Description: Bon Jovi (2000). Elle and Tran visit Huggy's bar, a mercenary establishment in Southtown, for a routine scoop on the underworld. However, when some curiously familiar yahoo starts insulting the Ikari Warriors, Clark decides he's not going to have any of it. Tran only makes matters worse, and the bar erupts into random insanity! 'Guest stars' galore!
There are two major establishments for mercenaries in Metro City. The first one is Achmed's. A refugee from the cold war, 'Achmed' is a person (or persons) that run a tight ship and a high class establishment. People that go there are serious about getting work, and the tone there is all business. Polite, clinical business.
And then there's Huggy's.
Huggy's is the cinematic stereotype of a rough and tumble mercenary bar. Loud boasting, constant cajoling, and endless arguments abound. The place is like a tinderbox, and all the patrons are juggling nitroglycerine. The wide bar is the most predominant feature, with a grotesquely obese man wearing an apron that says 'Huggy's!' on it.
Clearly, this man is Huggy. A giant pig of a man, he looks as bad as he smells, and he might as well have stink Chi. Nevertheless, he's the one that owns the place, which means that Elle is usually here to get the scoop on the latest free agents, such as Lien, Oswald, and the like. Huggy's sees and knows what Achmed doesn't care to see or know, and Elle can go into either place without hassle. It's good to have connections.
So here she is, in her leathers, looking like she belongs there and being mostly ignored. After all, she's here enough for people to know better than to get into her business overmuch. She's not any fun anyhow, being as cold and dry as a frozen halibut. The man she has in tow, however? Tran is the kind of person that this place is all about. Drinking, partying, and a free exchange of punches.
Viva Democracy!
Huggy's. It's loud, filled with a perpetual haze of smoke and the smell of alchohol, as if the owner had just gone crazy and drenched the place in it until the wood was sopping wet with booze -- to give it that 'home quality scent.' It wouldn't be surprising if that was the case; this place is rude, crude, and typically not the kind of place for the more reserved. So why choose this place over a more restrained, less smell-ridden place like Achmed's.
Clark Steel is here because he likes the beer, personally.
When you operate in an establishment as large as the Ikari Warriors, you typically don't need to come to places like this to shake down information. Huggy's is useful for the drunk ramblings of some wasted mercenary or another, and there is useful information drifting about, but for the most part? Clark doesn't come here for business. Whenever he finds himself in Metro City, he chooses to come to this of all bars. And why? Because he likes the atmosphere. The loud yelling, the occasional fight, the scent that wafts through the air that smells distinctly of vomit -- it's all familiar sensations, and Steel has grown accustomed to it.
So here he is now, by the bar counter itself. Hunched over on a stool, he takes a long chug of a bottle of beer in hand, calmly and silently wiping away any remaining liquor from his mouth. Sunglass-covered eyes occasionally drift around, looking amidst the jeering patrons and the silent and thoughtful ones like Elle, but he keeps mainly to himself. He's probably one of the better known people here, if only for the sake of who he is and what he's done. Plus -- he's a reigning beer drinking contest champion amongst these parts. And you know why?
Because he is a bad dude.
Like usual, Clark keeps to himself. Silently drinking his beer, he only occasionally glances about. Other than that? He just absorbs the noise and the terrible smell. Ah. Just like home.
Now, hey. Don't talk bad about Huggy, because you know what? Huggy's place is awesome. Screw the keeping in touch with other mercenaries thing, Dr. Tran isn't about making friends and learning about his trade. No, Dr. Tran is a man with one thing on his mind: drinkin' and fightin'.
So far, he's only about half of the way there, really. He's drinking more than enough for both himself and Elle up at the bar near Clark, a miniature miracle of metabolism the way he's going. Evidently, if she's not going to have fun here, he's going to have enough fun for the both of them. It makes sense, in a completely retarded way.
Slamming his half-empty mug down on the bar, he shouts, "HUGGY! Get over here, you big lug, I need a refill!" The doctor whirls around on his barstool, turning to his partner in crime, hand extended with the mug he forgot he was holding. "Hey, hey, Elle. You should...you should really get in on this, this is a blast. This guy to my right, I forget his name, but he has this HILARIOUS story about a tattoo he got in a peanut butter factory...until I outdrank him unconcious. Ha!" Gesturing violently as he talks, most of the beer that Tran has left in his mug ends up all over the place, but the only bit we care about, the most significant bit, is probably the bit that ends up splashing directly toward one Clark Steel, PI!
Huggy, the ponderous blaggard that he is, lumbers over to the diminuative Tran. The stench is like a million angry bees that assualt the nostrils, but as Clark alluded to, the man has the best ale this side of the Atlantic. Made from the choicest of ingredients (and some not so choice), the frothy brew is slammed in front of Tran yet again. He says something. It might be "Here you go, kid!", or it might be "Your mother is a unicycle." It's hard to tell with Huggy, given his giant flapping jowels have a tendency to get in the way.
