Description: Duke, Southtown Syndicate's representative in Metro City, is called upon to investigate the growing nuisance that the gang known as 'Hellraisers' have swiftly become. Encountering the gang's leader, Crash, Duke gets a quick lesson in just how the drug Burn works in a most painful way... helpfully taught to him by the Incredible Hulk and his diligent assistant, S&M Queen. Beatings ensue, and Duke, amidst the savage beatings, sees a golden opportunity...
Finding out where the Hellraisers have lifted the proverbial feet isn't too hard; They are subtle on a city-wide level, often times befuddling police due to lack of reports, yet word spreads fast through the underground. When a good twenty people are suddenly flooding a block, it tends to leave an impression. Presently the sidewalks are filled with people dressed rather haphazardly, many of them looking thin and frail, others the sort who would be eaten alive even thinking of being in this sort of neighborhood. But all have a sort of manic confidence, grinning and laughing, slapping each other upon the back so hard the sound echoes like gunshots. The sole visual link is that all wear a black leather jacket with flames going up the sleeves; Some modify it, adding flair, but it's not missing. The back is a devil's skull burning, and ‘HELLRAISERS' in bold. They are not hiding who they are... Quite the opposite. The bars and pool clubs are overflowing, and the liquor stores being very generous, as the makeshift party erupts. Shouts and howls, and occasional open fistfights as people argue who's stronger then who, in the constantly shifting pecking order.
Those people who were usurped linger like beaten dogs, hunkering in tight groups. Some show signs of being assaulted, and looking very much worse for wear. This street used to belong to a very independent gang with strong ties, which was on the verge of fully slipping beneath Geese's fingers in unknown complacency. And of course, the person who they immediately asked to fix the problem? Duke, which might be the first time he has reason to directly intervene.
It wouldn't be hard to find out where Crash was, if someone wasn't gentle. The 8-Ball, a rather nice pool building by this area's standards, houses the upper echelons of his budding organization. About eight people linger, playing games as the air hangs heavily with smoke. Hazy lights cast the area in uneven darkness. There is a door leading to the back room, and another to the alley adjacent. Old pinball machines line one wall, and there's enough tables for four games easily. The owner is watching with narrowed eyes. Although not licensed, there's an unhidden tap and many mugs.
Crash himself is upon the edge of the counter, nursing a tall glass himself. He's not an impressive man. There's likely nobody he could physically intimidate, five foot nine and probably 160 pounds soaking wet. Yet he is doubtlessly attractive, dirty blond hair swept back, and blast goggles nestled above his forehead to stem his bangs. He has the most brazenly modified jacket, oversized with the left sleeve entirely cut off. The revealed limb shows muscle, but not much. Leaning heavily upon an elbow, he's speaking with Cyanide adjacent, twirling around a pen. It's not anything important; Simple chat, lazily flirtacious, and with a carefree arrogance that easily permutes the air.
"This is pathetic."
It's a declaration that Southtown Syndicate's eyes and ears in Metro City had made some hours ago when he was contacted about the problem. He had, of course, known about the budding gang forming within Metro. These days, there isn't much that goes on in this city that he doesn't at least get wind of. A kind of control, but not a perfect one. A fact that is evidenced when he receives the news today. About that small, unassuming gang, now far larger than even he could have imagined, and seizing control of Metro's crime at a rapid rate. 'Hellraisers,' they call themselves. He had scoffed at the first mentioning of the gang's name.
Hellraisers. In Duke's mind... it's a name to be forgotten.
But still, they are clearly becoming a threat. And while Duke would avoid direct confrontation until he knew more about them, Geese Howard had sent message from his high tower thousands of miles away, declaring that he 'fix' the issue. An event that requires his personal touch does not come often. And for the sake of appearances, the man known as Hell's Executioner had little choice but to comply with the command. For now, at least.
It is that very order that brings Duke here today, within the heart of one of the sleazier areas of Metro City. He's not unaccustomed to such places. Usually, however, gangs standing in stark opposition to the Syndicate can be dealt with by way of underlings. Not so, here. The Hellraisers seem to have an outstandingly stupid amount of confidence in themselves and their influence. And so, with a minor amount of information gathering (see: ruthless beatings), Duke inevitably ascertained the location of the gang's leader. A man named Crash, and little more than that. A name that amuses Duke to no end. Of course... who knows.
Maybe this 'Crash' will be worth his attentions after all.
It was roughly two minutes before current time that Duke arrived in this little, corrupt corner of Metro City. And it's only a few moments later that the doors to the 8-Ball pool hall swing open in a casual, calm thrust of Duke's large hand. His imposing frame stands at the entrance for a moment, dark eyes sweeping the area. People here, people throughout the city, know who he is. Know his reputation. But he's only here for one person. And, gaze searching... he finally sees the one he's looking for.
"Hello, 'Crash.' It IS Crash, right? Let's have a talk."
Cyanide, as mentioned seems to be engaged in a very deep conversation with Crash. It could be something political, or a conversation about being environmentally aware, or possibly the downfall of Microsofts stock on Wall Street.
Clad in a black corsette, leather short-shorts, and long, wild bright-green hair atop her head, the five-foot-seven Cyanide most definatly looks like the type of woman who could engage in those kinds of topics.. And really really cares about the future of today's youth. "Actually, I was considering swapping out the violet wax candles with the yellow ones. See, when yellow wax melts, it's very pleasent contrast to dark skin, contrary to popular belief. Now, it doesn't seem like much at first, but I have a grand vision with this, it's a money-maker like you wouldn't believe.."
While Crash looks 'cool', Cyanide doesn't look anything short of excited about her idea, raven-coated lips drawn up in such a bright smile... Well that is until her talk is cut short oh-so-very rudely thanks to the very large Duke. For a moment she actually doesn't even know how to react. On one hand the boy needs to learn some manners. On the other hand, she might not want to get her backside kicked today. Mood clearly soured, the woman decides to keep quiet, gloved arms crossed under her chest and one leg crossed over the other.
God.
