking in with 'The Boss,' no matter who he is, is a counterproductive measure if my goal is to measure the character of the school."
Nassir's head rolls up, looking to establish eye contact with his captor. Hard brown eyes focus, tenor voice lowering somewhat to offer a more solemn tone. "Thus our current situation, and why I am willing to endure it. You have been quite an educational experience, and not in an entirely negative fashion."
Edge's nose wrinkles in distaste as he finds himself bombarded with a whole slew of facts, impatience taking over quickly to the extent that just before Nassir's monologue finishes, his foot taps a couple of times against the floor. Blah blah grade points average, blah blah beneficiary, blah blah current ev-- wait. His attention snaps back into focus as the point is reached, everything else absorbed in the subconscious so that the fully conscious Edge gets the benefit without having to comprehend anything too 'dull'. Listening properly now, he nods along to affirm his familiarity... he doesn't /care/ as such, but he gets the reference. Then the relevance dawns.
"SHUT THE HELL UP!!" Before Nassir is fully done speaking, the gang leader snaps a finger out and all but rams it in his prisoner's face, expression contorted in rage. Quite the mood swing, and it would seem to be around to stay for a while. "The Boss ain't going anywhere! Daigo Kazama has /built/ this place into what it is. Half of us wouldn't even stick around if he wasn't in charge. He's going nowhere, understand?!" The extended finger is jabbed forward for emphasis, and then that hand is clenched to a fist, pounded against the opposite palm as Edge takes a step back, gaze remaining burning and intent on Nassir's own.
"I'll show you a Gedo education, kidgloves, and I'll teach you to respect the Boss." Though his mood isn't improving, the purple punk is now speaking in more of a controlled seethe, continuing to grind his fist as he circles around the Arabian boy and lifts a foot in the air. "This won't hurt a bit," he mutters darkly, giving an incoherent scream before bringing his boot down /hard/ on the manacles securing hostage to post. Three more times he slams the metal before it shears in two with a shrieking protest - the youth taking great delight in the pain this must be causing. After the handcuffs fall to the floor with a metallic clatter, he circles back around.
"Everything you brought with you is over there. Go pick up what you need and come at me however the hell you please... impress me, and I'll let you get your scrawny ass out of my territory." Spitting at Nassir's feet, Edge directs a nod of his head toward the corner and its pile of belongings, making no further movement for now. If the agonised ex-Shank wants to get a sneaky blow in, he's welcome to try. Gedo will prevail.
COMBATSYS: Nassir has started a fight here.
COMBATSYS: Edge has joined the fight here.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
Nassir hadn't flinched on the first one, fully expecting some kind of physical retaliation to come his way once he started in on Daigo's status. Granted, from Nassir's perspective the soldier was doling out the Harshne--er, plain and unmitigatable facts. A leader only lasts so long. It's the vision which is most important, the ending goal. Instead of flinching, Nassir merely grits his teeth, bracing himself for what he thought was inevitable...and then discovering the true target of Edge's rage. Quick to adjust, Nassir pulled the slack taut, bracing his wrists against the repeated impact until the soldier was free.
Rubbing at his wrists idly, Nassir started over to his equipment, fastening belts, harnesses and bandoliers in surprisingly quick order. "Everyone has noted the greatness of Daigo Kazama." Another plain and simple truth. "He is, by the word of many, a man worthy of fighting for, a man worthy of many sacrifices. To some, a man worthy of all sacrifices. What ethic does he teach? What mandate? What ends of his will come to light by the strength of your means?" Fingers quickly drummed across various items, exploring digits ensuring that nothing's been -obviously- tampered with. After all, it would suck to explode because something was jostled, right?
"You serve Daigo as a Lieutenant. You obviously fight for him, and you handle much of his footwork." Nassir had no idea how much of this situation was arranged for by Daigo, but if his own experiences in the Shank Squad taught him anything, Daigo simply -had- to know they were down here. "But do you die for him? A misplaced explosive may be enough to turn both of us into little more than dust thanks to the power of the furnace. Perhaps a moment of clarity is needed."
COMBATSYS: Nassir focuses on his next action.
Once his released captive begins to strap himself up with the various trinkets that form his fighting style, Edge gives a light 'hmph' and turns on his heel, striding a few paces away before turning around with one fist raised, the other hand returning to his pocket. He almost feels tempted to cast off his jacket and fight a little more comfortably, but with the honour of Gedo at stake his hackles are raised too high for anything beside violence to ensue. Nassir's musings do not go unheard though, the focus set on the dervish will not allow this.
