Description: Tran wants more power! Or genetic material. Or knowledge. Or something. Read the log to find out, there's fisticuffs!
Ah, the pleasant sound of the school bell ringing! Not that Pacific really has one, compared to the other schools. All the same, students exit in bunches as they head off to their apartments or otherwise just out into the town for the usual school kid activities in Japan; karaoke, bakeries, video games and of course, aimless wandering.
Having signed up for the latter, the rather tall and muscled figure of Preston Alistair Wellington the II makes his way out of the school gates and on towards the downtown area. He's somewhat easy to spot, given his size -- and the impressive length of wood that resides over his shoulders. That oar of his always earns him odd looks, but most just figure it's because he's a weird foreigner. They're pretty much right.
Pausing at a crosswalk, the teen looks skyward. He happens to spot two pigeons being chased by a dove. "That's just weird," he notes, his accent thick before the crosswalk switches over. With a pleasant tune to tell all walkers that it's clear, the teen heads across, just an imposing, brute-like figure clad in the blue blazer of Pacific High, otherwise surrounded by the crowd.
COMBATSYS: Preston has started a fight here.
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Preston 0/-------/-------|
Aimless wandering is all well and good, but some men have a purpose. Some men have driving need pushing them forward. Some men have, dare I say...a destiny! Dr. Tran could very well be one of those men, although if destiny states that he has to be hanging around Pacific High, looking for likely recruits/DNA samples, then maybe destiny should try just a little bit harder. It's not that it's all that bad, neccesarily, but it could certainly be better.
Whatever the case, Preston stands out pretty well. Tran may as well put him to the test, see if he has the neccesary qualities to be a thug/inside man/whatever Elle can think of. It is, as they say, go time.
Walking up behind the significantly larger man, Tran says, "Excuse me." He reaches way up to tap Preston's shoulder, continuing, "Are you as huge as you look?" Then, assuming the student turns around in a timely fashion, he'll punch him right in the goddamn stomach. Mostly because that's...that's honestly about all Tran can reach and still have force behind the blow.
COMBATSYS: Tran has joined the fight here.
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Tran 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Preston
COMBATSYS: Preston endures Tran's Strong Punch.
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Tran 0/-------/-------|==-----\-------\0 Preston
And some have a purpose which is essentially just to get something to eat before a hefty training session with a relative! There Preston is, having his shoulder tapped; he turns, as expected, only to have a fist driven into his stomach. At such range, at such ferocity, all he can really do is flex his abs.
The result for Tran is somewhat like punching a brick wall. The teen works out, and with the fist there in his stomach, he flexes further--threatening to swallow the hand whole! "Nggh," Preston grunts down at the good Doctor, the response to the initial question little more than said grunt because that still packed somewhat of a wallop behind it. Aside from a twitch in his cheek though, the overdeveloped teen doesn't seem to be showing too much pain.
"Dare I ask," he begins the start of a rant forming as he shifts that oar on his shoulder, "just what the fuck you think you are doing there, sunshine, walking around planting your puny little fist into people's stomachs?" Flexing his middle again, he seeks to expel the offending appendage in a huge breath.
Rounding fully, he stares down at Tran as his annoyance grows. "In fact, most would consider it somewhat rude, I would think, to go around slugging strangers. But far be it for me to stop you from being a prick; just expect it back, you fucking ass!" With that, the oar swings from on-high, shifting in his grip to simply strike the blade of the oar square onto the tiny man's skull.
COMBATSYS: Preston successfully hits Tran with Medium Strike.
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Tran 0/-------/----===|==-----\-------\0 Preston
As they say: oh damn. That would...that would be a yes, yes he is quite that huge, and perhaps moreso. That actually made Tran's knuckles hurt, and he's gotten used to punching a whole lot of things over time. Like trees, and brick walls. Add to this the impending impact of the impressive implement of Preston's ire, and Tran's in at least a quarter-world of pain. The doctor staggers downward, the attack coming too high, too fast for him to really set up a defense against it. Taking a few shaky steps back, he grabs at his head and winces, staring right back at Preston.
