Description: Right At Home: Well, Aislinn and Cross, you've got an interesting fight on your hands. Not only is Twelve a robot and therefore heartless and unconcerned with human scruples, he is capable of SHAPESHIFTING... and you're in a damned sci-fi museum! (Winners: Aislinn and Cross)
SEATTLE - Washington State, USA - Science Fiction Museum
Late in the night, everyone who would be /visiting/ the Science Fiction Museum has gone home. However, three people wouldn't be. Arguably, none of them are people.
Geese Howard had contacted the museum, and now the security cameras are being avidly watched by an audience outside the place - but inside? Inside is free reign for the three fighters. One of them is already present - somewhere. Where he is, or what he is at the moment - only Twelve knows. Twelve, and maybe the audience.
And Twelve's player, of course. He's currently hiding in an exhibit on aliens.
COMBATSYS: Twelve has started a fight here on the right meter side.
A museum. Well, Howard Enterprises certainly does choose the most -zany- locations for their fights. Not that Aislinn is amused. Then again, she isn't bothered, either. She won't -be- bothered unless the Sci Fi in Video Games Exhibit gets wrecked. The Silent Assassin -is- looking forward to the fight, though, if only for one reason--a chance to avenge herself against the shapeshifter.
She hasn't forgotten his ambush, and the thought of being able to take him down--with or without Cross--is certainly spurring her to new ambition in this. She is standing near the middle of the designated area, and even if Twelve isn't showing himself just yet.. he will, eventually. And then he will be hers.
COMBATSYS: Aislinn has joined the fight here on the left meter side.
"Aislinn," Cross's voice is barely more than a mumber, with an uncharacteristically serious timbre to it. "We need to talk."
The clone agent wears a floor-length black duster over her normal attire, making her seem a tiny bit less garish, and in combination with the wraparound mirrored Raybans she's sporting it might even give one the mistaken impression of professionalism. Not that she's doing much to dissuade the notion, for a change, hanging back a half-step behind the (however minutely) 'senior' agent and slightly off to her right as they prowl the museum halls.
Her eyes flick now and again to the exhibits lining the path. Though something's clearly on her mind, she tries to maintain a degree of situational awareness. Their opponent already had ample time to pick out a good hiding spot, after all, and so there's no telling where he could have secreted away to by this point. Her gloves hand unconsciously flexes in and out of a fist, the soft crackling of the leather and echoing clacks of booted footfalls on the tiled floor the only accompaniment to the pair's slow, cautious advance.
COMBATSYS: Cross has joined the fight here on the left meter side.
As the two NESTS agents enter the museum, Twelve, in his disguise as an alien, begins to move. What sort of alien is he? Well...that'll become clear. Unlike Aislinn, he has no dislike of his enemies - but he's been asked to do this. Twelve does what he's asked to do. Why? Perhaps Igniz asked him to train the two - or perhaps Urien asked him to gather data on NESTS clones.
Or perhaps both.
Did you know the museum has air vents? This fact becomes clear as Twelve slips into one, removing the vent covering and skittering through the vents. The noise is.../familiar/, to those who watch science fiction films. From the vents, he begins to hunt his foes.
COMBATSYS: Twelve focuses on his next action.
It isn't dislike, persay. Aislinn doesn't have any feelings -towards- the shapeshifter. It's simply the concept of being able to defeat him in turn for a defeat he dealt to her. It's not really anything personal. Aislinn glances at Cross, her gaze clearly stating what she doesn't put into words: "We'll talk later."
A gesture from the young woman indicates that Cross--looking like she came from The Matrix--should fan around one direction while Aislinn fans around the other side, increasing their chances of finding the shapeshifter.
Her focus is sharp, and sharpening all the more, as she slowly turns, seeking with her senses.
COMBATSYS: Aislinn focuses on her next action.
Cross shifts her eyes toward the sound of something scittering around inside the walls, barely inclining one eyebrow dispassionately. Too big to be a rat, or even a small swarm of them, that's for sure. The younger--if older by appearance--of the two clones follows Aislinn's directions, actually heading opposite the source of the sound, because that's the direction that was indicated. There were times when teamwork tactics involved counter-intuitive approaches to problems.