"I told you to shut the hell up. Daigo's the most worthwhile person I know. Without him I'd be just another dumb punk." Spitting the words forth with a blunt honesty that may not entirely be true - there was something 'special' bout Eiji Yamada even before he assumed his current moniker - they none the less feel true to him. "I don't need your judgement. But I /will/ make you understand." His fingers curl and uncurl a few times around the air, impatience getting the better of the youth. Doubtless by the time he makes his move, Nassir has had plenty of time to prepare himself.
"Screw your clarity. SYAAAA!" Surging forward with his mouth open wide, tongue lashing out maniacally, Edge crosses the distance in a flash. Extended fist jabbing out for Nassir's face, this marks only the beginning of his opening assault. Should that blow connect, it's followed up with a right knee to the stomach, and an uppercut from the same hand - aimed to stagger the Arabian back into the corner.
COMBATSYS: Nassir dodges Edge's Heavy Strike.
Mais non, there is no arabian to stagger back into the corner by the time Edge has cleared the distance. Where Edge is a flash, Nassir is...well, considerably faster, for one. Pretend we had a very pretty metaphor for speed, here. Kicking into motion, Nassir curled into a tight ball and rolled forward, clearing the fist by a goodly distance before popping out of the ball.
"I understand."
That was all Nassir had to say to the knifer, all Nassir could even think to say even if he wished to produce more. There's no more motion out of the youth, nothing more than his watchful gaze, waiting for Eiji's next move...trying to divine the thug's fighting style, trying to solve it...and trying to serve as a distraction. While the trick isn't exactly new, Edge might not've been coherent enough to see it used against Juli--set on the ground where Nassir started his roll is a small orb, a dark grey which probably blends in altogether too well with the dank surroundings. While the explosion was a calculated risk--too small to bother the boiler in this case--it might be enough to spook Daigo's lieutenant into making a mistake.
COMBATSYS: Nassir successfully hits Edge with Scorch the Earth.
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Nassir 0/-------/------=|=------\-------\0 Edge
"Heh! Fast little bastard," Edge sneers as the testing jab finds nothing but the rush of winds against his curled fingers. Shoving that hand back into his pocket, he spins about to face Nassir's new location, slouching back in that deceptive stance of his. An eyebrow raises as the couplet of words reachs his attention, but beyond that the gang leader doesn't seem inclined to do anything else for the moment - waiting whatever move his opponent might make on the offensive. No sense walking into anything nasty until he's scoped the power of this guy for himself.
"What th-" About to goad the dervish on, a snarl coming to his lips as he leans forward slightly to address the motionless Arabian, Edge is cut off abruptly by the explosion that triggers at his heels, the blast pitching him into a brief stagger forward - pain flaring up his back from the heat of the blast. "SHIT!" Spitting the curse with a quick glance behind to check for any further issues, after ensuring his temporary safety he decides it's time to retaliate - using one motion to face Nassir and dash forward toward him.
He's moving slower than might be expected however, ready to trace any movements the younger boy might make before he can fully close the gap. But when he sees an opening - regardless of how decent that is - he gives a grunt of exertion and flips himself into a somersault, legs arcing around him to deal not one but two strikes to his evasive foe, boots coming down in a speedy succession for the top of his head. "Stay still, bitch!"
COMBATSYS: Edge successfully hits Nassir with Spinning Axe Kick.
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Nassir 0/-------/---====|==-----\-------\0 Edge
The change in speed seems to serve Edge well, at least for the moment--Nassir doesn't seem to be making any odd movements, though should Edge happen to be perceptive enough he might've noticed the slight tingle in the air that precludes either a lightning strike or something well and truly /big/. There's a preparation going on, even if it's not a physical one. Edge's attack almost becomes an afterthought for the young man, hands raising to protect his face...though it quickly becomes an issue of 'too little, too late'. Drilled not once, but twice, Nassir slides across the floor for a couple of feet before coming to a stop as a sprawl of a human. Nassir was hurt, at least as much as the pair of blows could provide...but again, Edge's awareness comes into question. It was a gambit of sorts, though one that could make the fight a much more...interesting one.
Even as Nassir was being hit, something shifted from behind, something not quite alive, at least not in the traditional sense of the word. Animate, definitely, and perhaps sentient, but not living. Cast in the mold of Nassir himself, a shadowy blue figure quietly moved across the boiler room floor, phantasmal knife drawn in a wispy hand. The attempted attack is simplistic enough: With Edge's back turned, the knife would simply be deposited somewhere painful, like a kidney, or perhaps the liver.