Nevertheless, Elle is able to decipher the gibberish into human speak well enough.
As she negotiates with the ponderous monster man, the voice rises up from the back.
"IKARI WARRIORS SUCK!"
It's an odd looking man with a blonde pompadour, red nose, and a tacky looking tie, who's had /way/ too many appletinis that Huggy has been strategically spitting in for most of the night. "THEY SUCK, AND HEIDERN IS GAY!" He crows, his bad tie flapping from the force of his exhortions as he stands up on a table. The stain on his pants is indicative of either a loss of control of his drink, or a loss of control of his bladder. Either way, Elle grimaces. She's seen Steel, and as the appletini smashes on the bar about five feet away from Clark, the hackles raise on her neck as the room goes silent.
Shit.
Clark usually comes here just to enjoy a beer. Usually, he has friendly chats with Huggy because, having been in the mercenary business for most of his life, he has grown accustomed to strange and unusual smells. People typically know not to bother him, or to pick a fight with him. Back in the day, before Clark wore his stylish blue flak vest, people would pick fights with him on a rather consistent basis, here. After the last one had to be taken to the hospital with several broken bones, the bulk of the patrons decided they didn't have anything else they needed to prove to Clark Steel, and time went on.
Occasionally, though, there are certain people who don't quite have a clue. Or just recklessly disregard said clues. Such as now, when Clark is content to simply drink his beer... only to have some of it spilled -on him-. Not his, he knows that. The sudden feeling of alcohol being splashed over the side of his face and his arm brings a brief pause to the tall, silent man. He doesn't look surprised. And his expression is largely stony. But slowly... he turns his gaze to face Tran fully, and offers one, simple warning: "Hey, pal. Watch where you're aiming." Simple. And he is intent to go back to business...
... until someone else decides to pipe up.
The large, boisterously shrill voice cuts through the bar only a split second after Steel turns his attention from Tran. With a rather clear and distinct message, the particular drunk, obnoxious man catches the Ikari lieutenant's attention more easily than he may have hoped. "..." Silently squinting at the gaunt, ugly-looking man from behind his shades, he considers those drunken, horribly ill-articulated words. He looks back to Huggy. "... I'll pay you back." And that's all he offers, before he stands up, and begins to walk.
Without even so much as offering another passing glance at the drunken offender, Clark cleanly states, "Yo. How about you relax outside for a bit?" It's not a suggestion. Mainly because, as he walks...
Clark, in one smooth motion, sweeps out, grasps the man by the collar of his terrible shirt, and then HURLS him forward. Straight out a nearby window.
That should help the man cool off a bit.
Now, truth be told, Dr. Tran's already pretty much forgotten what he was doing by the time his new beer gets to him. He's already pretty smashed, and so Clark's warning falls on deaf ears. He takes a long pull. It's good. Huggy, you're truly a saint.
Then the loud guy speaks up, and it's not Tran. What are the odds that someone ELSE would call into the question the sexuality of strangers out of nowhere in a bar? Well, the doctor doesn't give a damn because it's hee-laaaaaaarious. Giggling and snorting, Tran leans back against the bar. "Hee hee...Heidern's gay...phhhh." He's about to forget about that, too, when Clark does something unforgettable. Or, well. Attention grabbing enough to reach Tran even through his booze-befuddled brain. It's the other half of the perfect equation, baby. "BARFIGHT!"
With his own glorious call to action echoing in his ears, Tran slides off of his barstool, hefts it up, and then goes into a running stagger toward the burly Ikari warrior, swinging it like a greataxe. Something's going to break, one way or another, by god!
COMBATSYS: Tran has started a fight here on the left meter side.
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Tran 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Clark has joined the fight here on the right meter side.
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Tran 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Clark
COMBATSYS: Elle has joined the fight here on the left meter side.
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Tran 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Clark
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Elle 0/-------/-------|
Oh god. Here we go. Elle starts for a moment as Huggy lets out a powerful roar. the almost bestial sound isn't one of anger. No, that's the sound of his announcing of a complete free for all! In seconds, the place is a total riot of punches, throws, stabbings, shootings, and the occasional blast of errant chi as everyone starts to tear the place apart.
How Huggy's manages to be rebuit week after weeks is an utter mystery to most. Elle thinks it might be elves.
And as Elle crawls, dodges, and bashes her way through the fracas to get to Tran and cover his back (as all Blackjack members are trained to do on the start of any battle), she finds that he's attempting to bash Clark, the Ikari Warrior, in the head with a bar stool. Fantastic.
Well... no use bellyaching over it. Time to help the mad midget out. Using her considerable strength, she grabs the nearest thing: a patron dressed in a ninja outfit. Yes, she's going to use a person as a projectile. No, she doesn't really give a damn.
"Heads up, Fireplug!" she shouts as the ninja sails overhead to tumble at Clark.
