Description: After their endeavor in the wilds of Australia, Ralf Jones makes his report to Commander Heidern...which ends with surprising request from Commander Heidern.
Well, here it is. It's that time. Report To The Boss Time. The trip back to the sweet, sweet jungle wasn't so bad. Wasn't too long, either. Jets are great like that. Still, the trip back, getting back to the base, time seemed to go increasingly slower for Mister Jones. It's an exponential thing, too. The closer his steps took him to Heidern's office (or "Hell's Colon", as he likes to call it,) the feeling just got worse. It's not so much that he's SCARED of his boss, no way. Well, a little. They say he's the child of Vladimir Tepes himself. But that's not it. It's just that...it's been a long, long time since Ralf has come back with bad news.
Even someone of Ralf's rank must wait, though. The door, previously closed, give promise to devices or torture being oiled, chains checked, straps dusted. You know, the usual melodramatic crap. As soon as the secretary (a man, by the way; who would let a woman be a military-grade sec? Pff...) lets him in, Ralf steps up to the desk, boots clicking together, arm raising with a "SEIG HEIL!"
Wait, wait. No, that was wrong.
Boots click together, an arm raising and bending at the elbow in a simple salute, jaw steeled with his gaze boring a hole in the wall behind and above Heidern. Discipline, you know. "I'm here to report the outcome of the mission, sir." He knows what mission, of course! Don't make him say for whom, because a certain somebody lost the mail with the research firm's name.
It is "That Time" again.
The walk is doubtlessly a long one for Ralf Jones, especially with the outcome of the mission they had been entrusted with. Akin to a death march, like a dead man walking, it would seem the soldier, one of the "General of the Soldiers of Fortune"'s most trusted and respected men, is faced with a dread unmatched by any. He must give this information to his superior officer. It has, after all, been some time since he had to be the bearer of bad news.
The question that remains is...just what fate lay in store for the Ikari Warrior?
Upon arriving at that intimidating reinforced door of Commander Heidern's office, Ralf is asked to wait. It's only after a few minutes that he is ushered forward by order of Heidern himself. As the door opens and he is allowed to enter the particularly Spartan office, there are no devices of torture to await him. All save one:
Commander Heidern, seated patiently behind his broad desk.
That single eye raises as the other soldier approaches his desk. A respectful man, Heidern rises, greeting Ralf with a stiff and formal salute. There's awkward silence at first, however; the odd greeting is met with a briefly bemused look before the older man simply eases himself into the simple chair awaiting him.
Steepling long, gloved fingers before him, the Ikari Commander sits patiently, his features stern. The silence that lingers, even long after Ralf has given reason for his appearance, is quite possibly the single most unnerving silence on the face of the Earth. It doesn't help that remaining eye of Heidern is staring right into Ralf's face.
It's torture, that heavy, foreboding silence, almost enough to suffocate the weak-willed. But Ralf is made of tougher stuff than that.
Lifting his head a scant touch, Heidern states, simply: "Report."
Ralf's body language should (and most likely DOES) make everything apparent. Sure, he still goes through with the formalities, but whenever he hears 'Report', his mouth starts to pull wide, eyes lit up with scarcely-bridled excitement and enjoyment from a job well done.
That's obviously not the case today.
A line of sweat begins a dangerous drop from his cloth-covered temple, down his cheekbone, across his cheek, and finally comes to rest hanging precariously off the underside of his jawline. The following silence is broken at first by a rumble in his throat; a clearing of it, and, well...time to be a MAN.
"I regret to inform you that the mission had failed, sir." His lips pull tight, the upper curling faintly under the edges of his teeth. "One target has been disposed of, the other is damaged, but still operational. The third had only suffered minor damage before escaping." Third? Was there knowledge of a third tank in the first place? Surely there must be, the clients wouldn't be stupid enough to NOT tell them about the behemoth that laid in wait to support the smaller tanks at the end...right? That would just be dishonest.
There is something particularly "off" about this report. Heidern is, after all, notorious for detail, however minute. He knows the name of most, if not all, of the soldiers in his employ, and those for whom he harbors considerable respect and pride, he knows them even more so.
That is why there is the faintest, barely notable, expression of uncertainty lingering on Commander Heidern's face as Ralf presents himself with the strangest of body language. A cloud of doubt begins to shadow Heidern's thoughts.
Irregardless, the Ikari commander remains composed, those long, particularly dangerous hands steepled before his cold features. "Report," he instructs his subordinate. Nothing more; the man waits with a patience as long as eternity itself, that single, hazel eye staring intently at Ralf.