Nassir was full of tricks, some decidedly more...tricky than others.
COMBATSYS: Edge dodges Nassir's Phantom Patrol.
Once he feels the white leather of his boot make solid contact, Edge knows he's got his wish. He'll finally be able to assume control of Nassir's positioning, if only for a short time... he already got a glimpse of how damned slippery the arabian can be, first against the newest gang member and now against himself. This time the feeling is of jubilation rather than frustration, and both strikes are completed cleanly, the gangster landing on his feet with a neat grace immediately after sending his foe tumbling. "Good doggy," he croons, tone upturning at the end as shock registers. Eyes widening suddenly, he drops down low and tucks into a roll to one side, straightening into a crouch a few paces away and darting his attention sidelong to catch the dissipating blade of energy.
"The hell? Where'd you learn those stinking tricks?!" Less a question and more a demand, Edge thrusts an accusing finger toward Nassir. These are no schoolboy fighting techniques, nor anything taught in any dojo he's heard of. Explosives, phantasmal aparitions? This is crazy stuff. "Whatever." Lowering his hand with a tut of annoyance, banishing his astonishment to the winds, there's only one thing left to do.
"EAT THIS!" Sliding up to his feet with the cry, Yamada takes a step toward his opponent, ducking his right shoulder and turning into it while his right hand lances out bearing a flash of steel. With a *snikt* as its blade retracts, a switchblade fires off toward the Arabian. But it doesn't end there, and Edge is already beginning to giggle as he completes a full spin, coming up to his full height with left hand this time shooting forward to launch a second blade. "...and /this/!!"
COMBATSYS: Nassir dodges Edge's Double Blade Strike.
Even as the apparition failed in it's task and the lease on life is pulled away, Nassir was able to glean some advantage from it--Edge was freaked out, which bought him time to make a recovery. Pulling himself up to his feet, the Arabian dervish spun away from the knife offering--Edge's weapon would have to settle for striking against a wall...and likely dulling in the process. Indeed, these weren't normal schoolboy fighting techniques, but then Nassir wasn't a schoolboy. He never was, unless you consider the sands of the middle east as appropriate classrooms.
Whirling a second time, Nassir's left hand flailed out to allow the disturbed air to catch the folds in his uniform, creating a light 'fwap' noise. His other hand was busy with one of the knives on his bandolier, gripping it expertly before making a return volley with his own throwing blade of choice--thin, hiltless, little more than a lengthy cutting edge, or razor blade.
COMBATSYS: Edge negates Large Thrown Object from Nassir with Thrown Object.
"Tch!" Edge actually relents in the tossing of his second blade as he completes his motion, stopping just short of tossing it toward where Nassir once stood as - clearly - the dervish has moved on. "I told you to stay still..." Repeating himself in a less aggravated voice, in fact giving an amused smirk as he tails off, this time the Gedo punk is more than prepared for what his opponent attempts. The incoming knife is watched as if in slow motion, and with lazy ease its sent skittering away in a shower of sparks as the second toss is belatedly made, to meet the opposing weapon in mid-air.
With the danger deflected away, Yamada pauses to rub lightly at the back of his neck, rolling his head a little to ease up built tension. Before he's quite finished, his feet are shifting about beneath him, setting up for what he does next- what can only be described as a pounce. Dropping low, Edge's hands dart in and out of his pockets, at the same instant his legs tensing and pushing him off into an arcing forward leap toward Nassir. "RAAGH!"
As the gangster flies in, his hands are pushed out in front, each bearing a glinting dagger ready to slice into his opponent on impact. It's unpredictable and a lot less unwieldy than it appears, his body perfectly angled to either rebound or tuck into a tight roll after the intended strike.
COMBATSYS: Edge successfully hits Nassir with Medium Strike.
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Nassir 1/-------/=======|===----\-------\0 Edge
"..."
Nassir by all rights should be used to something as mild as a mere stabbing. Yes, a /mere stabbing./ That's right, we said it, and we're sticking to it. Mere. Stabbing. After all, he's been stabbed in the past. He's been shot. He's even been hung by Rolento's hand in recent memory, albeit not for very long. Edge's stabbing should've been nothing for the soldier...and yet, each new stabbing feels just like the first. Painful. Burning. Muscles and nerves begin to demand some kind of cessation to the hurting, unionizing, forming a voting bloc and demanding that motion be shut down immeadiately.
Generally, it's pure willpower and adrenaline that keeps the young dervish going strong...though that doesn't do anything to fix the hurt of being stabbed, being driven to the ground. It hurt...but he'd keep on going. After all, blood was just drawn, and he'd be damned if he couldn't return the favor in spades.
