Description: Azrael has the misfortune to stumble upon Mr. Big conducting some 'business'.
"I'm gunna ask you one last time, bitch. Who the hell was it?" Booms a deep voice angrily from the depths of an alleyway offshoot of one of the streets near Mr. Big's club L'Amour. Pinning an ugly nameless thug to the cold brick wall of the ally with his right hand, the lubricious Mr. Big grits his teeth and points in the man's face with his left, demanding answers.
'I told you Mr. Big, I don't know!' the man insists, sweat running down his face. 'I wasn't around!'
"AND WHY THE HELL- Why the hell not? I pay you to make sure these deals go down smoothly and three of our guys get capped and Leilani gets throw off of the damn roof! Now you tell me, why weren't you around? I know there's GOTTA be a good reason." Mr. Big asks, restraining his voice suddenly as he tries to keep himself in check. "I want you to choose your words carefully, bitch. 'Cause you know what happens if I hear anything but than the truth..."
Gulping loudly the thug's eyes begin to scan back and forth wildly as he speaks, 'I, uhh... I... there was this problem in the club see, and...'
"-Problem in the club, huh?" Mr. Big asks as he cuts off the man in his grasp. "You're damn right there was. The problem was that you were in there tryin to get a freebee from Ayesha instead of out here DOING YO DAMN JOB!!!" Quickly pulling a huge revolver from his coat as the man attempts to squirm out of his grasp; Mr. Big aims the gun at the thug's head and pulls the trigger, blowing his brains all over the alley wall. "I appreciate your honesty," Mr. Big says matter-of-factly before turning back towards the street as the body slumps to the ground...
Maybe the sound of a gun going off would attract a lot of attention, maybe it wouldn't. Some people might be drawn to such noises, to find out what the hell happened and what they can do to help. Azrael's not that type, not really. He's more to just mind his own business and forget it ever happened, unless he has orders to the contrary. He couldn't really care less about what the Southtown Syndicate does, barely even aware of it's existence if it wasn't for a chance run in with another faceless thug and Billy Kane. Even then he doesn't know anything other than that it exists, and even 'it' is mostly an unknown. Really? He doesn't care, let them mind their own business and they'll let him mind his. Unless NESTS tells him otherwise, he'll ignore their existence.
The problem now, as it were, is one of proximity. Had he been two blocks away he wouldn't have even flinched at the sound of a gunshot. A block away? Well, he might have turned to make sure he avoided heading towards it's location. Unfortunately for him he's in about the worst possible place he could be other than in the alley itself: Right at the entrance of it. From this range, only a couple dozen feet, the shot is loud and resounding. He had ignored the heated conversation, as he should have, not even hearing its words. But the gunshot? Reflexes. Reflexes will be his downfall. His rhythmic footsteps stop, and his head turns, eyes seeking out the source of the noise that's so close. "Shit." No, he doesn't care that some punk is dead. He doesn't give a flying fuck about that. The problem is that he's now a goddamn witness to something he doesn't give a fuck about, and whoever that is- no, and Mr.Big, easily recognized from years of studying Saturday Night Fight films, probably does give a flying fuck that someone saw. He lets out an exasperated sigh.
Maybe the sound of a gun going off would attract a lot of attention, maybe it wouldn't. Some people might be drawn to such noises, to find out what the hell happened and what they can do to help. Azrael's not that type, not really. He's more to just mind his own business and forget it ever happened, unless he has orders to the contrary. He couldn't really care less about what the Southtown Syndicate does, barely even aware of it's existence if it wasn't for a chance run in with another faceless thug and Billy Kane. Even then he doesn't know anything other than that it exists, and even 'it' is mostly an unknown. Really? He doesn't care, let them mind their own business and they'll let him mind his. Unless NESTS tells him otherwise, he'll ignore their existence.