Failed? This word does not sit well upon Heidern's pallet. It's a word he doesn't hear all that often, one of a small handful, which include, but are not limited to "regret," "disappointment" and "unsuccessful." So it should come to no real surprise when the expression on Heidern's face shifts just a little, a single, black brow slowly easing its way up the man's forehead.
The words slip past Ralf's lips, and long after they're said, the silence remains. That single eye just looks up at the other soldier, staring at the younger man, his features unreadable; expressionless. Again, that silence is all but suffocating, and only broken by the faintest creak of metal and the whisper of fabric. Heidern is, you see, rising up from his chair.
Turning his back to Ralf, long arms fold ever so patiently behind broad back. Looking up at the wall stretched out before him, the commander's dry lips slowly pull into a thin line. There, upon the walls, are a variety of memorabilia; medals of accomplishment of the Ikari, certificates, photos. Fond memories of jobs well done as far as the proverbial eye can see.
"...so, despite orders...only one, not all, of the tanks you were sent in to destroy were...destroyed?" Pausing, the silence grows thicker. A breath slips past the man's lips. "In fact...one is still considerably operational?" He doesn't turn to acknowledge Ralf yet. He wants clarification, first.
There's a long pause, still. Well, long for a response to one's superior, anyway. Finally, Ralf drops his arm a couple of inches, fingers still flat and rigid against one another. "Uh... Sir?" There's a healthy amount of confusion in the man's voice. What...the tanks? Yes, actually, there...yes, they were up against tanks, sure, that was part of the mission. He can't possibly admit that there's a little fogginess; after all, he'd only been released from medical care a month prior, and tackling tanks bare-handed is serious fucking business! Some parts of his brain are still bound to be a bit...sensitive.
"Oh!" He doesn't have to be reminded, apparently! "No sir, the tanks are out of commission. Two destroyed, one abandoned and secured. I was referring to the pilots of said vehicles." His hand finally drops down, not stiff beside his body, but slightly forward, hand extended and palm up as he elaborates: "They were kids, sir. We had captured one for interrogation and processing, but the other two used the larger tank's weaponry as cover to escape." Surely, Heidern wouldn't think they'd fail to take out some TANKS, right? After all, Ralf never specifically said that the tanks weren't taken out!
Is he being address? Blinking that single, hazel eye once, and slowly, the commander's jaw sets as he keeps his eye on the wall before him. He is composed as he stands there, broad shoulders particularly relaxed, despite the dreadful news that potentially awaits the Ikari commander. However, despite the air he holds about himself...
...long, glove-clad fingers are pulled into tight, almost painful fists behind him.
Right where Ralf can see them.
Sure. They were against tanks. But they're the Ikari Warriors, too. The missions they've done...the enemies they've faced...the things they've seen and battled... What are a few tanks to one of the world's most efficient and sought-after mercenaries? Surely Ralf doesn't expect an excuse like "tanks" to fly? He's not foolish enough to try and pawn that off, is he?
Of course not.
Clarification comes shortly thereafter, however. So the tanks WERE destroyed, as their client wanted. Turning slowly, the older soldier half-turns, regarding Ralf with that one, sharp eye of his. Still, however, the elder man says nothing. He remains silent, his sharp features seized in that same, expressionless fashion.
"I see."
His reply is simple. Their mission was, in fact, a success of sorts, and the pilots' identities were more or less discovered. Kids? Frowning slightly, the man's shoulders stoop a little, the faintest sigh sliding past his lips. His long arms fall from his sides, and once more the man moves, his lanky figure turning to face Ralf fully.
"A success then? This I like to hear. ...very well. I want a detailed report on the pilot's interrogation on my desk the moment Intel has finished with him." Lifting his head a scant inch, the man looks down at Ralf with that single eye. It seems almost questioning.
"And...Jones?" His gaze is as cold as steel. "Follow me."
With that, the man walks silently past the massive desk and through the door's threshold. The path he walks is one that is a familiar to Jones; it will take him out of the base, toward the exit and out into the stretch of open air that would await them upon leaving. But what makes this familiar route potentially uncomfortable is the silence that Heidern employs the entire time.
Oh...oh man. Ralf is well aware of the, uh...unorthodox method in which he gave the beginning of his report. Yeah, he enjoys a somewhat more casual relationship with Heidern than most of the Ikaris (whether he likes it or not, alas~), but anyone would be afraid of a quiet Heidern. And on top of that, he just had to go and mention kids were in the mix. Double whammy! His head lifts again, jaw shifting a bit before teeth grind together. Really, he shouldn't be this nervous about it. A success! He even said it. But then...why is the man so quiet? And with, oh why, does he want him to follow him? "Yes sir." It's a statement, just simple affirmation. That's all.
