Description: His painstakingly-crafted undercover work finally netting him an audience with a Hellraiser recruiter, Soma gets beaten to within an inch of his life for his trouble. However, he finds out a piece of important information: the Hellraisers are a little more than just a gang of Burn addicts...
He knew that just walking to a typical street corner or dark alley in Metro City wasn't going to get him what he wanted, but for Soma it was somewhere to start. He was betting on one thing: hostility, and he actually found it, somewhat. Not from the public, and not from the MCPD... from other drug dealers. When Burn is as fantastic as it sounds, if it really delivers what you want it to deliver, then what the hell good is meth, or coke, or any of a variety of 'reality-enhancing' substances. Why hallucinate that you can throw fire when instead you can *actually throw fire*?
Of course, they're not willing to spill all the beans, and rightly so. The only thing worse than the chunk of business the Hellraisers must be carving out of the Metro drug trade is the fear of their displeasure. But some guys know a guy, who knows another guy, who knows another guy... a pit fighter, perhaps, or a pit fight fan.
Setting himself up in the Metro pit fighting circuit took practically no time at all. Soma knows how to fight, and his knowledge of anatomy and the human body means he knows how to fight exceptionally dirty and particularly well. But he was careful not to win very often, and not to appear too comfortable, and most especially he was careful to capitalize on his recent public losses. He wanted to prove competent, but not too competent... someone who'd be great if he only had that little edge. Someone the Hellraiser dealers MIGHT be interested in.
That's what led him here, to Metro City Park, in the dead of night. Soma's dressed a little differently than normal, hoping to butch up his image a little bit compared to the more comfortable (and more useful for stealth) black and grey he typically wears... and to look less out of place. Blue jeans, black sneakers, a black leather jacket over a dark grey top. He's standing under a tree, near a floral clock, waiting for his contact to arrive, watching carefully as people pass through the area. Metro Park has never been safe after dark, but it's particularly bad now.
Dark-skinned hands draw back into the sleeves of the jacket, ostensibly from the faint chill of late summer evenings, but in actuality to check that his daggers are in place. The ICPO agent really hopes he doesn't need them... but he's not that stupid either.
They are late. Incredibly late. In actuality it would take twenty minutes for the sound of footsteps to be heard approaching Soma from the darkness, where a man can be seen. There's an odd rasping sound, as if something is being dragged; Which seems to be the case, as the silhouette reveals a baseball bat in tow. One fit for someone considerably more then the five foot six, lumbering behind like a caveman with a club. There's a gleam of metal, many nails hammered into it crookedly. As he enters some half-light, there's nothing impressive. Slender figure, sunken features, little mass. A dirty white wifebeater and simple bluejeans, as well as a black leather jacket. Flame decals are embroidered along the sleeve, cutting off at the elbow; The only dress code in the gang, although like many his hair is died a lightning blue, although limply spread about his head to such an extent his eyes are not visible. His face is long, swishing up his weapon and resting it upon a shoulder.
There's an unreal calm, almost surreal, as the Hellraiser comes to a stop a few meters from Soma. He actually teeters, in a drunken manner. He's high; That much can be seen, but the reaction appears to be almost... depressing. Sluggish. A sloth-like air. "..." He'd stand there a few moments, before startling as if realizing someone else is opposite. "...You him?" His tone is very deep, and incredibly distant. The only contrast to his flowing movements is the repeated clench and relaxing of his free hand, wrapped in chain. His eyes are most likely focused on Soma... Or mayhaps something more transient, as his listless posture hints instead.
It's only careful cultivation in working undercover that keeps Soma from turning his nose up in disgust at the... creature... that approaches. The novelist-fighter considers the occasional night at home with a bottle of fine spirits an indulgent vice, and this is the reason why, in his view. It's not so much that the man before him appears to be trying to escape anything as it does that he's... given his life over to it. A sad state of affairs to be sure. But rather than disgust, Soma does his best to look... not that interested. Too eager and he'll suspect something, not to mention think of you as nothing more than an upstart. Be too coy and he'll run away.