Rather than bring out another blade, Nassir's hands curl into tight fists...fists, minus the middle and index finger. If Edge was awake for it, he might've seen Nassir attempt something similar to Juli, though in this particular instance the young soldier had to hope for better results. Driving the hand upwards, Nassir sought to thrust the fingers into the base of his antagonists' throat, triggering an undue amount of pain and more importantly getting Edge off of him.
COMBATSYS: Edge interrupts Strong Throw from Nassir with Weapon Jab.
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Nassir 1/-----==/=======|=====--\-------\0 Edge
Keeping Edge from rebounding and rolling away is a wonderful idea - actually, it causes the Gedo gangster to panic briefly, even lost as he is in the glory of drawing first blood from his opponent. Before he can even tense himself to pull away he can feel an attack due to make contact with that delicate part of his body, and with a desperate scream of rage he thrusts one arm out to catch himself on the ground. The blade dropping from that hand, the other keeps its burden as the purple punk's right hand lashes up to simultaneously divert Nassir's blow and cut him across the face. The cut could hardly be called deep, but it's certain to make some kind of difference.
Still caught by a fair amount of force before the throat thrust can be fully negated, Edge is coughing when he finally rolls away, using a shove from his grounded hand. Springing into a half-crouch away from Nassir, he flashes a mocking grin. "Nice try! You've /really/ got what it takes." The sarcasm drips from his tone, though there's little time to linger upon it as with a cackle of bloody delight Daigo's lieutenant starts forward again, a spring in his step and right hand lightly tossing the dagger in its grasp.
...and then he was gone.
One moment, Nassir was bleeding on the ground, generally having a rough time of Edge's assault (to say the least) and starting to look towards the eventuality of him losing to the Gedo knifer. Some elements of his personality reminded him of Holly Wood, constantly showboating and seemingly a little...off balance. If only the combat style was the same, he could approach him in that manner...but as it stands, Nassir had to deal with the prospect of cracking Edge's style before it was too late. What to do, what to do...
"Careless. Watch where you step."
With that said, Nassir reaches into his pocket, producing a length of silvery piping with a red button on top. His other hand busies itself with a pouch on his side, producing a small handful of spherical objects--smaller than the first he used, but one could easily imagine what taking the brunt of the full hand could do. Tossing them not so much at Edge as he did around him, Nassir depressed the button, causing a small -thud- of an explosion.
COMBATSYS: Edge dodges Nassir's Scorch the Earth.
Fortunately for the stalking Gedo lieutenant, Nassir telegraphs his attack rather too much - not only has he played the confusing explosives card already, but this time around they're not even hidden. The site of a /handful/ of the things only alerts Edge even further to the fact he needs to do something impressive here, and a quick glance upward affirms exactly what that should be. "Ehehehehe!" Leaving a crazed giggle in his week, his skinny frame is kicked into a high somersault, that carries up into the eaves of the room - not overly high, but enough to avoid the triggered explosions in the nick of time.
This perch comes with the added advantage of being an excellent spot for sniping Nassir off with some well-placed tosses, and the first of these comes right away. Before the smoke can even clear, Edge scrabbles around in his pocket for one of his better throwing knives, launching it forth with a triumphant smirk and with force that almost spins him around on the slippery metal girder. But he retains his footing and watches with keen eyes trained on both his opponent and the spinning blade seeking to nail him.
COMBATSYS: Edge successfully hits Nassir with Reversing Blade Strike.
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Nassir 1/--=====/=======|======-\-------\0 Edge
Well, it was /something,/ at least. Nassir's lips curled into a frown as Edge bounced away from the handful of explosives, dropping even further into a snarl as Edge's defensive measure turns into an excellent offensive opportunity for him. The soldier was in here for however long, and hadn't noticed the perches which lay abovehead. Was he getting sloppy?
The knife which suddenly seems to materalize in his leg would make a potent argument.
Thrown with the kind of force that probably could've allowed it to imbed itself in the walls here, the strike is more than enough to send the slip of a soldier flipping head over heels, landing prone on his back with a heavy thud. Muttering curses under his breath, Nassir stopped to pull the knife out of his thigh, wincing as the effort caused a sick sucking noise. That...hurt, and he'd likely want to do something about that later on.
COMBATSYS: Nassir takes a breather.