"I didn't get a good sitrep," she declares, turning her head slowly like the automatic oscillation of a fan to scan the wall on her side, never bothering to look back toward Aislinn as she speaks. "Do we need this thing alive, or force as required? I hope they don't mind if we make a bit of a mess."
The normally boisterous fighter is unusually sedate today, her face expressionless. Maybe, for the sake of decorum, she's decided to do her best Aislinn impersonation. There are cameras around, after all. Or maybe she's actually concentrating on the task at hand, since this is a fight on /orders/ and not just some random trouble she stirred up at a busstop.
COMBATSYS: Cross focuses on her next action.
As the two NESTS agents speak, the scittering gets louder - closer. Twelve is homing in on their speech, travelling the air vents. As the two split up, the skittering pauses. Twelve considers. He knows how Aislinn fights...which means Cross is the better to attack, so he can learn her.
Yes, learn /her/, not her style. Twelve never passes up an oppurtunity to learn how to steal an identity. The skittering begins again, moving over Cross - and suddenly the ceiling burts.
A black creature drops from it, eyeless, thin and streamlined, with a long head reaching back over its shoulder blades. Its teeth are sharp, as are its claws, andit has a purple tongue that snakes in and out of its mouth. It slashes out at Cross as it lands, trying to take her unawares.
Twelve: Xenomorph Warrior.
Well, Aislinn really isn't speaking, but oh well. She's included in the talk, apparently, and that's quite alright for her. Aislinn performs a swift back handspring as Twelve drops out of the ceiling, and she recognizes the creature it is imitating. Rather appropriate, she presumes, but she doesn't think that Twelve is filled with acid, and so she leaps in as Twelve tries to drop on Cross, turning her leap into a tuck--which turns into a full on flying roundhouse kick that she tries to pop the Xenomorph with.
She'd shout "Watch out!" or something equally inane but if Cross can't figure out that something is dropping on her then she's not much of a fighter, is she?
COMBATSYS: Twelve successfully hits Cross with B.M.K..
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Aislinn 0/-------/-------|==-----\-------\0 Twelve
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Cross 0/-------/---====|
The size of the 'alien' dropping onto her moves enough air to disturb the tail of Cross's trench, but otherwise she doesn't move as Twelve comes down and brings his claws to bear, tearing gaping rents in the flanks of her coat and the flesh underneath. The young woman's eyebrow twitches imperceptibly, and in response she thrusts her hand forward in a surge of violent motion, right into the gaping rictus grin of the thing's mouth to try and grab its tongue.
"I /like/ this coat," she hisses, up close and personal, as her hand begins to glow with internalized Yagami flames. The palm turns bright white, and swiftly takes on such property that any flesh-to-flesh contact would channel the searing heat and incandescent pain into the unfortunate other party. "I hope /you/ don't like /this/," she adds, flexing his fingers hard around the pseudo-creature's prehensile tongue.
COMBATSYS: Aislinn successfully hits Twelve with Strong Kick.
Glancing Blow
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Aislinn 0/-------/------=|===----\-------\0 Twelve
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Cross 0/-------/---====|
COMBATSYS: Twelve dodges Cross' Poison Girl.
Twekve makes a hissing noise at Cross, without speech. His tongue darts back into his mouth, pulling from her grip easily - but while Twelve attempts to twist around and avoid Aislinn's kick, his form is not quite so agile as all that - the foot slams into his side, flying to the side with a thump.
Twelve crawls to his - its? - feet, looks between the two targets for a moment - and then lunges forward, his tongue darting toward's Aislinn, trying to wrap around her leg and throw her into a wall. Sure, maybe Xenomorph tongues were never so strong - but Twelve improvises well.
COMBATSYS: Aislinn counters S.L.M. from Twelve with Brutal Hammer.