The problem now, as it were, is one of proximity. Had he been two blocks away he wouldn't have even flinched at the sound of a gunshot. A block away? Well, he might have turned to make sure he avoided heading towards it's location. Unfortunately for him he's in about the worst possible place he could be other than in the alley itself: Right at the entrance of it. From this range, only a couple dozen feet, the shot is loud and resounding. He had ignored the heated conversation, as he should have, not even hearing its words. But the gunshot? Reflexes. Reflexes will be his downfall. His rhythmic footsteps stop, and his head turns, eyes seeking out the source of the noise that's so close. "Shit." No, he doesn't care that some punk is dead. He doesn't give a flying fuck about that. The problem is that he's now a goddamn witness to something he doesn't give a fuck about, and whoever that is- no, and Mr.Big, easily recognized from years of studying Saturday Night Fight films, probably does give a flying fuck that someone saw. He lets out an exasperated sigh.
"You!" Mr. Big growls as he points at Azrael. Yeah, the Southtown Syndicate owns most of the police here in Southtown, hell, that's a big part of the reason why Mr. Big would chance firing off a gun so close to street. The cops know better than to go sticking their noses where they don't belong, for the most part. An eye witness though, that's just no good. Chances are Mr. Big would be able to skate on any allegations, hell, they own almost as many judges as they do cops, but Mr. Big hasn't gotten where he is today without knowing better than to leave any loose ends.
"Come here! ...goddammit..." Mr. Big begins to yell at the teen before realizing that the odds of the kid just running off are probably a lot greater than of him going into a dark alleyway with a murderer. "Son of a bitch..." Mr. Big mutters as he raises the .500 Magnum Research BFR revolver at the teen and squeezes off a round. Might as well take another shot since he's here in the alley, but if the kid survives to run off into the open street he'll have to do it the old fashioned way. Hey, street fights are legal, right?
COMBATSYS: Mr.Big has started a fight here.
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Mr.Big 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Azrael has joined the fight here on the right meter side.
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Mr.Big 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Azrael
COMBATSYS: Mr.Big successfully hits Azrael with Thrown Object.
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Mr.Big 0/-------/------=|=====--\-------\0 Azrael
A gun? That should be pretty dangerous for a normal person, but to a fighter? Azrael's seen what happens when a gun is put up against a fighter a- BLAM! Ok, strike that. Azrael looks down and sees blood. He lifts his hand up and touches the wound, he sees more blood. To say the least, he's shocked. He hadn't even tried to get out of the way or defend against it since it was just a bullet, but then he had thought that bullets were weak. Wrong. Dead wrong. Bullets fucking /hurt/ when shot by such a big gun. He grits his teeth and reaches into the wound, digging the bullet out of himself. It didn't penetrate straight through him as it might have done to a normal person, but it still went in pretty far. He picks the bullet out and drops it to the ground. "Son of a bitch."
Looks like he has no chance other than to defend himself. "Look, I don't give a shit about you shooting whoever the hell that was, but if you're going to shoot me, that's a different story." He grits his teeth and simply charges straight in. There isn't much semblance of style or skill here, his weapon is simply pulled from his back and he stabs forward with incredible ferocity, trying to jam it straight into the chest of the Syndicate lieutenant. Small strikes would be worthless against someone like him. "Hyah!"
COMBATSYS: Mr.Big interrupts Deep Strike from Azrael with California Romance.
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Mr.Big 0/-------/----===|=======\=====--\1 Azrael
Ha! Got him... ...wait a second, he's still standing?! Mr. Big's mouth falls agape as the kid picks out the slug and drops it on the ground. "Huh. What do we have here..." Mr. Big says with a slight smirk as the kid takes some sort of crazy bladed polearm weapon off of his back. "Looks like I got a live one here. This could be fun..." he adds as he stashes the revolver back in his coat and draws his normal pair of batons from it's depths just as the weapon is swung straight toward his chest. "Hah!" Mr. Big shouts as he leaps toward Azrael, his batons catching the kid one after another on the chin and lifting him into the air along with Mr. Big as the bladed weapon tears a somewhat painful, but mostly shallow cut along his chest. "Sorry kid. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It's business, you know."