"Quite a mouth on you, big guy. What kind of idiot would I have to be to go around punching complete strangers, not expecting them to punch back?" Lowering his hand and shaking his head, Tran gathers his thoughts before launching into what may best be described as a counter-rant. "As to what I'm doing, I'd say it's pretty clear that I'm picking a fight with you! The punch might've been your first hint, but I guess it takes a while for the pain to go all that distance up to your muscle-choked brain and register!"
Rubbing his knuckles, Tran cocks his head and regards Preston carefully for a moment. "So how about it, big guy? Ready to take a beating?"
COMBATSYS: Tran focuses on his next action.
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Tran 0/-------/----===|==-----\-------\0 Preston
Well if the fist wasn't enough to make Preston take a step back, the retaliation word-wise might just be! "Finally, someone who's familiar with the ancient art of smack talk," he mumbles as Tran rants on, the words intended mostly for himself. But with space between the two, he takes on a more relaxed stance. The oar again rises up to his shoulder, his grip sliding down the shaft to allow it to slant across his broad back.
With the offer out there on the table, the Brit with the Oar seems to spend all of three seconds deciding. "Well I am due for training, but I'm sure they'll understand... Alright, pipsqueak, you're on."
That said, the oar is heaved up as he lifts his opposing shoulder, the implement of wooden carnage caught neatly. In short order he slides back, school shoes neat across the pavement as he gathers himself just a little bit of space -- and then, the whirling begins. Utilizing it more like a staff, he creates an initial bit of defense, a lazy twirl given as the wood carves through the air. "Any particular reason you have for just fuckin' coming out of no where to start a fight though?
"Not that I care, mind you!" Emphasis is given as he snaps out of the twirl, lashing out with the oar in an upwards arc, the distance closed by the sheer length of the oar itself -- but it seems that Preston is missing deliberately! It's the wake that the good Doctor need watch out for though, as the air distorts, a sudden gush of chi seeking to slash into the instigator!
COMBATSYS: Tran reflects White Horses from Preston with Operation - Dr. Tran.
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Tran 0/-------/---====|=====--\-------\0 Preston
"That's what I was hoping I'd hear. And real, big-boy words and everything. Man, it's so refreshing to find someone who's a good, honest, intelligent guy about being a total jackass." Not like, y'know, Luc. Or Marise. Or any of the billions of good guys running around, giving thumbs up and happy feelings.
Feeling pretty chipper, Tran times it so that he steps forward right after Preston's oar goes whizzing by in front of him. "Oh, you know how it goes." Raising a hand, a flat light-greyish disc about the diameter of a basketball forms, a strange shield of sorts. Tran pushes it forward into Preston's splash of chi, and impossibly, the entire wave redirects right back at him, crashing downward with significant force. "Testing the waters and all that."
Tran steps back again, arms folded. "Seeing who's worth a damn around here, and not too full of themselves to stand. That sort of thing."
Testing the waters indeed, given Preston's affinity to water. The wave tumbles back into him, causing the boy a momentary lapse as surprise sinks in. It's enough, as the blast cuts into his blazer. "Fuck, those things aren't cheap," the boy growls as he slides back.
Tilting his head to one side, he issues a loud crack as he limbers up. "Nice trick," he adds, holding the oar up in front of him. He twists it in his hands, those clear eyes clearly considering his next course of action. "Seems like a pretty silly way of testin' the waters then, just walking up to random strangers to hit them in the fuckin' stomach. Surprised you haven't landed your ass in jail yet, in fact." For all he really knows, the Doctor has.
But the idle chit-chat falls to the wayside as the Brit reaches a decision. He bursts into action, a bit of speed coming to his mighty large form -- but he only takes a couple of steps forward before the oar lashes out. Like a spear, it seeks to sink right into Tran's middle -- and should the good Doctor be unfortunate enough to be struck, he can expect to be hoisted clear off his feet and rather unceremoniously slammed into the pavement!