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Aislinn 0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0 Twelve
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Cross 0/-------/--=====|
That tongue never makes contact; Aislinn watches, lifts her leg, then -stomps- down on the tongue, holding it in place painfully. Then she lunges forward, her hands snapping out and grabbing the 'xenomorph's head--an almost gentle embrace compared to what happens next.
It is, actually, a technique he may remember, as the Silent Assassin simply smashes her head forward, into the xenomorph cranium, a single powerful blow that should send the thing reeling back--perhaps giving Cross an opportunity to attack again, and more successfully. If there is any communication from Aislinn to her NESTS partner, it isn't verbal.
"I don't remember saying I was done with you," Cross growls, following after the attacking 'alien' at a clipped pace. As she draws up close to it, she throws herself forward and head-over-heels, planting one palm flat on the ground. The nimble agent preforms a flawless cartwheel, swinging her legs up in a wide arc... and down toward the back of the faux-xenomorph's head.
There doesn't appear to be any unity between her attack and Aislinn's, though at the very least with her blow smashing down from overhead so brutally, there's no real chance of the smaller girl being caught in the path of the cartwheel-kick. Teamwork isn't always spectacular, after all, sometimes it's just imminently practical, like flanking an oversized opponent from opposite sides.
COMBATSYS: Cross successfully hits Twelve with Killing Loneliness.
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Aislinn 0/-------/-----==|=====--\-------\0 Twelve
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Cross 0/-------/--=====|
Twelve seems to have some bad luck - first, Aislinn grabs his tongue and then slams her head into his own, causing him to rear back - and open himself to Cross. Cross only gets a hiss in response - and a grunt of pain, as she slams into Twelve's head.
The 'xenomoprh' hisses - and then skitters off down a corridor, ducking down a corner and preparing for the next assault.
COMBATSYS: Twelve focuses on his next action.
Aislinn may not seem it, but she can be most nimble. Pressing the attack is the only choice--there are plenty of security cams around to follow her as she pursues the xenomorph. Perhaps he is faster than she is--that xenomorph body, if it is at all like the movies, has some speed advantage. But she'll pursue anyways...
... gone. Right, here we go again. Time for a different sort of preparation; Aislinn stops, and closes her eyes, keeping her ears open... and invisible energy flows around her, causing a burst of wind-type energy around her feet, that swirls upwards once.
COMBATSYS: Aislinn gathers her will.
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Aislinn 0/-------/-======|=====--\-------\0 Twelve
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Cross 0/-------/--=====|
"It's buying time to regenerate," Cross declares, not so much for Aislinn's benefit as Twelve's. The other agent has fought this thing before, she's certain she knows the capabilities it has already. No, she wants the 'xenomorph' to know that she knows. She wants to make it abandon that course of action in a panic, and come after her instead. "You flush it out. I'll press the attack."
However, she does not give chase. The museum's hallways form a circuit of sorts, and she's fairly confident if she turns back and heads at the nearby intersection her chances of intercepting the pair will be far greater. Aside from her sudden bursts of inexplicable speed she's not nearly as fleet of foot as either of them, after all.
The normally energetic agent doffs her duster with a scowl, reaching up to tap her shades back into place. Then, she waits, turning her entire body slowly at the center of the intersection to face each of the four approaching hallways.
COMBATSYS: Cross gains composure.
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Aislinn 0/-------/-======|=====--\-------\0 Twelve
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Cross 0/-------/----===|
The xenomorph is nowhere to be seen. However, following Twelve's trail is not particularly hard, at least to the intersection. One hallway leads back - obviously, he has not come that way. The second hallway leads to some bathrooms. The third leads to an exhibit on robots - and the fourth leads to an exhibit on Star Wars.
The robot exhibit contains several things that could be Twelve - a Terminator, a Dalek, C-3P0, the "Danger Will Robinson" robot - but then, so does the Star Wars exhibit, which has...a diorama full of Ewoks.
COMBATSYS: Twelve gains composure.
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Aislinn 0/-------/-======|====---\-------\0 Twelve
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Cross 0/-------/----===|
Hmm. Very interesting... he's no longer here. Or is he? Aislinn spins... looking around. Where... she doesn't have bioscanners installed... she'll have to... 'guess'. (You, Aislinn? Guess? That's -fantastic-!) She turns to one of those guide-rope poles used to create lines, picks it up... and chooses her target.
