Description: Kurow happens across something he wasn't supposed to see. But in the end, this happenchance encounter may have planted the pernicious seeds of doubt as he briefly faces Rugal's power. Alan also has his moment of awesome.
The temperature of the Thailand makes this country one of the most uninviting places in the world if you didn't grow up accustomed to such conditions; sweltering heat, drenching humidity, the air ripe with the smell of vegetation rotting and decomposing along the thick jungle floor. But there is war to be found here. And where there is war, there will also exist the callus many who seek to profit from it, even if not directly engaging in it.
The meeting is taking place next to a small pond, its water green with moss and lilly pads. A trickle of a stream pours into the stagnant water, creating a persistant ambient noise along with the other sounds of jungle life. A number of men are around. The battle-weary yet toughened men are of the Thailand resistance. The men that look like they're visitors here are with the 'R' Organization. The nature of this gathering is obvious as crates are being loaded off the back of a large, flatbed truck. Assuming Rugal is not here to deliver some festive 'herbs' to improve troop morale, those boxes likely contain small arms. Grenades, rockets, assault rifles, etc.
And standing off to the side, clothed in a distinctive red-orange suit, stands Rugal himself. If the weather is getting to him, it doesn't show, even with the thick clothing on. His expression is neutral. Standing in front of him, dwarfed by the crime lord's height, is a resistance leader dressed in combat fatigues, a thick, smoldering cigar hanging from his mouth. Now and then he looks toward the crates of weapons with an eager expression. Whatever the deal is he has with 'R', he seems to be quite pleased by it.
Alan R. B. is not really all that high up in 'R', but he's high up enough not to have to do any of this hard damn work. He has not given any concession for the weather in his clothes, still wearing his usual dark, stylish, expensive outfit. A lit cigarette rests in his mouth, not at all comparing to the resistance leader's cigar, but it'll do for Alan. The boxer, wearing his iron rings just in case something goes down, scratches the back of his neck lazily as he paces.
But Alan is not actually supervising the transport of goods, but rather keeping an eye out and about for any kind of interference. Lightning crackles around his hands and face regularly, a sign of relaxed readiness.
There is no good part of being brutally beaten and left in the muck in Thailand; after today's little scuffle with Rock Howard, Kurow has learned that particular fact first-hand. He's had a little time to catch his breath, rest, and bandage himself (and, for that matter, stow away the parts of the jacket he stole, when he found that trying to wear them was a little uncomfortable). The youth even went so far as to clean himself up.
However, he wasn't expecting to come across /this/ -- at least, not so soon. A pocket of resistance fighters... that's always nice, easy pickings for a man like Kurow, something good to report to Lord Vega. At least, it seems that way at first. Then he sees that man, that man whose unescapable presence he's been in more than once. Rugal. He doesn't know the man with the crackling lightning, but Rugal he would recognize in an instant.
He hangs back, just far enough above the brush he's hiding in to see the exchange taking place. He keeps his wits about him and his claws firmly on. Let's see how this turns out, he says to himself -- let's see just what they're playing at.
The leader of the ragged troops talks at Rugal eagerly, but the taller European seems to be paying practically no attention to him. His own eyes sweep over the resistence fighters, a red glimmer in his right eyesocket indicative of additional analysis being done, peering beneath the surface into the desperate guerillas. He can sense their optimism. The hope that these powerful weapons imbue them with. With enough arms they can win back their country from the occupying forces of Shadaloo. That is their dream. With a faint smirk, Rugal silently wishes them the best with their aspirations.
There's something else to take notice of as well. Another presence. He can sense the proximity of another individual who's power dwarfs that of these beleaguered soldiers. The red glow in his right eye goes out, leaving only metallic darkness in that socket. As the cigar smoking man continues jabbering away excitedly about how Rugal is making it possible for them to strike back with greater force than they had before, the crimelord walks away as if ignoring him completely. His steps bring him to the highest ranking minion here, Alan.
"We have company. Thirty feet to my left. See to it." comes the simple instructions. His own hands slip into the pants pockets of his suit, each one tugging a black, fingerless glove from within.
Alan looks back to Rugal as he speaks, face mild. He certainly didn't see anyone, but then again, he doesn't have a GODDAMN ROBOT EYE. So, really, it's acceptable. "Got it-- sir." Impressive, he didn't start saying Rugal first. Sliding his hands into his pockets, Alan makes no attempt at subtlety, turning right for where Rugal indicated and making his bored, relaxed way over. You can tell he relaxed more because even more electricity is jumping around his face.
