Description: SNF fight between three-quarters of Pacific Resistance against the God of Battle! Marisol, Pas and Preston against Shenwoo! SHEN. WOO! Special commentary from Iori and Takuma. And an appearance from Ash! (Winners: Marisol, Pas, and Preston)
Ahh, Saturday Night Fight. A weekly celebration of all that's the best in Southtown culture. Which is to say, people beating each other up on live television for the entertainment of a worldwide audience. Fights happening all over the city, the country, even the world... And sometimes they happen in the weirdest places, like the athletics field of a high school. The usual SNF crews are out in force, with lighting and barricades and cameras everywhere, as well as officials to make sure nobody gets hurt /too/ badly. And beyond the barricades? Much of the student population of Pacific High, the teachers and other assorted personnel, as well as some other locals who happened by. It's Pacific Resistance's home turf, which could possibly lend them the edge they need to win this thing.
Shenwoo, however, doesn't know about any of that. He doesn't even know what a 'Pacific Resistance' is. But he was booked to fight, and here he is.
The tall, lean half-Chinese fighter stands inside the large 'ring' barricaded off in the midst of the field, barely paying any attention to the crowd. They might be booing him, who knows? Instead, he's like a tightly coiled spring, all sorts of pent-up energy waiting to be unleashed on the poor saps he's scheduled to fight. His left foot taps nervously, and in his hand he has three of those little harmony ball things, which make faint, supposedly soothing music as he rolls them in his gloved hand. Perhaps he's worried about the fight? About his ability to fend off not one, not two, but /three/ opponents?
Hell no. The 'God of Battle' is just /excited/ to beat somebody up!
COMBATSYS: Shenwoo has started a fight here on the left meter side.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Shenwoo 0/-------/-------|
On the flip side, the international community of Pacific High most certainly know what's at stake here. The little team of Pacific Resistance may be on the rise, but could this be the roadblock that sets them back? Already present for his team is one Preston Alistair Wellington the II, supposedly the champion of some Junior League -- but tonight, they're playing with the big boys, and it seems that it's going to take three of them to face their opponent. "Well this is kind of fucked," the lad remarks, twisting his torso with his weapon of choice held out in front of him. Stripped to the waist, he's at his muscular best, limbering up before the fight truly begins.
"Seriously, three of us, just for this one guy? It's either going to go embarrassingly badly, or ridiculously well. Just how strong is this guy meant to be, anyway?" Pre-match jitters, from the Brit? Unlikely; more his tendency to find something to complain against, and stick with it for the moment. Already, he braces for the 'shut up' from one of his teammates, but the possibility hardly stops him from speaking his mind, as he always does.
Sensing that the time draws near though, he shoulders his weapon and gives a final stretch to his torso, much to the delight of his little entourage of giddy fans, camera phones in hand to capture his impressive physique. Today though, they may well be more interested in Shenwoo. Good thing he doesn't care.
Saturday Night Fights offer interesting match-ups for various fighters across the globe. It also serves as an interesting avenue with which to meet others, for the up-and-comers of the fighting circuit to meet and greet their idols, and sometimes fight them! Indeed, the SNFs have become a particular favored weekly celebration for many fans and fighters worldwide, but more particularly for the locals of Southtown.
While Shenwoo may be impatiently awaiting the other fighters to show up on their "home turf," the crews themselves are busy milling about, setting up cameras and various necessities. It passes the time, as Shenwoo is left to wait on unfamiliar turf for the others to arrive and engage in a bit of flashy combat with the God of Battle.
Unfortunately, it would seem his wait for one of the participants on the opposing team is a bit long. Preston is present, but where is the self-proclaimed leader?
Eventually, a stir happens from the distance, near the school proper. It would appear that a few of the designated crew are in a stir, arms flailing as an unseen figure appears to be giving them a hard time. A particularly burly security figure seems to be at the fore, struggling a bit with whoever is on the other side. Indiscernible bitching can also be heard, and it's obviously female.
r And it's getting closer.
Eventually, a figure - two, in fact - become apparent. Marching toward the God of Battle and Preston are a pair of girls dressed in a fashion that looks particularly out of sorts for the event. The redheaded girl near the Brazilian girl is sporting a long trenchcoat as she moves forward, her features seized in a look of resolve. And she looks to be staring right at Shenwoo.
"ALL RIGHT!" the girl bellows, lifting a hand from her side as she points it right at Shenwoo. "YOU!" She comes to a pause near the others, planting her feet as she stands before the blonde. For a moment, her face is utterly seriously, her eyes widened with determination.
And then, rather suddenly, she turns and frantically whispers to her female teammate with a furious blush on her face.
COMBATSYS: Preston has joined the fight here on the right meter side.
COMBATSYS: Marisol has joined the fight here on the right meter side.
COMBATSYS: Pas has joined the fight here on the right meter side.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Shenwoo 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Marisol
> //////////////////////////////]
|-------\-------\0 Pas
> //////////////////////////////]
|-------\-------\0 Preston
The unlikely pair of girls are both wearing trenchcoats. The long and heavy kind. The kind with lapels as crisp and stiff as hard drinks.
The Brazilian half of the pair strides at the same measure of her redheaded teammate, though as their fearless leader blurts out into her familiar, pre-fight vocal foreplay, she merely contents herself to stand back, lazily perching an arm to the other girl's shoulder. Her sleepy eyes happy, lidded to their perpetual half-mast, she crooks them away momentarily to angle Preston a sharp wink. She clicks a hello with her tongue.
Then that Brazilian girl, or as the screaming crowd has named her Pás, finally takes a good, long look at her team's designated opponent. An eyebrow slowly lifts straight up. She slides a pinky into her mouth and bites down on the knuckle. Her head slowly, so very slowly cranes to one angle, and she eyes him sidelong. That smile on her face spreads like an infection, going into Grinch-sized proportions.
Pás is very deliciously distracted. So distracted that she doesn't even hear Marisol's disquited whispers through their first few whines.
Then her head straightens. "Euh?" Those dark eyes tick to one side. Confusion glides nakedly over her expressive face, before she clears it up with a warm, gracious smile. Ever so indulgently, she reaches, slinging a chummy arm over her friend's shoulders. She squeezes the redhead into a happy hug. "Ahhh! Sola! It is all the rights to have the feeling that way. You have uncomfortable, yea no?"
Pás smiles!
And with a sudden, profound mastery in undressing others, that best friends forever hug rips the trenchcoat clean from Marisol. A wild look in her eyes, her smile gone serrated, the Brazilian's free arm deftly sheds her own coat in the same beat.
The unlikely pair of girls are both wearing bikinis. The thin and stringy kind.
The kind that says SHEN right across the teacups and WOO straight across the ass.
Yes, just how strong IS Shenwoo? As his three opponents all step up to the proverbial plate, the girls... Rather oddly wearing trenchcoats, Shenwoo rolls his neck and clenches his left fist, crushing the three harmony balls he was rolling in his palm into so much dust, which falls as he opens his hand. Right, they're all here now, so he can...
Wait, what the hell are those girls doing?!
Visibly taken aback, Shenwoo takes a shocked step backwards from the trio he's fighting - thank goodness Preston isn't in a bikini too - and then he points right at them. "Wh-what the hell!! You freaks, put some clothes on!!" The worst part is how they for some reason have /his name/ written on their bathing suits. On television! But though he's slightly flustered, it's bound to pass quickly, because he's supposed to be beating these kids up. So when the official calls that single most important of words, 'FIGHT!', it's a welcome relief for Shen. He's not even going to give the Pacific Resistance members the chance to get any further surprises on the table, as he immediately starts rushing forwards, throwing himself into a gliding lunge... Right at Preston. "AT LEAST /YOU/ CAME HERE TO FIGHT!!" the 'God of Battle' bellows, twisting to thrust is left first forward, in a mighty rushing punch aimed to knock the oarsman silly. "GRAAAAH!!"
COMBATSYS: Shenwoo successfully hits Preston with Gekiken.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Shenwoo 0/-------/-----==|-------\-------\0 Marisol
> //////////////////////////////]
|-------\-------\0 Pas
> //////////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Preston
As his teammates amble up, Preston turns his gaze on them. Hazel eyes take in what they're both wearing, mentally noting rather swiftly that they're not their normal fight attire; entirely too clothed, both of them. Just what are they up to?
He squints at them.
Yes, just what ARE they up to? The redhead turns a crying eye to the brunette, and the two briefly converse and then embrace. And then it happens.
What little hair the Brit has on his head rises as his brows lift. "Suddenly glad I'm not wearing my shorts," he comments quietly to himself, as he performs the age-old act of elevator eyes upon both of the girls. In fact, he's still busy filling his eyes when he dimly hears someone shouting really, really close.
His head turns towards the rush of Shenwoo. "Huh?"
Teeth rattle as the fist collides in a most epic fashion across the tall man's face. Staggering backwards, he barely maintains his footing as his oar dips down into the turf behind him. "Oh, that hurt," he mutters amidst a split lip, dabbing at it as he struggles not to look at his teammates.
"Interesting attire, ladies," he comments to them anyway, lifting his oar up and giving it a quick twirl. Cracking his neck loudly, Preston pushes off in a quick burst, charging back at Shenwoo -- and sending that oar hurtling in with a thrust, aiming to catch the berserker about the middle and knock him up!
"Now if you're done being a distraction, help me the fuck out!"
Everything was going so well...until Pás got THAT look in her eye. The proverbial calm before the storm, when Marisol knows and FEELS in her bones that something bad is going to happen. And that something bad is likely to happen to her. But what...just what does the Brazilian capoerista have in mind?