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Nassir 1/--=====/=======|======-\-------\0 Edge
A wide, dirty grin smears itself across Edge's face as he watches that whirling blade hammer home with a force easily capable of killing lesser men. Shifting in his crouch, the Gedo punk allows Nassir the time he needs to pull forth the knife before slapping both his hands to the surface of the girder, hunkering down in a very solid position. Tense and prepared, resembling nothing more than the predatory eagle - though very few birds of prey sport massive shocks of blonde hair. "So tell me, Nassir, if you're still looking for a school... what's with the uniform?"
Pausing to let the question sink in, Edge bites to answer it before his younger opponent can, grin widening further as he ecstasically crows, "Something you're not telling me! Think fast, pencilneck!" Shoving himself off with an extension of effort from both arms, the gang leader drops into a falling arc toward the grounded Shank Squad soldier, cutting into a forward flip halfway down and executing something a little like that somersaulting double kick from earlier.
This time, however, he's not aiming to strike twice - just once, landing with the other leg bowed beneath him and brutally /slamming/ his extended right foot down into the place that hurts men most of all. Crush those melons, purple boy. "Eeeehehehehe!"
COMBATSYS: Nassir blocks Edge's Low Blow.
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Nassir 1/=======/=======|======-\-------\0 Edge
Okay, that's totally not cool.
After watching his fight with Juli, Nassir...should've seen that one coming. Edge seemed to have a certain...je n'sais pas about him when it came to the dirtiest of schoolyard tactics. It was his forte, his raison d'etre, and he generally performed them in a manner that best displays that fact. To this end, Nassir went skittering backwards, the blow having to settle for striking a tensed leg rather than the youth directly. It still hurts, not being able to pull entirely out of the way on a busted wheel, but it's a hell of a lot better than the alternative.
Lifting his other leg up, Nassir makes his best effort to shift the youth backwards, get him to stumble. This motion is accompanied by another press of the button, triggering a second explosion. Remember, he threw a handful of those smaller explosives...though one might imagine that the resulting bang is considerably less, as well.
COMBATSYS: Edge slows Large Thrown Object from Nassir with Large Thrown Object.
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Nassir 1/=======/=======|======-\-------\0 Edge
Crap. The instant Edge sees Nassir scrabble away, the realisation dawns that not all of those little explosives were triggered off first time around. Spitting a curse, the Gedo punk sweeps his hands quickly along the floor to either side - the motion frantic and desperate - and when his fingers close around what he presumes to be one such orb he all but screams with triumph, hurling the object toward his opponent as he does so. "RIGHT BACK ATCHA, D-!"
Boom. A couple of feet from Edge the globe erupts, the hot blast knocking its target back a few inches as his hands go to cover his face instinctively. Mouth twisting to a dangerous snarl, he glares through the smoke at Nassir, one arm lowering and the other hand running back across his mouth - from which trickles a tiny slither of blood. "Now that, that was just /cheap/." And there comes that giggle again, this time more edgy than those previous, no hint of genuine mirth in there despite the irony of his words.
Whew. At least /something/ was working, albeit not up to total standard. Rolling backwards once Edge is busy with the explosive, the arabian wasn't stopping for a breather: It was time to do something amazing, something fantastic, something that would help him turn this thing around, somehow. An onset of offense, strung together to as to at least turn Edge's victory into a pyrrhic one.
Cutting through the smoke generated by the bomb is another object--perhaps not totally surprising given the way the fight has gone. A knife, though it's entirely the wrong shade, almost unnoticable due to the darker color and the lack of sound. Coated in Nassir's shadowy blue energy, the blade was sent for Edge's chest...though Nassir would settle for -anything-.
COMBATSYS: Edge dodges Nassir's Horrors of War.
Denied. If Edge is intent on proving his school's superiority today, then as far as fighting goes? He is setting an example to which any Gedo brawler would be proud to aspire. Watching the incoming blade with a deadly intensity, eyes narrowed to slits and training upon the energy that caused so much damage to the impressive Juli, the delinquent for once has no gloating words to offer. He seems oddly focused on finishing what he's started, and as Nassir's weapon seems just about to impact - there's a shifting sound of leather upon concrete, a light 'tch' from the delinquent and suddenly he is gone.
"This is the power Daigo Kazama taught me how to use," Edge croons when he becomes visible again, some way back from his previous location and standing with hands thrust into his pockets, lower lip curled in a cocky expression. "It's called 'how to kick the crap out of useless little S... O... Bs." Phrasing each letter carefully, savouring them, he pauses after delivery before abruptly turning his back on the young dervish. "You know what you are, kid? You're nothing. If you wanna /be/ something, you make the best of what you've got, you find others like you, and then you go about becoming the greatest out of all of 'em. Heh!" Grinning back over his shoulder, the purple punk scuffs one boot against the floor.
