Description: Bumfuc^H^H^HKnob Noster, Missouri sets the delightfully redneck stage for this particular SNF. Fighter-novellist Soma Travedi is pitted against Marisol O'Connell of Pacific Resistance in...some little girl's 10th birthday petting zoo. It's gross, neither fighter really likes it, but what can you do? Howard Enterprises needs to totally fire whoever comes up with these venues. (Winner: Marisol)
Why the hell is it Missouri.
It isn't that Soma doesn't like the United States. In fact he quite likes it; his degree in sociology is from the University of Southern California, after all. But there is, for the cosmpolitan-minded undercover agent, a *difference* between SoCal and the miserable flatness of the Midwest. Even the bus ride from the Kansas City airport to this absurd backwater was like reading a phonebook: an endless swath of cornfields and soybean fields dotted with wood houses and silos so ancient it looked as if a strong breeze could blow them down.
Knob Noster, MO. Population 2500. That's right, folks: it's as if the Howard Enterprises people threw up a map of the US and threw a dart. The 'city' -- little more than 20 square blocks of houses and a high school -- is all abuzz with the sudden influx of foreign tourists here to see this bout, since... let's face it, even a low-card matchup like this is more excitement than rural Missouri sees in a century. In nearby Knob Noster State Park, the SNF crew is currently setting up in the park's petting zoo, only recently opened for the summer...
...and host to young Jenny Nelson's 10th birthday party. Brats screaming everywhere form a backdrop as Soma, with impressive sang-froid, is sipping some kraft service coffee while the park ranger wheedles an argument with the line producer. "I can give you the goat pen," he explains. "But the Nelsons are big folk around these here parts. You're just lucky that gel don't like goats."
Why the hell Missouri indeed.
It likely came as some surprise to the Pacific High girl when she was informed of her next fight's location: Knob Noster. "Where?" was her first reaction, followed by a particularly colorful, "Are you trying to come onto me?" Eventually, however, confusion and bemusement was laid straight and soon young Marisol O'Connell was on the next flight out of Southtown to some nowhere town in one of the U.S.'s more laughable states.
Like her scheduled opponent, Marisol has no qualms with the United States. After all, it has its fair share of good things. But this? A petting zoo in some weak little state park? That's just plain awful. That, or Marisol has been spoiled as of late by the flashier SNFs scheduled for her.
She arrives a bit late, likely to Soma's dismay. Her flight was held a bit due to live stock somehow escaping onto the county's only landing strip. It took about an hour to move the cows, but ultimately she got where she needed to be. And she's not particularly thrilled about it.
But it's really of little concern. Emerging from a small flock of chatty older women rambling on about the latest town gossip around the outer perimeter, the half-Spaniard girl looks positively delighted to be here. No, really, the scowl on her face and hooded glare are her way of expressing sheer excitement for this setup.
"Fuckin' goats, fuckin' petting zoo," she mumbles to herself, a LITTLE mindful of the screaming terrors that run every which direction around her. "Goddamned children - worse than goats." If she's lucky, maybe she won't be disqualified as using a child in the fight as a club. Goats are out of the question, sadly.
Pausing, pristine white sneakers are now a tan color, no thanks to the dust that has gathered on them, Marisol levels her gaze on the SNF official in charge here. "Alright," she states, sounding none too thrilled. "I'm here, and I hope this location isn't someone's idea of a joke. Just because we're in the lower-tier of fighters doesn't mean we're subject to the shittiest venues, y'know." The head official just looks at Marisol oddly. Her features fall flat before she huffs.
"Whatever. Can we start this show already?" At least punching things is a distraction from the children running around here with drinks that threaten to stain her new khaki capris.
Far from being offended, Marisol's commentary actually elicits a faint grin from Soma as he finishes his coffee and finds a trash can to put the cup in. "Well, I might not have said it quite so enthusiastically, but I'm with you 100% there," the dark-skinned fighter responds with a light smile, before extending his hand to Marisol. "Soma Travedi. You must be Miss O'Connell... nice to meet you." He seems like a nice enough guy, though on anyone else that all black and silver ensemble would probably scream GOTH!. Perhaps, to Marisol, it screams GOTH! anyway.