If it hits, it might be the first time a nobody ninjas does any damage to the Ikaris at all.
COMBATSYS: Clark dodges Elle's Large Thrown Object.
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Tran 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Clark
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Elle 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Clark interrupts Random Weapon from Tran with Random Weapon.
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Tran 0/-------/---====|=------\-------\0 Clark
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Elle 0/-------/-------|
Usually, Clark avoids confrontation. Usually, Clark just tries to enjoy his beer. Sometimes, though...
... sometimes, even Clark Steel just -has- to engage in a roudy bar fight.
Such is the case today. With the shatter of glass and the shrill, fearful shriek of the red-nosed man, whoever he may be, a fight has already started. By the time Clark turns around, most people are already launching at each other and attempting to stab one another, or punch, or drunkenly hug in a way too friendly way. He pauses, stares. And slowly... Clark lifts his hand and rubs the back of his neck, before his shoulders lift in a casual shrug.
"... Ah, well."
Of course, you don't become an Ikari without a cursory knowledge of how barfights work. And Clark Steel is a barfighting MASTER. By the time Elle has begun to grip onto the ninja, he's already noticed her. Whether it be by the merit of him having amazing Ninjasense powers, or simply the power of observation, he notes out of the corner of his eye that a ninjamissile is heading his way. And, rather than allow a ninja to dare touch him, Clark? ... Simply steps to the side.
As Steel begins to maneuver out of the way, letting that ninja fly right by him, he spins in the same moment. He grabs onto a raving Vietnam vet, who's currently beating on someone screaming horrible words like 'SCHOOLGIRL!!' and 'HIPPIE!!'. And just as Tran comes at him with his great axe of a barstool, Steel WHIPS the vet around, straight through the air.
By the time the barstool is striking Clark's cranium, Tran is getting a solid face-full of hollering angry old war veteran being swung at him like a baseball bat.
"I FOUGHT TO PROTECT YOUR FREEDOMS, YOU GODDAMN HIPPIE!!"
SLAM.
Alan R. B., sassy man-about-town, was right by the Vietnam vet, pointing and laughing at his victim. He is, unfortunately, inside the arc of Clark's mighty warhero swing, and is knocked across the bar and onto a table, totally getting whiskey /everywhere./
It's only been a matter of seconds since Dr. Tran's been brained by a senile vet, and already he has nothing but the greatest respect for the man. Cursing out schoolgirls AND hippies? It's like everything Tran aspires to be. It moves him. Deeply. And not so deeply, because damn, does that old guy have a goddamn plate in his head or something?
The impact sends Tran tumbling backward into the bar with a crash of broken class and one nose that shatters when Tran accidentally steps on the guy it belongs to. Shaking his head, as this barfight is yet young, and the doctor is still healthy, Tran gropes around with one hand, grabs a beer that may or may not be his, hell if he cares, and chugs that sucker down. "Ahh..."
Taking an aggressive step forward, Tran plants his feet and points at Clark. The air ripples with power around him as he calls out a challenge. "Come on, Hollywood! Come get some of this! YEAH!" Oh yes. He's pumped.
COMBATSYS: Tran gathers his will.
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Tran 1/-------/=======|=------\-------\0 Clark
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Elle 0/-------/-------|
As Tran marshalls his consierable power, Elle's on the move, moving forward. Teamwork is what Blackjack's about. Individually? Well, they're pretty decent, as things go. Together? They're a force of considerable strength and power. En Masse, they're a violent, unruly mob capable of beating down impossible odds.
Elle likes to think so, at any rate.
Leaping over a table, she jinks left as a knife hizzes by, thudding into the wall behind her, and she leaps out from behind some crazed woman in a minidress kicking away at a struggling guy as her pal in a white T-shirt holds thier victim down.
"Your're still with that loser, Blaze?" Elle asks absently, and charges after Clark.
"He's low maintena--WAURGHGLH!" is what she hears as a man with fists the size of babies punches her block clean off. Elle shakes her head as she goes in for the swing, her hand whipping about inches from Clark's face...
And the torrential /BLAST/ of sonic power fills the room, like the detonation of a small bomb. The invisiable wave strikes out at the Ikari to break eardrums and burst blood vessels.
COMBATSYS: Clark endures Elle's Metal Health.
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Tran 1/-------/=======|===----\-------\0 Clark
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Elle 0/-------/------=|
WHAMMO. As soon as the vet hits Tran like a meat hammer, Clark lets go. The man goes soaring, landing in an angry heap towards the end of the bar and muttering something about illegal immigrants being the inevitable downfall of America before passing out. Clark, on the other hand, is elsewhile occupied.
At first, more than willing and ready to just charge at Tran head-first and show him exactly what he's made of, something catches his attention. Namely... the fact that someone -else- is coming at him. The person who could only be the ninja-launcher herself comes swinging about, intent on unleashing a torrent of deadly sonic power. And the Ikari's response is, well -- really simple.