Regardless of consequences, the redhead turns to her friend, pleading in tones loud enough for only the girl before her to hear. Of course she feels uncomfortable! She has every reason TO feel uneasy about this match up she's been dumped into. And yet...it's probably one of the best ones she has had yet. Because...it's...
"Er, y-yeah, but--" she stammers lightly, a touch more audible and still blushing as she regards the dark-skinned girl nearby. But before she can further explain, Pás is suddenly cornering her and giving that bulky and thick coat of hers a yanking, along with her own. And there, before the eyes of their male teammate and Shenwoo...the two are wearing precious little...
With Shenwoo's name written on what is likely barely considered clothing. And Marisol just turns as red as her hair, her hands pressing firmly against her face as she squeals. Even Preston's oogling and Shenwoo's protests go without being noticed.
Right now, Marisol is dying of embarrassment.
And then he moves, right for poor, unaware Preston. Blinking once, the girl's features shed themselves of embarrassment, if only briefly so. Widening her eyes, she watches as that fist plows into the Briton's face, jarring his senses. He's fast...and clearly strong. The blush returns a little, as she just gawks.
Oh right. A fight!
Shaking her head once, the girl lifts her hands to her mouth and cries, "You better do your best, Shenwo--er, I mean!!--Preston! Yeah!! Otherwise...uh...I'll make you buy dinner for us for the week!!"
COMBATSYS: Marisol assists Preston.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Shenwoo 0/-------/-----==|-------\-------\0 Marisol
> //////////////////////////////]
|-------\-------\0 Pas
> /////////////////////// ]
|===----\-------\0 Preston
"Hey, I'm goddamn Iori Yagami."
Oh, those sweet words can never be spoken too often. The infamous redheaded fighter pushes his way through the line of SNF security and crew members, edging towards the fighting area with a steel folding chair in one hand. Is he going to jump in and deliver the beating of a lifetime to Shenwoo with nothing but a piece of quasi-furniture? Not that the thought doesn't cross Yagami's mind a few times while he stands and watches, but no.
Eventually, apathy wins out over proactive violence and Iori unfolds the chair, looking over his shoulder for his unlikely drinking buddy: Takuma Sakizaki. A few hours previous, Iori busted into the Kyokugen dojo to beat the snot out of everyone present, but after waiting impatiently for Yuri to get done berating Takuma for not extending her credit limit, things just kind of fell apart. He's not really sure how they got from there to here, or why he just bought tickets to SNF when he could get in for free, but alcohol does funny things to a man. As do novelty Tengu masks.
Yeah.
"I swear, old man, I'll find where you're hiding that mask one day." Iori mutters, sitting down and resting his head in his hands, perhaps considering the majesty of the Karate Goblin. The rocker stares at the fight for a moment with that trademark brooding glare that he's been developing for the past twenty years. He's waiting for the first headbutt.
"We are coming!" Pás replies Preston very sweetly and very innocently. What in Englishes is a 'double-entendre?'
She processes the fist to his face with an anticipatory sort of glee. She bites down on her bottom lip through the wild grin that's gone and tattooed itself to her mouth, possibly never to be removed until the match is long finished.
But she lives true to her word. With an affectionate, parting swat to Marisol's WOO, the Brazilian lunges forward from her side. She beelines into the fray with that reckless abandon of hers, her lean, tricksy body inserting itself an instant before Preston's attack. It's a suicidal way to start, but Pás has as much need for self-restraint as she does articles of clothing. Little. After all, moving fast means better timing.
Whether or not the oar has connected, the trusty Brazilian is whirling around to catch Preston's follow-up. She pushes off her feet, and catches herself by her hands, inverted in the air with her own WOO thrust out for the world to see. There she attempts to intercept Shenwoo, a magnificant aerial flip bringing her to land near his feet, where she introduces herself upside-down with a brilliant smile, a wink, a bright little, "Olá beautiful," and an elbow aimed right at the crotch.
COMBATSYS: Shenwoo endures Pas' Eshu's Hat.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Shenwoo 0/-------/----===|-------\-------\0 Marisol
> ///////////////////////////// ]
|-------\-------\0 Pas
> /////////////////////// ]
|===----\-------\0 Preston
COMBATSYS: Shenwoo dodges Preston's Bunting Tosser.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Shenwoo 0/-------/----===|-------\-------\0 Marisol
> ///////////////////////////// ]
|-------\-------\0 Pas
> /////////////////////// ]
|===----\-------\0 Preston
"Stop saying that, everybody should know who you are! They know who /I/ am, anyway. When you're my age, boy, you'll realize that fame brings its own rewards!"
Takuma's easy to pick out amongst the members of the crowd -- aside from the redhead he's walking towards, there aren't any celebrities around! And, that hair, come on. It's gorgeous, especially for a fifty year-old man. Combined with the brightly colored silk hawaiian shirt and baggy khaki shorts Takuma is wearing, you can't miss him. Sakazaki sets a rickety wooden chair next to Iori's own, immediately apologizes when the cushion falls onto some poor bystander's foot (the bystander is simply amazed that Takuma's buttcushion fell on his foot), and settles into place next to his "companion".
If Takuma's mad at Iori for suggesting that the Kyokugen Dojo was not worth the trouble it'd take to wreck it, he's not showing it. Perhaps it's the tickets Iori wound up buying as an 'apology'. Who knows?! It's really a trivial matter once Yagami mentions 'that mask'. Takuma's typically warm, insanity-filled brown eyes widen in a show of perfect distress, and the Kyokugen patriarch appears SO APALLED by Yagami's suggestion that SNF attendants, seasoned veterans of Fighter Arguments, immediately scatter to the four winds, shrieking and fearing Ko'ou Ken misfires. They know what's up.
"What?! I don't know what you're talking about! Masks? I did used to own a bandanna, but those were crazier days, ho ho ho! Saishu and I were such rebels back then." Takuma settles into a chair next to Iori, and gestures towards Shenwoo with one broad, ancient finger. It is the finger of a master warrior.
"I hear that one does something interesting with his fists. This should be interesting."
Iori sits up, straightening his back with a certain menacing catlike ferality.
Then he points at his eyes, then points at Takuma, and finally mimics a mask with the ubiquitous 'finger goggles'. The message is clear: Iori doesn't stand for goblin foolery.
See, now, this is what Shenwoo signed up for. The /fight/. The only real question is whether or not the three highschoolers can present enough of a challenge to keep him entertained. After puching Preston back, Shenwoo completes a turning step to bleed off the rest of his momentum, just in time for a few things to happen: One, Marisol accidentally almost cheers him on instead of her teammate. Two, Pas is trying to elbow him in the balls. And three, Preston is heading his way like some kind of freight train, armed with that oar. Preston's charge doesn't even come close, the brawler slipping out of the way with surprising agility... Right into the Brazilian girl's almost simultaneous elbow, which hits him right in the mean bean machine. Which leaves Shenwoo staring down at her with a frown on his face.
"What the hell was /that/ supposed to be?" he wonders, twisting on one foot to swing his other out in a vicious heel kick aimed right at Pas' bare midsection, a thunderous strike which, if it lands, he follows up by lunging forward and down, bringing his left fist down in an overhand punch to drive the Capoeira fighter into the ground. "STOP BRINGING ALL THIS WEAK CRAP AND /FIGHT ME/!!!"
With his oar whistling through to hit nothing but fat air, the Brit offers a sour grunt. Up close and personal, with the plucky Pás backing him up, the berserker SHOULD have his hands full -- but clearly, it's the Brazilian who wishes that, even if she leads with the elbow. "Clearly we're not comin' hard enough," he dryly replies, a touch late and directed over Shenwoo's head to his teammate, even as that leg drives for her.
But with Marisol cheering him on, well; what can he say? "Get your fuckin' mind off his package and fuckin' HIT HIM," he roars at the half-Spaniard, one hand leaving his oar to point an accusing finger at the leader of the team. As if she nearly got his name wrong; he'll spank her rotten for that later.
It seems this is degenerating into two loud brutes accompanied by two scantily clad vixens. "And further more, wear that and I'll buy you fuckin' dinner for a month," he adds, giving his head a slight shake.
Still, is Shenwoo giving him an opening? Capitalizing on the team spirit that's fueling him, he brings the oar through again, a vicious slash delivered - short! The air quivers, the wake materializing as a potent force of chi. Well, potent against the kind of fighter he NORMALLY fights!
The uphill battle for Pacific Resistance continues, as the wave arcs out, seeking to slice into the 'woo.
Without fail, Marisol's teammates take action. They charge in, a dual attack of sorts wielded against the angry brawler caught in the middle. And further exercising his self-styled talents for all to see, he outright avoids Preston's oar and takes Pás' elbow right in the balls. And what OF the half-Spaniard girl, clad in that odd, stringy SHEN top and matching WOO bottom?
She stands there, just watching.
For once in the redhead's career in the SNF league, she seems to be less-than enthusiastic to fight. Instead, she just stands there, smoky eyes watching as the berserker punches for her Brazilian cohort. Her blush grows a bit redder. It's him--she still can't believe it! It's Shenwoo, the self-proclaimed God of Battle. He's one of her idols!
Perhaps to his misfortune.
Shaking her head once, the redhead decides her teammates will likely flounder without her help here! Preston bellows at her, causing her to turn even redder in response, before she just scoffs and tosses her head. The moment passes swiftly, and soon she clenches her hands into fists. The girl squares her shoulders before she narrows her eyes, clearly determined. "Alright, Mari," she encourages herself, pulling her lips into a thin line across her face. "You can do this! Show him your best. It's Shenwoo! Don't get sloppy!"
And, with that encouragement, Marisol suddenly tears forward, a fist intent on slamming into the side of Shenwoo's face as she follows behind Preston's attack!
...but not without a quick "S-sorry!!" and a blush thrown in, of course.