The youth watches the resistance fighters -- that hope is almost disgusting. There's nothing they can do -- why don't they just give up, he asks himself, why don't they just do what'll be best and safest and lay down their arms? Oh well -- that's just the way the cookie crumbles. Besides, Kurow reminds himself -- there are more important things to worry about than why people make terrible choices in life.
One of those more important things is coming toward him at an alarming rate. Looks to be one of Rugal's men, Kurow thinks; on the one hand, he /does/ want to have an out in case Shadaloo falls apart here. On the other hand, the man coming toward him seems more disposable than he himself is; if things go that bad, he's confident enough that this will either not matter or he'll have a new option. Besides -- no one wants to get hit with thunder.
When Alan is but a foot away from him, dangerously close to discovering Kurow on his own... the young man stands up, with a smirk. "I apologize," he says, with a smirk. "I don't have time for you." He then rears back a clawed hand, twists his hips a little, and simply /bursts/ into motion, giving Alan what may be the ultimate five across the face.
COMBATSYS: Alan has started a fight here.
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Alan 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Kurow has joined the fight here.
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Alan 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Kurow
COMBATSYS: Kurow successfully hits Alan with Deep Strike.
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Alan 1/------=/=======|=------\-------\0 Kurow
Alan R. B.'s eyebrows rise when Kurow appears before him. IMMEDIATELY he picks a good sass: "Well look at this poncy motherfuGLMFFF" He just can't even begin to react in time to Kurow, and his shades go spinning off of his face to land in the underbrush, his cigarette basically atomizes, and /he/ is lifted right off his feet, hurled back like a bullet.
There is a loud, meaty, satisfying crash as Alan bullets right into the truck being unloaded of Illegal Weaponry. The whole thing dents inward, and Alan bounces off of it to land face first into the ground. It HURT LIKE HELL, but he's not unconcious, rolling over.
"...saw to him... ...and he's probably a queermo..."
Rugal doesn't turn around for a long moment. With patient precision, he slips the black, fingerless gloves onto each of his hands, tugging them tautly into place. He hears the voice behind him and even without looking his way, he knows exactly who it is. He glances at the side of the truck even before Alan crashes into it as if he knew the trajectory his minion was smashed just from the sound of the impact from the Shadaloo representative's clawed hands.
Kurow Kirishima. The tyrant's head is an encyclopedia of facts, names, details, pieces of information about almost every fighter that has ever made a public appearance in the last decade or so. Knowing that someone such as he is here brings a slight smile to Rugal's lips as he finishes adjusting the gloves. It would be inconvenient for Vega to learn of 'R' Organization's treachery so easily, however...
He turns around blindingly fast, the back of his coat flaring out briefly before settling into position. The smile is gone, Rugal's expression deathly serious. Leaning forward, he charges at Kurow, his hands out at his sides, his fingers clenched as if forming claws of their own, "Well, well, if it isn't Mister Kirishima. Unfortunately, I'm afraid you've already seen too much. Far too much!" When he is in rage, he swaps out with one of those hands of his, striking for the young man's head, the fingers clenching into a smashing fist mid-blow. The other hand swings in immediately after, toward Kurow's stomach, attempting to drive the heel of his hand into him with incredible force.
COMBATSYS: Rugal has joined the fight here.
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Kurow 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Rugal
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Alan 1/------=/=======|
COMBATSYS: Rugal successfully hits Kurow with Medium Punch.
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Kurow 0/-------/---====|-------\-------\0 Rugal
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Alan 1/------=/=======|
With a small smirk, Kurow faces Rugal dead-on; he's always wanted to see the tyrant in a fight. He just didn't expect that he'd be the one on the receiving end of the punches. Speaking of punches, Kirishima gets hit in the face really damn hard with one! And then another one, at that -- well, the second one was a palm strike, but again, who's counting? His eyes widen, and he steps back, in intense pain. "... excellent... to see you again..." Kurow wheezes, staying low to the ground, calculating his next move.
It's not a hard choice, though. He knows that the only way he can catch Rugal is if he comes out swinging, /hard/, /now/. Thinking back to his fight with the robed man who came to his dorm, a man who was roughly the same sort of physical specimen, he goes for the biggest calculated risk he remembers working in that harrowing battle that feels so long ago.
He leaps. His claws lash out toward the larger man's throat, trying to dig deep in -- while Kurow doesn't want to kill Rugal and probably couldn't if he tried, he does want to drive him off. After all, right now, Thailand's resistance fighters losing him as a contact is in his interests, and the best way to do that is debilitate him.
If those claws sink in, he kicks off, and Rugal may find himself on the receiving end of an all-too-familiar move, in which Kurow whirls around, almost 'suspended' parallel to the ground, leaving deep cuts. When he finishes, he pushes off, trying to send the dictator-aspirant to the ground as forcefully as possible.