Whether his handshake is accepted or not, the undercover Interpol agent is more than ready to get this over with. He gingerly walks over to the goat pen and hops over the fence, grimacing as he lands inside, shearing by a goat by mere inches and, more importantly, flinching at the smell. "I don't have a lot of experience with this SNF thing, but so far I've been in a circus, a youth training center, and now a goat pen." He nudges one of the curious mammals aside and tries to get into stance, shaking his arms out. "Perhaps next week will be the Lost Continent of Mu. Or outer space like in 'Moonraker'."
COMBATSYS: Soma has started a fight here.
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Soma 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Marisol has joined the fight here.
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Marisol 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Soma
Color the fiery redhead surprised when the dusky young man nearby pipes up. For a brief moment, Marisol seems mildly stunned by his admittance before full lips slice into a smirk across her sunkissed features. "Thank god," she replies, tilting her chin up a touch, smirking all the more. "You'd think Howard Enterprises would have a bit more class than to entertain some little brat for their 10th birthday." Thereafter, dusky gray eyes peer down at the proffered hand, lips pulling into a pensive line before she lets the smirk ease a bit into a grin.
"Marisol O'Connell, yes. And same." Extending her hand, she accepts and offers a firm, confident handshake. The ensemble is noted briefly, but fails to elicit any real negative feelings from the girl. He's made a pretty good impression so far. At least he's not hardcore SERIOUS!! like some fighters on the SNF circuit.
As he breaks off and takes initiative, Marisol is swift to follow behind, hands sliding into her pockets. Placing one sneaker against the fencing, she pushes off and hops over, landing inside the pen...and narrowly avoiding a pile of goat crap. This, of course, causes her to frown. "Oh man," she states, peering at the pile of excrement. "I apologize in advance if I get any of this shit on you. Seriously." The smell is REALLY no better.
As for his experience, the girl stares briefly. "Wow. They've really got to work on their venues for us up-and-comers." Her full lips pull into a brief frown before she nudges her hip against a few of the smelly animals and retreats her hands from her pockets, lifting them from her sides. If she can focus and get past the smell of dirty animal and mud, maybe...just maybe...she can pull a win out.
"After you, mister Travedi."
COMBATSYS: Marisol focuses on her next action.
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Marisol 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Soma
Letting him go first, huh? A confident girl, but Soma likes that, as his smile betrays. Marisol appears to be forward and confident, traits that Soma himself values in himself and others. "Think of it as an exercise in humility, so that the next SNF when you're in some swanky locale, you'll appreciate it more."
Surveying his opponent for a moment, the Fighting Novelist judges the distance and the... obstructions, and almost grins wolfishly as an idea comes to mind. "Alright then. Let's go." Stepping forward carefully, Soma suddenly finds a goat that is parallel to Marisol, then leapfrogs off its back, looking to drive both feet into her stomach with an improvised aerial kick.
COMBATSYS: Marisol Toughs Out Soma's Light Kick!
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Marisol 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Soma
"Exercise in humility, huh? Well, it's definitely humiliating," she comments, going about pulling her hair up behind her head to hurriedly tie it up into a ponytail. A smirk lingers lightly on her lips, smoky grays still focused on her opponent for this afternoon's thrilling, goat-infested SNF. "I suppose you've got a point there," she ultimately adds, easing into a boxer's stance, albeit a touch more casual and loose.
Then he's encouraged to make his move. His wolfish grin is mirrored by the confident redhead's own features, those depths narrowing a touch in good nature. "Yeah," she adds, before keeping close eye on those feet of his. And the goat. Then his feet planting ONTO the goat. Here he comes!