The dark-skinned agent's violet eyes rake over the bat for a moment, and he silently congratulates himself on winning the internal battle over bringing his daggers. All he really came to get was a sample of Burn, an indication of where in the hierarchy he goes from here. Flicking his hands out of his sleeves, he glances at the man who's approached him, keeping his expression neutral. Can't be too fearful, can't be too brazen... the balancing act is very careful. Eventually, he says "Yeah... I am."
"...Came to tell you that we can't do nothin' for you." is responded, with a startlingly anticlimactic lack of flair. "...Crash appreciates your interest..." The Hellraiser glances to the side, looking at the shadows as if very interested. This lasts a couple seconds before with another startle he turns to observe Soma anew, despite beginning to drift away immediately once more. "...But it don't work like that. ...You gotta be a nobody. A true nobody. ...You ain't got much talent, but... ...Too much to get more then a high off Burn..." This might come as a shock. Soma would have heard that only the downtrodden and weak come to the Hellraiser banner; But that it's a literal requirement to be a pathetic, meek and entirely untalented individual to gain any effect from the drug? This is a unique clause that's not on the street, not in the slightest. Although whether this information is worth the long charade and blowing the present cover for this meeting is another matter entirely. "...And right now, we aren't recruitin' anyone who's not able to use it..." The reasons for this are questionable, but likely control. Power is addicting. And if Crash controls the distribution of the power, literally... "..." Again he spaces off, before startling a third time. The bat is adjusted in his grip, but not in a hostile manner. "...Sorry." is finally added, in a sort of stupid tone. And appearing surprisingly genuine. But to his answer, or to the fact he keeps disengaging from the conversation? Hard to tell.
That IS news, and Soma is confident enough in his disguise to raise an eyebrow at that, though he's quick to make it both eyebrows. Shock is much more appropriate here than intrigued surprise, after all. Questions, well... those will have to wait until the show is over. "Whaddya mean, I'm not nobody enough?!" Soma says, in more of a hiss than a shout; drawing attention to this little tableau is the last thing he wants to do, since explaining himself to the MCPD would be more of a hassle than he's interested in right now. "I... you musta saw me," he adds, almost tripping over the slang-y vernacular his precise diction isn't used to, "you musta! I got... I got wailed on. I got nothin' left. How do you know it ain't gonna work?"
And more to the point, just how downtrodden do you have to *be*, Soma wonders. Martial arts training clearly has nothing to do with it, since he's seen people in the fighting circuits with a week of judo and a bad attitude come in flailing and leave their opponents drooling on a concrete block. No... there's something else here he's missing. "What do I have to do to prove it... I gotta prove it." Well, now IS the time to sound desperate... and to be perfectly blunt, in his own way Soma IS desperate. All the work he's put in... just to let one informant tell him no and walk away? No... definitely not.
"Calm down." states the Hellraiser, holding up one hand and doing a good job of being complacent for the two of them. He doesn't seem threatened, and still appears thoroughly distant. As if this is just some dream he's dealing with, a trip through Wonderland. "Burn doesn't work on everyone. Crash figured it out. ...He's smart. Smart as hell." He's jabbing a finger into his temple fervently at this, to highlight the point. Leaning forward, almost conspiratorial. "Burn isn't easy to get ahold of. ...Enough that it ain't sold. Nah. You could get the best crack, the purest coke, to last a week for a single hit of Burn. ...And you couldn't pay it, especially if it won't do jack. ...You got to have nothing. ...Nothing at all. Even Mad Gear only gets buzzed. ...Me? High school dropout. Got sick of marijuana. ...I could lift fifty pounds with effort, and I moved as quick as a snail. But..." He suddenly whirls his bat around in his fingers, dextrously. The maneuver is obscenely impressive. And from the displaced air, and the makeshift cap, likely filled with steel or lead. He is assuredly of a high caliber, the physical abilities of a real fighter. The kind that takes birthright and training, or one in millions blessing. "...Now I'm a somebody. Be happy you have anything. ...Not everyone was born with even an ounce of talent. ...Burn is /our/ chance to shine." There's mild irritation now, tension growing as he seems more and more to focus on his surroundings. And the result appears ominous, as he twitches slightly, jaw firmly fixed and lips slightly pulled back. The knuckles upon the handle of his bat are white.