Alan remains Over There. He'll just... he'll be lying around.
COMBATSYS: Kurow successfully hits Rugal with Circle Slash.
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Kurow 0/-------/-======|====---\-------\0 Rugal
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Alan 1/------=/=======|
As Kurow steps back, Rugal doesn't press in just yet, letting the young man steady himself. It's hardly mercy that stays his hand but the need to issue a question while his opponent still has the breath with which to speak. After all, he doesn't intend to have that be the case for long. "So how goes Lord Vega's war, anyway? It seems the people have yet to lose the will to fight back and he has been wrestling for control here for... how many weeks now?"
When Kurow leaps at him, Rugal pulls a hand up as if to drive his forearm into the incoming attack as a means of defense. But the clawed attack reaches around the intersecting arm, allowing those vicious claws to strike home. Even as Kurow spins his way through the rest of the attack, Rugal already knows from whom that move really comes. The attempt to push him down to the ground only results in staggering him back several steps, Rugal pausing for a moment, his expression almost seeming to brighten at the pain in his neck, the blood from claw marks dropping down over his white shirt's collar. "Yes... yes, the strength you have. Does Vega truly appreciate it?!" There is almost a laughter behind his voice, a man exhilarated at the prospect of a powerful challenge. "Show me more!"
The next attack comes slower than the previous as Rugal closes the distance between him and Kurow with only two long strides. His dress-shoe covered foot swings out low, a quick but punishing blow toward Kurow's leg. But it isn't the real attack, as Rugal plants that foot back quickly before bringing his opposite leg out in a side kick toward Kurow's chest.
COMBATSYS: Rugal successfully hits Kurow with Medium Kick.
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Kurow 1/-----==/=======|====---\-------\0 Rugal
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Alan 1/------=/=======|
"Our ranks seem to swell, on the whole," Kirishima replies, when Rugal asks just how Vega's war is going; he may as well be honest. It's not like Rugal is going to do /too/ much about it save something that Southsynd would be doing if he wasn't, anyway. "The battles, however... have been back and forth." That may be a very generous statement, however -- if it is, Kurow's not telling.
Then Rugal asks if Vega truly appreciates Kurow's strength; it's a hard question. He certainly seems appreciated, lately. But then... he's one of the few with his own will who hasn't left. The Shadaloo ranks are no longer men with force of personality, with strength -- just dead-eyed, hollow creatures. Shells of something else entirely. The youth doesn't answer, but the question does gnaw at him.
So, for that matter, does the kick -- Kurow gets punished for overcommitting, and as the kick hits his chest, a rib sounds as though it may have just snapped. "I'll gladly show you more!" he declares, clapping both hands together and taking a single, hard step forward... and driving them directly for the center of Rugal's chest. It's a big risk, but with a man like Rugal, the best way to fight is to take risks.
Alan is allowed his rest.
Alan slowly rolls over, pushing himself back up to a seated position and collapsing against the dented truck. Now he's actually in a position where a breather will do him /good/.
COMBATSYS: Alan drops his guard to recover.
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Kurow 1/-----==/=======|====---\-------\0 Rugal
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Alan 1/------=/=======|
COMBATSYS: Rugal counters Deep Strike from Kurow with Genocide Cutter.
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Kurow 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|===----\-------\0 Rugal
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Alan 1/------=/=======|
The answers are noted, Kurow's words confirming the intel obtained from Rugal's own sources. Back and forth battles. The ranks of Shadaloo swell... but not with the RIGHT kind of people. Mindless drones, mind controlled servants, mercenaries who care nothing about the cause, lusting after only money. Is that an army that will triumph over powerful fighters flocking to Thailand to aid a people resolved to reclaim their homeland at any cost?
When Kurow's next attack comes, Rugal shakes his head, reading the young man's movements, his right eye, a gift from technology, glowing red suddenly as Rugal breaks down Kurow's movements to the very component muscle contractions necessary to form his strikes. All of that information is processed in an instant and the tall man's leg swings up and out, kicking aside his victim's arms and leaving him open for the attack that comes from the other foot. "Genocide-" the tyrant growls as his leg impacts Kurow's side with an upward swinging kick, red-yellow chi trailing behind his foot. The kick carries him up along with the rising Rugal. "Cutter!" he finishes, bringing his other chi infused leg crashing down into Kurow, sending him crashing back to the ground.