So what does the girl do? Squaring her shoulders, she lets those heels of his dig into her abdomen, a soft 'oof' escaping her lips. But she uses this odd angle of his to her advantage; stepping toward him rather suddenly, the fearless girl suddenly jerks to life, to deliver a nice, deliciously fierce uppercut into his gut!
COMBATSYS: Soma Toughs Out Marisol's Uppercut Punch!!
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Marisol 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Soma
What happens next is nothing short of amazing: Soma notes the incoming angle of Marisol's punch, judges it to be Very Dangerous since she just walked into his own kick to position herself for it, and decides that trying to get out of the way probably isn't worth the trouble to get out of the way. And after Ms. O'Connel set such a good example for him and everything... he decides not to. Adjusting his weight with impressive speed, Marisol's fist meets not Soma's stomach, but his *hand*; the undercover agent dove ONTO her punch, doing a brief handstand on her fist. "I like your sense of humor," he says genuinely.
But why waste the opportunity? Jumping upwards, Soma hops up into the air and then lands on goatback, a pair of energy 'knives' of silver light lined in black appearing in his hands. As he lands, he drives them together at the 'hilt', creating a single blade that he slashes through the air fiercely at Marisol at point blank range, practically diving at her to do it. Overcommitted attack? Certainly. But who knows, it might actually WORK.
COMBATSYS: Soma successfully hits Marisol with Ashvinau.
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Marisol 0/-------/--=====|==-----\-------\0 Soma
Wow.
Blinking as her fist is stopped short not by the man's body, but his hand, the girl offers him a look of bemusement, lips pulling into a ghost of a frown as she peers at him. His words, however, breath her veneer only slightly; a grin swiftly seizes her lips, brows furrowing as she again hoods her eyes. "Really? Thanks," she responds coolly, still smirking.
But there's little time to dally. He lands casually atop a goat, silvery energy coming to the fore. Blinking, the girl's pleasant smirk turns into a harsh frown, eyes narrowing. "Goddamnit," she whispers harshly to herself. "Not weapons. I fucking hate weapons." Even if they're not real, per say. Energy or no, it's still bothersome. He makes his move regardless, and despite her defenses, she's left with a nice, stinging sensation left in her chest. The impact alone causes her to fly back, crashing with her upper thigh against a goat, who breaks her fall. She's spared from landing in another pile of goat crap, thank GOD.
"Okay, okay," she replies, holding her hands up at shoulder level. "You got me. I'll take you seriously," she assures, offering a broad grin. It was likely meant to distract, because not a moment later she bursts forward, leaping over goats and attempting to snare Soma by the neck. The other hand ignites with yellowy flames, which she seeks to slam palm first against his gut and cause him to fly back, if he's not lucky!
COMBATSYS: Soma interrupts Moon Sling from Marisol with Weapon Jab.
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Marisol 0/-------/=======|===----\-------\0 Soma
Oh heck. She's mad, and she doesn't like weapons... that's not good news at all. That would PROBABLY explain why it is that Marisol, with her impressive tenacity, is currently angling to snag Soma by the *throat*. Carpe jugulum, right? Not a bad strategy. And probably too fast to deal with properly, too...
Soma actually thinks about it TOO LONG; Marisol's hand is around his throat by the time he thinks of what to do, trying to find some way to get around reaching for the daggers hidden in his sleeves. The attack pushes him back against an errant goat and, as Marisol's energy followup heads for his, well... head, Soma suddenly swings his arm up, having snagged a bell from around this particular goat's neck and swinging it unceremoniously into the side of her head. It's just brass, so the strike itself can't have been too serious, but it might just make her back off. "GAH!"
Yeah, she's a little irritated, but fortunately for Soma, she's not truly upset. But that does not prevent her from suddenly lurching forward and taking briefly to the skies, if only to grab the older man by his neck. Contact alone draws her full lips into a broad, almost cocky grin. It's only a matter of seconds before her glowy fist will impact into his gut.
...if not for the bell.