So if Twelve is the Dalek--or somewhere in the path of the pole, as she spins around and -flings- it... then he might get hit. Otherwise... she never liked Dr. Who anyways.
The younger agent is looking rather, well, cross as she starts striding steadily down the hallway in the direction of Aislinn. Her pace is brisk, but not quite hurried, and her brow is knitted in consternation. "This thing is getting on my nerves," Cross grumbles, keeping an even gait even as her ally starts lobbing museum equipment around.
How much of it is an act, though? Her eyes are sharp behind the glasses, zooming about to study every exhibit like a hawk. The only thing she's waiting for is movement, any sort of flinch or eye-motion in response to the violent action. There's no delay when it happens: Cross's form blurs out of view, and then reappears an instant later in front of the guilty 'memorabilia' in a similar flash of motion, her arm already cocked back with her fingers curled into a claw and palm facing upward, despite the fact she was completely off-guard in the instant she vanished.
"Jackpot." Cross thrusts her hand forward, the eerie gray-white glow suffusing her digits once again, this time trying to plunge them directly into the midsection of the shapeshifter.
COMBATSYS: Twelve dodges Aislinn's Large Thrown Object.
COMBATSYS: Twelve blocks Cross' Poison Girl.
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Aislinn 0/-------/-======|====---\-------\0 Twelve
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Cross 0/-------/---====|
The Dalek is impaled by Aislinn's mighty throw - but, unfortunately, Twelve is /not/ the Dalek. It crumples, a simple animatronic display. Oops.
However, in the attack, Twelve betrayed his position as...the Terminator! Cross's strike slams into him - barely - as he bulks up the leg that it strikes. Too bad for him he was so close to the Dalek!
The metallic creature summons up his chi and mimics the heat Cross has produced - but in the form of molten metal, oozing from his form, which he flings at Aislinn, as he feels she is, at present, the greater threat.
Sure, he's bullshitting abilities, but when there are no guns around and he has to be cautious, he can at least /pretend/ he just crawled, half-molten, out of a blazing inferno and is harnessing it. Or he just likes the disguise and didn't care to imitate powers. It could be either.
COMBATSYS: Aislinn blocks Twelve's P.R.O.J..
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Aislinn 0/-------/=======|====---\-------\0 Twelve
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Cross 0/-------/---====|
A glob of molten metal is not exactly what Aislinn expected to be flung at her. Acting quickly, she throws her arms up, crossed; the metal sears against her tough leathers, and certainly much of the heat transfers over. Her flesh is cooking, briefly, until she rips the sleeves away and drops them. Reddened flesh is a testament to the heat of Twelve's chi.
Having betrayed his position, Aislinn begins charging for the shapeshifter--she has some ground to make up but she can do it, lunging forward, drawing her right hand back... but that is a feint, becaues as she stops she kicks her right leg up and high in a slashing front kick, the booted foot sheathed in a red-white aura of electricity that carves out an arc in the air, for a brief moment.
"Oh, boy," Cross drones sarcastically, adding in a faux-excited tone, "I've always wanted to fight Haggar." Okay, wrong wrestling politician, but the resemblence is uncanny in her opinion.
Now that Twelve is exposed, she seems content to let Aislinn pick up the slack on the offense. The junior agent ducks around to one side and then leaps upward, trying to latch onto the Terminator's back with her arms hooked under his shoulders and her legs locked around his waist, heels digging into his hip joints. The grapple wasn't likely to cause him significant pain, but she hoped to be able to hold him long enough for Aislinn to land a telling blow.
"Now, let's make this brief, Aislinn!"
COMBATSYS: Cross successfully hits Twelve with Quick Throw.
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Aislinn 0/-------/=======|=====--\-------\0 Twelve
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Cross 0/-------/---====|
COMBATSYS: Twelve dodges Aislinn's Light Kick.