What can Azrael do but get smashed up into the air? Nothing. Absolutely nothing, is the answer. Except perhaps learn. Was his choice to go for a powerful hit the correct one, or should he have instead waited and bided his time, perhaps try to talk himself out of the situation? No, that wouldn't have worked, his mind tells him. Mr.Big wouldn't respect words, but perhaps an attack he would respect. Yes, he made the right decision. But now knowing the ease, and power, with which his attack was brushed aside he knows better than to simply charge in again. "Yea, story of my life. Business, you say? Tch, whatever. Let's just do this." Nope, talking wouldn't get him anywhere. He draws himself up to his full height and his eyes become fierce, his grip tightening on his weapon. He sets his resolve and stares forward, right into Mr.Big's eyes.
COMBATSYS: Azrael gathers his will.
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Mr.Big 0/-------/----===|>>>>>>>\>>>>>>>\2 Azrael
"Let's do this, huh? Right to the point. I like that." Smoothly snapping both of his batons together into one longer staff with a mechanical click, Mr. Big spins the weapon once in his hands and considers Azrael. "Don't worry kid. Most of the pain is already over. They'll never find your body, so the police will probably tell your mommy that you ran away or somethin. Maybe you joined the circus?" he suggests with a laugh as he suddenly steps forward, the staff leaping from his hands as he trusts it towards Azrael's face, hoping to knock him out so he can figure out what to do with the kid, or the kid's body if need be, later.
COMBATSYS: Azrael fails to interrupt Staff Thrust from Mr.Big with Death Wish.
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Mr.Big 0/-------/----===|=======\-------\1 Azrael
COMBATSYS: Azrael has reached second wind!
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Mr.Big 0/-------/----===|=======\-------\1 Azrael
Azrael ignores the threats. They're absolutely meaningless until it's all said and done. Mr.Big comes forward to attack with his staff, and Azrael responds by whipping his weapon in a hard underhand stroke not unlike a golf swing. It's powerful, intending to knock Big right up into the air so he can follow up with a powerful combination. It wouldn't be possible to tell this by the swing, and in the end it doesn't matter a single bit. The staff smashes into his face and simply lays him out, the young man punished and sent straight onto his back. Shit. It's over, he can feel it. His body aches, and his head is ringing... is this the end? He lets out a large sigh... one of relief. And then his eyes suddenly fly open. He can't give in. At least, not now. He has more to give. He reaches down inside of himself and clenches his teeth, finally pushing himself up off of the ground, and beating the cobwebs out of his mind. No, he'll keep fighting, he won't give himself up. Not yet.
Smirking as the kid hits the ground; Mr. Big breaks the staff back into two batons with a click before slipping them back into his coat pocket. Bending down to grab the dead thug by the ankle, the Chrome Dome Don sets about the task of dragging him deeper into the alley... that is... until he hears movement behind him. Sighing in vexation, Big lets the thug's foot fall to the ground with a thud and turns back to Azrael. "Back for more, huh?" he asks in annoyance. "Don't you know when you're dead, dammit?!" Mr. Big shouts, the knuckles of his hands turning white as he balls them into fists.
COMBATSYS: Mr.Big gathers his will.