The suited fighter lands on his own two feet, "Men who have served under Vega for years have already abandoned him him. And the loyalty he holds with most only goes as deep as his pockets... Tell me, is that the man that will rule the world? Will he ever be able to give you what you truly want?" Rugal questions, lifting his gloved hand to wipe once at his neck before flicking his fingers at his side, sprinkles of blood blotting the dust at his feet.
Kirishima doesn't even have a chance. Rugal outclasses him and he knows it -- he may have been the best once Hyo left the Darkside Society Organization. He may even be one of the best left in Shadaloo. But here, he is nothing -- Kurow really just doesn't have the physical prowess to fight Rugal evenly. The pair of strikes come down on Kirishima, the end result being a battered, broken Kurow, lying on the ground.
... but not defeated. Not yet. "... He won't," Kurow says, bringing himself back up, slowly. "But he has things I want. One, at the worst count -- four, at the best. I'm not leaving him unless I can take the tools to forge my own path." Considering just where Kurow's been showing up, with who, televised where, it's likely quite clear what he refers to. Like Rugal, he has a... predisposition to taking trophies.
The focus returns to the battle, however, in spite of his words. His position shifts from that of a bruised, beaten fighter to a track star -- a low posture, one which makes it all too easy for the embattled young man to burst into a full-speed dash at Rugal. It looks, at first, like the low dashing technique he's used on Saturday Night Fight a dozen times... but at the last second, right before he'd normally ram into the would-be tyrant, he starts to -- spring up?!
COMBATSYS: Rugal interrupts Kirishima Kyoujuu Reppa from Kurow with Scorpion Blow.
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Kurow 1/----===/=======|=======\-------\0 Rugal
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Alan 1/------=/=======|
Alan finally pushes up to his feet, coughing once to straighten out his lungs. "That /hurt,/ you dancing ballet son of a bitch!" He's not really angry, but is certainly talking like he is. One backflip puts him on top of the truck where he can get a better angle at Kurow. "Hey boss... watch your back!"
Alan pulls both of his hands up, above his right shoulder, and then relaxes. Yellow electric chi, unbound and free, swirls up from under his sleeves into his hands. Two swirling, crackling orbs form between his thumb and middle finger. Luckily, this attack moves /fast,/ so there's no chance of Rugal moving in the way once he fires these bolts off.
Alan begins to swing his left arm down: "THUNDER ST--" --!!! Well, Alan actually didn't expect Rugal to just kinda smash him out of it like that - at this angle, he couldn't /avoid/ hitting his boss. He twists suddenly, clenching his fists instead of snapping his fingers. The orbs lose integrity, electricity roaring out all over the place in a short distance. It, along with the roar of thunder, is probably terrifying to the Thai fighters around him.
As Kurow leaps at him, Rugal merely holds his ground, allowing the vastly younger fighter to drive his claws right into his chest, even leaning into the attack as if to make sure that the mastermind of Vega's army of mind-controlled fighters KNEW that he wanted him to hit him. The claws stab through the white cloth of the white, clean dress shirt, the holes immediately beginning to become surrounded with the crimson of a false victory.
At the same instant his claws sink deep, Rugal lashes out with one gloved hand, gripping the Japanese boy's shirt tightly and pulling him even closer, causing those claws to sink in a little more. Rugal's other arm lifts at a right angle to his side, his fingers extended in a casual gesture as if to indicate to Alan that he need not launch his attack just now.
"You are a young man on the right path, Kurow Kirishima. In many ways, I wish my own so-..." The tyrant cuts himself off. There was a faint glimmer of pain in his voice but not one caused by the claws burried into his flesh. "Your potential is being wasted here. But you act to feed your ambition... It reminds me of... Heh." The hand clenching Kurow's shirt tightens and he brings their faces closer together before speaking his next words. "You will survive our meeting here because I believe you will become something more. Soon. Now go, claim your trophies and keepsakes. If you speak nothing of this incident to Lord Vega..." He almost spits 'Lord', the derision impossible to miss in his tone. "...you may yet find doors opened to you after this debacle has run its course. Tell him of my presence, and you will find your life extinguished before you ever have the chance to reach your potential..."
As if driving home the point, Rugal's other hand comes down and strikes directly into Kurow's stomach with unbelievable force, his grip on his shirt released, allowing the young fighter to go flying backward.
Even as Rugal catches Kurow, the youth feels remarkably empowered -- Rugal is telling him what he wants to hear. 'Claim what's yours.' 'You'll have more power -- /soon/.' With Vega, it has always been, 'Remember that you serve me,' 'Look upon what you may someday have.' The difference is startling -- in a way, it's a way of getting out from under the same yoke Kurow has been under since birth. It's what he /expected/ when he sold the Darkside Society Organization out to Vega.