Takuma blithely ignores Iori, electing to drum his fingers on his thighs in a thoroughly impatient manner. He's paying attention to the FIGHT, you rude and accusatory jerk, and you're going to have to bring up your allegations another time! Karate Goblin, hmph!
Perhaps distressingly, Takuma fails to notice that Pás and Marisol are both wearing skimpy bikinis. He is far, far, far more concerned with what is written on them.
"Yagami, tell me what's written on those girls' outfits. I think there's a theme or something there. I thought it was 'Shampoo', earlier, but I guess I'm w-" Shenwoo's dodge has Takuma's eyes widen, and this is quite immediately replaced with a grimace at that elbow to the balls. LASTLY,
Well, Shenwoo keeps trucking! "YES! KEEP IT UP, BOY, TRUE MEN DON'T WORRY ABOUT WHAT'S BETWEEN THEIR LEGS! PUNCH HER IN THE FACE!"
COMBATSYS: Pas blocks Shenwoo's Fusen Kyaku.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Shenwoo 0/-------/---====|-------\-------\0 Marisol
> //////////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Pas
> ////////////////////// ]
|===----\-------\0 Preston
"What, damn. It's one on three. I thought it was another stupid battle of the genders ratings grab," Iori spits. He leans back in his chair, glancing from Takuma to the women. He neglects to humor the elder man because he has suspicions that everything he says is a lie.
"Like he has to. A true style teaches its practicioners to ignore such pain. Except for Geese, I hear he has some stupid Atemi Nage especially for people who try to punch him in the balls. That's why Hakyokusaken is for pansies."
As being annoying is infection, Iori bellows along with Takuma: "PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE WHEN HE'S TRYING TO HEADBUTT YOU!" We'll see who facepunches who, Takuma. Iori has physics on his side.
As her sharp elbow sinks contently into Shenwoo's little Shenwoohoo, there is only a single thought resonating inside Pás' strange little brain: She may never wash that arm ever again.
Still smiling, her eyes sharp with their playful edge, at least the Brazilian isn't so lovestruck that she forgets her own hands and feet. Rather atuned to reading movement, she demonstrates her fluency, switching arms and turning, cracking out one arm to deflect that kick. And, ever so happily upside-down, those legs of hers close for once in her life, scissoring in to catch his fist between her ankles. Even then, her quick blocks shake at their very foundation, very barely hanging on, her body forced to absorb a sheer power that could quarter her if given a sweet angle.
But is Pás concerned?
She's too busy fight-fondling Shenwoo. "Oh! I have curious to touch there! But I am happy, none worries! You are much bigger in the life. Did you know you are on the bathing towel at home? You touch my wet body all the nights. But I think I like this better."
She's also too busy talking. But there's a reason for this. Pás gratefully spots movement out her peripherals, on that instant attemping to release her block, a cracking little whoop torn from her throat: "Go Sola! Do like the Ryder motel!"
COMBATSYS: Pas assists Marisol.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Shenwoo 0/-------/---====|-------\-------\0 Marisol
> //////////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Pas
> ////////////////////// ]
|===----\-------\0 Preston
COMBATSYS: Shenwoo endures Preston's White Horses.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Shenwoo 0/-------/--=====|-------\-------\0 Marisol
> //////////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Pas
> ////////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Preston
COMBATSYS: Shenwoo interrupts Hook Punch from Marisol with Strong Punch.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////////// ]
Shenwoo 0/-------/=======|====---\-------\0 Marisol
> //////////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Pas
> ////////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Preston
What the holy hell is Pas even talking about? Shenwoo stares at her like she's grown a second head or something, his mouth slightly agape. He just... Can't parse what she's saying. "W... What?" he wonders, and then things get a bit on the troublesome side, as Pacific Resistance's teamwork comes out to play. His attention is drawn away from the crazy Brazilian as Preston's chi-based attack comes his way, the wave crashing over him... And moving him only slightly, a step and a half to one side, just enough to displace Marisol's attack.
Instead of slamming into the side of his head, Marisol's punch grazes against one tightly muscled shoulder as he reaches out to grab her by a fistful of that red hair, lunging into her to add her momentum to his own as his forehead smashes right into her face with a tremendous impact. "RAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!" the berserker bellows as he gives Marisol an old-fashioned headbutt, releasing the bikini-clad girl as he does so, to fall down or fly away or whatever she'd be doing courtesy of physics and his impossible strength. "COME ON!! Is that IT?!"
Iori puts a hand to his forehead, groaning. "I fucking told her to punch him in the face when he did that. Did I not tell her EXACTLY what to do?" He looks at Takuma for acknowledgement briefly, then turns back to the fight. "I don't know why Shenwoo hangs out with that Crimson dork. Maybe he's the top. He should be the one with the goddamn green bubble flames, that way I wouldn't have to put up with the other one. Stupid goddamn miscellaneous Ten God Treasures."
Hey, that's the running theory he got from Chizuru. Like they know all ten of those screwballs families, anyway. One had to slip through their fingers, and they turned out to be French.
In the midst of Shenwoo's latest bout of dynamic reactions, Takuma brings a bottle of water to his lips. Iori's comment about Hakyokusaken draws a sympathetic nod from Sakazaki, as well as a mumbled, half-gurgled, "And he's a legitimate move-stealer!", but it comes out as water bubbling down his chin and dribbling onto his lap... UNTIL TAKUMA WISELY CATCHES THE DRIBBLE WITH A HAND.
While cleaning himself off, Shenwoo not only /stands through/ the wave of chi energy slamming into him, but totally tanks Marisol's punch and -headbutts- her away.
"PTSCH" goes Takuma. Water sprays all over Iori, though the rapid-fire "What power?!?!" and "Sorry, sorry!" barrage that leaves the elder Sakazaki's mouths are sure to perhaps lower the impact of this tragedy. Also there's a hot girl offering Iori a towel within five seconds of the spit. Look at the way she's leaning over and that low-cut shirt! Mrowl~
"That boy... he reminds me of a young... me! Could he be my long-lost son?!"
The way this is going, Preston figures the girls are going to just let Shenwoo win -- no doubt too busy fawning over him, drooling over him. Why, it's starting to make him sick, especially as he hears Marisol APOLOGIZE for trying to hit him.
Watching what happens to her, the Brit's features slide into a smirk. Is he getting jealous? "I'm not angry," he growls to himself, sliding the oar behind his back after discharging that wave of chi.
His eyes narrow to a squint. "I'm just fuckin' disappointed."
Equally disappointed with his own actions thus far, he seeks to make up for it. With the entire team in the fray, there's no time for shouting encouragement; they must strike! "I fuckin' DARE you to just take this hit," he roars at the shorter Shenwoo as he steps up to the plate -- and brings the oar thundering down in a vicious overhead for the 'woo's face.
Hey, it's worth a try, right?
As Marisol charges, she hears the distant encouragement of her Brazilian teammate, and for a brief moment, she smiles fondly to herself. It's all she needs in the moment, to drive herself forward and push her attack as best she can! All for him! All for Shenwoo, her idol! The guy whose name is scrawled across one of their bath towels! Pás informs the God of Battle of as much, perhaps to his dismay.
Unfortunately, things do not always go as anticipated. Though Preston's chi waves crash against Shenwoo for relatively minimal results, the girl persists. ..and pays for it. He turns only slightly, her punch grazing over a handsome shoulder. Contact alone causes the girl's face to explode in a blush, her fist going limp a second later. Stammering briefly, it's enough to give the berserker leverage. Snared by her hair, his forehead crashes into hers, before she's released and sent flying back, bikini and all.
She lands on her WOO, safe and sound. And clearly stunned.
Lifting a hand, the girl's fingertips graze her forehead, eyes wide in disbelief. He hit her, and it hurt. He headbutted her like a savage brute, and it smarted considerably. Those gray eyes lift from the ground before her, slowly regarding her teammates before she looks to Shenwoo. Full lips pull into a smile.
"Pás!! Pás!!" she squeals, waving her arms toward the Brazilian girl. "He did it! He headbutted me! Did you see it! Oh my god! He's so amazing in person!!" Hopping to her feet, the redhead's features are alight with glee, a massive grin on her tanned features. This is even better than she could have EVER imagined! And she probably has, Shenwoo!
Taking note of Preston's assault, the redhead does little more than hold her ground, a hand falling to her side. With her palm facing outwards, a spark of yellow flames erupt, swirling and churning, coalescing into a sphere of yellow. Smiling big, the girl reels a hand back...and launches it in a wide arc toward Shenwoo. At least she doesn't apologize this time, Preston!
The redhead's squeals are met with a loud crest of laughter across the ring. Merrily, Pás kisses the tips of her fingers and replies Marisol's frantic wave, her SHEN bouncing a little as she mirrors her friend's hopping.
"Sola! I did see! It was a sexy! I am witness to a marriage. Há, há, my turning!"
The Brazilian girl shakes her dark hair and rubs her bare feet against the earth, her toes flexing. There's something predatorial about her recoiling, something feline in the way her shoulders roll and her eyes fix with a fierce intensity. But remember that cats like to play with their food.
Kicking up dust, she strafes forward, tangling herself back into the fray. With one eye on her teammates, and the other gunbarrelled right on Shenwoo, her quick thinking and quicker feet serve to coordinate her through the barrelling attacks. Because she likes to move fast. Really fast. There's no other way to fight. Pushing off, aerial again as she prefers it, Pás follows Shenwoo's initiation of the headbutts with one of her own, barrelling under Preston's fist and aiming right for the ribs.
COMBATSYS: Shenwoo endures Preston's Deep Strike.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////////// ]
Shenwoo 1/-----==/=======|===----\-------\0 Marisol
> /////////////////////// ]
|==-----\-------\0 Pas
> ////////////////////// ]
|=====--\-------\0 Preston
COMBATSYS: Shenwoo parries Pas' Zidane's Revenge!