The sudden thrust of the door causes a mild startle within Crash, who quickly hides it with a look of annoyance. Leaning back, he squints towards the door while twisting within his stool, taking a moment to heavily drink from his beer to steel both resolve, and give him a moment to gather his thoughts. "Who the hell wants to know?" he asks. For his small size, his voice is that of a large dog. Deep, gruff, and with an underlying strength that's not as apparent within the rest of him. Is it all bark, though? That's a good question. The other eight within turn, and seem to recognize Duke. But he might find an odd lack of overall fear. Individual respect, but as a group, this banded-together gang appears to think they can truly rival him, enough to sneer and actually return to the game of pool like nothing out of the ordinary happened. Attentive eyes would notice they are knocking the balls randomly and spending extensive time listening, however.
And then in the back room there's a loud snarl, distantly human but with the heart of an animal. There's a heavy shudder that even Duke would clearly feel, wall creaking. The first flash of fear is visible in the owner's eyes, shifting slightly.
"Cyanide, baby, go calm your pet down then come back, eh?" A hearty swat on the rear would be offered to move her along, as the man formerly known as Daniel wipes the back of his lips with his sleeved arm. "I think I know you. Guy with a style like that, living in Metro City, would be hard not to. Duke, aren't ya? Hell's Executioner, at that! Well, fucking shit, this is one hell of an honor!" A finger snaps, and there's a sound like a firecracker, and a flash of heated chi. "Get the man a drink!" Twice frightened, the bartender quickly fills another mug and places it on the stool beside Crash.
"I knew we'd bump heads someday, eh? Would be a fool not to know. Well, I think I wanna chat with you also; Sit down. Have a drink." And, more overtly, it's a play to show who has the authority. Who's dictating the rules... Crash has a subtle smile, mischief clearly visible in vivid blue eyes.
There's only a cursory sweep of the room given to anyone else who isn't the target of Duke's attentions. There is a small pause, though not exactly noticeable, on the part of the ambitious enforcer. It would seem these men aren't intimidated by him. Aren't afraid. This, in and of itself, draws something of a wry smile that tugs across Duke's lips in a slow crawl. "Idiots," he mutters under his breath, lifting his right hand to crack idly at his neck. They don't have the fear in them. This is where the problem lies. Someone or something -- most likely that drug he's been hearing so much about -- has been gifting these freaks and losers with too much overconfidence for their own good. So, what is the solution?
Stomp it out of them.
And here before Duke is the man responsible for all this; the man known as Crash, giving his own sort of cocky look. Duke hates looks like those. Unlike Crash, Duke's eyes betray nothing but that perpetual, cold rage that boils beneath the surface. A casual confidence is in his step, brought on by something other than a drug or anything artificial. He says nothing for a long moment, his hands slipping into his pocket as he approaches, dark gaze focusing entirely on Crash. As if to just -burn- a hole in his head with his stare alone. A pause.
"No drink," Duke says after a moment.
"The beer is probably just as sorry as you, anyway." It's a legitimate concern.
Rather than sit, Duke persists in standing. He knows how this game is played. And even here, Crash has no authority to exert over him. It's a message that is shown rather than spoken: Duke is the one who is going to be in control here. "I usually don't bother coming out to deal with disobedient little punks when they decide they're all grown up and can do whatever the hell they want, so I hope you can appreciate the fact that I'm even taking my valuable time to come here." Of course, he has other reasons for being here -- he is not even nearly motivated by Geese's orders. There's something else... something he wants. "You have two options: you can either wise up and stop trying to make your pathetic excuse for a gang into something special, and become part of the Syndicate. Or... you can be torn apart." Simple, direct. Brutal. But it's all intentional. He doesn't want to negotiate, he doesn't want to be appealing or play nice. He wants this person to hate him. To -want- to go against him.
"Judging by the state of this place, the latter option probably would be the most time-saving for all of us. So... choose.
"Now."
Cyanide's eyes don't leave Duke for a good moment. It's obvious he doesn't want anything to do with her, but if anything she'd at least like to make it clear that she's very annoyed from having her very engaging conversation cut short. The woman wrinkles her nose in obvious distaste, which again is cut short as she raises an eyebrow to Crash.
Sure, there were tons of men around, but was he certain he was all right with dealing with that ox? But she doesn't stand around for long, the slap to the insignia on her short-shorts is enough to send her on her way, though she does on ocassion look over her shoulder back to Duke.
Ah, Crash will be fine, she decides. Besides, if Duke was here for trouble, it was pretty obvious to her he would be in way over his head. A very satisfying thought as she heads to the swinging door in the back and then through it.
When those eyes meet, Duke will likely find that his own lack that killing intent, that hardness. He's not someone iron-forged on the streets, who brutally rose to the top. He's a small fry who got a big break. It's not an incredible leap of logic to make, but it will likely matter a significant amount within the breadth of the encounter. At the comment about the beer's quality, there's a tension within Crash, who's smirk fades to a firm scowl, eyes narrowing. "Is that so...?" is begun in a dark voice, coldly sober. "The Syndicate. So it's true. Southtown Syndicate's trying to muscle into Metro City. Well, well. Those talons are stretching a bit thin, aren't they, if you're the thug they send." Crash slips off his stool, and stands directly opposite Duke. He's small, he has to look up, but there's an almost daring within him. The passion is true. That burning ambition is true. Duke might see that echoed within, mayhaps himself in another life, if he was cursed without an ounce of fighting talent, or even a spark of chi...
"So now that me and my boys become something, the SouthSynd wants us in? Well, ain't that a hoot!" Crash slams his fist upon the counter beside, flashing again with chi. It leaves a mild singe behind, and some thoroughly rattled glasses that splash beer upon the flat surface. "I don't see any of your boys here..." His sleeved arm sweeps out, showing the eight people present, all who are now standing up and holding those que sticks. Although he does linger his gaze on the closed door a moment, where another loud sound before silence is heard. Hesitating a split second only Duke would notice. "All I see is one cocky little fool who's bitten off more then he can chew."
One of Crash's fingers thrusts out, to poke Duke heavily within the chest. "Fuck you. And fuck SouthSynd. Now if you know what's good for you... you'll drag your sorry ass out of here with your tail between your legs. "
"Don't flatter yourself," Duke states calmly, clearly -- and more importantly, -slowly-, so that Crash can hear every. Single. Word. "I could kill every single one of you if I thought it was worth the effort. But...
"... you're all too worthless to bother."