With an odd and mildly annoying 'thud' it strikes her temple. Momentarily stunned, the redhead departs from her advance only briefly. It passes quickly enough; shaking her head and the odd feeling out, those gray eyes peer toward the odd man in silver and black. "So," she says, "that was kind of annoying." She doesn't seem too terribly off-put by it, however; in fact, she grins.
Then she comes for the man again. Reaching out, her hand is again afire with odd yellow energy licking around her fingers. The only difference this time is, however, she does not seek him out directly; instead, the flames suddenly roar forward, attempting to snare him and, should her endeavor actually yield positive results, will cocoon him in energy before it spikes inwardly, piercing him every which way before exploding into a flurry of chi butterflies toward the sky.
Flashy? A LITTLE. The fires themselves cause a few goats to bleat in surprise and scurry around, delighting the obnoxious children outside the pin to no end.
COMBATSYS: Marisol successfully hits Soma with Iron Butterfly.
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Marisol 0/-------/-======|======-\-------\0 Soma
She's persistent, and in this case it pays off. Deciding that he's been playing it dangerously a little too much this fight and trying to balance it with a more conservative strategy, Soma takes a deep breath and tries to block Marisol's sudden strike by crossing his arms in front of him. The problem is that Marisol's attack isn't pinpoint, it's *everywhere*, and thus Soma's defense is basically useless; awash in yellow fire, he cries out and then stumbles back, miraculously missing the goats milling behind him and, coincidentally, dropping the bell he was holding.
However, when he straightens he doesn't look mad. In fact, he's smiling. "Okay, I deserved that. It's a nice trick. I've got a few of my own, though!" Flicking his right arm, a curious dagger drops into his hand from his sleeve. Judging distance as best he can, the undercover agent suddenly throws his hand out, the blade of the dagger separating from the hilt on a length of wire and looking to wrap itself around Marisol's leg. If Soma can get the grip, he suddenly jerks his hand back, upsetting her balance and driving her into the not-so-great ground, retracting the blade at the same time.
COMBATSYS: Marisol blocks Soma's Quick Throw.
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Marisol 0/-------/=======|======-\-------\0 Soma
Persistence pays off in spades, it would seem. Reaching out for, but not directly grabbing, Marisol's odd flames lash out and encase the man in a sphere before it erupts. The display is a bit on the girly side and definitely over the top, but hardly seems to affect the girl from which the flames come. Instead, she sports a broad, almost confident smile on those full lips of hers.
Fortunately, though stumbled back, Soma does not crash to the ground. In response, however, the pea-brained animals bleat some more and scurry around, making this entire process more troublesome than it really ought TO be. Marisol just continues to desperately try and ignore them. It's all she CAN do.
"Tit for tat," she replies, grinning still. "Those...er, whatever's you had kind of hurt. So I figured, hey. Why not try a little hurty myself?" He wants to show her more tricks? "That's the spirit," she responds, grinning still as he charges at her. Eyeing him carefully, that length of wire is noted. Watching, she waits until the perfect moment. ..to suddenly drop low and intercept the blade with her hand. Yes, her hand. And why yes, it does hurt a little. The bleeding palm should be evidence enough.
It's let free, however, gray eyes calm and composed as she grins. "Those are some pretty unique knives," she observes, biding her time. In fact, she takes a moment to position her rear atop the back of one goat, elbows on her knees as she just watches him. "I've fought some weirdoes with some mean weapons, but that's definitely going to take the prize. Er, not that I'm calling YOU a weirdo. At least you're not trying to kill me." She beams!
COMBATSYS: Marisol gains composure.
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Marisol 0/-------/-======|======-\-------\0 Soma
Amazingly, it's the first compliment Soma's weapons have ever received, and he actually looks a little taken aback by it. The shock doesn't last long, mostly because it's a pleasant one, and he grins at Marisol as the blade snaps back to the hilt like a retractable power cord on a vacuum cleaner. "Oh, I'm probably a little bit weird. All great writers are," he says, in a conspiratorial tone. "Case in point, I made the daggers myself... it took a lot of work. And I did have help. But I like to think of them as unique." At least it's not an oar, right?