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////////// ]
Shenwoo 1/----===/=======|===----\-------\0 Marisol
> /////////////////////// ]
|==-----\-------\0 Pas
> ////////////////////// ]
|=====--\-------\0 Preston
COMBATSYS: Shenwoo dodges Marisol's Rolling Star.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////////// ]
Shenwoo 1/----===/=======|====---\-------\0 Marisol
> /////////////////////// ]
|==-----\-------\0 Pas
> ////////////////////// ]
|=====--\-------\0 Preston
Is this even really a fight anymore? From the audience's reactions it's more of a comedy act than anything else, and by this point Shenwoo himself isn't even sure, given the rather surreal behaviour of the two girls. At least Preston makes sense, he's here to try to beat Shenwoo up. Of course, it won't work, because he's the freaking /God of Battle/, but points for trying. Anyway, the Brit challenges Shenwoo, appealing to the Shanghai-born brawler's incredible arrogance, so he just grins from ear to ear, a wide wolfish expression with a hint of madness. And he just /stands there/ and gets hit with the oar, the blow finally causing some actual, visible effect as his body shudders from the impact...
But he keeps on grinning ferally. "Weak," Shen taunts, and then there's the girls, and things get complicated. Pas comes in with her headbutt, trying to catch him in the ribs, but Shenwoo gets a hand in the way, catching her by the head and just brushing her aside, in a smooth, casual motion. "GET OUTTA MY WAY!!" he instructs her, before twisting out of the path of Marisol's yellow blast of chi. "You think any of this is good enough?! STOP BORING ME!!" Shen bellows furiously, and for a second time he rushes at Preston with the intent to give the other young man a thorough punching.
This time, though, it's far faster; Shenwoo's lean form blurs half out of sight, almost impossible to follow with the naked eye, his shirt and hair trailing behind him as he lunges into a rushing punch with his left fist for a second time; but not only is it faster, the attack is enormously stronger as well, a shockwave of force riding on his extended fist, enveloping his body, turning him into some kind of insane, screaming human missile. "SHYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!"
COMBATSYS: Shenwoo successfully hits Preston with Zetsu! Gekiken EX.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////////// ]
Shenwoo 0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0 Marisol
> /////////////////////// ]
|==-----\-------\0 Pas
> /////////// ]
|=======\======-\1 Preston
If they're boring Shenwoo, then let this be a reminder to Preston that he should summon forth a legendary dragon by which to entertain the berserker. It all starts to unravel for the Brit. First his challenge is answered, and the blow just about hurts his hands more than it hurts the team's opponent, the oar creaking ominously as the compact physique of the blonde simply seems to absorb the strike itself.
The girls flow forth, but they're like scantily clad water off a duck's back; the berserker puts them aside, and flows through to strike the towering brute again.
This time, he's squinting from sheer agony as his face smooshes to one side as the fist careens into his once-handsome mug, the human missile essentially bending him over and making him the third girl of Pacific Resistance.
One moment, he's standing there.
The next, he's halfway across the athletics' field, still bouncing away as the residual force of the strike simply sends Preston for a pleasant journey.
Eventually he stills, bloodied, potentially broken, and remarkably dirty. Spitting out grass, he rather gingerly pushes himself back to his feet, shaky at best. The most physically imposing member of the team was just handled like a sack of potatoes.
"Well, not going to live that done," he mumbles, one hand rubbing his face as he contemplates a return to the fray. Where's a tub of oil when he needs one, to help make him harder to hit?
Slowly, he begins walking back towards the fight. Don't mind him; he'll be back next round. Stooping to collect his oar halfway back, he squints at Shenwoo as he walks. Maybe he can see why the girls are so enamored, but...
"He's still just a punk."
COMBATSYS: Preston focuses on his next action.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////////// ]
Shenwoo 0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0 Marisol
> /////////////////////// ]
|==-----\-------\0 Pas
> /////////// ]
|=======\======-\1 Preston
Iori stands up, raising his hands in disgust as his stylish threads are covered in old-man water. He glares at Takuma for several seconds before sitting back down. The redhead starts to say something vicious that might start a completely new battle and interrupt this lovely SNF they have going, but before the words can escape his lips, a cute crewmember rushes over with a towel. Oh, to be twenty and a rockstar martial arts legend high school student fated by the gods to be the dashing antihero.
"...'scuze me," Yagami murmurs, turning away from Takuma and towards the girl. He takes the towel and dries off, engaged in some quiet conversation for a few moments. Eventually the girl giggles and runs off with a piece of paper, and Iori turns back to Takuma, shoving a pen into his jacket.
"A fan," he explains. "--oh for fuck's sake. Did I miss the kid getting snotbeaten? It's like I bought those tickets for nothing. Maybe he'll do it again, with his strong hand."
Again, Marisol's idol of the fighting circuit proves himself to be of far, far more sterner stuff than she could have ever dreamt of. Handling Preston's swift oar with little more than a taunt and a cocky smirk, Marisol can't help but stare with another look of obvious disbelief. There's so much skill there. Can she ever hope to be as amazing as the God of Battle?
Well, she can try.
Furrowing her brows, the girl lets the sphere collect, before it is ultimately hurled toward the brawler. And yet, for the majority of their assault, the girls' attacks do little. And as result? Preston suffers. The impact of Shenwoo's mighty fist against Preston is enough to draw an obvious wince of sympathy from the half-Spaniard. That had to suck. But at the same time...it was so incredibly cool.
Fortunately at this point, Marisol is coherent enough to separate fangirling from battle. That in mind, the redhead charges forward, swinging a fist toward his gut. Should it land, she follows with a reach up and grabs Shenwoo by the skull, to introduce him to her knee, before that foot shoots up and seeks to plant a straight kick straight for his chin!
With her most powerful headbutt passed over like a bad hand at a card game, even the most patient of fighters would begin to feel frustrated. But, catching herself with a one-armed vault, landing softly to her feet, Pás' spirits only soar all the higher. He is so skilled. He's going to seriously hurt all of them. She's seriously standing in the path of something lethal.
This is great.
Grinning from ear to ear, her dark eyes bright like a kid on Christmas morning, Pás stops to take a moment, folding her arms over her knees and intently touching her chin as she plays a keen front row audience to Preston getting his WOO handed to him. There's not a trace of sympathy in her face. Not a bit of concern. On the contrary, the Brazilian only looks all the more excited. When's her turn?!
Taking in the gigantic Briton's skid and the sheer agony imprinted on him, Pás fans herself a little with one hand. And she comments, with all the sincerity of someone who might not be right in the head, "I think I made a happiness in my pants."
She plongs once the elastic waist of her bikini bottoms. Then her eyes latch back on the fight at hand. Pás' cheeky grin deepens like an ingrown nail.
And she takes off, moving an instant after Marisol, mirroring the speed and intensity of her teammate's charge from the opposite direction. The half-Spaniard is first to reach Shenwoo, but the Brazilian is quick at her mark, pitching off from her feet, ricocheting then from her hands, and arrowing both dusty feet towards his other side. And catching herself swiftly, she initiates a tangly little dance, moving where Marisol is not, striking with swinging, axeing feet at whatever is free.
COMBATSYS: Marisol successfully hits Shenwoo with Chain Reaction.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////////// ]
Shenwoo 0/-------/---====|=====--\-------\0 Marisol
> ////////////////////// ]
|==-----\-------\0 Pas
> /////////// ]
|=======\======-\1 Preston
COMBATSYS: Shenwoo dodges Pas' Devil's Crossroads.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////////// ]
Shenwoo 0/-------/---====|=====--\-------\0 Marisol
> ////////////////////// ]
|==-----\-------\0 Pas
> /////////// ]
|=======\======-\1 Preston
Once again, Shenwoo bleeds off the extraneous momentum with a turning step after his Zetsu! Gekiken, noting with some satisfaction poor Preston's flight across the athletic field. Of course, if the Brit with the oar won't come to him, then the berserker will just have to... Suddenly get attacked by the girls? He can't avoid Marisol's attack in time, punched, kneed and then kicked in the chin, with enough force to send him staggering a step; somehow, though, throughout that whole combination, he manages to avoid taking any solid hits from Pas, twisting as the Brazilian attack, even though that seems to leave him all the more open for the half-Irish girl's punchy-kickyness.
But don't worry, he's not nearly done yet.
Still reeling back after the kick to his chin, Shen catches himself before he can topple over any, throwing his momentum forward, carelessly, recklessly, closing the distance between himself and the redhead again. "You call that hitting hard?!" he yells, and as he gets close enough, he swings his right fist up in a low punch to Marisol's bare gut, displaying more of that frightening speed. "ORA!!"
COMBATSYS: Marisol has saved the state of this fight.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////////// ]
Shenwoo 0/-------/---====|=====--\-------\0 Marisol
> ////////////////////// ]
|==-----\-------\0 Pas
> /////////// ]
|=======\======-\1 Preston
The closer the Brit gets, the quicker he becomes. Thus, by the time he actually STROLLS back up to the fight, he's moving at a ... fairly slow click.
Hey, he's British!
But with his return to the fray comes his typical way of giving off something akin to a speech there in the heat of the moment. Initially though, he spits out blood, wiping away excess to smear across his face. Preston is a mess thanks to the fist of Shenwoo -- but that hardly stops him.
"Since my charmin' teammates here are too fuckin' enamored with ya to fight this out properly -- and don't you worry, ladies, we'll be havin' words about this later -- then it seems I'm gonna have to step up to the crease and aim for the stands."