The intensity of the suspense is stifling. No, not suspense. Apprehension. The tension seems to radiate easily from the pair, as various soldiers look up from their various duties to eye the passersby. They don't stare, though; they know better. But once they're gone, quiet murmurs start. Just what, exactly, is going on? Ralf went in there looking intense, and the both of them come out looking like something is deathly wrong? Shit. Something's seriously odd. But whenever Heidern stops, so will Ralf, who isn't exactly comforted by the faint breeze of nasty jungle air. Well, not a lot. It helps to evaporate some of the sweat beading from a great many pores.
For all the fear Heidern's demeanor and very presence can and often does instill in others, his soldiers - those who know him as more than merely "supreme commander" of the Ikari Warriors - know he's a human, too. But sometimes...even Heidern has to shut aside that human aspect to do his job. Everyone knows this. This sometimes goes doubly-so for missions of importance.
Regardless, Heidern maintains that awful silence for a long while. He slips past his desk, insisting his fellow soldier follow in tow. Leading him along, Heidern's hands once again find refuge behind his back, folded neatly as broad hands curl into fists. His gait is brisk, his posture rigid and painfully formal, despite the eyes that fall upon him, as well as Ralf. Only out of earshot do the rumors begin.
He marches forward, a man on a mission, his purpose clear only to himself. From the cool air conditioned inside do they emerge into the balmy jungle air, the elder soldier's boots marching forward still. Separating himself from the building from whence they came, the commander's pace begins to slow before those well-polished black boots come to a stop.
Heidern about-faces. That single hazel eye fixes right on Ralf without an ounce of hesitation or remorse.
"Jones," His voice rings clear, despite the warm breeze that beats across his face, passing between the soldiers. A few men turn their heads in passing, watching as the cold, compassionless commander acknowledges his subordinate. What has Jones done now?
Perhaps unexpected is the faint smirk that eases its way slowly over his lips. "Really. Only one tank destroyed?" Lifting a gloved hand, the man gestures. "I want you to hit me as hard as you can." ...what?
"I need to see if you're losing your edge in your old age, Jones."
COMBATSYS: Heidern has started a fight here.
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Heidern 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Ralf has joined the fight here.
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Ralf 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Heidern
COMBATSYS: Heidern takes no action.
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Ralf 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Heidern
If relief were a physical manifestation, the dust-and-pavement courtyard would be completely filled, knocking people over, toppling buildings, crushing dogs, felling trees! Ralf, who had until then been standing at attention, stiff and stern, chin up, finally relaxes. His posture droops a little, jaw falling as a heavy sigh passes through parted lips. And then, those lips pull wider, mouth closing: something like the beginning of a slight grin appears on his mug.
"Well, I am gonna be hitting the big four-oh here in a while, sir." Jovial, more comfortable. That's more like it. That's how it should be! Er...at least for Jones, simply because he can get away with it. When someone comes even close to matching his and Clark's record, then they might be able to get away with these shenanigans.
In any case, Ralf turns a little to the side, digging his heel with a scrape against the loose rocky edge of the paving. "Yes sir, right away sir," he answers, having gone through this before. Always testing, always making sure that he's capable of taking on the missions required of him. Hell, without it, what kind of shape would he be in? Ever wondered why he doesn't have a beer belly? THIS is why.
With one more puff of air, the man's knees bend and straighten, legs pushing off and sending him skyward. ...Not much, though. He vaults forward more than up, right arm back with his vest flapped open, white shirt soaked with the nervous sweat he'd been soaking in earlier. But let's not focus on that. Let's focus on the way he looses a loud yell and that cocked fist, swinging forward and down as he lands, any impact marked with an explosion like that of a small bomb. DODON!
COMBATSYS: Ralf successfully hits Heidern with Springing Dive Bomb Punch.
-* CRITICAL HIT! *-
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Ralf 1/-------/=======|===----\-------\0 Heidern
Looking on as Ralf speaks, the elder man and his commander sports the tiniest, barely noticeable grins on his dry lips. What, was Ralf worried there? Privately amused, the elder man chuckles softly to himself, that singular hazel eye drawing to an almost thoughtful close. He's known Ralf for how long, now?
"You're not admitting to any sort of weakness, are you, Jones? Come now," Looking up, that eye opens, the man's features still vaguely amused. "I'm in my fifties and there's nothing to slow me down. Even with this handicap." Lifting a gloved hand, a long finger points out his patched eye. "Those sound almost like the makings of excuses, Jones."
Still amused, he adds as the grin grows a little. "You're not going to do that, are you?"
The proposal is set. Ralf is to hit him as hard as he can. Will he disappoint? Waiting ever so patiently, Heidern holds his ground. Watching as Ralf springs into action, the elder man's gaze focuses on him and, though he nears swiftly, the commander makes no motion to move. That was probably his first mistake. It will be his last.