Aislinn's kick does not strike home - but not for lack of trying. Twelve knows how those blows hurt - and he has no intention to be hit by them, twisting to avoid the strike - but moving right into Aislinn's grapple, which leaves him in an uncomfortable position - while he wriggles out of it, he slams himself into a wall in doing so. Ow.
Shaking himself, the Terminator rushes off down the hall again, ducking into the ewok exhibit. If followed - he'll have vanished again, likely having changed his form. Again. Twelve is treating this more as a game than a fight - seeing how well the NESTS agents hunt him, as opposed to fighting them outright.
COMBATSYS: Twelve gains composure.
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Aislinn 0/-------/=======|====---\-------\0 Twelve
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Cross 0/-------/---====|
Aislinn is beginning to get irritated. The point of this SNF aside, she is already rather tired of the shapeshifter cutting and running all the time. Aislinn grabs another one of those line-pole things and, as she stalks forward, just begins smashing displays. It is a philosophy somewhat akin to the one Bruce Lee used in the final fight of "Enter the Dragon"; when there's nowhere left to hide, then Twelve will have to come out.
On she goes, almost in no hurry, just smashing everything and anything that isn't a wall, herself, or Cross, methodically. She will wreck the entire exhibit--the entire museum--if she has to.
COMBATSYS: Aislinn focuses on her next action.
"Do we really need this thing?" Cross asks, folding her arms over her chest, tapping her toe expectantly with an echoing clack-clack-clack on the polished floor. Her gaze turns in the opposite direction of Aislinn's patient smashing, turning over the various exhibits the driven agent hasn't set about wrecking yet. "It seems pretty useless to me."
The younger NESTS member seems completely relaxed and at ease physically, and yet her utter lack of playfulness speaks of a massive amount of mental tension compared to her normal, madcap state. There isn't even any music, aside from the racuous rhythm of Aislinn smashing and bashing and crashing, and that's suiting her just fine. Maybe that's even the reason, itself, why she's so cold tonight. "We could set the place on fire. How does it deal with fire?"
COMBATSYS: Cross gains composure.
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Aislinn 0/-------/=======|====---\-------\0 Twelve
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Cross 0/-------/-----==|
Useless? Maybe, maybe not - Twelve certainly would disagree, and point to his shapeshifting - or perhaps he would simply ignore it. Twelve doesn't go in much for trash talk when his persona wouldn't. As Aislinn begins smashing things, Twelve wonders how much they'd be charged for destroying the museum itself.
He decides not to worry about it. Instead, as they approach the ewok exhibit, one of the ewoks charges, rocks and sticks in hand.
Rocks and sticks, apparently, empowered by chi. They swing down at Aislinn, and Twelve chitters in faux-Ewokese. Completely meaningless - but hey, he's trying to do what he was told to do: make it realistic.
COMBATSYS: Aislinn endures Twelve's N.R.G..
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Aislinn 1/----===/=======|=====--\-------\0 Twelve
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Cross 0/-------/-----==|
"Your weaknesses are glaring. However, we're not going to do this quite like that..." Cross declares almost imperiously, her arms still folded and her hips cocked to one side, watching the angry ewok burst onto the scene with a bemused expression. The rocker uncoils from her casual position like a striking snake, running straight toward the furry critter. Then, a moment before they meet head-on, her form blurs out and there's no trace of any impact... just a sudden feeling of warmth washing across Twelve's form, not quite hot enough to be unpleasant.
Then she's behind him, back to... er, well, he's nowhere near tall enough to reach more than backside, but regardless. Cross reaches blindly back behind herself, plopping her palm atop his head and gripping firmly with splayed fingers, holding the unfortunate ewok in place. Why? Oh, no particular reason... "... no, we're going to have /fun/ with this."
COMBATSYS: Cross assists Aislinn.
Aislinn turns, as she hears the Ewok chittering--and the storm of sticks-and-stones-shaped chi is suddenly headed her way. Growling under her breath, she simply charges forward, weathering the intense storm of energy in the shape of an Ewok.