In a simple motion, Clark surges straight forward as the burst of sonic chi detonates, disregarding the stinging pain to his ears and the throbbing sensation that follows soon after. Disregarding most of that pain, the man simply moves -forward- in a blur of blue and black as he seeks to grip Elle by the shoulder with his gloved hand. His hand will hold strong, before he simply... launches her -straight- into the air, rears back, and seeks to HEADBUTT her in the stomach with such force that she goes rocketing backwards like a sack of metal rocker potatoes right nearby who he can only -assume- to be her friend, Dr. Raging Alcoholic.
"BOOYAH!"
That's MISTER Dr. Raging Alchoholic to you, Clark!
After completing his POWER UP sequence, Tran finds himself tragically unoccupied. Sure, there's the guy with the wooden leg named Pete swinging around like mad a few feet away, trying to fend off a man with a duck on his head, but they're kind of caught up in their own thing. The only danger to Tran is incidental, and easily avoided once he moves forward toward Clark moving toward Elle. There's a soft squish, unheard through the bar, as Tran steps on the dude with the broken nose again.
And then, whoops, perhaps Elle is flying at him? She's close, anyway, which means that when she does go by, the doctor will be in a position to catch her, give her shoulder and stomach a quick check-over, complete with a minor bit of pain-relieving massage, and then push her off on her way again. Now, what was he doing? Something about beer, maybe? Tran turns around and investigates the bar again, hope in his eyes.
COMBATSYS: Elle endures Clark's Combo Throw.
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Tran 1/-------/=======|=====--\-------\0 Clark
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Elle 0/-------/-======|
COMBATSYS: Tran successfully hits Elle with Dr. Tran - Cool Lovin.
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Tran 1/------=/=======|=====--\-------\0 Clark
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Elle 0/-------/-======|
Elle's first thought is that this is going to hurt. A hell of a lot. Clark's a powerhouse, to be sure, and she knows the Ikari's rep fairly well, and that the rough and tumble stoic machine man is a force to be reckoned with. So when he basically headbutts her into oblivion, the cracking sound of ribs and the hiss of breath escaping her lips announces that the single hit nearly puts her out of the fight for real...
And then Tran appears like a healing munchkin, his magic hands all of a sudden driving the damage away from her like a preist after evil spirits.
Instantly, she notices a difference in Tran's abilities. Has he been training? Working out? The fact is that there's no time to really ponder over such things. Right now? What Clark needs is a good old fashioned response, and she's just the battle hardened rocker chick to give it to him.
The truth is, Tran and Elle haven't battled together in /ages/, and she's forgotten what fun is about. And now? She's having the best time she's ever had in a long time. "Hey Steel," she says, her voice cool but friendly. "C'mere. Lemme see those baby blues of yours that drive all the girls crazy." With that, the woman whips out a long length of weighted guitar wire. The length whips out and moves in a wide arc, trying to catch the man by the neck. If she succeeds, she'll yank him over to Tran's location, sending a powerful electrical shock down the line with a slight smirk on her face.
COMBATSYS: Elle successfully hits Clark with Powerslave.
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Tran 1/------=/=======|=======\-------\0 Clark
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Elle 1/-------/=======|
Well, while that initially seems to be a raving success, Clark is treated to a sight; Mister Doctor Raging Alcoholic, as soon as Elle lands, gives her... a check over? Blinking behind his shades, the Ikari Warrior can only pause for a moment and observe as it seems the bulk of all that damage he did to Elle just... washes away. His brows furrow. That could be problematic. So, with that in mind--
--Clark Steel decides its time to give the doctor the brawl he wanted.
And apparently, he gets a little help along the way, too. Though he -attempts- to maneuver his way out of that guitar wire that Elle whirls at him, he's just a -touch- too slow. It snags around his neck, constricting and cutting off his airflow for a moment and leaving him unable to respond. At least, until she -hurls- him over to Tran with that strikingly unpleasant jolt of power that courses through his body. It causes him to shudder as he staggers forward, but as soon as she releases... he offers an amiable grin.
"Sorry," he replies.
"I don't usually let just anyone see those."
Of course, Clark isn't a fool. Tran is not his top priority for this little brawl. Tactically inclined as he is, he finishes the rest of his motion forward towards Tran in a voluntary rush, breaking across the ground in bluring speeds before he seeks to just SLAM his shoulder into the doctor with such force that it sends him soaring through the air. "HMPH!"
COMBATSYS: Clark successfully hits Tran with Clark Tackle.
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Tran 1/--=====/=======|=======\-------\1 Clark
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Elle 1/-------/=======|
Wait, wait. That's right! Tran was FIGHTING! Also copping feels, maybe a little. But mostly FIGHTING! This diverts him away from the bar once more, which really mostly only has shards of glass covered in alchohol left on it. Also a couple of unconcious bodies. Not the best snack. It tastes like burning and bleeding.