He doesn't press the attack just yet; instead he steps backwards a bit, putting more distance and, interestingly enough, more GOATS between himself and Marisol. After all, if they're going to be here anyway, why not use them to his advantage. "Some day, let's have a rematch without all this stuff..." He grimaces as he wipes a brown stain he'd rather not think about from the grey shirt at his midriff.
COMBATSYS: Soma focuses on his next action.
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Marisol 0/-------/-======|======-\-------\0 Soma
Is he surprised? The redhead just seems entertained for the moment, perched there on the rear of a common barnyard animal. The goat? Why, he seems oblivious to the girl atop him, happily munching away on a juice box a child threw into the pin. There's no greater pleasure in the world for the animal, it would seem.
"Weird?" she asks, the very word itself painting a particularly odd picture of Marisol herself. After all, who sits on a goat? "Well, can't say I know of you as an author, since reading's not really one of my hobbies," Pausing, the girl's gray eyes drift toward the sidelines, where SNF officials shoot her odd glares, motioning with their hands and trying to shoo her off the animal and back into the fray.
They go ignored.
"But, you know, the same could be said of a rich high school girl fighting in a pit of awful, smelly beasts on live television for fun and profit." Another grin lingers on her lips, but flickers into a small 'o' as he offers insight. "Made 'em yourself? Wow; even more merit points to you, mister Travedi." At least it's not an oar indeed; at least it's less-painful getting hit by a dagger, strangely enough.
Their conversation tapers briefly as the girl's interests fall upon the goats before her. Tilting her head a bit, she observes the animals before she sighs and hangs her head. The goat beneath her still munches away happily on that juice box. "Sounds like a deal," she replies, just before she offers a light grunt and stands up. Lifting her arms overhead, she offers a stretch before she levels her gaze on Soma.
"Any time, any place."
Then she's off! Hopping UP, the redhead uses the goats' backs as stepping stones, closing in and, in a perhaps unorthodox move that would likely make her grandfather pissy at her, attempts to clip the man in his face with her knee. "I'll be ready!"
COMBATSYS: Soma fails to interrupt Light Punch from Marisol with Eclipse.
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Marisol 0/-------/-======|=====--\-------\0 Soma
The best laid plans of mice and men. And goats. Soma actually quite likes this girl; so many of the fighters he's met recently have been either toothache-inducingly polite or complete and total psychopaths; Marisol seems, to the undercover agent, pleasantly down to earth, which he is coming to enjoy. "Kids these days, not reading their books... what if I told you my runaway hit has a really steamy sex scene in it?" Yeah, you're showing your age, Soma.
As his opponent comes in for an unorthodox but effective attack, the Fighting Novelist feels like he's got it all worked out, the dagger from before still in his hand. In an ideal universe, he'd swing it around and, using the wire, snag the girl out of midair, driving her into the ground face-first and saving himself some aggravation.
What actually happens is that a goat walks into the back of his legs, bleating loudly. It messes off his timing and Marisol's knee crashes into Soma's face, sending him stumbling back a few steps and holding his nose in the process. "Argh! Ow ow ow."
And it would likewise seem that Marisol finds herself actually enjoying this particular setup, despite the unpleasant environs in which either fighter has been placed. At this point, however, it would seem the goats are mere ambiance. The conversation between exchanged blows is far more engaging than goats. Or obnoxious backwater children and their parents.
Rising to her feet, she sports a wry grin as he chides children for not reading. "Hey, why bother?" she asks, sounding playfully innocent. "Most of 'em get turned into movies a year or so after they blow away the charts in popularity." She pauses at the latter, however, blinking once with those gray eyes before she laughs.
"Scandalous! Well, if it's got THAT you might've sold me, mister Travedi."
Charging forward without hesitation, Marisol makes her move. Despite his attempts to snare her out of the air and prevent her bony knee from smacking him, however, he's struck. She doesn't linger; instead, she hops back, using another goat as a stepping stone before she lands on the ground again with an impish smile.