That's a cricket reference. And without further adieu, the Brit dashes forward with a burst of speed. "Goin' for six!" he roars, a signal for his teammates to scatter as he comes in close to the berserker with violence on his mind.
Let the girls fawn over this Shenwoo if they must. Right now, he'd just love to rattle some of the berserker's teeth -- and that is precisely what he aims to do, as his feet leave the turf for the rest of the journey at the opponent. Twisting in the air, he brings that massive oar of his about, slicing through the air with the blade held flat...
And then he sets one foot down in front of the teams' opposition, and aims to uppercut the 'woo right into the air! If that isn't a setup for the rest of the team, provided he hits...
COMBATSYS: Marisol blocks Shenwoo's Quick Punch.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////// ]
Shenwoo 0/-------/---====|======-\-------\0 Marisol
> ////////////////////// ]
|==-----\-------\0 Pas
> ////////// ]
|===----\-------\0 Preston
Look! LOOK! Marisol actually HIT Shenwoo!
There's a moment in between her threefold attack when Marisol's features falter, a look of mild disbelief haunting her eyes before she blushes. But unlike the last time, she doesn't let it affect her - and it pays off. Three solid attacks land, sending the young man staggering a bit, but hardly enough to fell the berserker. Still, the girl remains otherwise surprised she succeeded. So much so, she turns to her teammate with a huge smile.
"Pás!! Pás!! I've touched him twice now, can you believe it!?" The smile broadens considerably, gray eyes alight with delight. "It's like Christmas day!!" Despite being clad in Shenwoo matching bikinis with her Brazilian teammate. It would seem, however, Preston does not appreciate it. He speaks, and briefly the girl's attentions flicker to the side, peering at Preston with an odd look. Then they falter, her blush erupting into an all-out shade of rosy red.
"Sh-shut up, Preston!" she stammers, pointing a finger at the Briton. "J-just focus on the fight!"
And clearly he does. Shenwoo attacks, and a swift hand intercepts the fist. Though she's so close to the oh-so awesome Shenwoo, Marisol does not hesitate to close in, if only to help her teammate. The half-Spaniard makes her move, as she lashes a fist out, aimed to punch the man in the head - before moving just out of the way to avoid the blade of Preston's oar!
"Psiiiiu, Sola!" cracks up a darker, slinkier voice from across the ring. The Brazilian, undeterred by her failed attacks, lingers nearby, walking on her hands and giving it all to the whooping crowd. She seems to have little problem showing off her WOO.
Picking herself to a one-handed stand, the other hand wags its finger towards Pacific Resistance's fearless leader. Pás is stern enough to remind, "Now have remembering of the dare?! The one I had said? You must do it! Or else..." she pauses, her voice heavy with added effect, "...we are not the sisters."
Either way, she ends up grinning. There's not a single thing in life she comes close to taking seriously. Even this fight is no more than a dance to her, the danger behind it only encouraging her willful playfulness, as she eagerly throws herself back into the fray.
As Preston lunges in with that oar Pás knows all too well, she slides, going low. Ever so unconcerned, she even goes as far as to whistle at Shenwoo's turned back, especially when she sees Marisol entering the equation. She wants his attention off that incoming fist and straight back on her.
She spins off the heels of her hands and pushes off her powerful arms, enconscing that happy whistle with a drop-kick at his spine.
COMBATSYS: Shenwoo dodges Preston's Man Overboard!.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////// ]
Shenwoo 0/-------/---====|======-\-------\0 Marisol
> /////////////////////// ]
|==-----\-------\0 Pas
> ////////// ]
|===----\-------\0 Preston
COMBATSYS: Shenwoo dodges Marisol's Medium Punch.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////// ]
Shenwoo 0/-------/---====|======-\-------\0 Marisol
> /////////////////////// ]
|==-----\-------\0 Pas
> ////////// ]
|===----\-------\0 Preston
COMBATSYS: Shenwoo fails to interrupt Strong Kick from Pas with Strong Punch.
- Power fail! -
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////// ]
Shenwoo 0/-------/--=====|======-\-------\0 Marisol
> /////////////////////// ]
|===----\-------\0 Pas
> ////////// ]
|===----\-------\0 Preston
Suddenly, Shenwoo has to deal with ALL THREE opponents attacking him at the same time; this is potentially not a good situation for him, but it's not like he's about to complain. It should keep things interesting, right? Marisol's punch, however, meets nothing but air as the God of Battle slips back out of the way, a motion which he continues as Preston tries to bat him into the sky with his oar, the broad flat of the blade missing him by a hairsbreadth. "TOO SLOW!!" the berserker bellows, possibly mad laughter in his voice... And then he realises that the third fighter is coming up behind him.
Shen twists around as Pas comes flying towards him like that, swinging his fist down in what could be a very mighty punch indeed... Had he not misjudged the speed and power of the Brazilian's attack. Instead, his fist swings through the air harmlessly as the kick hits him in the gut, sending him staggering back. And for a moment, a bare moment, a look of surprise crosses the brawler's face. "Ohh?" he says, as he recovers, dark eyes hooding, broad mouth pulled back into that feral grin. "Maybe you guys aren't total crap after all. C'mon!! MAKE THIS FUN FOR ME!"
His most potent strike, cast aside to cause the air immense pain; man this guy pisses Preston off. The Brit grinds his teeth, blissfully inaudible in the harsh clamor of the group battle. He's starting to see red, and it isn't a shade he enjoys. With the oar still up in the air though, he rounds on Marisol.
And aims to grab her by the neck, and hoist her off her feet momentarily. "Listen, luv; don't you fuckin' tell me to shut the fuck up, when you two are too busy gettin' fuckin' moist over this little fight of yours! Wearing a fuckin' bikini like that for the entire world to see? I'd expect that out of fuckin' Pás, but you're fuckin' disappointin' me."
Think of it as a motivational talk. Clearly, the Brit doesn't like the attitude either girl has brought to the FIGHT, and it shows by the way he glares at Marisol as he's never glared at her before.
With a disgusted sound from deep in his throat, he'll release the captive Marisol if indeed he managed to catch her -- and takes several steps back. "Y'know what? Go right ahead, 'woo. Kick their asses." He's just gonna stand back and squint.
COMBATSYS: Preston gains composure.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////// ]
Shenwoo 0/-------/--=====|======-\-------\0 Marisol
> /////////////////////// ]
|===----\-------\0 Pas
> ////////////// ]
|=------\-------\0 Preston
With the encouragement of her Brazilian teammate, Marisol's grin grows all the wider, gray eyes wide with delight. If there's one thing the redhead envies about Pás, it's her ability to keep her calm, even when the odds seem relatively against them. Such as her failure at landing a solid blow against the brawler. At least for now.
The smile falters as the Brazilian capoerista reminds her of the dare the two made, a pact unknown to the other fighters present. Blinking slowly, the redhead offers a pout, eyes widening as broad as saucers as a furious blush consumes her face. "Oh n-no. C-come on Pás, you can't be serious!!" Hands lift, curling into tiny fists at her chest as she stomps a foot lightly. "Th-that's so cold!" Their friendship is on the line, all for a dare?
With this fresh on her mind, Marisol moves in, her punch cutting through empty air as the brawler outright avoids the attack. In fact, he shows a bit of skill, avoiding both the half-Spaniard and the Brit's oar, though fate would have it in for him. Pás is notorious for confusing her opponents, and it becomes clear her attack does precisely that.
"D-damn it," she hisses to herself, still mulling over what her Brazilian cohort has said. And yet, just when she's about to make a move at the berserker again, she's suddenly dangling from the air. By her neck. In Preston's hand.
For a long moment the girl just glares as he rants at her, smoky depths clearly agitated as he talks down to her. Disappointed, he says? "W-what's your p-problem, Preston??" she manages, long fingers prying at his hand before he eventually releases her. Landing with a muted thud of bare feet on the turf, the redhead still glares at her teammate. "Don't be such a tight ass!" she snaps, frowning sharply. "Besides, it was a dare! Ass!"
Pivoting on her heel, the girl offers the brawler a glare. Serious now, she charges forward, leaping toward him. It's an attempt to snare the berserker by his throat, as the other hand swings forward, her palm's heel aimed for his stomach. And, should it land, a burst of yellowy chi will explode, to send the man flying back.
Good things come to those that wait, or something along those lines. It's not that Pás is an especially patient person, instead that she could truly care less. She would have enjoyed the fight just as well without one serious blow dealt -- the sensation of her feet cracking something solid is nothing more than a perk.
And she celebrates it with a scissory grin and a sharp, boisterous laugh, catching herself with one arm, then the top of her head, rolling flexibly back to the balls of her feet.
And there she coils like a slinky, biting down on her lip, her eyes already bright with strategy and her reflexes on edge, waiting for the moment when her teammates -- start turning on each other.
"Puta que te pariu," Pás sighs into her facepalm. And, as soon as he frees Marisol, in the midst of battle, she slips two fingers into her mouth and aims a sharp whistle Preston's way. What he's doing is not cool.
"Oi!" The Brazilian snaps fingers. "Merda, you limeys are always such angry. Light up, British! Take your tea without the piss."
Then, as it seems her own teammate is wont to step back on the fight, Pás dismisses him easily with a flipped palm, before she engages the battle once more, quick to move before her leader has struck out. There, Pás launches forward, turning her trajectory, her hope to try to intercept Shenwoo if Marisol's attack hits home. She has faith it will.
And there, out of the blast of yellow chi emerges the Brazilian, going up on her hands and trying to catch the God of Battle by the neck with her knotting heels. She seeks to add a second blast of chi, this one a detonation of hot sparks.
COMBATSYS: Shenwoo parries Marisol's Moon Sling!