SPEAKING OF BLEEDING, Tran hears Elle speak. That doesn't make him, bleed though. It just makes him turn around, a little shock to the system. She actually sounds...happy? What the hell? Maybe she's in trouble! He's has just enough time to catch her smiling, even if it's faint, before Clark tackles him. Then the bleeding starts. It's hard to see, on account of how it's mostly internal.
Slamming into the bar (again), Tran slumps down onto all fours. He pukes real quick, then pushes himself up, wiping at his mouth with one sleeve as he does so. That's a bit sobering, to say the least.
"Alright...cake potato..." Tran pauses to cough, then reaches into his coat. Thankfully, the shades he keeps on him at all times are unbroken. The doctor slides them on, then beckons forward with one hand toward Clark. "Let's do this."
COMBATSYS: Tran focuses on his next action.
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Tran 1/--=====/=======|=======\-------\1 Clark
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Elle 1/-------/=======|
Clark's attack on Tran doesn't go unheeded. She knows that Tran doesn't particularly handle giant meaty people landing on him as well as he should, so her smirk turns to a look of resolve as she ducks onder a extending hand whizzing over her head. "God damn it, Brocken," she mutters as she whips out her guitar. The weapon bashes the rogue agent in the beans and franks before she lifts up out fron under his whimpering body.
Elle jogs across the floor as the booming reports of Huggy's shotgun ring out. Apparently, the fat man has finally decided to join the fray himself, wandering through the crowd and shotgunning at random like an angry, drunken god. Or a fat Khazestanian with too much alcohol in his system.
Whipping the metal instrument over her head, Elle pulls up behind Clark, and swings with a fast one handed chop. Heavy metal plates and rivets go crashing at Clark's head if she manages to strike the man with the weaponized instrument. "Hey. He doesn't swing that way, Sailor."
COMBATSYS: Clark endures Elle's Medium Strike.
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Tran 1/--=====/=======|=======\=------\1 Clark
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Elle 1/-------/=======|
See, you can ignore a man the first time he tries to call you out if you have some crazy girl trying to detonate chi right in your face. Usually. The girl tends to be the more pressing issue. If someone calls you out a second time, though? You damn well better be prepared to rush in and destroy his world completely and utterly.
Which is precisely Clark's intention. Sending Tran crashing unpleasantly, Clark backpedals just as swiftly as he struck the perhaps not-so good doctor. Shaded eyes jerk from side to side as he ducks down underneath a wild swing of a man with brass knuckles spelling out 'B.A.M.F.'. Catching the man just underneath the arm, Clark simply HURLS him off to the side, letting him crash unpleasantly against a table... just as Elle swings out.
The odd thing here is, when Elle swings, Clark decidedly -does not move-. Much like last time, he takes the full brunt of the attack, sent staggering forward. "Don't worry," he comments calmly as he staggers, "I'll get to you... in just a second."
And then, without much further adieu, Clark uses the momentum of Elle's strike upon his body to flow -forward- with a single, blurring step. He reaches out, to grip Tran by the shoulder and then just -hurl- him straight up into the air. And if he does...
COMBATSYS: Clark successfully hits Tran with Ultra Argentine Backbreaker.
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Tran 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|=------\-------\0 Clark
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Elle 1/-------/=======|
Alan R. B., sassy man-about-town, finally extricates himself from the exploded table, smelling of whiskey. But somehow, with one hand back through his hair and a snap of his vest, he looks immaculate - if drunk. "Arright let's get this started..." He sways out of the wreckage, approaching the Central Barfight - except thanks to double vision, he is moving instead several feet to the right of the fight.
--Tran gets to experience a few blissful moments of Clark's expert chiropractic work.
(DISCLAIMER: Clark Steel is not a licensed chiropractor.)
Launched straight into the air, Tran will get a few scant seconds of peaceful, painless tranquility. The Ikari Warrior stands just beneath him, positioning himself in patient waiting for the man to descend. Flipping through the air, Tran lands -- but lands back-first with a sickening sort of crunch. Tran's spine, meet Clark's skull. Clark's skull, Tran's spine. The instant Tran lands, Clark grips him by shoulder and leg, bencing him uncomfortably across his head before the drunk doctor is launched anew, straight vertical through the air. He lands, once more, with a CRACK upon Clark's unbelievably thick skull, gripped by leg and shoulder once more and -bent-. Usually, this is when it ends. Usually, it's all over here--
"BOOYAH!!" --Tran's not that lucky, though.
A second afterward, Clark drops to the ground on one knee, SLAMMING the poor doctor's back over the hard bone of his kneecap just to get all the kinks out. With that single, titanic movement, Steel ends the motions... by just throwing Tran face-first towards the Angry Vietnam Vet.