Sent flying back upon impact, Heidern soars through the air. Yet midair he rotates his long body, long legs stretching out and planting against the soil, heels dragging as the man skids a few feet. There's a silence from him, palpable across the field as he gazes with that single eye.
"Ralf," he says, ditching formalities. The grin grows. "That was damned impressive. And yet, still. One tank?"
Bursting forward, the man lunges toward the other soldier, covering that distance in almost record time. When he draws near, long fingertips reach out, seeking whatever of Ralf those gloved digits can crab a hold of...
COMBATSYS: Heidern successfully hits Ralf with Lead Belcher.
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Ralf 1/---====/=======|====---\-------\0 Heidern
Snared by the other man, those infamous fingers dig into the man's jacket. Hefted by the collar, Heidern picks Ralf UP into the air, nary a grunt or strained breath as he swiftly and efficiently pivots on those rubber heels. Using the momentum, Heidern slams the other Ikari back-first into the dirty, where hands swiftly and quite suddenly release him.
"You're still quite young," he muses, looking almost thoughtful as a long, wiry arm rises up overhead. "In fact, you're still in your prime as far as I'm concerned."
Fingers descend quite suddenly, their strangely-sharp tips making purchase through flesh. It's a swift and efficient motion; just as soon as hands bite skin, they retract. A beat and the man lifts a boot, kicking Ralf to the side, to let him roll.
OH! Heidern's getting smarmy! If nothing else, the older man's demeanor dispels all feelings of doubt and tension. It seems to have had the same effect as the troops too, as people have moved to windows in long lines, just to see their Fearless Leader and their field commander go toe to toe. It's an opportunity that is rarely given, and as of yet, unpunished. It's good for morale, seeing what they can do!
As soon as Ralf lands, he's in a crouch from the force of his punch. Already, he's twisting to try and press the attack with an upward swing, but it stops short as Heidern just ISN'T THERE. His stance returns to it's half-facing position, right arm extended with fingers spread, then flexing, working the tingle of the first punch from their nerves. "Nothing of the sort, sir. Just making sure you weren't gonna forget my birthday again this year!" Not that he ever has, of course. It's playful banter! They're like friends! They're--oh. Oh, oh. Friends definitely don't speed up upon an unprepared friend and sling them to the ground, stab them, and then kick them aside. VICIOUS. Still, Jones, in the back of his mind, feels glad that he didn't take the opportunity to fish around in his organs like he did LAST time. That was just NOT RIGHT.
Coughing a few times, the man gets up on his knees, plants a hand on the dirt, and starts to stand up. That STILL hurt. Despite that, he stands up straight, that shirt now stained red with wide but short stripes from the point of entry. No bellyaching about it, now, not when his awesomeness is being questioned. "I just left my salt shaker at home for the slug-shaped thing, sir." he quips, bending down suddenly to slap the earth, knees bent low enough to vault again. This time, his body shifts, going in boots-first in a GLORIOUS spinning drop kick!
COMBATSYS: Heidern blocks Ralf's Ralf Kick.
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Ralf 1/----===/=======|====---\-------\0 Heidern
It was likely a part of Heidern's plan, however much he'd likely deny it. While it was an overall success of sorts, a little morale-boosting never hurts, right? It keeps people happy and enthusiastic, and that's a good thing.
"Forget your birthday, Jones?" he asks, sounding almost sincerely perplexed by this. Blinking once, the cycloptic commander sports the tiniest smirk before he states, "August twenty-fifth, am I right?" How could he forget a friend and comrade's birthday? The smirk turns, forming the faintest of frowns. "Honestly, Jones. I'm not going senile yet."
Speeding forth, Heidern makes his move without pity. Slammed and thusly stabbed before he's kicked aside, the elder man turns his back, giving Ralf plenty of breathing room as long arms fall to his sides. He knows well Ralf will get back on his feet. The man is a machine, and Heidern does not have room in his group for weaklings.
"Slug-shaped thing?" he asks. Turning his head, the elder soldier watches with that solitary eye as Ralf charges at him. The moment his foot comes flying at him an arm rises up, intercepting the boot of Ralf's heel against his long forearm.
"Next time just squash it."
A split-second later Heidern jerks to life. Lashing out, long arms curl up at his chest, one of his legs lifting swiftly from the earth before he extends it, attempting to smack Ralf cleanly in the chest and send him flying back like a bullet. "If it were a snake, maybe I could understand," he teases. "But a mere bug?"
COMBATSYS: Ralf endures Heidern's Medium Kick.