Yes, he thinks, with the wisdom of a man who's been thrown around far too much in one day, this is a good idea. "Your secret is safe with me," Kurow says, immediately before getting struck with much the same force he hit Alan with earlier. And, conveniently, ending up in much the same place. "... I... think I need..." he forces out, "a med..."
Then he remembers. While this doesn't do -too- much for his short-term health, it might at least keep him from being in the hospital as long. "... a little pick-me-up." In a move that will almost certainly be misconstrued by Alan as something much less innocent than 'wanting to siphon off some valuable chi from a man who clearly has a surfeit of it,' Kurow uses the last of his strength to drive a claw directly for Alan's thigh. CAN HE DO IT?!
COMBATSYS: Kurow can no longer fight.
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Alan 1/------=/=======|=======\-------\0 Rugal
COMBATSYS: Alan parries Kurow's Kinki Chikarasui!
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Alan 1/-----==/=======|=======\-------\0 Rugal
Alan's hands kinda hurt after that emergency discharge of chi. His head is still ringing from that slap, and in general he's not well off. So, when Kurow comes flying at him, Alan's eyebrows rocket right up. "Oh sh--"
But even though he's pretty sure that's going to hit and really suck, Alan moves in sheer desperation. Lightning flares around his body, lighting him up like a Christmas tree and giving him ridiculous speed. This is a taste of Alan R. B. not as he is now, but as he has the potential to become if he applied himself.
He leaps up as Kurow flies at him, pulling his legs up quickly. Kurow's driving claw passes under him by a bare inch. Then his legs snap out, and using Kurow's hand as a spring, the boxer twists through the air, spinning rapidly as he goes. A thick trail of electric chi crackling through his clothes describes his every movement. His speed is incredible, like a video tape on fast-forward. Finally he lands stock-still next to Rugal, a shockwave of non-painful lightning spreading out from his feet. He nonchalantly removes a cigarette from his pocket, lights it with a spark, and puffs.
"Whoo."
It is with morbid curiosity that Rugal watches Kurow lunge for Alan, offering nothing in the way of a warning or any attempt to help the boxer extricate himself from what is bound to be a painful assault. That curiosity is replaced with the slightest hint of respect for his minion's ability to react with incredible speed. The corner of the tyrant's mouth curls up slightly as he witnesses the potential that he knew Alan possessed. Potential that he would someday bring out in the young man, making him a powerful tool for "R". Only his enhanced vision allows him to follow the blindingly fast actions with precision, noting the effort of every nuance in the entire sequence of movements. Yes... someday.
As Alan lands at his side, Rugal begins to tug the gloves from his hands, the blood staining his shirt having ceased spreading as if the wounds were already beginning to heal with unnatural regeneration. "In this moment, you have seen what your apathy has denied you." Into his pockets go the gloves before he reaches into his inside coat pocket and withdraws an exquisite stopwatch affixed to a golden chain. A glance is cast at the time device, then he looks back up, seeing that the flatbed truck has been emptied. Fortunately, the resistance fighters had finished the job before the skirmish had begun, because right now they're all pretty much staring in awe at the two ranking "R" members.
A glance is made toward Kurow, the young man forced to get by without even a taste of Alan's chi for strength. "Soon," Rugal's deep voice states, as if the word alone was sufficient to convey a multitude of messages. "Come Mister Alan, our business here is finished." The "R" minions pile into the back of the truck while Rugal steps forward, entering the passenger seat of the vehicle. With Shadaloo's control of the air, even the Black Market monarch must rely on more humble, conventional means of transportation. A temporary inconvenience at worst.
Kurow most assuredly does not get that necessary little pick-me-up. The stress of the day is definitely getting to him at this point -- as Alan springs off of him, he doesn't even have the strength necessary to keep himself upright. He follows the push he's been given, and ends up on his side, awake but in severe pain. Perhaps if his path does lead him to "R", as it seems to at an ever-increasing speed, it would be wise to consider Alan more than just a thug.
He looks up to Rugal as the man gets ready to leave, and affirms, perhaps to the well-dressed man, or perhaps to himself, "Soon." Before he starts to roll oh-so-slowly away from both retreating organizations, he allows himself one last glance back at Bernstein, noting those regenerating wounds. What power, he wonders, could that man have...?
It's a question for later. Now, thanks to Alan's adroitness, there exist several more pertinent questions, not the least of which is "Why, God, why, I didn't even know that could internally hemhorrage, why does that even /exist/?"
Log created on 00:50:47 06/22/2007 by Rugal, and last modified on 04:46:31 06/22/2007.