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////// ]
Shenwoo 0/-------/-======|======-\-------\0 Marisol
> ///////////////////// ]
|===----\-------\0 Pas
> ////////////// ]
|=------\-------\0 Preston
COMBATSYS: Pas successfully hits Shenwoo with Sanduich de Calabresa.
[ \\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////// ]
Shenwoo 0/-------/=======|======-\-------\0 Marisol
> ///////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Pas
> ////////////// ]
|=------\-------\0 Preston
What... Preston's not going to attack him again? Shenwoo's almost disappointed! The infighting amongst his opponents has precious little to do with Shen, though, so he largely ignores it, waiting to see just what the remaining two Pacific Resistance members are going to do. Marisol charges at him, trying to grab him by the throat, and casually, almost lazily, the berserker bats her aside, letting her momentum carry her away on a slightly altered path that prevents her from doing... Whatever she was going to do there. The problem, however, is the trisky Brazilian, who catches him by surprise with her handstand attack, hitting him in the neck with those sparks of chi. He grunts as he gets hit staggering back. What to do?
What to do.
Turning towards Preston, Shenwoo shakes his head a little. "Like I'm gonna let you just sit there? THIS IS A FIGHT," he bellows, rushing directly at Preston at top speed, clasping his hands together. "SO DON'T JUST LAY AROUND LIKE A COWARD, /FIGHT ME/!!" His clasped-together hands raise up over his head as he gets closer to the Briton, before swinging down in a vicious, mighty arc, aimed to smash into Preston's head. "ORA!!" And then if that hits, he swings them right back up, a second strike designed to send the oarsman reeling. "ORA!!!"
COMBATSYS: Preston blocks Shenwoo's Kouryuu-Geki EX.
[ \\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////// ]
Shenwoo 0/-------/=======|======-\-------\0 Marisol
> ///////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Pas
> /////////// ]
|===----\-------\0 Preston
Watching Marisol head back into the thick of battle, the Brit continues to grind his teeth. Just why IS he being so uptight about this? It's not like he isn't admiring the view. It must be the fact that both girls are idolizing this Shenwoo character with such fervor; he doesn't like it, such blind love. But with the delightful Pás whistling his attention over, he simply directs that squint of his right at her before she, too, heads into the thick of things.
"What did you say about my mother?"
Cursing in other languages doesn't work so well for Preston himself though -- he does fine enough with English. And a curse is let fly as Shenwoo turns attention in his direction; he's driven back by the double axe-handle strike, cushioned by his muscled forearms, bare feet sliding a set of tracks in the turf.
He leaps back, out of the path of the second strike, feet touching down for just a moment. "Look, sunshine. It's those two who want your touch, why don't you give it to them?" The Brit raises his voice. "You hear that, Mari! Your would-be boyfriend here wants to touch you!"
Holding the oar before him, he remains on the defensive, attempting to rile his teammate up -- to stoke her proverbial fires! "So touch him first!"
COMBATSYS: Preston assists Marisol.
[ \\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////// ]
Shenwoo 0/-------/=======|======-\-------\0 Marisol
> ///////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Pas
> /////////// ]
|===----\-------\0 Preston
For all the effort put forth, it would seem that - yet again - the wily boxer the half-Spaniard oh-so idolizes is faster. Briefly her features twist into a look of surprise, smoky eyes quickly snapping toward the berserker. But an eruption of hot sparks bursts to life, and soon her teammate has landed a solid blow. The redhead's face is suddenly aglow with enthusiasm.
"Good job, Pás!" she exclaims...before her features falter, her eyes hooding. Turning her head, she glares at the burly Briton from over a bare shoulder, lips pulling into a thin line across her sunkissed features. Furrowing her brows, she just stares at the young man. What is he babbling about?
There's an odd silence about Marisol as she simply stands there, glaring at the imposing British youth. Then her face erupts in red, as she sucks her bottom lip in and gnaws on it. Her anger is rising, but it's fueled only by her sheer embarrassment. Is he telling her to go and grab her idol?
"FINE THEN!!" she yells, hands pulling into tightly-bound fists.
With a loud yell, the redhead charges forward, only pausing halfway to leap up and at him with a kick aimed for his stomach.
"I'LL SHOW YOU BOTH!!"
Popped up out of nowhere, like a zit the night before prom, Pás is suddenly at Preston's side. She leans in to give her gigantic teammate an affectionate bump to the ribs with her elbow, her lids droopy and her mouth smiling ever so sleepily. It's probably her way to help improve his mood.
But there the Brazilian lingers, stepping forward only so that she can lean on the Briton's outstretched oar, apparently taking her own small respite from the fight at hand. To do what? To join in on cheering her leader forward.
"HA HAAA, SOLA!" Pás whoops after the charging redhead. "YOU GO DO IT! THE DARE IS DOUBLE DOG!"
COMBATSYS: Pas assists Marisol.
[ \\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////// ]
Shenwoo 0/-------/=======|======-\-------\0 Marisol
> ///////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Pas
> /////////// ]
|===----\-------\0 Preston
COMBATSYS: Shenwoo dodges Marisol's Red Clover.
[ \\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////// ]
Shenwoo 0/-------/=======|======-\-------\0 Marisol
> ///////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Pas
> /////////// ]
|===----\-------\0 Preston
...But Marisol's leaping kick doesn't hit anything, as Shenwoo moves with that surprising speed of his to avoid the redhead's foot, letting her pass by him harmlessly, and presumably landing on the ground of the sports field again. "What, is that all you guys have got?" the tall blond man wonders in disappointed tones, backing up to put all three Pacific Resistance members in front of him. His stance relaxes, right hand resting at the waist of his leather pants, while his left hand rises up in front of him.
"C'mon, you chumps," Shenwoo says, using his upraised hand to make a 'bring it' gesture at the three highschoolers. "Show me what you really got! Or are you all scared?!" Perhaps he's just taunting them, just talking trash in order to further aggravate the trio, or maybe he legitimately doesn't think they've been giving it their all. Either way, he's waiting for them to come at him. Perhaps he has some clever plan?!
COMBATSYS: Shenwoo gains composure.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////// ]
Shenwoo 0/-------/-======|======-\-------\0 Marisol
> ///////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Pas
> /////////// ]
|===----\-------\0 Preston
Exchanging glares with Marisol, it seems the Briton is angry for reasons all his own. He certainly doesn't mind the outfits, he made that clear from the get-go. So what's eating him? Whatever it is, the plucky Pás attempts to knock it away with an elbow to the ribs, and he glances down at her for a moment.
Then he gives a sour grunt.
With Marisol taking the lead, it seems a break in the flow of battle, as even the great 'woo takes a step back to mock the team. "Well, we can't have that, eh, biscate?" he says down at Pás, a smirk playing his features as he borrows from her language momentarily. He winks at her; no harm meant. She worked like a charm.
"Alright, let's do this, ladies!" he roars, stepping forward into a leap. Up high he goes, only to come slamming down with the oar held to be buried -- and down it goes, into the turf underfoot. The ground rumbles ominously, and with a massive roar he TEARS it upwards.
"RAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!"
Grass and dirt flies as a wave of sheer earth starts, a crack running the fields towards the resting 'woo. Groundskeeper Waldo will be most upset, if anyone can find him, but for the moment the Brit is tearing up the field in an attempt to force the berserker back -- into position for a follow-up, if either of his teammates is ready!
Clumps of dirt and grass fill the air as the wave slams towards Shenwoo, and through the rain of it Preston stands, oar outstretched high in front of him, that smirk playing his bloodied features.
And though she tries, her kick flies through empty air. Inside, Marisol is sad.
Tucking her leg, she lands, rolling a turn before she hops up and gains her footing. As soon as her balance is sure, the half-Spaniard girl narrows smoky grays, pivoting on her heel to face the Shanghai brawler. Though she may idolize him, and though she may wear a bikini with her cohort with his name written annoyingly on the front and back...this fight is growing increasingly frustrating. The girl grits her teeth, hands curled into painful fists.
She breathes, and in an instant, she seems cheerful again. Composed, even!
"Oh, no," she assures the brawler. "This is nothing." Jutting a hip to one side, long arms crook, hands resting on her curves as she shoots the berserker a cocky smile. "In fact, this has been pretty much a warm up." Lifting her hand, she juts a thumb toward the Brazilian and the Briton nearby. "I'm sure they'd agree, too!"
Her grin turns sly, gray eyes narrowed sharply as she peers at the other boxer. Rather suddenly the ground erupts with energy, lively dandelion-yellow flames dancing and licking around and about her feet and bare legs as she stands there. Body tense and eyes focused on the boxer, she doesn't let him out of her sights. Not yet, at least. The others handle that well enough, what with the angry Brit's roar and tearing up of turf and all.
"SEE?! We're all just getting started, Shenwoo!!"
COMBATSYS: Marisol gathers her will.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////// ]
Shenwoo 0/-------/-======|=======\==-----\1 Marisol
> ///////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Pas
> ///////// ]
|===----\-------\0 Preston
Surprise brightens her face as Preston ever so cunningly uses her mother tongue. And where what he'd say would offend most, it simply makes Pás all the more delighted, a sharp, genuine laugh barking free from her.
She also comments idly, adding into Marisol and Shenwoo's exchange. "Há, Sola is correct. I would have the boreds. But I am too busy seeing him naked inside my head."
Pás nods sagely at this. She glances at Shenwoo once more. Her eyes lid in approval. Proceed.
As Preston takes off, so does she, the Brazilian pumping forward into a sudden, fierce sprint. In mid-stride, she lets out a sharp whistle and a happy little, "Sola!" an all-too-familiar warning that happens an instant before a quick hand tightens down on Marisol's shoulder. And with that acrobatic prowess, Pás vaults her own teammate, pistioning into the air and going streamline, in all her reckless attempt not to get caught up in Preston's attack.