What she attempts to do next will not win her any favors with any Star Wars fans who actually like the little anklebiters; what she does, you see, is find the one that attacked her, and, having busted through the shapeshifter's attack, attempts to simply grab it by the shoulders... her lunge is strong, her latent anger rising to the surface in this burst of pure speed and power...
This is how Aislinn expresses herself. It is her only outlet, her only release.
COMBATSYS: Aislinn successfully hits Twelve with Momentum Overdrive.
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Aislinn 0/-------/-------|=======\======-\1 Twelve
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Cross 0/-------/-----==|
Caught. Aislinn grabs the Ewok-thing... and starts hammering it with her head. Not just one headbutt, not two, not three. She goes -crazy- with the headbutts--it's a full-on frenzy of headbutts, all the more disturbing because of Aislinn's silence--only the sound of her head impacting Twelve's copied form repeatedly--and then she drops the 'Ewok' and kicks it away.
LAST POSE: Caught. Aislinn grabs the Ewok-thing... and starts hammering it with her head. Not just one headbutt, not two, not three. She goes -crazy- with the headbutts--it's a full-on frenzy of headbutts, all the more disturbing because of Aislinn's silence--only the sound of her head impacting Twelve's copied form repeatedly--and then she drops the 'Ewok' and kicks it away.
Twelve makes a pitiful keening noise. Poor little ewok! He is grabbed and headbutted. And headbutted. And headbutted. He struggles - and then his teddy-bear arms pull out of Cross's grip and he scurries a few feet away, turning and facing his opponents, hissing almost cutely as he regrows some of his substance.
COMBATSYS: Twelve gains composure.
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Aislinn 0/-------/-------|=======\====---\1 Twelve
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Cross 0/-------/-----==|
So the time for running is over, is it? Good. Aislinn keeps her eyes on the 'Ewok'--she's proof enough that small does not mean not dangerous. Reaching back, she goes for something of a repeat technique--that is, throwing something heavy and damaging. However, this time it -isn't- a guidepole.
No, this time, she thrusts her hand into one of the glass panels that walls these displays of science and fiction, and rips out a big, flat, glassy chunk, turning, twisting, and frisbee-ing it at the Ewok. Slow, but if it hits... weight and sharp edges, y'know?
"Instead of making you so that you can do anything, your creators should have designed you to do at least one thing /right/," Cross declares, fitting her fist into the opposite palm to crack her knuckles noisily as she strides toward the unfortunate Ewok.
There's no semblence of a proper fight by this point. The agent is pummeling and abusing and generally taking liberties with the shapeshifter and his plethora of amusing but ultimately unimpressive forms, this time in the form of trying to stomp down on one foot to root him in place while taking a straight jab at his tiny, furry face. If she's right, he's balanced just good enough to bounce back up when he goes down, and that means she'll have a soft, cuddly punching bag to work on for a while!
"Let's wrap this up. I'm getting bored, and you're trashing museum property."
COMBATSYS: Aislinn successfully hits Twelve with Large Thrown Object.
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Aislinn 0/-------/------=|=======\======-\1 Twelve
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Cross 0/-------/-----==|
COMBATSYS: Twelve blocks Cross' Quick Punch.
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Aislinn 0/-------/------=|=======\=======\1 Twelve
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Cross 0/-------/-----==|
Twelve swivels his head at Cross and jabbers a bit in Ewokese. It may be an insult, or a statement that perfect mimic /is/ something right, or it may be just babble - after all, Ewokese is basically 'high speed jabbering.' He tries to jump out of the way of the glass, but is too slow - it shatters into him, sending him rolling - but as Cross comes at him, he gets to his feet and grabs her fist, jolted by impact but not hurt too badly. He reaches down and grabs a large stick.
Twelve chitters a bit at Cross, and his chi erupts around the stick...in the form of vague waves and a faint glow. Then, mimicking that greatest of Ewoks, Wicket, he slams his stick at Cross very hard, trying to make her into the shield generator. In the hands of an ewok, a stick is a /deadly weapon/.
COMBATSYS: Twelve successfully hits Cross with X.M.A.X..