"ATTACK! WE'RE UNDER ATTACK! COMMIE BASTARDS, I'LL KILL YOU ALL!! AMERICAAAAAAAAAA--"
-Crash-.
Why hello there, Mr. Steel, or perhaps I should say Mr. President. You're looking particularly stoic today. Fine form to deliver your inaugaral address to the citizens of PAIN COUNTRY WHERE YOU ARE NOW THE NUMBER ONE HEAD HONCHO.
Tran blinks, once, as Clark comes at him. That's all he has time to do, because god DAMN that man is fast. And, let's be honest here, the instant the Ikari gets his mitts on Tran, it's all over. It's just begun, but it's /all over/. The doctor makes like a rice krispie with all the SNAP, CRACKLE, and POP going on up in this bar.
Finally discarded to the side, Tran croaks, "My spiiiiine..." It seems to trigger empathy in the AVV, with whom he's tangled in a heap. "Hey, my spine hurts, too! I like you, sonny! Go out there and do it for the team! Get those damn Nips!" He stands up, bringing Tran with him, and pushes the much younger man forward.
*SNAP*
"Argh, my hip!" This final act accomplished, the vet goes staggering off to one side, frantically trying to stay on his feet.
But what of Tran, you ask? Oh. Well, he's pretty much falling at Clark, fists wrapped in steam, crushed down to a ridiculous pressure. He swings, not well, but he swings.
Hit or no, the explosions make Huggy's shotgun sound like a blowgun.
COMBATSYS: Tran can no longer fight.
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Elle 1/-------/=======|=------\-------\0 Clark
Well, this looks bad. Tran's down, and it's only a matter of time before the Ikari manages to turn on her and finish her off as well. There's no sense in wasting any time now. She backs up, quickly opening the distance between her and Clark. Now that Tran's out of the picture, close fighting with a grappler's a dumb proposition.
Rudely shoving some woman in a red halter top and snake tattoos over, Elle grabs her by the foot, and attempts to fling the entire knife weilding standbody over at Clark, utilizing a human projectile again.
However, the clumsy attack only has her heaving a shoe at the man, in a haphhazard fashion, no less. That leaves Elle with no other recourse than to follow the shoe's flight path.
Bolting forward, she hopes the impromptu show through will mask her true intentions: she leaps, with her arm out to grab he man in the crook of her elbow, and the fall bac in an attempt to fold the man in half the hard way.
COMBATSYS: Clark blocks Tran's Here Comes Dr. Tran!.
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Elle 1/-------/=======|===----\-------\0 Clark
COMBATSYS: Elle successfully hits Clark with Medium Throw.
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Elle 1/-------/=======|====---\-------\0 Clark
What--what is this power!!? Clark didn't quite imagine a man so small as Dr. Tran could hit -quite so hard-. The speed in which the man moves after being so brutally shot down is also somewhat surprising. Not enough that it completely dumbfounds Steel out of a way to guard against it, of course. Tran slings out at Clark, and the Ikari is quick to lash out with both hands to meet the blow head on. Tran strikes, and with a CRACK and sizzle of high-pressured steam, Clark's forearms meet Tran's blow--
--and the sheer force alone literally -drags- him across the ground, sending him -slamming- straight into the nearby counter with an audible crack. "Jeeze..." he mutters, rubbing his arms and staring at the doctor's prone form. "You hit kinda hard, don't you--"
And that's about when Clark is hit with a shoe.
Hit in the face, no less. That doesn't really hurt all too badly. What follows afterwards, though? Just a touch moreso. Grabbed, Clark finds himself forcefully bent back with the crack of his -own- spine, letting out a rather pained grunt of effort as he is bent. With a solid yank, though, the grappler soon wrests free, leaping across the bar and landing into Sumo Sam, a particularly large mercenary man. Clark's impact sends the man tumbling backwards, his head knocking against a nearby table and knocking -him- out flat as he strikes the ground so hard it shakes for a few brief moments. Clark lands in a crouch, puffing out breath for a moment before looking at Elle with a simple, easy grin.
"Guess it's just you then, huh? Well... I'll show you what I've got." But -- apparently not yet. He's not stupid. He's in bad shape. So for now, he takes a second to catch his breath, focusing in on Elle and considering her with a silent, thoughtful stare.
COMBATSYS: Clark gains composure.
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Elle 1/-------/=======|===----\-------\0 Clark
Meanwhile, face down on the floor, Dr. Tran spasms for a while before going still, still feeling the UNGODLY PAIN that Clark delivered.
It sure looks like it, doesn't it? Elle's not the swiftest mover in the bunch, but she's already moving over the bar. The short vault has her ducking down under the bar before popping back up. In the chaos, the bar has been left unattended, and Elle pulls her weapon from her holster, the guitar brandished like a battle axe.
With a single powerful swipe, she knocks open all the taps, the beer shooting through the air as the pressurized beverage clouds her flanking maneuver.