COMBATSYS: Preston successfully hits Tran with Bunting Tosser.
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Tran 0/-------/=======|======-\-------\0 Preston
Hurk! Evidently, the big guy's faster than he looks, and that reach, damn! Tran tries to step backward, out of range of the oar, but it's too much. He gets nailed, carried, and slammed, all in quick succession. The doctor's impact against the ground is meaty.
Pushing himself up, a trickle of blood coming out of the corner of his mouth, Tran grins. "How long have you been in Southtown? This city's crazy, there's a random fight on any given street at any time of day." He spits a bloody loogie to the side, clearing his mouth. "And besides, you ain't a random stranger, you're a carefully chosen abnormally large stranger carrying a goddamn oar around. It's like trying to pick a grandmother out of a lineup of hardened felons."
That's enough chitchat for now, though. Tran is trying to have a fight here, and to that end he goes for it, moving back in toward Preston and throwing a quick series of exploding punches at his torso. Normally, Tran would try for a tackle or somesuch before that, to hold the big man still, but...well, something tells him it wouldn't work so well.
COMBATSYS: Preston blocks Tran's Man of Action.
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Tran 0/-------/=======|=======\-------\0 Preston
It's no easy feat to lift a man on the end of an oar at that type of range, but Preston manages to do it with a massive exertion, his grunt surprisingly NOT accompanied by his pants or shirt and blazer ripping. But with Tran down, the talk resumes -- only to lead into combat once more.
The good Doctor comes, fists of fury blazing with hidden power -- and for his part, the Brit seems to turn to the defensive, utilizing his forearms and oar to guard his midriff and torso from the multitude of those flying fists. Ultimately though, he seeks distance to his favor; and lifts his right foot, attempting to drive the boot square into Tran and knock him back!
For a change, there's no banter from Preston -- for the moment, at least. Perhaps he's feeling a little pressed by the relatively diminutive Tran, or perhaps he's simply weighing the spoken words. It's true; his size and the oar make him stand out in a crowd. And fighting does seem fairly popular in this town. It all marks him as a newcomer to the city.
COMBATSYS: Tran blocks Preston's Light Kick.
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Tran 1/-------/=======|=======\-------\0 Preston
Well, if Preston wants to stay silent for the moment, then that's fine. He's been a good enough sport about all this so far, so Tran'll give it to him. The fight, now, that's going full-swing. First, the doctor has to deal with the unpleasant reality of Preston's foot rapidly approaching his face. The truth of the matter is that he's actually in a pretty good position to do so, crouching down and catching the foot with both hands. It still drives him back a step, and the doctor's hands aren't thanking him for the abuse, but it's better than the alternative.
"Here we go, big guy!" That's all the warning Preston's going to get before Tran pushes himself forward again, going down onto one knee almost directly under the stupendously sizy student. The doctor plants both hands against the pavement, and instantly steam comes rushing up all around him, a massive geyser that should do well to boil Preston like a lobster that would feed a couple of families.
COMBATSYS: Tran successfully hits Preston with -Q- is for Dr. Tran.
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Tran 0/-------/-------|=======\====---\1 Preston
If feeding the masses was Tran's intent, then he's well on course to become the next Jesus. The geyser erupts in short order, a move that Preston himself is well familiar with, having a couple of his own -- but at such range, and with such speed, there is little he can do. The Brit is encompassed in that boiling water, to the point where even his scream -- if there is one -- cannot be heard thanks to the sudden gush of raw energy that makes him a delightful pink in its wake.
And indeed, the teen looks rather well-done in the aftermath, barely having budged an inch despite the ferocity with which the water struck. He simply stares down at Tran for the longest of moments... and then he spits water out to the side.
"Fuck, man," he states evenly, spending a moment to simply stare at the back of his hand. He's rather pink, and feeling like he's near his last legs. "I've already had a fuckin' bath today, you inconsiderate sod!"