"If you set foot in Gedo High again, you'd better damn well pray you do it as one of us. Heads up, dogbreath." After spitting a gob of phlegm to the grey stone underfoot, Edge breaks into a flowing blur of motion. Turning about in a flash he whips one hand from a baggy pocket, the expectant knife swishing through the air toward Nassir. The force put into the first throw is immense - enough to stagger the Arabian back against the wall, and such is the intent. Compensating for his surge of effort, Daigo's lieutenant drops down into a forward sprint, one hand still buried deep.
"SYAAAAA!" Tongue protruding and eyes bugging with madness, the youth covers half the distance to his foe before finally letting rip with the second dagger, fingers launching it forth with equal force to the first - propelling it toward the tender stomach of the younger boy. It's an oddly long knife... could he be aiming to actually pin Nassir to the brick wall?!
COMBATSYS: Nassir dodges Edge's Double Blade Strike EX.
The first knife impacts solidly in the soldier's body, the thrown weapon slamming into his shoulder and in turn running him against the wall. If the second blade was actually meant to skewer the youth, and place him rather painfully as a bit of living decoration? Then it most assuredly does. All Nassir can manage is a voiceless cry of pain, face tangling itself up as if he intended to actually shed a tear or thirteen. From the looks of things, this went well beyond the scope of mere pain and into the realm where a doctor's assistance wouldn't just be wished for, but outright mandatory.
Nassir's eyes go wide, then, staring into the face of his tormentor before the flame of life gutters out, flickers momentarily, and dies. Body slumping forward save for where he's held up by the knives, the body begins to flicker out entirely, growing light, then completely insubstantial. There's no 'poof' noise as it completely fades out, no telltale sound of smoke and mirrors. No, this is much closer to what might be expected from a certain sidescroller when a certain HUUUUGE MAYOR OF WRESTLING decided to piledrive the eighteenth 'El Gado' into the ground.
It's the sound of metal on metal, a pair of 'thunk' noises that announce Nassir's presence near the boiler. The pilot window was open, and a pair of circular object rest by his feet.
"I am suitably impressed with your fervor. Perhaps I will endeavor to meet this Daigo. However, I believe it will be after the repairs. I will be making my leave," And what follows was a word in Arabic, before Nassir kicked the first object in through the pilot window.
"The ball is in your court, as I've been told they say."
COMBATSYS: Nassir focuses on his next action.
"Hrn?!" Edge noticeably hesitates in any celebration as his bump of trouble flares up. As has been noted previously, the gang leader would not be such if he were entirely stupid - cocky, presumptious and proud but certainly not dense. Grade point averages not with standing. Still, he feels something wrong, coming to a halt in a half-crouch after hurling his final blade and watching Nassir crumple. Doubting very much that the evasive boy is dead and gone, he still cannot help but be surprised as the form fades away. Rising to his feet, he reaches up to adjust the collar of his jacket self-consciously, expressing his distaste in the situation with a single word, "/Shit/."
But shortly thereafter, the dervish makes himself known. Eyes slamming wide open, the purple punk spins on his heel, dropping low with fists clenching at his side... animalistic, feral... but entirely unprepared for the action he surveys. Repairs? Oh... shit indeed. A high-pitched shriek of rage rips from the delinquent's lungs, and without further warning Edge is running down the room toward the boiler. "I'LL KILL YOU, YOU BASTARD!!" Spit flecking out in a misty spray as he screams, he will find himself too late to stop Nassir entirely. However.
Hands scrabbling near the floor during his headlong dash, they soon fasten around a cable connected to a piece of unidentified industrial equipment. Something large, made of heavy duty plastic and metal, and dangerous enough to be kept down in the boiler room. He doesn't give a damn what exactly he's gripped, so without further ado he spins around, heaving on the thick cable and whipping the machine around with it to soar in toward Nassir. It bounces off various support struts and, indeed ,the concrete floor as it flies, huge sparking cascades kicked up by each impact. If the school above has remained unaware of the battle raging below this far.. that time is over.
COMBATSYS: Nassir dodges Edge's Large Thrown Object.
The second orb is kicked into the boiler pilot window before Nassir spies the change in Edge. Should one happen to look inside the unit that likely supplies heat to a very large portion of the school, one could see one of the balls...begin to melt. Either the grenade was a dud, or a reasonably convincting ruse--a clay pidgeon, if you will. Of course, if one's attention isn't glued to the window, that's a very easy fact to miss. Maybe they just haven't exploded yet, or perhaps they're merely waiting for Nassir to fully depress the button.