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Mr.Big 0/-------/=======|=======\-------\1 Azrael
The funny thing is that it hadn't even occurred to Azrael that he could have just lied down and played dead and that Big would have shifted his attention enough to let him get away. He lets out another sigh in annoyance at that thought. Azrael then looks to the large man. "Nope, I'm afraid not. I didn't stay dead the first time, so I don't know why I should stay dead now." He gives a slight shrug, "I suppose you're still not letting me go, so I don't really have any other choices but to keep on fighting you. It's funny, any other time and I'd probably feel honored to fight someone like you." A slight smirk actually crosses his face at that. He holds his weapon firmly in his hands, and then begins spinning it around quickly, the weapon held directly out in front of himself, held perpendicular to the ground, the center of it 'aimed' at Mr.Big. It might seem completely non-threatening at first, but then black energy begins to trail after the blades, and then the shaft itself until it's just whirling blades within dark energy. A glow of black light begins emitting from the center of the weapon, and then suddenly a huge beam of energy bursts forth from it, intending to completely immerse Mr.Big in his frigid energy of death.
COMBATSYS: Mr.Big fails to interrupt Darkness Reborn from Azrael with Double Ground Blaster.
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Mr.Big 0/-------/----===|-------\-------\0 Azrael
"Honored huh?" Mr. Big asks thoughtfully, as he pauses to rub his goatee. Maybe he had this kid pegged all wrong... Glancing back over at Azrael, Mr. Big's musing is cut short by some odd weapon spinning. His eyebrows knitting together as the black energy begins to form, Mr. Big begins to realize that something's up. "Oh no you don't!" Mr. Big shouts as he starts to rush toward the growing energy field. "DOUBLE GRO-" Mr. Big begins to shout as he nears, but is cut off as the black beam of light washes over him. "Brrrr..." Mr. Big shivers as he stumbles back a step or two, clutching his coat around him to try and ward off the supernatural chill. "Creepy kid..." he mutters.
Something worked. Perhaps that in itself is a victory, that one of his techniques actually stood up against the power and might of Mr.Big. Perhaps it was a fluke, perhaps not, but it's something to be proud of at the very least. "To be able to battle with a fighter as powerful as you is of course an honor." Creepy? He's used to being called creepy, especially in regards to his energy. He grits his teeth a little, and then moves forward to attack again, knowing that he can't afford to simply hang back and try to gather himself up. His only chance is to strike hard and fast and hope for the best. It's really the only way to fight against people so much more powerful against you.
COMBATSYS: Mr.Big fails to interrupt Fierce Strike from Azrael with Medium Strike.
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Mr.Big 0/-------/---====|-------\-------\0 Azrael
Well, he's right. Mr. Big IS pretty powerful... "You see... that's what's wrong with most other kids these days... no one's got any damn respect..." he begins to reply just as Azrael moves in for another slice. Still shaking off the chilly effects of the creepy chi, Mr. Big attempts to cut the kid short with another smack of his baton, but is sliced on the chest again, leaving another cut crossing the first. "Damn it..." Mr. Big mutters in irritation at his lapse in concentration. Alright, time to get serious, just put the kid down and make sure he stays down this time. Enough running your mouth Mr. Big.
A fighter of Azrael's level might be in serious trouble if they had slipped up as Mr.Big just did, but for someone of his level it was little more than an irritation. Azrael had yet to put any real dents in him, only a knick and a scratch here. The baton wielding powerhouse facing him was easily too much for him to handle, but despite that he's not going to give up, but continue his relentless assault. Again he seeks to bury his weapon in Big's chest with a powerful thrust, but this time there's an added element to it; if he succeeds a powerful surge of that energy will run through the weapon, enough to give Azrael the time to step forward and send three powerful slashes across his body before he'll be able to recover.
COMBATSYS: Mr.Big parries Azrael's Morbid Massacre!
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Mr.Big 0/-------/--=====|-------\-------\0 Azrael
Raising his left-hand baton in response to the incoming attack, Mr. Big easily parries the thrust up and away from his body with his own weapon and takes the opportunity to move in on Azrael and take away his range advantage now that the deadly looking pole arm is out of the way. Bringing up the baton in his right hand, Mr. Big begins to weave it in a brutal horizontal figure-eight motion, sending multiple strikes towards Azrael's head, neck, and chest as he presses forward in an attempt to make Azrael backpedal under the force of the barrage. This kid isn't a bad fighter, for one so young. It's a shame he needs to die.