Duke notices something, as he speaks. In this man's eyes. He's new to this. This power, this type of responsibility. There's certainly passion there, and an ambition that might reflect his own... but there's that soft edge of freshness that any keen predator can see as a weak point. He says nothing of it, though, instead looming tall over Crash. He disregards Cyanide and whoever her 'pet' may be for the moment, perhaps a foolish error. But here, he still has to play the guise of a thug. Any of his true intentions could be used as a bargaining chip with Geese if things inevitably turned out against Crash's favor. And this man doesn't seem -stupid-. Someone with way too much power and confidence, but not stupid. So, as Crash speaks, Duke remains silent, calmly waiting for him to finish. And then:
"You really think we -want- you?" He scoffs here in a condescending manner, shaking his head. "You want to know the truth? The truth is, you're all just a bunch of sorry losers... and it would be less of a hassle to just let you into our ranks than having to deal with the mess of cleaning up all your bodies. Consider it your -lucky break-."
But it doesn't matter. Because the moment that Duke feels that finger smack against his chest, he knows he's gotten what he wanted. An enemy rather than an ally. The hard way, rather than the easy way. Just as expected... and just as planned. But that doesn't mean he can't still play the part. Looking down at the finger at his chest, Duke's gaze lifts back up to Crash, a distinct frown creasing his lips. "Oh? I think there's a problem here, 'Crash'..."
It's about then that Hellraiser's leader might feel something distinct.
The feeling of a right fist hooking into his jaw with near bone-crushing force, plowing forward like a freight train.
"I think you have our roles reversed."
Yes, Crash will be juust fine. Of course he will. Cyanide murmurs that repeatedly to herself, but she can't shake off the feeling of slight unease. After all, it doesn't take a genius to realize that this just isn't going to end on a note involving tweeting birds, frolicing bunnies and prancing deer.
Still though, first things first, which as of late has become one of her favorite activities. There's the sound of a whip cracking, probably not even heard with all the commotion going on in the front, but it most certainly happens. And her babytalk probably isn't heard either.
Quite possibly for the better.
It's obvious from the wordless sneer that Crash is dense. He believes himself safe from Duke, surrounded by his gang members, confident in the power they hold with numbers. That shatters when his fist erupts, and so off-guard is the other man that he takes it fully. In this moment at least, Duke will know that for all the hub-ub, he's not a chump. There was no feel of a glass jaw shattering, which might be surprising given how thin Crash is comparatively. It was a solid blow, on both ends. But he still erupts backwards, knocking over his stool and hitting the ground upon his back. He slides a couple meters, almost reaching the wall. Blood pours from both nostils, stemmed by a disbelieving hand. For just a moment, fear. Instantly, Crash recants, but he knows Duke saw. He knows. And he hates himself just as much for showing it.
One hand scrambles up, catching the handle of the door nearby and forcing himself to his feet. He's rubbing beneath the crimson stream furiously, but only manages to smear it in. "You...!" Much higher tone that time, but the repeat is the same menace as before. "You cocky little... Well. I can't blame you too much, can I? We are just a gang of nobodies to you... We've not had a chance to show off our strength." Crash takes a step forward, ignoring the wound and blearily glaring towards Duke now, more then a little dizzy as the white tanktop beneath starts sponging up. "I'm not gonna give you the pleasure of throwin' yourself at me. Nah."
"CYANIDE. COME AND INTRODUCE HELL'S EXECUTIONER TO YOUR FRIEND!" This is called out loud enough to be clearly heard within the back room. Apparently, Duke's going to get a fight after all. But not from who he expects. Instantly, all eight of the others drop the Que sticks and quickly leave, apparently not going to stay and watch... The bartender takes this as a good idea and also bolts for the door. Crash backs up, faaaaaaaar away, and leans against the wall with his arms crossed before his chest, trying to snort and sniffle away his nosebleed.
Grinning once more, the same grin he had when Duke first saw him, like a man who's already won.
One blow tells Duke so many things that he wanted -- needed -- to know. The first, the fact that Crash is tougher than his appearance would let on. It could be from training. It could be from a hard, brutal life. Or maybe, it's something else entirely. Still, Crash's jaw doesn't break neatly in half upon contact with the SouthSynd lieutenant's fist, meaning he has his position as 'leader' of this sorry little gang for a reason. The second thing, though, the most important thing... is what Duke sees the moment Crash skids across the ground and comes to a halt. An expression on the man's face that brings a knowing smile to Duke's lips. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to His smile says it all. Crash showed the one thing he shouldn't have.
He showed Duke fear.
He says nothing at first, opting to rub his fist with idle motions as he looks with dark eyes towards the rising Crash. "You're not just a gang of nobodies to me," he replies. "You're just a gang of nobodies in general. You had your chance. You blew it. Now, you're going to pay for it." But -- the young man doesn't want to fight Duke? The reaction earns the arching of a curious eyebrow, Duke actually -blinking- in a mild sort of wonder.
"Hiding behind your buddies isn't going to help you, boy." But as Duke says this, he takes note of the people rushing out. The bartender, all the other gang members -- just in time to see /Crash/ moving away as well. His lips pull into a frown, standing tall... but ready.
"Hmph," he grunts out, his right hand lifting to press fingertips against his neck and trace the length of his scar. In waiting. In anticipation. "So... let's see what you've got."
The call is made, and the occupants are bailing. Obviously there's no way Duke could tell why, but he could make a few speculations pretty much like anyone else could. Maybe it's a really big dog.
There's silence, though. There's not even the sound of footsteps for a good ten seconds until finally that silence is broken by the sound of clacking high-heels. The swinging door is pushed open, and the bright-smiled mistress peeks her head out. "What, alread-- Crash!! Oh Crash, my poor darling, what did that oaf -do- to you!"
Obviously the look of delight is replaced with an expression of horror, and then an expression of utter annoyance. She steps out fully now, and it's revealing that she's holding a chain over her shoulder. Actually it looks very flimsy, the metal, heck some of the links look like they'll break at any moment. She doesn't fully comply to Crash's order, however, normally she'd make a great big show about how she's the tamer of some sort of untamable beast. Instead she gives a jerk of the chain, encouraging the being on the opposite end of it to reveal itself, her eyes never leaving the scarred mans form from that point.
And then with a sneef, she raises one of her long-gloved arms to point to Duke and utters a simple enough command, "Kill, Goliath."