It's the retaliation that Tran needs to watch for, because in short order the youth seeks to dish it out. The oar is clasped, and with the good Doctor so close, he proves an ideal target. Snapping the oar out to its full length, he abruptly spins counter-clockwise, extending his weapon out wide. As he spins, he gains momentum, the blade of his oar kept flat to allow it to slice through the air.
A very linear strike, he seeks to knock the instigator of this rather impromptu battle clear into next week, twisting the shaft in his grip to bring the broad flat of the oar's blade into Tran's body with a tremendous amount of force!
COMBATSYS: Tran dodges Preston's Man Overboard!.
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Tran 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Preston
"Cry me a river." And there's another water joke. It's lame, but kind of funny, anyway. Right? Right?
Ahem. That aside, Tran knows it's usually a bad sign when he unleashes hell, and the other guy is still right there to unleash it right back at him. Especially when the other guy's proven he can hurt as bad, hit as hard as Preston does. Times seems to slow for Tran, as he comes to terms with how well and truly he is fucked.
And then a miracle happens. That dove from earlier? It goes flapping by right in front of Tran's face, evidently summoned by the cinematic slowdown. An entire swarm of pigeons is right on its heels, and damn if they don't look pissed. Suffice to say, when Preston's oar comes around, there's an explosion of grey feathers, several angry, pained 'coos', and a disturbing lack of Dr. Tran.
He himself corrects this in just a moment, standing behind Preston, trying to pretend nothing happened. "You missed, man." This is quickly followed by another light-grey disc, slammed forward with a palm-strike motion toward Preston's back.
COMBATSYS: Preston dodges Tran's Operation - Dr. Tran.
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Tran 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Preston
That really is just weird and bizarre and rather disturbing. The mass of pigeons simply cease to exist as a mass of pigeons, becoming a mess instead as the oar cleaves into them. For his part, Preston looks mildly shocked -- the last thing he wanted to do was harm a pigeon!
And those clear eyes grow even wider as the voice of the Doctor comes from behind him instead. For a man his size, there's no way he should be able to avoid what comes next -- but somehow, it seems he does. The disc seeks out his back, but it strikes little but air as the teen dives to one side.
"That was pretty weird," he says as he slides to a halt, crouched down low and more on Tran's level. "I don't know what's worse though. Your fucking attempt at being glib, or the fact I'm going to be cleaning fucking pigeon off my fucking oar for the next week." Said oar clasped tight in one hand, he considers his options; he'd really counted on that massive strike hitting, and his morale has taken a hit due to the death of so many ugly, ugly birds. Some of the speed he exerted in the initial strike must have flowed on into his dodge; how else could he manage such a feat?
Miracles abound, but at least that dove didn't fly into the way of the disc for added weirdness. With so few options available to him, and his breath already down to a heavy lumber, he rises to his full height and leaps -- and comes down towards Tran, the oar arcing overhead in an attempt to smash the good Doctor right through the cracks of the pavement!
COMBATSYS: Tran blocks Preston's Fierce Strike.
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Tran 0/-------/------=|=------\-------\0 Preston
Uhoh. That's a considerable amount of man coming down in the air. One might say a dangerous amount. Dr. Tran, being a man who knows when to run and when to stand firm, plants his feet solidly, and readies himself. "It's hard to be witty when you're..." He pauses here, crossing his arms over his head, and catches the oar in the V. The doctor's legs buckle, but he's still standing, and in fairly good shape considering the force there. Hell, Tran can still feel it in his entire upper body.
At least he's still capable of speech after that. "...when you're busy trying to stop a meaty avalanche." And then he takes a step or two back, while he can, to catch his breath for a moment. The pigeons and the mess they made, so much greater than the usual, go without being remarked upon. As far as Tran's concerned, they wanted to die, anyway, just by being pigeons.
COMBATSYS: Tran gains composure.
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Tran 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Preston
Pigeons being pigeons, the Doctor might just be onto something. They've ruined Venice, after all. Having expected Tran to be more of a smear, the teen grunts as the oar is instead blocked. There's a few moments there as Preston simply attempts to dominate his opponent and bear him down into the ground, but it's fruitless; the momentum is gone, and the oar is otherwise unwieldy.