Which fades the moment a goat starts to eat on her pants.
"ARGH, get OFF you stupid animal," she growls, giving its face a hearty shove. It bleats angrily and glares at her, but she only glares back. The moment passes briefly and with it she looks up. "Alright, let's take a cue from these little bastards," she says, though likely to herself. With that, she charges in and swings her fists, two hooks aimed for his jaw. If they land, her body twists at the waist, both fists coming in simultaneously to crash into his chest and blast him back with a burst of chi.
"Really starting to hate petting zoos," she comments amidst it all. "Really."
COMBATSYS: Soma endures Marisol's El Matador.
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Marisol 0/-------/-======|=======\-------\1 Soma
It's a good plan, and it actually works! Kinda. Grinning, Soma goes back on the (sort of) offensive, using Marisol's brief moment of goat-induced distraction to run AT her, chatting away like a fool as he does so. "Well, I haven't been approached YET, but I'm told Uma Thurman is interested in playing Jasmine from my first novel..." That's a total lie, but there's no way that Marisol could know, and besides... selling that book to a studio might be good exposure!
It was Cameron Diaz, anyway.
When the schoolgirl's mighty punch comes for his jaw, Frei actually doesn't move. He just charges into it, continuing to move. Goats scatter at his approach as if the two deadlocked fighters were a pair of sheepdogs herding them. Gritting his teeth against the pain -- for that attack stings a LOT, especially the blow to the gut even if it doesn't knock him back across the pen -- Soma brings up his right hand, middle and index fingers extended, and with uncanny precision drives them into Marisol's side. The blow? Is useless on its own, but the *pressure point* he's jabbing is going to cause an AWFUL lot of pain if Marisol can't do something about the strike.
COMBATSYS: Marisol interrupts Medium Throw from Soma with Chain Reaction.
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Marisol 1/------=/=======|=======\==-----\1 Soma
His grin is met with equal intensity and, perhaps for ONCE in the few SNFs she's had the 'pleasure' of taking part in, she's actually enjoying the innocent and friendly banter. Really; she's either paired up against obnoxious weirdoes, or people from Gedo who she REALLY does not like or care for. This is a refreshing change.
"Whoa, are you serious?" she asks, even as he comes charging for the redhead. Grinning broadly, those eyes of hers hood. "You must be a good author if you're getting offers like that. Don't make me have to actually read one of your books, mister Travedi!" She's poking at him. It's all good-natured.
Coming at him like a bull in a china shop, Marisol swings twice before the third slam hits his chest, a burst of energy striking true. And yet, she's aware enough to realize he made no efforts whatsoever to avoid it. Alarms going off, the girl withdraws. At least she attempts to.
Her retreat is swiftly impeded as Soma attempts to strike a nerve. For the briefest of moments, he strikes true. But those gray eyes go wide. ..before her fist jerks, perhaps acting on reflex. Driving her fist into his gut, she follows through with a sudden grab of his head, introducing it to her knee, face first. It's crude and, again, probably unorthodox, but no one said she had to play fair.
"OW," she comments midway. Her leg, however, jerks up suddenly, a swift vertical kick intent on cutting straight into his jaw to send him flying.
"Whatever you did, that really, really hurt." Rubbing her side, the girl exhales...all while the goat who was nibbling on her leg before resumes doing so.
Ow indeed. The dark-skinned fighter doesn't have a swift reprisal, nor an agile defense from Marisol's sudden and brutal counterattack. Instead he sails backwards from the blow, landing on his back on the opposite side of the pen and skidding to a stop, dark brown stains from mud -- and worse -- splashing across his grey and black clothing. For a moment he doesn't get up, apparently quite nastily hurt... it is when a goat wanders by and starts to sniff his hair, pushing its muzzle into Soma's hair, then he struggles to his feet. "You said it," he murmurs.