Given Edge's rage overwhelming him, Nassir easily dove out of the way of...was that stage lighting the cable was attached to? A washing machine? A walrus? The answer is irrelevent, as the flying machinery would have to settle for crashing loudly against whatever other things happened to fill the boiler room--things which were hopefully not the boiler itself. While Nassir was /fairly certain/ he could escape the explosion, the chance that he was wrong was too big for comfort.
Rolling out of his dive and onto his feet, Nassir grinned widely. "You love this Daigo Kazama, do you not?" Now, while that phrase could be taken in any dazzling variety of ways, the way that the question was phrased might suggest that he didn't mean it in a literal 'in the closet' sort of way. "I will meet with him, and his other supporters. Who in this school is as ferverent as you?"
Not waiting for a reply, Nassir slid forward, bringing both of his hands high, fists save for those two fingers being extended on each hand. What follows is a flurry of finger-jabs, the majority of which were sent high, into Edge's throat...assuming he can land them properly. Shadowy blue chi flew with each strike, outlining the attack and leaving an afterimage in it's wake. Against lesser men, the technique /could/ kill...when done correctly. Gen was an excellent example of such a master, as are others. In Nassir's hands, it merely caused a lot of awkward and unorthodox pains.
He'd get better at it. He had the rest of his lifetime to master it.
COMBATSYS: Edge interrupts Stockholm Syndrome from Nassir with Cheap Shot.
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Nassir 1/-------/=======|=======\-------\1 Edge
Actually, Edge has ceased paying attention to the boiler - he very much doubts that Nassir the suicidal sort, and this being the case? Any explosion large enough to cause any serious damage would be bound to finish off the beaten dervish, so all the gangster has to do is keep him right here. The door is heavily barred and would take a good few moments to get open, and by that time Nassir's still-perky opponent would have no problem catching up and making with the pain. So instead of going for those infuriating metal balls, our rageful protagonist is waiting for any further appearance by his foe after that huge piece of machinery has waged its final deafening portion of destruction. Thankfully, everything down here is good and sturdy.
"Love?" He replies to the recovered Arabian, suppressing his anger well enough as he answers, backpedalling quickly to make distance with the closing youngster. "I don't love anyone. But I respect the hell out of him.. and that ain't gonna change." Hawking to spit off to one side, Edge has lulled himself into a false sense of security and finds the first of many finger stabs going directly to his throat. Several strike the teen before he can twist back out of range, choking for air and eyes wide - for the first time this battle - in shock at being struck so savagely. The reaction is desperate, but perfectly executed.
"Pft!" Leaning quickly in to his speedy ex-hostage, Yamada releases the load he built up prior to the successful strikes, a messy gob of phlegm smacking his foe right in the eyes. "TRASH!" The scream comes cracked and broken over a partially crushed windpipe, but it comes accompanied with a kick straight to the groin, something to put the dervish out of commission while Edge steps back, massaging his throat and seething.
Well...damnit. That wasn't the response he was looking for. What he was looking for was for Edge to mayhaps choke up a little bit, and be stuck dealing with that while Nassir figured out what to do from here. Instead, Nassir wins himself a kick in the balls and a loogie in the eye.
Okay, alright. This fight has finally gone to hell. Nassir could, ultimately, read the writing on the wall. Edge was, at least in these circumstances, a superior fighter. It was a bit disconcerting, but Nassir could at least see it for what it was worth, and perhaps respect it. That respect went out of the window right as a product of the Cold and Flu season struck him. Unclipping one of his bandoliers entirely, Nassir merely throws it in Edge's general direction. He would have to focus on his anger, as opposed to the pain in his ohsosensitive pseudoextremities. Pushing the button down one last time, the resulting chain explosion is more than sufficient in reaching both Nassir and Edge...though one might guess that the Arabian Dervish simply didn't care. Indeed, it might've even been close enough to do something quite deleterious to the boiler, though that was up to the fates at this point.
Nassir, suicidal? It was certainly something Nassir could do--he just wanted to save it for something important to Rolento's goal of Utopia.
COMBATSYS: Edge interrupts Random Weapon from Nassir with Fierce Punch.