Thus, the Doctor gets a reprieve. And the Brit takes one in turn. "So just how many random individuals have you walked up to and started a fuckin' fight with so far, eh son?"
COMBATSYS: Preston gains composure.
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Tran 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Preston
Dr. Tran's expansive shrug should be all the answer Preston needs, but he goes ahead and starts talking anyway. He's just in that talkative sort of mood. "Hell, who keeps track? This sort of shit just seems to happen, whether you want it to or not. After a while, I figured being a bit more proactive would be the way to go, y'know?"
Tran takes a step forward, getting ready to go on the move again, but first he adds, "Besides, didn't I say? This isn't exactly random." Leaving that hanging, Tran lowers his head and charges forward. He doesn't have to lower his head far, because he's looking to headbutt Preston about in the stomach, and let's be honest here. Tran's small, even by normal person standards.
COMBATSYS: Preston interrupts Strong Punch from Tran with Cape Horn Fever.
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Tran 0/-------/----===|==-----\-------\0 Preston
And the reaction from Preston isn't precisely random either. The Doctor lowers his head and charges -- and the Brit doesn't see fit to simply let that happen. Instead, he moves to intercept, hunkering down onto Tran's level.
Thus, when the head comes in to strike at what should be his middle, it instead clips his shoulder -- and in a heartbeat, the meaty, oversized hand of the Brit snatches Tran by the front of the coat. Hoisting him high into the air, he smirks up at the man who will shortly be his victim; "You beat up a little hot-blooded Latino girl yet? Red hair, cute ass?"
It's an honest question, but seemingly out of left field. He culminates the question with a wink, as his other hand rises up to beckon his own geyser of water. It erupts from beneath the hanging Tran, to juggle him up high, but it's more wet and less prone to boil.
Though his attack's cut short, Tran still has to wonder - Latino girl, what? Hickory smoked so crazy. Naturally, it takes him a moment to respond, as he's busy getting tossed about and blasted away by a waterspout. Crumpling to a heap a small distance away, Tran slowly pushes himself up, coughing. "Not in recent memory, no. I try to stay the hell away from women younger than me who can try to kick my ass. Hell, usually I try to stay the hell away from anyone still in high school who can kick my ass, but. Gotta make exceptions, sometimes." He'll just leave that cute ass bit unanswered. Tran may be in Japan, but that doesn't mean he has to turn into a pedophile, by god.
Almost offhandedly, Tran whips his arm across his body and sends a thin, flat blade of compressed steam slicing through the air toward Preston. "Speaking of, you're not half bad, kid. I think I've got a job for you, if you're interested."
COMBATSYS: Preston dodges Tran's American Hero Cutter.
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Tran 0/-------/-----==|==-----\-------\0 Preston
Left with a wet hand and no Tran to hold onto, the Brit simply remains poised as he watches his opponent fall. With their conversation carrying on, he takes to leaning the oar across his shoulders again. It's easier than holding it all the time, because by now even his impressive biceps are feeling the strain of its length and weight.
But with the sudden distortion to the air, those clear eyes narrow -- and he rather neatly sidesteps, letting the steam slice by, cutting into the edge of his blazer. "Again, do you have any idea how much this thing costs?" he quips, before giving a rough laugh. "A job, eh? You know what school I go to, right? What kind of job could you possibly offer me, son?" His British use of the word aside, clearly Tran's the older of the two.
With the fight rapidly approaching the end game scenario, the teen opts to use what little speed he has left. He charges forward, a bull in full bellow, and strikes out with the oar -- which proves to be a feint, as he continues his forward movement. It's his free, massive hand that proves the weapon; his palm seeks to cover Tran's face, and simply push him back into the ground!
COMBATSYS: Tran fails to interrupt Medium Throw from Preston with Quick Punch.