Bursting forth from the jet stream of malted liquor, Elle hurls at Clark, her hands outstretched to grab the man by the head. If she connects, she'll try to viciously twist his head of fhis shoulders. It's an unpleasant attack, but Elle's not a pleasant individual by any means.
COMBATSYS: Clark dodges Elle's 17 Crash.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////// ]
Elle 1/------=/=======|===----\-------\0 Clark
Fast, fast, fast. Elle moves swiftly through the alcohol-laden air, jets of booze streaming through the air. Smart too, Clark notes with a calm, silent smile. Using that veil of pressurized liquor, she -almost- manages to catch Clark by surprise again. Almost.
However, Clark has received years upon years of training, and on top of god knows how much experience with fighting terrorists, ninja, ninja terrorists, communists, and hippies, Clark knows by now the basics of a distraction. As Elle hurls forward, Steel is quick to move himself -right- to the side, avoiding Elle entirely and letting her flow past him with all that speed and power behind her. "Nice move," he compliments. While hurling a table at her.
With one swift movement, that bar table soars through the air -- but surges straight past the side of Elle, deliberately made to miss. It's meant to distract, just as Clark surges across the ground, and swings forward with the right side of his body, pivoting with an intense amount of force. His right hand slings out, charged with blue-white chi that trails behind like a comet and rockets his fist forward -faster- and harder, seeking to slug Elle right across the face with a single, mighty chi-punch. "HRMPH!"
COMBATSYS: Elle endures Clark's Vulcan Punch.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////// ]
Elle 1/-======/=======|=====--\-------\0 Clark
There's a few things about Elle that some people that think that she's a measely peon don't know. One thing, is that she's not afraid of getting hurt. By no means is she some kind of deranged freak that enjoys it... but she certainly can take a punch. The second thing? She's not afraid of a drag out, sudden death battle, so when Clark's fist comes at her face, she doesn't pause. Instead, she hurls herself into the punch, if only to avoid the three knives, shotgun blast, and what looks like five brightly colored midgets in power rangers costumes also headed in her direction.
The lesser of two evils? Perhaps.
In all the confusion, Elle doesn't have time for the setup she usually gives. Normally, she channels all her energy through her guitar, a powerful solo that allows her generate a massive burst of esonic energy.
There's no real tim for that now, so she pulls an Akira instead. Not the girl with the slow kid helmet. The one with the bike.
Sliding to a halt a few feet away from clark, she raises her hands high in the air, clasping them together. The preliminary rush of air causes a pleasant breeze before she brings the hammer down.
The ensing explosion as she hits the floor is a powerful one, clearing most of the bar of it's combatants. Bodies, debris, tables, chairs, a walker, a hot dog cart, two dogs, and what looks like a flock of doves that escaped from a cage somewhere flutter up behind her as she sends a rolling shockwave of sonic power through the entire bar... all just to blast Clark into next year.
COMBATSYS: Clark endures Elle's Black Sabbath.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////// ]
Elle 0/-------/----===|=======\=------\1 Clark
Well.
This is Not Good, now is it?
Clark's strike ends abruptly as his hand snaps back, his eyes and sunglasses obscured by the shadow of his cap visor. A man swings out to punch him, and without even looking, Steel almost casually backhands the man far, far away. No, his attention is primarily focused on Elle. Mainly? Because he felt the give from his last strike on her part. And he knows what that means. You'd have to be stupid -not- to know what that means. It means...
"... Ah, crap."
It means that Clark is particularly screwed.
Seeing that shockwave of sonic chi come soaring his way with a veritable army of debris and freaks and drunks and angry Vietnam veterans, Clark does what any sane fighter would do: he runs. Not -away-, mind you. Rather, the man runs straight -forward- and towards Elle's ensuing shitstorm of power and pain. He slams, shoulderfirst, into the surge of power. No doubt it's painful, no doubt it makes Clark want to just give in right there and go flying backwards. But instead? Instead, without a word, Clark rushes -through- that storm of chi, black shirt churned and shredded as he reaches out...
... and seeks to grab Elle. If he does? She's introduced to a similar pain as Tran was before. She'll be launched into the air, flipping with a distinct lack of grace before landing, spine-first, on Clark's skull -- and then AGAIN shortly afterwards, letting her fly, CRACK against his skull, and then letting her be tossed straight towards the ground with a single declaration:
"BOOYAH!"
COMBATSYS: Elle blocks Clark's Ultra Argentine Backbreaker.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////// ]
Elle 0/-------/-======|=------\-------\0 Clark
The man's powerful hands grasp Elle, and they're like iron manacles. The 'Steel' part of his name is appropriate, as it feels like iron hooks being weighted into her frame. But Elle's no slouch in the strength department. She may look a mite rangy, but through sheer willpower, she's able to yank herself away from the powerful, grasping hands attempting to pull at her frame.
She's got about one shot at this, so she had better make it count.