"Hah. I don't need to. I just want you to see what you are up against." And then the door slips open. Being fawned over is not what Crash cares for at the moment, and is easily visible by a rather warning glare given to Duke. But he continues to give a rather heavy berth to the door, obviously not wishing to get in the way himself. Only Cyanide is able to avoid potential collateral damage where this opponent is concerned. And the number of Burnouts Crash really wouldn't want to test himself against can be counted on one finger. Because it's... one. Yeah! One. Crash is great at math. The dangling chain earns a sneer, but Crash narrows his eyes. "Nah. Not just Goliath. I think you oughta help him out this time, baby. ...Break him. Let's send a message to SouthSynd – just what we are really capable of."
There's a heavy snarl heard upon the end of the chain, then heavy footsteps. Very heavy footsteps. A great, dark shape appears at the doorway, so massive it has to hunker down and slip out sideways. It's probably not a kind of figure that Duke is used to seeing, even with the fame of the Andores. A huge, rippling mound of muscle. That is the best description; Likely four hundred pounds, and easily eight feet tall. Shoulders and arms are impossibly broad, hands swollen, and the veins are bulging in an almost ominous fashion from all of the bronzed flesh. Goliath wears rather skin-tight black leather pants, stitched together given that nothing is crafted for a being his size. A heavy silver-studded harness curves over him, and about his neck is a great collar with a steel loop, from which dangles that useless chain. Broad handcuffs are also about his wrists, but shattered segments are obviously apparent. The most frightful thing might be the full-on bondage mask; Completely obscuring his face and eyes, although the mouth is unzipped.
Goliath rears up, trembling, and seems to size up Duke. There's no intelligence here. Barely any tinges of humanity. Is this what Burn does to a person? Is this a potential side effect? And then those words.
'Kill.'
In a heartbeat Goliath charges forward, maneuvering almost like an ape. A great fist guides him, legs almost galloping. His free hand grips one of the pool tables, and with an impossible ripple of strength hurls the weight as if it were crafted out of cardboard. Que sticks and balls fly everywhere, and even if it misses Duke it will shatter to splinters upon the ground, the ruined debris still impacting the wall meters away hard enough to pock it. ...There's no lack of raw strength where this figure is concerned.
"RRRAAAAAAAAAAUGH!!!"
COMBATSYS: Goliath has started a fight here.
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Goliath 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Cyanide has joined the fight here on the left meter side.
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Cyanide 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Goliath
COMBATSYS: Goliath has joined the fight here on the left meter side.
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Cyanide 0/-------/-------|
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Goliath 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Duke has joined the fight here on the right meter side.
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Cyanide 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Duke
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Goliath 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Goliath successfully hits Duke with Large Thrown Object.
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Cyanide 0/-------/-------|====---\-------\0 Duke
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Goliath 0/-------/------=|
It's unexpected, what comes next. Not Cyanides appearance, of course; he could care less about her -- though it seems she gets to play a part in this as well. No, no -- what is surprising, is what follows after the length of the chain. He has seen large people before, of course. Hugo and his family amongst them, and he has fought men like Grant. This, however, is different. Far larger, in height and width, and looking considerably more deformed than any of the large mountains of meat he has ever seen. For a second, there's surprise. It's likely the only time any of these people will -ever- see such a reaction from the man. "What the hell..." His eyes narrow. That -- that is unnatural. So how does a man come to look like a creature like -that-?
Duke doesn't really care to find out. He can already guess. But by the time Goliath makes his appearance, there is already a giant pooltable being flung at Duke like some kind of a missile of wood and felt. It strikes him with such force that he goes SLAMMING back into the nearby wall with a sickening sort of -crack-, wood exploding and splintering all around him in a most unpleasant nature. There is silence. But then?
"HRAAARGH!!"
That pool table, or what remains of it, is KICKED aside, straight through the air to land in splinters all across the bar. Leading in fluidly from this, Duke SLAMS his foot -straight- against the ground, with such -force- that the pool hall's flooring literally shakes violently, meant to unsettle the footing of the larger man... as a blazing circle of fire rushes forward, to SLAM into Goliath explosively. So, two against one? Fine.
Duke will make his point here and now.
Oh, so Cyanide will be involved as well? All the better really, her sour mood is softened, but only slightly. She doesn't want to make it obvious just yet that she's much happier with the prospect of hurting Duke as well, "Well then, it looks to me like you'll be in for a world of pleasure as well as pain. Lucky you."
She can't fight back a sudden burst of laughter though, once Duke gets a taste of Goliath's throwing strength, there shouldn't be any doubt that such an action would have fatally injured a lesser man. Duke proves to be no lesser man, however. ".. Oh my."
There's no doubt in the womans mind that Goliath will be able to handle Duke's attack, fire or no, but she moves to intervene anyway. Granted, she'd rather do this from a slightly further proximity. She unhinges her whip from her side, twirls it over her head and then snaps the weapon toward Duke. More specificly at his backside where it might lay a nasty welt and tear across his nice pants. May as well add some embarassment while taking the big man apart, right? "Ah ha ha ha ha, this fight is already over!"
COMBATSYS: Goliath endures Duke's Seismic Impact.
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Cyanide 0/-------/-------|======-\-------\0 Duke
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Goliath 0/-------/---====|
There's absolutely no hesitation when the sudden stomp is done, but Goliath seems to entirely ignore it. He's rushing forward like a train, throwing his incredible weight behind it. The ground resonates as desired, the flame washing over the huge figure like a wave against a shore, but it only causes him to snarl. It's a hiss of pain, but one the monumental figure drinks from, mouth spreading in a massive yell, slobber billowing out and splattering the ground. Before Duke can fully retract from his own assault, Goliath is rearing up, entire body tensing for a moment... and then a hammerfisted blow drops down from overhead, arc enough to tear a furrow within the roof. Slamming into the ground, and potentially Duke, hard enough to dent it severely. Yet such is not the only attack; Two more vicious strikes with those oversized arms throw out, one after the other, trying to simply smear the opponent before him. It's punctuated by savage sounds, the studded harness stretching against his monumental chest. At least it's already been proven that Burn is nothing minor... Duke is likely one of countless people who have underestimated just what the higher-end effects, debilitating or not, can cause.
COMBATSYS: Duke blocks Goliath's Ravage.
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Cyanide 0/-------/-------|=======\-------\1 Duke
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Goliath 0/-------/---====|
COMBATSYS: Cyanide successfully hits Duke with Abrasion.