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Tran 0/-------/--=====|===----\-------\0 Preston
Damn, how can someone so big move so fast? With Preston dodging so consitantly, Tran's starting to feel more than a little pressured. Well, clearly the doctor's going to have to take the fight to Preston, then. As the big man charges forward, Tran charges right back, fist raised. He jukes to the side to avoid the oar, rears back, and is promptly pushed in the pavement for his pathetic pride. Piss.
At the very least, Tran tries to respond to Preston's question. Presumably. There are certainly words being spoken, but they are muffled and unintelligible, and Tran's not really in much condition to really do anything about his position just now.
Rearing up to his full height after knocking the good Doctor down, the massive mountain of muscle finds himself staring down at Tran for the longest of moments. Is he trying to say something? The Brit isn't entirely sure, but he's not about to step in too close to check. Oh no, he's been fooled by that kind of thing before! Plus, it wouldn't help his bad boy image to be helping his opponent.
"You alright there, son?" he queries, going so far as to lift the oar and poke at Tran's side with it. Of course, Preston being the teen that he is, that's actually a fairly hard poke. "C'mon, get back up."
COMBATSYS: Preston successfully hits Tran with Weapon Jab.
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Tran 0/-------/=======|===----\-------\0 Preston
"Cut that out." Tran's actually starting to get to his feet when Preston jabs his ribcage with that oar. It's essentially the last straw. Beaten bloody by this brutal reversal, Tran staggers, grabbing at the oar in an attempt to pull himself forward toward Preston. "I said..."
Chi swirls around Tran's hand, forming into that familiar disc of chi. "Your hand smells like beef." In a last-ditch effort, Tran swings his palm forward, looking to smush Preston's whatever-he-can-reach. After that, the doctor's done, collapsing onto his hands and knees. This really took a lot out of him. He's not saying anything for now, but he's not unconcious or anything. He just needs a minute to recover.
COMBATSYS: Tran can no longer fight.
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Preston 0/-------/----===|
COMBATSYS: Preston blocks Tran's Operation - Dr. Tran.
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Preston 0/-------/---====|
Hitting the guy when he's down was probably a bad idea, in retrospect; it gives Tran the chance to grip the oar and surge upwards towards him. Left with little choice, particularly as he sees that palm coming at him with the disc attached, Preston releases his grip on the oar and goes on the pure defensive.
The hand is intercepted by the Brit's sizeable own, the chi discharging up his arm but essentially stopping there. The result though, has him reeling back to wave his hand furiously. "Fuck, that stings!" he roars, before stomping a foot. Shake it out, shake it out; he shakes it out. And then he not-so-discretely smells his own hand.
And ultimately, is left to look down at the Doctor. "Christ, my hand doesn't smell like beef at all, you sod," he declares, before moving to collect his oar. He figures that Tran is done, and despite the way this all started, he doesn't immediately walk away; "So what's this job?"
COMBATSYS: Preston has ended the fight here.
With a low groan, Tran gradually makes his way up to his feet, occasionally coughing. Yeah, he's definately had better days. "Interested, huh? Good." This would've pretty much been a huge waste of time, otherwise. Still, Tran has to handle this right - negotiations are always tougher when you're dealing with people who have a solid head on their shoulders.
"It's part-time stuff, nothing too hard - at least, it shouldn't be. We just pay you a shitload of money to fight people. Usually people who can fire so many lightningbolts out of their ass at once that we can't take them on ourselves." Tran grimaces, clearly remembering an encounter with one such person. It can hurt, but..."Did I mention the pay is great?"
Negotiations can quickly go sour though, particularly when the dog is barking up the wrong tree. This tree though, at least seems to listen. "So you pay me to get my ass kicked? That sort of seems not in my best interest. You need a better sales pitch there, son," Preston adds, shrugging the oar into a more comfortable position.
He turns away, and starts walking. "But you know where I'll be if you come up with a better offer. Money isn't so important to us kids at Pacific." No dice it seems, for today at least.
Log created on 22:15:14 05/24/2007 by Preston, and last modified on 05:03:23 06/29/2008.