In the midst of it, she hits the ground, ricocheting off one foot and going side-long, momentarily horizontal as one hooking leg tries to catch Shenwoo across the face.
COMBATSYS: Preston successfully hits Shenwoo with Devil Seam.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////// ]
Shenwoo 0/-------/=======|=======\==-----\1 Marisol
> ////////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Pas
> ///////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Preston
COMBATSYS: Shenwoo endures Pas' Change-Up Kick.
[ \\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////// ]
Shenwoo 1/-------/=======|=======\==-----\1 Marisol
> ////////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Pas
> ///////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Preston
It seems like things aren't going so well for Shenwoo, right now. Though he tries to get out of the way of Preston's strange attack, he can't quite manage it, and instead the force of the blow knocks him back, staggering him. This leaves him with little opportunity to get out of the way of the other attack coming his way, and instead he stands his ground as Pas' foot slams into his head, knocking him slightly to the side. He stumbles a step, twisting to change his momentum, and suddenly he's rushing forward. Not at either of those who attacked him though, oh no.
He's headed right for Marisol.
Barrelling towards the redhead like a freight train, Shenwoo pulls his left fist back, and it's probably clear what he's planning on doing with it. The rush turns into a sudden lunge across the ground, as he twists to throw his left fist forward now, picking up speed until he starts to blur, incredibly difficult to follow with the unaided eye, a shockwave of pure force pushed forward by his fist, enveloping his body. Uh oh! "SHYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!"
With such a heavy exertion, and the pain he's encounter so far, the Brit is likely running on his last legs. That doesn't stop him though; he keeps pushing it to the limit. Bringing his own weapon, he charges after Shenwoo even as that wave of dirt makes its impact.
Watching the team capitalize is most pleasing. "Nice," he calls to Pás as she hits pay-dirt, noting the little talent of Marisol coming out -- and their opponent heading for the leader!
But with the 'woo becoming a blur of motion, it becomes incredibly difficult to actually tell WHERE to hit. "I've only done this once before," he says to himself, as his eyes slip shut as he nears. If he can't see Shenwoo... then he'll just swing in the widest arc he possibly can!
"Mari, back!" he roars as he puts aside his usual grace for the sheer concept of ending this fight. The oar whistles through the air, held over the Brit's head, circling like a would-be rotor as he angles it down for Shenwoo's slighter height. Once, twice, thrice does he swing, height alternating on each massive follow-through in his effort to dispatch the idol of his teammates.
COMBATSYS: Shenwoo successfully hits Marisol with Zetsu! Gekiken.
[ \\\\\\\\ < > ////////// ]
Shenwoo 0/-------/-------|>>>>>>>\>>>>>>>\2 Marisol
> ////////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Pas
> //////// ]
|===----\-------\0 Preston
[ \\\\\\\\ < > ////////// ]
Shenwoo 0/-------/-------|>>>>>>>\>>>>>>>\2 Marisol
> ////////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Pas
> //////// ]
|===----\-------\0 Preston
While the Brazilian and Briton speak amongst themselves, the redhead seems more than focused on the fighter her team is pitted against. Sure, she is a huge fan of the berserker and his SNF exploits, and his reputation is deserved. But this fight is becoming quite a pain in the WOO. Standing there, the girl becomes a sitting duck of sorts, slinging insults--if one can call them such--at the boxer. At least it encourages her teammates to act, where Marisol does not.
Her grin becomes all the broader as she holds her ground, expression confident as she smirks at the berserker. When the Brazilian girl calls to the redhead, she simply nods her head and squares her shoulders. "Por la victoria, Pás!!" she cries, crouching. It gives the capoerista leverage, to leap from her shoulders at the brawler. Launched, her kick strikes true, as Preston's earth-rending attack plows into the boxer. She smiles broadly, her confidence knowing no bounds!
...But the smile on her face drops completely as Shenwoo fixes his attention on her.
In fact, she blushes profusely. And she doesn't move. She just lets Shenwoo punch the ever-loving hell out of her, as he screams forward like a bat out of hell. The corners of her lips twitch slightly, the makings of a smirk daring to cross her face. Then?
Crack. The girl is sent flying back. But when all seems lost...she twists her body and lands, skidding a foot in a three-point stance. Her smile is still there, even as she turns her head and spits blood. "Ha ha ha..."
She rises, the back of her hand wiping across her mouth. The laughter doesn't subside. It just grows and grows, until she just laughs in delight.
"That...that was awesome!! DO IT AGAIN!!"
Regardless of Preston's warnings, Marisol doesn't listen. She charges in swiftly behind the youth, as he lifts the oar up and brings it down, toward the brawler. She slides in, fists glowing with yellow fire, as she swings a hook toward the man's face...
And, out of nowhere, the grinning Brazilian brings up the last point of this painful triad. There's something very bright, very dangerous about her flared eyes. She is loving every moment of this.
Moving fluidly, flipping off her feet and arcing through the air, Pás whirls with her natural showmanship, curling at the last moment and catching herself by her forearms braced against the earth. She takes the low ground this time, weaving in through her teammates' attacks, beelining headlong toward Shenwoo.
Coiling powerful muscles in her legs, bracing with her spine, she twists and attempts to plant a hard, heavy, double-footed snap kick straight at the kidneys.
COMBATSYS: Shenwoo dodges Pas' Colossal Kick.
[ \\\\\\\\ < > ///////// ]
Shenwoo 0/-------/-------|====---\-------\0 Marisol
> ////////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Pas
> //////// ]
|===----\-------\0 Preston
COMBATSYS: Preston successfully hits Shenwoo with Queen's Regulations.
[ \\\\\ < > ///////// ]
Shenwoo 0/-------/------=|====---\-------\0 Marisol
> ////////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Pas
> //////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Preston
COMBATSYS: Shenwoo endures Marisol's Cloud Nine.
[ < > ///////// ]
Shenwoo 0/-------/---====|====---\-------\0 Marisol
> ////////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Pas
> //////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Preston
For some reason, Shenwoo is crazy. But he's crazy in a manner that Marisol can appreciate, and does! She adores it, in fact, because Shenwoo is just that awesome. She's one of his biggest fans!! Her Brazilian teammate is the other.
In any case, three hooks laced with chi strike the berserker's face, one after the other without fail, before the redhead briefly crouches and delivers a swift uppercut. While briefly jarred or some semblance thereof, a long, tanned arm reaches out, snaring the boxer by his collar with a wide, wolfish grin. "Hey," she offers with a broad smirk. "I can do headbutts too."
And she shows him, accentuating her point with a harsh headbutt, her forehead crashing into his. To seal the deal, the half-Spaniard girl swings a mighty fist upwards, knuckles kissing his jaw, to send him staggering back, right into Preston's attack. Yeah. Teamwork!
And she totally got face to face with Shenwoo. She's blushing again.
In a way, you've really got to admire the three members of Pacific Resistance. Though they didn't really start out doing too great, they've really maanged to wear Shenwoo down; he's probably not made the best tactical decisions he could during the fight, but he doesn't care about that. He doesn't even really care that he's lost, because you know what? He's had fun. The girls are weird and confusing and he's not sure why they're wearing bikinis with his name on them, and he can't understand a word that comes out of Pas' mouth, but they've done a good job. And Preston has shown he can take a lot more punishment than the berserker was expecting.
But when the three of them come in one last time, it's all Shen can do to try and deal with their attacks. Pas' kicks don't get any real bite, but moving out of their way leads the beserker right into Preston's oar, which strikes him solidly thrice, and then to top it all off, Marisol is coming in... And he just stands his ground against the full assault, the blows rocking his body, but he doesn't fly back that far. And when he does? He's got ahold of something.
It's Preston's oar.
"Ha ha ha ha!!" laughs Shenwoo, completely insensible by now. "HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!" he continues, not even saying anything else as he swings the oar in a huge, vicious arc, using the length of the oar to smash into all three of them in turn. "HAAAAAAAAAAAAAA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!"
But whatever the result is, he eventually just drops the oar, and is left unable to continue fighting... But he's not unconscious, alas!
COMBATSYS: Shenwoo can no longer fight.
> ///////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Marisol
> ////////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Pas
> //////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Preston
COMBATSYS: Shenwoo successfully hits Preston with Random Weapon.
> ///////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Marisol
> ////////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Pas
> ]
|=======\===----\1 Preston
Yes, Preston somehow loses control of his oar, the strength of the berserker simply too much compared to the taller Briton. And what follows is rather glorious painful, as the first one battered by his own weapon -- he is sent flying out of the circle, feeling for once precisely the pain he normally inflicts on others.
Landing on his feet though, he slides backwards... and then dips down into a three-point stance. To judge by the red brand of an oar mark across his chest, that rather hurt. "Huh, what a violent little bastard," he grumbles, opting to remain where he is for now.
Looks like this is over. At least he's still conscious, despite the battering he's taken.
COMBATSYS: Pas auto-guards Shenwoo's Random Weapon!
> ///////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Marisol
> /////////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Pas
> ]
|=======\===----\1 Preston
COMBATSYS: Marisol interrupts Random Weapon from Shenwoo with Jab Punch.
> /////////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Pas
> ]
|=======\===----\1 Preston
COMBATSYS: Marisol can no longer fight.
> /////////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Pas
> ]
|=======\===----\1 Preston
Oh crap. This can't bode well.
Team Pacific Resistance has done well against a man who is likely years above them, talent-wise. And what's better, they've succeeded. Marisol couldn't be happier - especially because it's THE Shenwoo. His name is scrawled in sequins across her bikini top and bottoms with her Brazilian cohort. She couldn't be happier, and isn't; the smile on Marisol's tanned features does not falter, even as Shenwoo takes her attack like a MAN.