Maybe counterattacking isn't what the doctor ordered, so Soma stands back, grinning at Marisol. This has been a nailbiting fight, and he DOES enjoy a challenge. "Tell you what. Give me your address and I'll send you a copy of the book. You can use it for birdcage stuffing for all I care, but I think you'll like it. It's about fighters, after all." Way to pimp your book on national TV!
COMBATSYS: Soma gains composure.
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Marisol 1/------=/=======|=======\-------\1 Soma
Oh man. When those gray depths swivel around to peer at the fallen Soma, she's met with an unpleasant picture. Really, she had hoped if he fell, it would have been at LEAST on a goat. But no; instead, his nice duds are introduced to what APPEARS to be mud, but likely smells anything like it. For a moment, Marisol sports a mild look of uncertainty.
Then, she just lifts a hand up. "Sorry," she comments, a lopsided, coy grin on her face. "Really; I didn't mean to put you in the mud. At this rate, yeah. We're definitely going to need a rematch that isn't in Bumfuck, Missouri. And most definitely not surrounded by these gross beasts." A few parents nearby around the pen take offense and scoff angrily. A few goats take offense and butt into her leg, causing her to wobble a bit.
Grunting lightly, the redhead just furrows her brows. "So. Annoying."
When Soma speaks up again, however, the half-Spaniard seems intrigued. "Huh, a free novel about fighting? Well, I can't argue that. I'll give you that information once we're through playing in the mud here, alright?" She pauses, sporting a broad grin before she adds, "I never liked birds much."
Dashing in again, Marisol just charges through a few goats in her way, attempting to deliver a swift punch straight to Soma's ribs. "I've always been more of a cat person, really!"
COMBATSYS: Soma endures Marisol's Medium Punch.
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Marisol 1/------=/=======|=======\==-----\1 Soma
He would have never thought to call it Bumfuck, Missouri, but the name makes Soma smile even as he gets up. "Don't worry about it. You haven't held me at guitarpoint and stolen my jacket yet, so you're ahead of the game in terms of the competition when it comes to doing things to my outfits." Did he really say guitarpoint? Maybe she didn't hear him right over the bleating. As the fighting heats up the goats are getting more agitated but, at the very least, they appear to be smartening up and trying to get out of the way.
Suidically, the undercover agent drives forward into the punch a second time, feeling it quite firmly as the blow smacks into his stomach with firmness. He expels his breath sharply, but it puts him in a better position as he leaps backwards from the blow, using the force to increase the distance AWAY from Marisol he flies. One of the wire-daggers whips out again, scything through the air and looking to slash across Marisol's stomach as Soma swings it like a yo-yo, the blade glowing with a sudden charge of silver-black energy. "Cats are nice," he grits out. That punch stole the breath from him, for sure.
COMBATSYS: Soma successfully hits Marisol with Saturnalia.
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Marisol 1/---====/=======|=======\===----\1 Soma
Oh, that's new. "Guitarpoint? The hell? Is that supposed to be intimidating or something?" She can understand the stealing jacket, however. Offering him a mildly appraising look, she rubs her chin softly before she smiles. "Well, I can't blame whoever did the latter. That's a pretty swank jacket. Silver and black's always been a classy combination." Nodding once, the girl sports another lopsided smirk. Then she's on the move again, goats or no!
Moving forward, her fist finds refuge there against his side. It hits hard, but the man's braced himself for the incoming knuckles which bite into his side. Cheeky! She can TOTALLY appreciate that, and it shows as she beams, eyes widening a touch. Even as he falls back, the redhead's interest shows as she just grins. "You've been pretty entertaining, mister Travedi. I can honestly say this has been a refreshing fight."