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Cyanide 0/-------/------=|=======\=------\1 Duke
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Goliath 0/-------/---====|
A dumb thug, Duke is not. Hell's Executioner has not gotten as far as he has, hasn't earned the fear of so many people, just because he can punch things particularly hard. No -- he's -earned- it by being smart. Cold, calculating. He can already tell from the start of this -- he's in something of a disadvantage, here. Of the pair of these two, though, the big one -- Goliath -- seems to be the one capable of doing the most damage. His focus, therefor, falls on removing this man quickly and securely as possible.
Easier said than done, of course, but Duke is nothing if not tenacious. As the behemoth crashes through his attack and continues onward, Duke notes how little he seems to recognize the pain... but the damage that is still done is there. He pauses, watching thoughtfully, and as Goliath rears forward with that hammerfist blow -- Duke is there to greet him with both his forearms, absorbing the bulk of the strike that lands so viciously, over and over, that the ground beneath him cracks, beginning to break underneath him. Painful indeed, but educational. Whether or not he wins here today... he's learning something valuable.
His forearms battered, but body relatively intact, he finds himself suddenly... struck across the back of his pants with a whip. The force is no more than enough to make him stagger once, but it causes him to blink and look down in a moment of silence. "... hmph. I'll get to you later..." For now ignoring Cyanide, Duke rears up his hands, noticeably glowing -bright- with fire. In one swift movement, he SLAMS those fists into the ground with such force... that it literally EXPLODES beneath the force, creating a huge column of fire that -tears- a path across the short distance between himself and Goliath, seeking to impact into him -explosively-. "GRAAAAAAAARGH!!"
Cyanide doesn't believe even Duke's tenacity is going to get him out of this situation. Oh yes, she was going to enjoy every moment of this, and watch as the big dog gets broken down to a whimpering little puppy. ".. That's what you think.."
There's just simply no way Duke would be able to finish off Goliath, and if by some miracle he did? Well then he'd still be unable to keep his promise as he'd obviously be a pike of bones and flesh. "Maybe once we're done with you, I can add you to my collection, wouldn't that be fun!"
Of course it would be! Now she's not just going to blow hot air all day, while she may not be causing major damage, she'll do her damndest to be a pain in the ass, and this time around she plans to do so by snapping her whip toward Duke once again, and let the slender weapon wrap itself about the larger mans neck mid-attack. She may not be able to stop the fire, but if she gets her hold, she'll still manage to, with an intense growl, jerk him to the floor and onto his back.
COMBATSYS: Duke successfully hits Goliath with Sledgehammer.
- Power hit! -
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Cyanide 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Duke
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Goliath 1/----===/=======|
Oh, ouch.
Poor Goliath is not so used to pure chi assaults, and it shows now. The eruption of scorching fire catches him from beneath, and he more flails then anything else, letting out a shriek like a startled pig. He crashes upon his side, writhing on the ground, scorched and burned, and obviously in agony. How much compassion Cyanide might truly have for this state of affairs is questionable, but the trembling brute pushes himself back to his feet, the last smolders fading away. His breath hisses out, building up into a crescendo as he finally lets out another loud roar, stomping forward and shooting out his right hand. The attempt is to catch Duke by the throat, and then heft him like a kitten. Before repeatedly /slamming/ his body upon the ground, trying to swing him around like a ragdoll, wrenching and pounding. Much akin to an angered primate might assail someone, in actuality. There's little to it beyond that. Oh, he's rather angry now.
COMBATSYS: Duke dodges Cyanide's Snare Whip.
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Cyanide 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Duke
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Goliath 1/----===/=======|
COMBATSYS: Goliath successfully hits Duke with Rupture.
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Cyanide 0/-------/------=|====---\-------\0 Duke
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Goliath 1/---====/=======|
There it is. Just as Duke thought; the brute doesn't like the taste of his flames, as evidenced in the way he so painfully thrashes about. This situation might be bad, but it tells him one thing worthy of note about these people. They're still just normal thugs. And for all that drugs might give them power, its not nearly complete.
The fight isn't even close to over, however, and as Cyanide rushes out towards him, Duke takes note of her sudden onrush from the corner of his eye. As she snaps out, he lurches lower. "Don't kid yourself, brat. You're nothing to me." Her whip grasps not flesh, but air -- just as Goliath rampages at him in an attempt to grasp him.
An unfortunately successful one, at that; Duke doesn't have the time nor the speed to get out of the way in time of the large Goliath's flailing, and he is caught up, CRASHING into the ground with the splintering of wood with every blow. Blood splurting from his mouth with each and every attack, Duke is slammed, one, final time before he rips out and breaks -free- of the massive man's hold, leaping forward to thrust a single hand forward -- seeking to slam it, HARD, into Goliath's stomach with enough force to stun him. A second blow, an uppercut to the jaw, containing within it so much force that it could knock even this large beast into the air. And then a third, final blow... pouring forth all the man's power to simply SLAM his fist into Goliath's gut and launch him STRAIGHT out of the pool hall. "GRAAAAAAAAARGH!!"
Somehow it must have slipped the woman's mind that fire.. At least chi fire did not meld well with her 'weapon'. The shriek of Goliath is enough to bring the reminder to the front of her mind, and her confident sneer is wiped off of her face.
For her pet, rather than the fact that Duke was nimble enough to escape the kiss of her whip. "Goliath!!" the woman screams, but quickly molds the shock within her into offensive rage. Her beautiful, ice-blue eyes narrow to cat-like slits and the woman this time comes to closer proximity of Duke, her weapon swapped in favor of a sleeker, smaller, silver-tipped crop. "You'll pay for that, and you'll eat those words! In just moments I'll be your everything, little boy!"
Her right hand swings forward and back, lashing the crop toward Dukes cheek, followed with a flurry of more strikes, and assuming she isn't interrupted, would leap straight up into the air for Goliaths intervening.
COMBATSYS: Goliath endures Duke's Crack Up.
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Cyanide 0/-------/------=|=====--\-------\0 Duke
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Goliath 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|
COMBATSYS: Goliath has reached second wind!
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Cyanide 0/-------/------=|=====--\-------\0 Duke
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Goliath 0/-------/--=====|
COMBATSYS: Duke dodges Cyanide's Switch.
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Cyanide 0/-------/------=|=====--\-------\0 Duke
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Goliath 0/-------/--=====|
COMBATSYS: Goliath successfully hits Duke with Juggernaut.