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Ralf 1/=======/=======|=====--\-------\0 Heidern
Obviously, once Ralf's booted feet all but bounce off of Heidern's rock-solid guard, he lands on his front. There's a moment's pause as the holes in his abdomen flare their painful chorus anew, demanding attention, demanding respite. Moving as he is can only tear the holes wider, after all! Only an idiot would not see to them immediately. Obviously, the man seems to have more important things to do!
Knees lift under him as he pushes up with both arms. "This SLUG was covered in Unbreakium, is the thing!" In other words, he DID hit it. Hard. It was just really resilient. Maybe an armored slug. No! A METAL SLUG. YES.
Left foot moves toward Heidern as soon as he stands up, the right stays planted where it is. His right arm hangs down low, hand already balled up in a hard fist. With the way his left arm is across his gut, it may seem like he's holding his wound like a pussy! Instead, he's holding his right arm still, but this also means that he's not looking directly at Heidern...but there's still that peripheral vision: a short burst of movement is all he sees, all he needs to see. Every muscle in his body tenses up, and the kick lands cleanly on his left arm. It hurts, obviously, and there's a grunt, a pushed-out breath through gritted teeth. NOW is the time! With Heidern still up and close to him, his left hand slips off the other arm, right leg pushing hard, entire body turning once as a positively BEASTIAL yell is loosed. This is the haymaker that the slug held up against; let's see how the man's own leader can handle it!
COMBATSYS: Heidern fails to interrupt Galactica Phantom' from Ralf with Moon Slasher.
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Ralf 0/-------/-----==|=======\-------\0 Heidern
"So punch it harder," the commander replies, his response cool and collected. Almost amused; to the trained, familiar ear, Ralf would know this. To the casual observer, it would easily elude them. They do not know the man as the others do.
Despite the wound in Ralf that begs for attention, the red stain of crimson growing wider as the Ikari moves, he continues to fight regardless. This alone is impressive, but expected of him. Heidern wouldn't want Ralf to call the fight just because he's a little sore. That would be shameful.
With one smooth motion the elder soldier makes his move, a kick planted nice and firmly against the chest of Ralf. Yet, Heidern knows well something is amiss; there was no motion to avoid it or do otherwise. Ralf was expecting this and ready for it. The corners of Heidern's lips twist a little.
Backing up, the one-eyed soldier keeps that single eye close on Ralf. He's making his move now, charging forward. Just as he approaches, however, Heidern attempts to crouch low and swing an arm up in one circular motion. This was a good plan; unfortunately, its execution was not fast enough. Struck, he's left to Ralf's mercy, however little he may give. But that doesn't stop the other soldier. Not one bit.
The force behind Ralf's punch is so great that he ends up making a full revolution before coming to a stop, that right fist still raised with shaky fist clenched before him. "THAT was the punch the tank stopped cold," he informs, simply, and for once, seriously! Never let it be said that he didn't TRY to pound that tank into submission. It was just TOUGH. Amazingly tough, unlike anything he'd ever encountered before. There's a reason that those babies were valued so highly, apparently!
Beyond that, no further time is granted! If he's supposed to be serious about this, he can't really afford to give Heidern time to recover. That last-second attack of his was dangerously close as it was, and even someone that loves talking smack as much as Jones has to eventually realize that letting up is a very, very bad thing. He breaks out in a full run, not even slowing as he nears him. Instead of stopping, dropping, and rolling, he leans down, attempting to scoop up his leader on the way. And if he gains and purchase on that shirt of his, well...who DOESN'T like flying?
COMBATSYS: Heidern blocks Ralf's Super Argentine Backbreaker.
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Ralf 0/-------/----===|=======\-------\1 Heidern
Once the brutality is over with, Heidern rises to his feet. While Ralf's infamous punch did, in fact, smart a bit, it's not nearly enough to put the fearsome commander out of commission. His motion is smooth as he straightens his back, easing into a casual stance, though a gloved hand lifts, softly rubbing the side of his face. There's still the faintest hints of a smirk haunting cold features.
"Was it now?" he asks, tilting his head a touch. That solitary eye narrows a bit, gazing intently at his soldier. "That's a relief, I suppose. I wouldn't want you trying to massage them into submission, after all, Jones."
The moment Jones breaks into a sprint the soldier is ready. Keeping a close eye on him, Heidern's shoulder square, jaw tensing. Just as leans Heidern's hands shoot out, snagging the man by his wrists. Who doesn't like flying? Heidern. Heidern does not like to fly.
"Good to know," he says, giving a polite shove back, pushing Ralf away and giving himself some breathing room. "...you're not losing your edge just yet, Jones."
COMBATSYS: Heidern gains composure.