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Aislinn 0/-------/------=|===----\-------\0 Twelve
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Cross 1/---====/=======|
The truth is, Cross doesn't even consider the Ewok and his stick a valid threat at first. The brash woman raises an eyebrow and shrugs her shoulders, watching the critter brandish his weapon with an impassive expression, even as he prepares to strike. The next thing she knows, she's looking down at a stick stuck where things shouldn't stick, at least not in the best interests of maintaining a healthy, living body.
"Huh," she blinks down at her impalement, raising an eyebrow. There's a brief pause before the wound begins to hiss, smoking sneaking out from the gap between the rough surface and her skin. The end of the stick glows red for an instant before catching fire.
Cross looks from her wound back up toward Twelve, quirking an eyebrow humorless. "You probably shouldn't have done that."
COMBATSYS: Cross focuses on her next action.
If Aislinn had any external signs of empathy, she'd wince as she sees Cross take what looks to be a massively damaging attack. No matter -what- Twelve is, he's strong, and deserving of respect in a fight. He has certainly earned her respect from their previous encounter... Her stance doesn't quite relax, but it becomes something softer, her weight resting on her rear right leg, mostly, her left with a pointed toe, her arms seeming to 'flow' better. However, flow or no flow, Aislinn is going to attack--this is her philosophy. When the pressure is in your favor, find a way to -keep- it on. So, while Cross quirks an eyebrow...
... Aislinn is lunging forward, dropping low, onto her hands, sweeping right leg around in a circular sweeping kick, her attacking foot flaring with red-white energy.
COMBATSYS: Aislinn successfully hits Twelve with Strong Kick.
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Aislinn 0/-------/-----==|======-\-------\0 Twelve
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Cross 1/---====/=======|
Twelve flies backwards from the kick. He is not entirely designed to /murder/ things - and certainly can't take these many hits. His little Ewok body slams into a wall. He gets unsteadily to his feet - and grabs a rock, charging it with chi. He grunts with effort - and hurls the thing at Cross, chittering a few words - and then collapses on his furry back.
It's over.
COMBATSYS: Twelve can no longer fight.
COMBATSYS: Twelve successfully hits Cross with D.T.Y.P.E..
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Aislinn 0/-------/-----==|
[ \\\\\\ <
Cross 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|
COMBATSYS: Cross takes no action.
A gout of flame bursts from Cross's stomach wound, completely reducing the penetrating stick to ash. The flames do not subside, however, seeming to crawl and claw their way outward from that point to cover the rest of her body, swiftly wreathing her in a halo of gray-white, quais-luminescent inferno.
Her eyes, bleeding flames from the corners and glowing red like hot coals, watch the Ewok with a bemused expression. Even when the little savage chucks a rock at her, she doesn't move, letting the chi-infused projectile strike her--albeit, buffered by the diminishing effect of her fiery aura--and only snaps her head to one side from the impact, otherwise remaining unconcerned.
The head wound is bleeding--well, there's something oozing out of it that splatters to the floor in burning puddles like napalm, anyway--and flames are still pouring out her wounded stomach, not to mention swiftly immolating the rest of her body. By all rights, she shouldn't survive...
... but the fire is cauterizing the actual wounds, and the twisted flame is something she can deal with. Mortal though her injuries may appear, she won't be going down this match. "... let's get out of here."
A voice echoes through the museum, over the PA system; an SNF official, obviously not Geese Howard himself. "Congratulations to Aislinn Doyle and Cross for the win!" The audience is cheering, even if the particpants can't hear it.
"You are, of course, free to leave at any time." With the deed done and the act over, Aislinn nods to Cross, and turns smartly on her heel, headed for the door. Likely she'll get there before Cross but--as long as Cross is mobile she can fend for herself. There'll be no mollycoddling here.
Twelve continues to lay there. While he can probably move - a bit - he has no intentions to. For one thing, there's no reason. He pays no attention to Cross or Aislinn, focusing on rebuilding himself enough to stand. That hurt.
Log created on 22:50:09 06/17/2007 by Twelve, and last modified on 10:45:16 06/30/2007.