COMBATSYS: Mr.Big successfully hits Azrael with Crazy Drum Dram EX.
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Mr.Big 0/-------/-======|======-\-------\0 Azrael
Shit. That attack took craploads of energy, energy that surges at the tip of the weapon that would have been buried in Mr.Big's chest had it not been knocked away so easily. And then Mr.Big has to go and begin smacking the shit out of Azrael, who has no chance at all to get away from the powerful blows, battered around heavily enough to knock him into the opposite wall of the alley. He turns his head and spits out blood, coughing. "F-fuck..." He is, quite simply being put down. The pain in his body is overwhelming, and the hits to the chest knocked the wind straight out of him. He shakes his head and simply pushes off of the wall, extending his weapon out towards Mr.Big in a near suicidal frontal assault.
COMBATSYS: Mr.Big interrupts Deep Strike from Azrael with Ground Blaster.
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Mr.Big 1/-------/=======|=======\===----\1 Azrael
Suicidal is a very apt description, yes. Calmly watching Azrael as he makes a last-ditch effort at hurting Big, the Southsynd Lieutenant quickly raises one of his batons as the kid closes in, turning his body slightly, so the strike veers off to the side and doesn't sink quite as deeply as it could have. "GROUND BLASTER!" Mr. Big intones as a large plume of nice, not at all cold or fueled by the power of death, fiery orange chi blooms beneath the baton and washes Azrael in its burning glory.
COMBATSYS: Azrael takes no action.
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Mr.Big 1/-------/=======|
COMBATSYS: Azrael can no longer fight.
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Mr.Big 1/-------/=======|
Azrael is struck full on by the power of the attack and it thrust right back into the wall again, falling down in a heap afterwards. His eyes blink slowly as they look at Mr.Big, and he struggles to get back up and keep fighting... but it's too much. The pain is overwhelming, and he's simply too tired. He has nothing left to give, he passes out.
Nodding in satisfaction as Azrael finally falls to the ground, Mr. Big flicks some of the blood off of his batons and stuffs them back into his coat. "Ah clean up. Gotta hate it," he mutters as he reaches down to check Azrael's pulse. It's there. Weak, and kind of odd, but there. Slapping the side of Azrael's face a few times to make sure he's out, the Diamond Don grabs Azrael's limp form by the foot with one hand, and drags him over to the dead thug. Glancing down at the parked car in the other end of the alley, away from the street, Mr. Big pulls a keychain from his pocket and pops the trunk.
"Hmmf!" he grunts as he grabs both bodies by the legs and lifts them up onto his back and carries them towards the trunk, where he tosses them in unceremoniously, both their limp bodies tangled in a way totally devoid of any dignity. Slamming the trunk shut, Mr. Big rests against the car for a moment before pulling a cell phone out of his coat pocket and dialing.
"Unosuke. Send someone over to L'Amour... Yeah, two of them... The other's a witness. Just a kid... well, actually he was a fighter, not bad either, for his age. Yeah, it's a fucking shame... I'm going to make whoever was responsible for this pay goddammit. First our three guys, then Leilani in the hospital, then the two I had to take out. There's a lot of blood on this bastard's hands. Anyway, the kid's still alive, I think, but he's out cold... No, I already did enough killing tonight, let the driver finish it if he wants, or hell, just let the water do him in, his choice. ...yeah, the whole car. I needed the new model anyway. Later Unosuke."
Hanging up the phone, Mr. Big unlocks the car and tosses the keys inside. "Blood and little pieces of brain all over me..." he mutters as he makes his way to L'Amour's side door. "...think I'll have some of the girls help me with a shower..." he muses as he heads into the club to 'freshen up'.
COMBATSYS: Mr.Big has ended the fight here.
Log created by Mr.Big, and last modified on 05:36:17 03/24/2007.