[ < > ///////////////// ]
Nassir 1/--=====/=======|====---\-------\0 Edge
The juvenile delinquent is still busily restoring his oxygen intake and straightening up his collar when Nassir hurls in that beltful of explosives. A scathing gaze snaps to the item, and a fist clenches down /hard/ at Edge's side. "You're pushing it, scrawnyass..." he hisses, voice still sounding somewhat stressed from the series of throat thrusts, but audible enough. Though likely Nassir will be focusing more on what his opponent does next, lashing out his raised hand to grab the bandolier and swing it like a club as he launches himself across the small divide between them. "Yeeee-ahahahahahaaa!"
The crazed teenager is laughing even as the explosion triggers, ripping into his thin body and ruining yet another outfit, but he doesn't care, faltering only a little and instead slamming the full force of the erupting explosives down into their owner. Boiler be damned - if the kid wants to take Gedo down, he'll at least go down with it. Continuing to cackle against the blaze, Edge releases the ruined bandolier and instead brings up his fist, crashing it down upon Nassir's head and following up with a series of punches straight to the face.
"AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
COMBATSYS: Nassir endures Nassir's Random Weapon.
[ < > ///////////////// ]
Nassir 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|====---\-------\0 Edge
"Inspired!"
That's...really about all Nassir can say about that. It might've been questionable as to just how far this specific boiler would go, but the fact that Edge more or less TOOK HIS EXPLOSIVES IN HIS TEETH AND BEAT HIM WITH THEM was just too damn hardcore. How was Nassir even supposed to match that? Was it even possible? I, for one, would wager against it.
Explosions detonate virtually against Nassir's back, taking out chunks of uniform, flesh, leather and everything in between. How it managed to not take his head off was a miracle of faith and fate, not anything done on either boy's behalf....and Nassir knew it.
"Inspired!"
Said oncemore, Nassir started after Edge oncemore, trying to drill his fingerjabs into and through the purpleclad(?) youth and perhaps put a serious dent into him. Even if it works, however, Nassir is done--slumping down to his knees by the end of whatever's coming.
COMBATSYS: Nassir can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Edge 0/-------/---====|
COMBATSYS: Edge fails to interrupt Stockholm Syndrome from Nassir with Brainbuster.
[ \\\\\\\\\\ <
Edge 0/-------/=======|
'Inspired' is an interesting choice of wording. Many have dubbed Eiji Yamada insane, brutal, cruel, but inspired? It sounds more like the praise Daigo himself would offer his lieutenant, focusing on the good lurking somewhere within his soul... deep, deep within. Focusing upon the fighting spirit and ceaseless determination to succeed that powers the youth in everything he does, bearing in mind the unusual definition of 'success' he chooses to apply. Either way, as the final punch is thrown and the maniacal laughter diminishes, Edge pulls back and listens to this strange compliment while he heaves in deep breaths. It causes him to pause, further intention of violence gone for the moment.
"Say what? The only thing... I'm inspired to do... is-grk!" Cut off in mid-sentence by another crushing strike, he staggers under the onslaught that follows, a vain attempt to encircle Nassir with his arms going totally unnoticed in the course of punishment. Choking and sputtering, Yamada staggers away once his opponent drops to the floor, taking a few seconds to gather himself. Hunched over to peer at the charred concrete, eyes narrow and bloodshot, the sound of dripping blood disturbs the momentary peace. "Son of a bitch..."
Straightening up and running three fingers over his lips, pulling them away drenched in crimson, Edge sneers and swings upon Nassir with refreshed fury. The dervish seems to be down for the count to all useful sense of purpose, and cruelty glints in the punk's gaze. However. In the blinding fray of the last rounds of combat, something has gone unnoticed.. a packed bundle of power reaching a boiling point and now releasing itself in a staggering crescendo. Metal pops and bubbles with the strain, and a heated eruption bursts outward from the centre of this vast chamber. The inferno lasts several seconds, and the heat it leaves behind lasts much longer, every piece of industrial iron super-heated, the concrete warm and cracked in places.
There's no describing how Edge feels about this sudden onslaught, flat upon his back with clothing torn, skin cooked to a lobstery red and bloody trickle begun anew from between his lips. Mr. Mahomet can be no better off however, and so with resolve still burning the Gedo lieutenant pushes himself to his feet, staggering over to where the boy lies. Shaking hands encircle his skull, and with a grim expression he begins to drag the Arabian Dervish away.
Somewhere surface-side, authorities must already have been alerted to the explosion beneath Gedo High, and soon enough people will be searching for a culprit. Only one student could possibly identify the perpetrator, and that student? He has a job to do...
COMBATSYS: Edge has ended the fight here.
Log created by Edge, and last modified on 15:03:21 11/17/2005.