Feet stir beneath her, shifting against the mud and excrement of goats. Those white shoes, once as brilliant as freshly driven snow, are stained. They're likely ruined, to boot. Her pant's leg is partially gnawed on, frayed a bit at the hem no thanks to a goat. And, of course, she's sweaty. Part of her is thankful she put her hair up before the fight. But just when she thinks things can't get any worse--
--that odd dagger swings out at her like a scythe. Staggering back, the resulting blow earns him a strange look, her tanktop's gut fraying a bit. Is she pissed off? No way! Instead, she looks up and offers a quick grin. "Yeah, they are. Hey," Shifting her weight, the girl squares her shoulders, readying her body for what could very well be the all she has to give.
"I dunno about you, but I'm a little tired of traipsing around in goat shit. Let's end this already, huh?" Another pair of adults shoot the girl a glare and shout a few angry words at her, but they go ignored, like the goats. Instead, she sees only her opponent, and she continues to grin. "Honestly? Despite these damn animals and the kids and this heat, I'd say it's been fun."
Then, rather suddenly, Marisol tears forward and attempts to sock Soma across the face with a fierce, chi-laced hook...
COMBATSYS: Soma fails to interrupt Cloud Nine from Marisol with Sapta Rishis.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Soma can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 0/-------/-------|
It begins with a hook, with the sort of force behind it to stun a bull. With her hands on fire with that odd, dandelion yellow energy, she hits him not once, not twice, but three times with those vicious hooks. Pulling no punches, the hooks are followed with a rather abrupt uppercut to the older man's chin, though hardly with the force to send him airborne. No, that does the trick is the sudden backflip she delivers in a show of surprising agility, the heel of her sneaker crashing into his jaw and send him upwards.
While he flies, the girl lands in a crouch, hands about to touch ground - but stop. Instead, the redhead just holds her hands back and offers a soft 'ugh, fuckin' gross.' Regardless of the brief hitch, she springs up suddenly and introduces his prone, airborne figure to a flaming, yellow uppercut, if only to add some insult to injury.
She just REALLY HOPES his fall is broken by a goat. Because she feels bad about his clothes.
And those damn goats deserve it.
Precision is the name of the game. Soma hopes he's got the precision to make this work, because as he sees Marisol barreling at him, he knows he's going to need all the help he can get. A dagger slips into his hands, and he watches the incoming opponent very carefully. He calls the attack 'Sapta Rishis', after the seven stars of the Big Dipper. Bright, piercing, visible anywhere. It's a single strike right to a very vulnerable spot. Not so deep to wound, but to the nerve cluster it hits... nasty. If it hits.
Soma is actually still thinking about the precise spot to hit RIGHT when Marisol smacks him one in the jaw, and he is totally out of it before the resulting combination even finishes; Marisol can probably tell that, strength-wise, it was spit and bailing wire keeping him standing anyway. He lands in the mud (and such) at least face-up, but thoroughly unconscious. That was a hell of a blow, after all.
Part of her is thankful that, whatever nasty trick he had in store, does not land.
Another part of her is a little disappointed she couldn't see it, though.
Regardless of fate, Marisol's attack lands true and, after a series of strange motions, ends with the poor fighting novelist on his back in the mud. It earns him a frown, the girl looking a little disappointed in the end result. Really; she hoped the goats would have broken his fall.
Walking over, however, the girl sees about picking him up out of the mud and goat poo, regardless of getting herself smeared in the process. Bracing his arm over a shoulder, she supports his weight at the waist as she moves toward the edge of the pen. Looking up, she barks an order at the SNF crews - particularly, the medics.
"Hey, get this guy fixed up, alright? And do a fuckin' awesome job." It almost sounds flattering! A crew member looks at her oddly as he relieves her of her unconscious bundle. She shoots him a confident smirk.
"What? I want a rematch with him sometime, and I'll be damned if you fuck him up and wind up giving him some sort of unfair disadvantage." Thereafter, the girl lifts her arms high overhead and stretches, exiting the pen and finding the nearest vehicle to load herself in. Why's that?
She wants to get the HELL out of Missouri.
COMBATSYS: Marisol has ended the fight here.
Log created on 19:42:27 06/10/2007 by Marisol, and last modified on 21:02:03 06/12/2007.