"He is SO awesome," she murmurs dreamily, looking toward the Brazilian girl with a massive smile.
The oar strikes, but...Shenwoo doesn't let it go. In fact, he swings it fiercely, to strike all three members of Pacific High's na'er do wells. Preston is struck, and it earns him a wince of sympathy from the girl. And what of Pás? She seems to handle the oar easily. But...what of Marisol?
"Pás!!" she calls, looking toward the girl as the oar cuts toward her. Her smile is positively impish, teeth flashing as she gives the other girl a knowing look. "All bets are still on, right?" she inquires, just as the oar clips harshly against her. It's enough to wind the girl briefly, but she suddenly moves in toward the berserker. But not in his face.
No, Marisol weaves AROUND him, a hand raise high. Then it descends.
Right for his ass.
HONK.
"Woohoo!" she calls, before she simply staggers back and puts a hand to her wounded side. Oh god, that'll sting in the morning. But it was worth it.
However aborted her previous attack was, it sets Pás up in the most delicious of positions. Some women do best on their feet. Others best on their backs. This one seems to prefer life while upside-down.
Inverted, balanced on her hands, the tricky little Brazilian seems to be the last to receive the swing of the oar. Her grin fierce and unrelenting, she tenses her legs and snaps them around, both stopping the attack and trying to stop the weapon flat between her knotted ankles. Then, her spine moving in an angle that just ain't natural, she bends her hips forward and pulls her legs down, to slam the blade of the oar home to the earth.
Then, fluid as water, the inverted girl flips herself right-side-up, stretching up to her full height and leaning in close, half-propped up by the handle of the beached weapon.
It's just about that time that Marisol drives it home, and Shenwoo gets it straight in the WOO. Without looking at her teammate, the Brazilian lowly replies, "Há, Sola. Sim."
From the front, Pás is leering in a little too close, breaking laws of personal space and so much more. Her dark eyes seem to smile as much as her mouth. "Obrigada," she tells Shenwoo very sincerely. "We are very satisfied! And we did not fake it once!"
And then she just tries to kiss him.
Once he's done hitting the highschoolers - with varying degrees of success - Shenwoo lets go of the oar, which is still in one piece. At least now Preston knows how everybody ELSE feels, huh?! In fact, he almost doesn't notice that he got his /ass grabbed/ in the process, staggering and falling to his knees as the last of the fight goes right out of him, casting an indignant look at Marisol. HOW DARE SHE!! But he has other problems to consider, as rather abruptly the weirdo Brazilian is talking gibberish at him again. Shenwoo gives her a 'what the hell are you even talking about' look, before anything he might say about it is forestalled, and he gets kissed by some weirdo.
It should be noted that, in his entire life, this is the second time Shen has ever been kissed. Both times, he's been taken advantage of, and both times it was by someone who was really strange. But at least it was a girl this time.
"Wh-wh-what the hell?!" Shen demands, pulling back from Pas and falling right on his duff, scrabbling back until he's seated on the ground some feet away, his hands reaching back to hold him up. "WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU TWO, THIS WAS A /FIGHT/!!" And he lost. And got molested. Strangely, he's taking the latter a lot harder than the former.
Oh, and now it's gone all overboard. With Takuma off trying to figure out the intricacies of a cell phone, Iori is left to watch the climax of the fight by himself. At least he's dry now.
As the referees call the fight and the SNF crew starts to do their ending-the-show gig, the more stoic of the two redheads present stands, shoves his hands into his pockets, and steps into the ring. The pleasure is past, and now it's time for business. To be specific, business regarding Shenwoo's mysterious girlyman associate. My god, and they say Iori is toeing the line.
"Hey, 'God of Battle'. You spent already? Stop worrying about getting your ass beat and tell me where Blondie is hiding out at. I've got some things to talk to him about."
Usually people are only assuming the worst when Iori uses innuendo. In this case, however, it is entirely accurate to think that 'talk to' means 'murder'. Because honestly, the guy's got it coming to him.
Right on cue, as if summoned by mysterious powers of origins unknown, his timing is incredible. It's the glorious, the wonderful, the -- Okay, so he's here, but for what purpose? There's no rhyme or even reason to it, since if Ash Crimson was really interested in spectating Shen's match, the flamboyant weirdo would've shown up back when it /started/, but the flamewielder has nevertheless decided to make his entrance now, and that's all that matters. He's wearing that goddamn sarong again too, with a matching shirt and bandana. Imagine if he's mistaken for Shen's date again, or worse, his girlfriend...
The crowd remaining parts with a wary eye as he politely requests to make his way through, and so the oddball Frenchman waltzes straight out onto the athletics field, as casually as you please, right over towards Shenwoo, and Iori, who stands there over him, glaring like his roommate was some sort of exhibit at the zoo. "With all this celebration, I suppose it means the fight is already over." He observes mildly, and rightly so, glancing around half-heartedly at the packings up of SNF before stepping right in past the other individual and offering the brawler a hand to his feet. "Care to go for some ice cream?" Ash wonders, gesturing blithely, and the only reason why he didn't go on his own was because... Crimson? Spend his own money? Perish the thought, he totally expects his punch-happy friend to foot the bill in full. "Oh, je t'aime..." He then purrs, with a sidelong glance towards Iori in the first real acknowledgement since arriving, who like Ash himself probably hasn't forgotten the incident in the mall, or the happenings last winter, "You're so popular. Even Iori Yagami's here." But from the way he talks, it's almost as if the red-head wasn't standing just a few feet away, probably itching to murder him. Ash is incorrigible. "Those are some interesting bikinis," He adds, head turning towards the two highschool girls. "Ahaha, they have your name on them."
Ahh, there we go. Iori is a welcome distraction from crazy schoolgirls, and Shenwoo turns his head to look in the direction of the Yagami scion as he enters the ring and speaks up in that cheery voice of his. The expression the brawler directs at Iori is surprisingly mild, but then he just got his fight on! And it took three of the kids to really push him, but they did, and he's satisfied. Even if they were weirdos. "Blondie?" he repeats, and for a moment he has to think about it. He knows a lot of blond people... But if Iori's asking him, that can only mean one thing. "Oh, Ash?" See? Shenwoo's smart, he figures stuff out!
"He's right there," says Shen, lifting a hand to point at the approaching Frenchman, who is - as is his wont - dressed like a freak and acting like one too. But since Ash is pretty well ignoring Iori's presence except to mention it, the berserker doesn't seem all that concerned about it either. Instead, he accepts the offered hand up, getting his footing and cracking his neck a bit. "Why the hell are you wearing a skirt /again/?!" he wonders shortly thereafter, still not having gotten the hang of being unfazed by his (only) friend's eccentricities. "And I guess that means I'm paying, right?" He sounds so grumpy about being privileged enough to buy Ash ice cream!
If only we knew.
Iori jerks backwards slightly when Ash steps into his field of vision. Not because he's surprised at his presence; the tall fighter was counting on him to show up. His choice of attire, however, is enough to put a stop order on Iori's thought processes for a good few seconds.
Looking over his shoulders, Yagami scopes out the area. The SNF crew has, for the most part, stopped its activities in anticipation. One industrious young fellow has even taken it upon himself to start a camera rolling again. And then there's the Pacific High Bikini Team with guest star Guy Who Reminds Iori Of Billy. Really, it's not a suitable place for a fight at all.
"...look, man," Iori says lowly, tilting his head downwards. "Let's get this over with sooner rather than later. You know where to find me." Oh, how cryptic. Unfortunately, that's all he can let slide for now, what with Chizuru having to factor into the equation later. He can lay low until then.
And then, much to the disappointment of the SNF crewmember who was up until now thinking he was going to get a raise for some kickin' rad shots of Iori fighting Ash, the redhead moves to collect his chair and get the hell out of Dodge.
"It's not a /skirt/." Ash reminds Shenwoo with a considering frown, then actually bothers his ass to look at Iori properly with an expression of pleasant confusion. Get what over with? Really, he has no idea, or at least projects such, so instead, the Frenchman shrugs helplessly, and with Grouchy McOrochi heading off to wherever he came from, Ash turns back to Shenwoo. "Ah, you know me so well, je t'aime." He catches on quick sometimes, Shenwoo does. Sometimes. Hooking his arm around one belonging to the brawler, Ash starts to tug his friend in their intended direction. Interestingly enough, it's the end opposite of Iori's own departure, by what must be sheer coincidence. "They have all sorts of flavours... Chocolate mint, strawberry... Maybe I'll pick up some torte on the way home." Noticing something, perhaps for the first time, he presses the tip of his long index finger to his mouth, and 'hmmms' musically. It's actually kinda annoying, too. "Is that lipstick?" Ash then asks, quite bluntly, peering the short distance up at his roommate with a smile cuuuuuuurling his mouth. One of the utmost devious variety. "I never knew you had a lolita complex, ahaha! C'est la vie!"
...And so Shenwoo gets dragged along by Ash, because after the fight he doesn't really have it in him to pull back. Besides, he could use some ice cream right now, he's been toyed with and violated! Naturally, the Frenchman's retort about the skirt/sarong disagreement is brushed off entirely. He still thinks it looks like a skirt! Besides that, Shen has bigger fish to fry as Ash notices something on his mouth. "WHAT?!" he says in alarm, rubbing the his mouth furiously with the back of one leather-gloved hand. He does not have a lolita complex! Grumbling, though, Shenwoo eventually drops his hand back to his side. "Ghh... You can get whatever stupid flavour you want, /I'm/ getting strawberry," Shen says. "I like strawberry." Any other flavour of ice cream isn't suitable for pigs!
Log created on 23:08:13 07/28/2007 by Preston, and last modified on 06:24:53 07/31/2007.