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Cyanide 0/-------/------=|=======\===----\1 Duke
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Goliath 0/-------/--=====|
The fist buries deep into Goliath's stomach, but he literally ignores it. Duke could feel the give beneath that huge amount of flesh, but he doesn't so much as stagger. Instead the beast lowers one massive shoulder, even as he's impacted so hard upon the face by the second punch he twists away a moment, blood splattering the nearby wall. But a hand braces himself, and the final strike sends him skidding a meter away. Not nearly the vicious assault that was supposed to send him out of the hall. Darkness begins to cloud him, but still he bursts forward, trying to shoulder-check Duke right into the wall. And right through it, hard enough to shatter through the stone and steel rebars, as he begins to snarl. He knows nothing now but his rage, and his pain. This is no longer about Cyanide's request; It is the bite of that fire. Duke. He is the one who hurt him. He is the one who made him worse. Duke... He will not go down until he has extinguished that man's life, and thoroughly...!
...And out the pair go. It seems Cyanide's assistance hasn't been all that required in this fight, beyond exposing a bit of Duke's cheek. When they are through the floor, Goliath has already dismissed the raising unconscious wave, and only seems more furious for the effort. Mayhaps focusing on him first was a tactical mistake. Duke is allowed to hit the ground, as a wave of gangsters who had been watching the pool hall warily flee, some letting out cries of alarm, at the battered beast. Duke would not be allowed to get up. A huge fist impacts him, slamming him back into the street. Another descends. Then another. A veritable onslaught of blows, until near the end he's only unloading all of his fury, half of them only gouging out street and sidewalk, his choked snarl long since died due to lack of air... He's not going to stop. Duke's going to have to literally drag himself away.
Not enough. Not nearly enough. Duke alone won't have the strength to take these people out. No, unfortunately -- this is going to actually require something other than brute, physical strength. Either of these two, he knows he can take out on his own. Without the presence of the woman, Duke could be free to maneuver and take his time in defeating the behemoth. And without the behemoth, he doubts the woman would do enough damage to put him to an end. But it's not to be. Gangs are called 'gangs' for a reason. They work together. And to defeat them, well...
... Duke is going to have to take a much more subtle approach.
As it stands, by the time that his fists have slammed into Goliath, over and over? Duke has maneuvered himself in such a way, pushing the titan forward, that he evades those snaps of the whip crop. Just in time... to get struck. Solidly. He hardly sees it coming before it's too late; the massive man SLAMS into Duke's torso with a shoulder-check, and they both go slamming right out the nearby wall, out into the streets beyond. Just in time, too, for one of the most solid beatings Duke has -ever- received. There are very few people who have ever struck him with quite this much strength behind the blows. As Duke is hit, over and over again, he feels bones cracking. A blow to the face starts rivulets of blood streaming down his nose and mouth. Cracked ribs, and flesh bruises almost instantly upon contact from the force. It's a rampage that's not going to stop...
... at least, until Goliath might feel that the body that he is striking is beginning to grow so hot it can -burn- flesh.
In a single moment, a powerful hand snaps out, to SLAM into Goliath and force him -off- Duke's body with a burning palm wreathed in dull red heat. Duke pulls himself upwards from his position, blood splatterng across the ground. "... heh. This... ... this could be interesting..." he mutters out as he stands in a stagger just beyond the rampaging Goliath. His hands lift, and he remains silent...
... before he simply SLAMS his hands straight into the ground.
"GRAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!"
With unbridled, unrivaled fury, Duke begins to literally pound against the ground with such ferocity... that it explodes. In a wide radius that spreads out, encroaching into the very bar itself, everything -explodes- in a hellish firestorm of power, ripping through everything with intent on burning not only Goliath, but -Cyanide- as well, alive in the wake of every ounce of Duke's contained fury.
COMBATSYS: Duke has reached second wind!
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Cyanide 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Duke
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Goliath 0/-------/--=====|
COMBATSYS: Duke successfully hits Goliath with Ground Zero.
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Cyanide 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Duke
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Goliath 1/---====/=======|
COMBATSYS: Duke successfully hits Cyanide with Ground Zero.
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Cyanide 1/------=/=======|-------\-------\0 Duke
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Goliath 1/---====/=======|
Oh is that it? Is he dead now? Cyanide lands by Goliaths side then follows his path, smirking as she recognized one of her pets best techniques in action before he even gets his paws on Duke. "Good boy, good boy, destroy him, crush him!!" she commands as the beast unleashes fury upon their scarred opponent, bending her crop to it's possible breaking point. "Break him!"
She outbursts with merry laughter until it's suddenly clear that Duke is not very dead at all! Her jaw slightly slack, eyes wide in disbelief, she shies away a bit from the energy that roar to life and then explodes with fury she'd never seen, quite possibly, in her life. How does one even begin to try to defend against it?? Well, the woman makes some effort too, and is too quickly overpowered, a shriek of pain comeing from her this time as she's washed over and blasted away with such powerful fire!
The pain is intense.. If that's what she's feeling she couldn't imagine Goliath's agony, but the only thing on her mind at this point was taking Duke out RIGHT NOW. Before he does that again! It's not easy for her to get to her feet as quickly as she'd like, but she does soon enough and dashes toward Duke whom, in her mind, MUST be on his last legs. And so with that in mind she attempts to strike Duke again across the face with her crop, and then the leg of the opposite side of her body kicks straight upward, to hopefully beat him in a little more with the help of her stiletto heeled boot, "That will be quite enough!!"
It's not until the vicious shove backwards that stops Goliath. He barely stalls, already starting to advance again. It's only a heartbeat from continuing the blows does the behemoth get struck dead-on, and sent flying backwards. Through the flame he can see it overtake Cyanide, and that only fans those flames. Trembling, he gets back to his feet, although he's already been beaten down once, his body horribly maimed by the two flashes of fire. Still an unsteady charge is done towards Duke, and then a vicious backhand – intending to strike him rather heavily within the face, and hopefully send him flying. Goliath then collapses upon the ground, beginning to sink. Watching the other man begin to swim out of sight...
COMBATSYS: Goliath can no longer fight.
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Cyanide 1/------=/=======|-------\-------\0 Duke
COMBATSYS: Cyanide successfully hits Duke with Medium Strike.
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Cyanide 1/------=/=======|==-----\-------\0 Duke
COMBATSYS: Duke dodges Goliath's Shatter.