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Ralf 0/-------/----===|=======\==-----\1 Heidern
Too slow! Too slow Jones, just...it's not enough. Heidern is a wiry little thing, you KNOW that. It should be no surprise that he gets up so quickly! Still, being pushed back so suddenly is enough to cause him to lose a breath. Two steps are stumbled backwards, but he regains himself soon enough. His hands are already up, waiting...waiting for an attack that never comes? Well.
The 'sparring' partner doesn't seem to be doing anything, so Ralf takes one more step back, spreading his legs, and...he leans over. One hand supports his upper body on his knee, the other pressing fingertips gingerly to the bleeding holes in his skin. Actually, there's something better he can do! Reaching for the collar of his shirt, he rips it at the shoulders, tearing it into little more than a wide strip. If he's given the time, he'll wrap his midsection up, even pulling off his bandana off so it can act as the gauze wad to stifle the blood loss! Genius!
"Thank you, sir. Don't think I could live with myself otherwise." And it's true! He takes his position seriously!
COMBATSYS: Docta Jones drops his guard to recover.
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Ralf 0/-------/----===|=======\==-----\1 Heidern
Staved off, the elder man simply paces back a few steps, hands folding neatly behind his back yet again. For now he simply observes his "partner," watching the other soldier closely as he himself takes a moment to simply breathe. He expects the Ikari to never give up and, perhaps, punish the "old man," for giving him a shred of mercy.
But...he doesn't. This draws the slightest of frowns across Heidern's weathered features, that single, hazel eye watching the younger man closely. He's bandaging himself up? A kinder, gentler Heidern might very well let him do this. But...
Since when is Heidern either of those things?
At least he knows Ralf appreciates him. So it shouldn't come to any surprise when, and quite suddenly, the man crouches low, long legs crooked before he leaps, a blur of olive as he suddenly takes to the skies. Rotating midair, displaying incredible limberness, despite his age, the man's long arms reach out, attempting to grab Ralf by the throat...
COMBATSYS: Ralf blocks Heidern's Neck Rolling Slashes.
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Ralf 0/-------/---====|=======\==-----\1 Heidern
Ralf is kind and gentle! Anyone will tell you that. A shining beacon of the community, sympathetic toward animals and children alike! Watch as he strolls through the park with retarded kids, feeds birds ice cream, and generally does any number of pure and wonderful things!
Hardly.
If anything, the man was prioritizing: stop the blood, remove it from the equation! Without having to worry about that, he can deal with Heidern appropriately. Perhaps it's HE that's growing soft: allowing a man to take care of himself like that in front of him? PFF! As soon as that knot is tied off, a pair of hands constrict around his throat. But there won't be any bloody indian burns, not this time. Both of those long arms are gripped just by the wrist, and Ralf is like a ROCK. There's no spinning around him. Lips draw into a wry grin. Just a little something. "Way to take the bait, /SIR./" Still holding onto those arms, he lashes his right leg up and around, trying to smash it right against Heidern's side. Ribs can be sensitive!
COMBATSYS: Heidern fails to counter Heavy Kick from Ralf with Killing Bringer.
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Ralf 0/-------/--=====|=======\====---\1 Heidern
If that were the truth about Ralf, chances are he wouldn't be an Ikari Warrior. There are plenty of other fighters out there in the world willing to make those sorts of sacrifices, to be good Samaritans. But does Heidern pay them to be nice guys on the clock? No, no he doesn't.
Prioritizing or no, Heidern leaps into action, twisting midair in a peculiar display of odd acrobatics. Yet Ralf is having none of that. Hands grip, but strong hands seize. For a split second, that solitary eye stares at Ralf, right in the eye. Took the bait?
Twisting his form, Heidern attempts to twist himself and intercept the incoming foot. Yet Ralf somehow proves faster; struck, Heidern flies back, again rotating midair, but landing in a crouch. A little winded, maybe. And his ribs sting. Broken? Maybe, maybe not.
"Good. I wouldn't want you to be going soft on me, Jones."
The kick, thankfully, separated Ralf from his boss, and the foot stomps down. Additionally, both of his hands clap together once, then pull apart in balled fists. "YOOOOOSH! AH HAH!" It's amazing, probably! Here, people thought the man was in trouble. Now, he's laying full into their biggest, headiest honcho.
But then...maybe, just maybe, this is all part of Heidern's master plan. A way to instill a little more confidence in his field commander, to push him back to full confidence and, thusly, full destructive power? Sneaky, SNEAKY old man!
Whatever the case is, Ralf isn't staying still for long. Bellowing out two full lungfuls of air, he's already rushing in. In a way, it's amazing that he's lasted as long as he has: head-on assaults are generally suicide. Booted feet skid across gravel as he half-turns, slinging his right fist out in another hook, but immediately bringing it back to add a backhand to the mix. And then...god, then, it just KEEPS GOING, unless the old coot can stop it. Enjoy EXPLOSIVE FIRE BITCHSLAPS, sir!