Almost breaking her collarbone in the escape, Elle hurls back along the debris, opening up a path for herself as she narrows her eyes. The woman raises one hand as she retreats, hopping up on a table for a higher ground advantage, firmly landing on the back of some scruffy looking guy with a bandanna on his head and some kind of commando get up. Heedless of the snakes in the grass laying about her, her hand opens fire, the electrical arcs snapping across the floor as they rip across the ground towards Clark.
The other hand? Behind her back, fingers crossed.
COMBATSYS: Clark blocks Elle's High Voltage.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///// ]
Elle 0/-------/=======|=------\-------\0 Clark
Well, that's -- unexpected. For someone so small, Elle knows how to defend herself well -- which might not be -too- surprising, but even so. His grapple goes unexpectedly awry before it can even begin, and though the struggle and effort there is apparent, Clark knows -- he's in a bit of trouble, now.
Trouble that comes, once more, from the chi that this mercenary seems to so expertly employ. Blinking at the distance attack, Clark runs forward to greet it -- but not quite as wrecklessly so as he did the last time. -This- time, he strikes it with a swing of his right arm, electricity crackling and surging along his muscles and causing brief spasms, but little more than that.
It slows him for a moment, but to compensate? The man begins to touble his speed, surging forward and LEAPING. He goes straight horizontal through the air, seeking to scissor two powerful legs around Elle's neck. If he gets a secure hold, he twists, flipping -backwards- and using his momentum to just send Elle soaring in a most unpleasant destination -- the nice, big wall just nearby.
COMBATSYS: Elle endures Clark's Frankensteiner.
[ \\\\\\\\ < > //// ]
Elle 1/---====/=======|====---\-------\0 Clark
Elle's tough when she needs to be, and she's survived uglier things than Clark's attacks. Nevertheless, she wish she didn't /have/ to. If it wasn't for Tran's assistance, Elle wouldn't have a chance in hell right now. So, she dedicates her next action to her unconcious comrade.
Which means if she messes up, it's all his fault. All of it.
Elle's got a lot of appreciation for grappler types, though, so as Clark flings her face down to the ground with his legs, Elle's able to roll with the hits. It doesn't make it hurt any less, but it allows her to react much faster than she normally would have.
Bolting free of the attack, Elle doesn't waste a second. Her hand shoots out with surprising alacrity for someone who's just been pummeled nigh-senseless, and her fingers are like ice cold talons, seeking to grab Clark by a limb. If she manages, she'll grant him a huge electric shock... and then just go to town, slamming him around like a sick, limp rag doll into every surface in the bar she can find. Each impact causes another painful jolt of electricity from her as a final insult.
If she hits.
COMBATSYS: Elle successfully hits Clark with Slayer.
[ \\\\\\\\ < > ]
Elle 0/-------/-------|======-\-------\0 Clark
Sadly, this seems to be the end of the line -- at least, for Clark Steel it is. The speed at which Elle recovers makes him rather ill-prepared to deal with the speed of her next attack. Coupled with just how -hard- it is, exactly, to recover from a maneuver like the Frankensteiner, well... one could imagine Steel is in a bit of a bad position here.
What comes next doesn't exactly hurt, but then -- attacks that don't necessarily hurt can get the job done pretty easily when the strike often and cleanly. Such is the case here; grabbed by his arm, Clark is introduced to that electrical chi before he is thrusted too and fro over, and over again, crashing through tables and chairs, all manner of things. Of course -- it hurts. Just enough to take him down.
It doesn't hurt enough to stop him from seeking to grab Elle by the arm, however.
One, swift movement. That's all he attempts, to grip Elle securely before simply thrusting her UP into the air. She'll go flying, just as Clark falls into a kneel, seemingly to catch his breath. But as Elle falls, she'll find her landing stopped prematurely... by Clark's knee. With one solid crack, Steel seeks to bend the woman over his knee before simply -thrusting- her off to the side to land in an unpleasant heap. Just like that.
COMBATSYS: Clark can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\ <
Elle 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Clark successfully hits Elle with Arabian Burglary Backbreaker.
- Power hit! -
[ \ <
Elle 0/-------/--=====|
And Elle is summarily caught and crushed. Chalk it up to just not as much experience as Clark. Nevertheless, it was close, and having been clearly outmatched, Elle doesn't have too much in the way of complaints about her combat performance.
This is still likely going to hurt tomorrow morning.
Though her entire body feels numb and she's fairly sure she's going to need extensive surgery to glue her bones back together, Elle's got enough presence of mind to scramble across the ground and pick up what she came for... a breifcase behind the counter of Huggy's, now sopping wet from the now dead beer taps.
She's not moving terribly fast, having to drag a case in one hand, and a Tran in the other... but it's in her nature to at least try to make a break for it.
Log created on 02:22:07 07/28/2007 by Elle, and last modified on 06:52:47 07/28/2007.