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Cyanide 1/------=/=======|==-----\-------\0 Duke
These people... the way they fight, from Cyanide's far too emotionally-controlled strikes, to Goliath's mindless rampages. They're amateurs. What makes them special is the Burn they use, and with that knowledge in hand, Duke resolves himself not to lose to a bunch of worthless, no-account losers who have to lean on a crutch like Burn. And it is that in mind that allows him, in the aftermath of his firestorm... to stand up fully, and stare at the two he has just so -thoroughly- thrashed.
"Get this through your heads," he growls out, his hand lifting and touching against that long, jagged scar across his neck once more, "you both... are -nothing- to me. And you're going to die."
Duke says little more than that. Soon enough, both Cyanide and her cohort come at him. First comes the lumbering Goliath, who comes far too slow to be truly considered an 'issue.' The man lashes out blindly with a backhand, and Duke almost -calmly- steps out of the way, letting Goliath strike nothing and collapse into the ground in an utterly futile effort. His gaze then shifts to Cyanide -- just as her crop SLAMS into the side of his face, causing him to stagger once, and then twice, before that kick SLAMS into his chin with enough force to send him reeling straight backwards. Blood pours down his mouth, and he wipes it away, examining it thoughtfully.
"... come at me again," he begins slowly, -deliberately-,
"And I'll kill you."
COMBATSYS: Duke gains composure.
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Cyanide 1/------=/=======|-------\-------\0 Duke
Whip in hand, Cyanide cracks it again, and she snaps back at Duke, "I'm sorry, at what point did I say that you could speak??" the woman demands, long after her assault comes to an end and Duke says his part.
Scared? Sure, who wouldn't be after feeling the kind of power that would probably incinerate a lesser being? Crop set aside and whip held in both hands now and ignoring the pain screaming in her body, she puts up a decent farse. "You couldn't be more wrong, in moments time I will be your everything. I am your Queen, your Mistress do you understand? And you are the disobedient dog, not me!"
"Do you know what I do to disobedient dogs?" Well he'll find out in just a moment. Her emotions are going wild at this point, her once beautiful eyes going bloodshot as she lurches forward and then dashes a bit faster, whip switched for her crap, a bit more intensely than before. She'd be up in Dukes face before he's suddenly faced with another swarm of slashes, her arms a blurr as she strikes high and low, finishing that assault with a vicious uppercut to lift Duke off of his feet, "Bad dog! Bad bad dog!"
The weapon is switched once more, Duke may not be sailing, but high enough then for her whip to wrap about the mans throat, in which with a jerk he is slammed to the floor and dragged along it while she dashes northward, "Mommy doesn't want to hurt you, but you leave her no choice!"
The trip would be finalized with a fling against, if not through what's left of the walls about the hangout, her maniacal laughing contradicting her otherwise scolding tone.
COMBATSYS: Duke blocks Cyanide's Good Pain.
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Cyanide 0/-------/-----==|==-----\-------\0 Duke
All well and good, and decently -brutal-, is Cyanide's assault. But there are several things amiss here. She is too solidly enthralled by her emotions to make a true, clean strike on the man. Duke knows this. And that's why, as she rants... he just smiles. A slow, -condescending-, smile. "If you really believe that there's anything more than death waiting for you when all of this is said and done..." Cyanide breaks into a dash, and Duke holds his ground, unflinching. Arrogantly confident.
"... you're more dense than I thought you were."
The first thing that comes is the slashes, and as they connect, the woman might feel a noteworthy amount of resistance against her thrusts, as if the damage wasn't all quite going through as she might have planned it to. Still, it's enough to launch him briefly into the air in the wake of that uppercut, just in time for the whip to lash out around his throat, and send him -flying- straight into the ground with a deafening slam. Yet, as Cyanide taunts and chides, and treats him as some sort of animal, she might notice... perhaps a little too late... he is not being dragged with her sudden tugs.
Perhaps a moment too late, Cyanide might notice the resistance when she applies that effort. Duke stays on the ground, his fingers and feet literally -digging- into the street with such strength that it braces him perfectly. Instead of being hurled? The man yanks BACKWARDS, snapping free of the whip's hold on him before he rolls back into a stand, gripping onto a small piece of shattered concrete. He holds onto it closely, before lifting it up... and simply HURLING it at Cyanide with all his strength, aiming to crack the woman across the side of the head with the titanic force behind the slab. "-PATHETIC-! HRAAARGH!!"
COMBATSYS: Cyanide blocks Duke's Thrown Object.
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Cyanide 0/-------/----===|==-----\-------\0 Duke
And so it would seem her laughter was cut a little short. Cyanide most certainly notices the resistance of her dragging, and then a release of tension altogeather. Of course his anything but pleasent words go noted as well, but despite being a bit shaken up by that as well as Duke's astounding resiliance, she's making no motion of considering retreat.
Duke may think that her wild emotions are her weakness, and she believes it's her strength, even if it isn't just one centralized emotion. The slab of hard surface isn't moving slow enough, under her judgement to get the hell out of the way of, what she does instead is snap out another vicious high kick, smashing the slab in two clean halves, leaving them to fly behind her.
Thenn faulters as the pain shoots through that leg. "You're unusually interested in breath play.. I'll keep that in mind.." she murmurs with a low chuckle, "The only dense one here is yourself.. You'll learn not to question my authority!" Again she swings the whip over her head, bloodshot eyes staring intensely at her opponent. Again she closes in on Duke, heels clacking along the ground and when she snaps the weapon forward again, it's not just to hurt, but to again slice into the big man, the snap-back so quick that it would could leave a second streak making an 'x' where she strikes. She's confident this is the finishing blow, putting her all into it! "If you get on your knees and bark, I may forgive you!"
COMBATSYS: Duke endures Cyanide's Abrasion EX.
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Cyanide 0/-------/----===|====---\-------\0 Duke
Under normal circumstances, this would be different. However here? Duke has very little choice in what he can do. At his last limbs already, even if he might not directly show it, the blood and bruising is more than a helpful hint as to the state that Duke happens to be in right now. He's already thinking of an escape route -- a way to get out, in case things truly do go awry. Because, odds are this woman isn't going to relinquish him easily. And as much as he knows he could destroy her without so much as batting an eye in normal circumstances...
... these are -far- from normal circumstances.