COMBATSYS: Ralf successfully hits Heidern with Vulcan Punch.
Glancing Blow
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////// ]
Ralf 0/-------/=======|=======\=====--\1 Heidern
Ralf's enthusiasm goes without mention from the Ikari commander. Instead the man recovers from that slightly-stinging blow, but shows no signs of grief or discomfort, despite how...well, considerably beaten the poor commander is. His lip is slightly busted, a little trickle of red that goes without notice. He holds his ground for now, that solitary eye keeping close watch on Ralf.
Sneaky old man? The moment Ralf kicks into motion Heidern is ready. Crouching seconds before the man closes in with that fiery punch, the commander ducks and, while singed, avoids the brunt of the blow. He escapes true pain. For now.
But the problem is, while Ralf is firing off those punches, Heidern is springing into action once again. Crouched deeply he LEAPS up into the air and spins his body, hands lashing out for Ralf's throat...
COMBATSYS: Heidern successfully hits Ralf with Final Bringer.
[ \\\\\\\\ < > /////// ]
Ralf 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|==-----\-------\0 Heidern
Snaring the Ikari, Heidern swings his body, the other hand grabbing a hold of his shoulder, followed shortly thereafter by the other. Holding to Ralf with an iron grip, the commander stares at the soldier, eye to eye, features stern, unyielding. There is, however, the tiniest of grins still haunting the old man's weathered face.
"It's good to see you're still well and capable," he replies. But...how capable will he be after Heidern is truly done with the soldier?
Reeling back, the man's hand recoils to his side, long fingers suddenly stiff. As if his hand were a blade, he thrusts it forward, burying halfway into Ralf's gut - right where he had previously. Overkill? Maybe. Or simply, it just so happens to be the only spot. Either way, there's a split second before the elder soldier twists his body and thrusts the other hand out, giving a solid blow with the heel of his palm to Jones' chin, to send him flying back.
THERE it is. THAT is what Ralf hated last time!
The first entry doesn't really hurt all that much: Heidern's hand is knife-like, and it's like sinking into butter. Even so, the sensation of having one rummage around in his organs is undoubted ODD, something that makes him more nauseous than anything. It's only AFTER he's kicked square in the chin and landing does the severing of nerves light his brain ablaze with hurried signals, screaming at him about the NEW injury. Any man would groan and spit out curses after that, and Jones is just like any other man. It FUCKING HURTS. All he can do at the moment, however, is stuff that wad of cloth deeper into the wound, well aware of the need to half the free loss of blood as soon as possible. Survival first, retaliation second. And STILL, the training instilled in him over so many years tells him that he won't even be given a break here. He'll have to keep going if he's to maintain his position in Heidern's eyes.
Being a MAN is HELL.
Still groaning through highly-clenched teeth, he actually stands up! He's bleeding a lot, to be sure, and he favors hunching forward and a little to his left, but he's up. A deep breath is drawn in, then coughed out, followed by ANOTHER yell! Rage seems to really drive him at times, and it's only that and adrenaline that send him into hell's gaping maw so willingly. His head dips low, aiming to butt right into the vampire, but only to knock him down. And if he does.......oh man.
COMBATSYS: Heidern blocks Ralf's Umanori Vulcan Punch.
[ \\\\\\\\ < > ///// ]
Ralf 1/-------/=======|===----\-------\0 Heidern
Dismissed in the harshest of fashions, Heidern makes the motions before he simply turns, that solitary eye seeking out the horizon. With his jaw squared, the soldier seems thoughtful in that moment as the long hand at his side rises and jerks aside, a spray of red staining the dusty earth beneath his feet. Being a man really is Hell. But being an Ikari Warrior?
Some might call it suicide.
Somehow, however, Ralf can still stand. This comes as a slight surprise to the commander as he again turns, facing the other soldier directly. Ah, this. Shifting his weight as he barrels forward, the man lifts his arms and intercepts Ralf by the shoulders. Boot heels sink against the earth, a line forming as Heidern is pushed forward as he himself attempts to exert force against. It's a struggle.
Then?
"That's the stuff, Jones."
Suddenly drawn forward, Heidern attempts to knee Ralf right in the face.
COMBATSYS: Heidern successfully hits Ralf with Medium Kick.