The attack that comes next he has seen before; the motions of it, at least. Fast and weak, she likely thinks of it as a finishing maneuver. But instead of trying to move out of the way, or defend himself, or any number of other options, Duke? ... Rushes right into the snap of that whip, stopping it short as he simply BARRELS through it, and -launches- himself forward bodily. A small gash forms across his chest, but little more as he leaps straight into the air -- seeking to ram his knee into Cyanide with such force that she goes flying backwards and -away- from him. "HRAAAAAAGH!!"
COMBATSYS: Duke can no longer fight.
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Cyanide 0/-------/----===|
COMBATSYS: Cyanide counters Light Kick from Duke with No Means No.
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Cyanide 0/-------/-----==|
"YES!" Cyanide cries, what she determined as her finishing blow landed, landed cleanly. One might say a little too cleanly, but who thinks things like that about attacks these days?
Apparently SHE does, especially when Duke makes motions to burst through her assault which doesn't suprise her as much as it normally would have were she not ready. Instead she feels intruige within her emotional storm. "Hm hmm, come to mother,"
The tone is a sensual, but shaky purr, her whip drawn back in a smooth, flawless motion and whipped forward again toward the ankle that Duke leaps off of for momentum. The result is probably very embarassing, for when she snaps back after catching the ankle, poor Duke finds his knee shooting upward instead of forward, suddenly swept out of the air to slam onto the ground in the most ungraceful manner possible.
She retracts her weapon, peering down at Duke for a moment. Normally another string of suggestive insults would follow.. But instead she hurries to find Goliath and sooth the poor beast.
Crash was content to linger behind, his bloody nose haven finally stemmed, at least until the huge eruption of fire that took down Goliath and severely singed Cyanide; He scarcely avoided that, and was somewhat more careful about collateral damage. But in the end Duke is brought down, the fallen king, and many of the nearby gangsters are approaching to look at him. As if disbelieving. To be truthful, there was tenacious wonder whether the legend could be floored. Hell's Executioner is almost a word spoken in whispers, moreso in Metro City where his mere presence has cowed droves. Goliath is mildly shifting; He's not nearly dead, but will not be healed for a few days. And he's going to be very, very mad.
"He's really down..."
"So we do have a chance of taking Metro...?"
"Yeah!!"
A general chorus of hoots, laughter and spits assails Duke, as well as a few beer bottles thrown rather forcedly. Crash looms over, grinning downward with his arms crossed before his chest. "You made a mistake, Duke. You thought we were nobodies. And maybe we are; Enough you thought you could clean house alone. ...Well, boys! You see what Burn can do?!" There's another chorus, and Crash unleashes a vicious kick towards Duke's ribs.
To Cyanide, "Don't kill him. If we do, his boss might come here personally, or another lapdog. We ain't ready for that pressure. Nobody is. Nah..." Crash crouches, and moves to slap Duke upon the cheek a few times, in false affection. "Nah, you won't cry to your master for help, will you? We're not so different, you and I. And I think you'll take this personal. And you'll want to settle it personal. Hey... I'm willing to see if I can. By the time I take out you and your pathetic entourage in this city, I might have just enough powerbase to resist SouthSide, or at least put more cards in my hand." Not stupid at all.
"Two hours, Cyanide. Consider it a challenge to break him. Then throw him in a dumpster." Crash sighs, contentedly, while looking over the rubble. Gonna attract the police; They'll have to move.
But things are looking up... Duke's the biggest threat in this city, next to the full attention of Haggar. One problem is able to be dealt with. That leaves one more.
He didn't have a chance from the start. Of course he knew that, and he knew the consequences of staying around. So why did Duke stay? Foolish hubris? Pride? Bravado? Nothing nearly so stupid. Crash and all his cronies think they have a chance now. This all has boosted their morale. Despite the fact that he so swiftly dispatched their hulking monstrosity, and tore into Cyanide -brutally- with what essentially amounted to a single blow... they're all fresh-faced fools with too much power suddenly thrusted on them. And like any young idiot with too much power, they suffer from two things: both hesitation, and almost paradoxically...
... a blinding sense of overconfidence.
He sees it now. As his last blow is so -embarassingly- dealt with and he strikes the ground, he sees exactly what he needs to do. And he sees the most brilliant, golden opportunity of all. He is angry, to be sure. Cyanide, he assures himself, is going to die painfully underneath his heel when this all is said and done. But he is nothing like Crash; the young man who can barely contain those emotions of his. He has suffered, struggled, and achieved so much through pain and ruthless bloodshed... that he's learned to supress all that rage and control it. Effective. A cold inferno that reflects in his gaze as Crash approaches. They think they've won.
Hell's Executioner sees an opportunity he has not seen in years.
Blood streams down his lips as Crash leans down to talk to him, and all Duke does is stare. Despite all the damage, he is still quite conscious -- if not exactly able to reach out and punch the man again. He pauses, listens to what Crash says. And then?
"If those two... are the best you have... then this is going to be laughable." He spits blood out to the side, but not on Crash. He wouldn't dare give the man the honor of even so much as being spit upon by Duke.
"When the day comes... that you get escorted to Hell... I wonder how scared you're going to be...?"
And that's it. He can't offer much resistance to whatever Cyanide might choose to do, but he's doubtlessly received far worse. He will not be broken. And when they stupidly release him, arrogantly refuse to kill him, the first thing he's going to do? Is find out everything he can about 'Crash' and his little drug. And then...
... set about grasping his golden opportunity.
Two hours? She'd be lucky if she were able to keep up her sassing for one at the rate she was going! Still, the idea did seem fun, even if she wouldn't be able to enjoy it at one hundred percent.
Cyanide is no doctor, but she can tell when even her disfigured brute is in seriously bad condition, leaving her with a choice. In the end she decides it's really only worth soothing Goliath when he's conscious, and really playing with Duke is a once in a lifetime opportunity! Oh how her friends will be jealous!
A slight limp in her step, the woman tugging at her whip once more, Cyanide giggles, and nudges Crash with her elbow, "You are much too kind. And don't you worry, Dookie-kins, when it's all over you'll be thanking us for putting you in this position and sending you not to Hell, but to Heaven. Mmn, and that reminds me. Do you prefer violet, or yellow candles?"
Escorted to Hell. Please.
Log created on 17:33:08 07/28/2007 by Duke, and last modified on 00:50:48 07/29/2007.