[ \\\\ < > ////// ]
Ralf 1/----===/=======|===----\-------\0 Heidern
Ralf makes all these glutteral grunts and groaning sounds, obviously trying hard to push his superior back! His own feet dig in, and it may very well seem like a matador holding a bull back! Well. This is getting him nowhere! Thankfully, he's spared the embarassment of futility any longer by the other man's foot, AGAIN bashing him in the face. Spittle and blood from a busted lip fly free in a small arc, undoubtedly staining the attacker's fine attire! Savagry, indeed! SAVAGRY!
The hit causes him to stumble back with a single step, but...well, it can only be called sheer willpower and stubborn determination that causes him to flex those injured stomach muscles, surely tearing more in the process, but flings him forward again! This time, instead of ramming, a punch is thrown, then another, an elbow, and more punches, all of which are simply saturated with fire and concussive force. Whatever Heidern did, it flipped his Rage switch full on! Don't stop until your foe is down, right?
COMBATSYS: Heidern counters Exploding Vulcan Punch from Ralf with Killing Bringer.
[ < > ///// ]
Ralf 0/-------/-======|=====--\-------\0 Heidern
A bull is an apt description of Jones as he tries his damned hardest to push forward, despite resistence. Holding his ground, his commander's arms flex, arms as hard as steel as he somehow manages to keep the soldier at bay. Somehow, it works. And seconds later the elder soldier is snagging the material of his garments and dropping his face right into his knee. His fatigues are stained, yes. But they'll come out.
Jones' willpower is impressive. Somehow, despite all this...he still stands. This is precisely what he likes to see in his Ikari Warriors. For once a smirk paints its way across those weathered features, that solitary hazel eye alight with pride and delight. Yes, this is it. This is the spirit of the Ikari.
Again he comes at him, but this time, unlike those times before, Heidern is ready. Shifting his foot, a hand lashes out, intercepting the first strike. Grabbing a tight hold on Ralf's fist, he hurls the man into the air, letting him soar high. Meanwhile, below, Heidern slides beneath him and, with a swift but single motion up, thrusts his hand up. Why?
To allow Ralf to fall upon the knife-like hand, a strange aura of red lingering about that long arm and his entire form. It's a few seconds of pain before the man tosses Ralf aside and rises to his full height, looking calm and composed. To the trained eye, however, Heidern is...winded utterly.
Oh. Oh, this is pain. Sure, adrenaline severely helps dull it, but face it: Jones is pretty tapped. He's been stabbed multiple times now, and that last one? It finally brings the beast to rest. Even he can only take so much punishment, and by god, has he taken a lot! If nothing else, it's an example of what each and everyone one of those soldiers SHOULD be like.
Well, not bloody and beaten to near-death. Just...you know. Tough as nails and relentless.
But now, instead of being flung aside, Ralf still holds on! An attempt, albeit a weak one, is make to bring his hands up and clap one on either side of Heidern's head. Whether there's still a hand in his belly or not, he would lean his head back, breath in deep...and just headbutt the holy fuck out of Sir Heidern. Go down fighting!
COMBATSYS: Ralf can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\ <
Heidern 0/-------/--=====|
COMBATSYS: Heidern blocks Ralf's Quick Punch.
[ \\\\ <
Heidern 0/-------/-======|
The very fact Ralf remains persistent, enough so to try and fell the Ikari Commander, is impressive. In fact, those who stand around and watch do so with bated breaths, eyes widened in sheer disbelief. Ralf is a tank. There is no denying it. And he just keeps coming, and coming and coming.
Tough as nails really doesn't begin to describe the sheer tenacity of Ralf Jones. Heidern prefers it this way.
With one last push, aided by adrenaline and sheer will, the soldier comes. Weak as it may be, the elder man shifts his weight, a thick boot's heel lodging against the ground, bracing him for potential impact. Jerking a hand up, Heidern intercepts the first strike. Then, the other hand rises, catching Ralf's head in his gloved palm.
"That's enough for today, Jones." he states, barely able to go on himself. That said, however, the man lets go and takes a few steps back. He stands, silent and as stiff as a pillar, his features stern and serious. Then, with one swift motion he lifts his arm up and offers the other Ikari a rigid and painfully formal salute.
"I thank you, Leona and Clark for a job well done. You three did not disappoint me."
COMBATSYS: Heidern takes no action.
[ \\\\ <
Heidern 0/-------/-======|
COMBATSYS: Heidern has ended the fight here.
It's all Ralf can do to let the words filter through the sound of rushing blood and pounding heart, but not much else. An arm tries to rise up to salute, but doesn't QUITE make it.
Thankfully, the Ikari medical team is ready, probably has been for a while. Every time something like this happens, there's blood, there's pain, and there are STITCHES. At least the stretcher is comfortable. Pulling the mass of cloth from his midsection, however, WON'T be.
Log created by Heidern, and last modified on 18:49:26 03/16/2007.