The hackles are raising on the back of Soma's neck at this. He's awfully talkative, for a drug dealer-slash-gang recruiter. His way of thinking and speaking about Crash doesn't say 'gang' to the ICPO agent... it says 'cult'. And in its own way a cult is entirely more dangerous an entity than a gang. This man's... the word 'reverence' seems to apply... for Crash, who in his own weird way delivered him into the promised land, gnaws at Soma's insides.
And he's not entirely unsympathetic. Empathic connection notwithstanding -- he could sense the resentment, the anger boiling off this man even without his powers -- Soma himself spent much of his youth feeling powerless, fettered by an out-of-control psychic ability that took away not just physical power, but mental too. He didn't always know who he was. Hence his study of Varma Kalai. Mastery of mind and body came together. He worked hard at it, but not everybody has the talent.
That said...
His first move is to walk away, head held up at the sky as if in disappointment. "Oh man... I don't believe this." It's a ruse, just enough to get him some striking distance on this guy because now it's come to where he didn't want it to go. Never mind the fact that the violence is building up in this guy, looking for an outlet. If anything, Soma owes it to this poor schlub to put the Hellraisers out of business. Soma just... stands there for a second, back turned.
However, eventually he speaks, and the voice and diction that he uses are quite different from a few seconds ago. "I just want to say, I have more sympathy than you know," the ICPO agent says calmly, before turning and fixing a steely violet gaze on the man opposite him, fingers twitching. "But I need more info, and I don't have any other way to get it."
Nothing is responded to Soma this time as he turns away, and although his back is turned there's no lurching swing, no violent attempt to strike him down. Apparently this man isn't entirely unbalanced. As far as Burnouts go, he's remarkably sane; Not as much as the perfect adoptions like Cyanide and Crash, but likely the top ten percent. And more importantly, some shreds of his humanity, some shreds of his emotion, remain together. Those eyes are met, as well as can be through the heavy veil of badly dyed hair. "...You aren't after Burn to use it, are you?" Not entirely stupid either. And appearing to realize just how forthright he was. The bat slowly descends, to rest beside him. "...Heh. You know, I've never fought with this stuff before. ...All the others, they beat the shit out of each other on hour one. They pick fights. They live off the rush." And he then slowly licks his lips, and grins in a more feral way. His heartbeat begins to pulse more, and another twitch snaps his free arm almost like a jolt of electricity. It seems that something is happening to him... something physiological. A catalyst, maybe? "...I can see why... I'm feeling..." And then he bolts forward, with surprising speed. The bat swings out, seeking to strike a vicious blow across Soma's face, and send him to the ground. "FEELING PRETTY JAZZED!!"
COMBATSYS: Hellraiser has started a fight here.
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Hellraiser 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Soma has joined the fight here.
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Soma 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Hellraiser
COMBATSYS: Hellraiser successfully hits Soma with Quick Strike.
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Soma 0/-------/-----==|=------\-------\0 Hellraiser
Soma knew there was a physical strength component to this, for certain, but he wasn't 100% sure there was a speed component to it as well. The answer there is yes, the ICPO agent discovers. As he sees the bat swinging for his head he makes an attempt to stand his ground; at the very least it might make this guy back off a little bit to see a baseball bat to the head no-sold... and the worst that can happen is that Soma misjudges the timing and takes one right in the side of the skull, which is exactly what happens.
Reaching out with one hand as he falls, the undercover agent lands in a crouch and slowly gets to his feet, staring this man down. "I know what it's like, to be so weak you can't do anything about it..." he says, wiping his mouth with one hand. "But in the morning the drug will be gone and the weakness will still be there. That's why I'm doing this. I just wanted you..." And then, with snakebite speed, he darts forward, whipping one arm around in a downward slash, dagger sliding into his hand from the sleeve in one practiced motion. He's aiming for the bat hand... nothing too serious, but if it'll get him to drop that thing so much the better. "...to know that!"
COMBATSYS: Hellraiser blocks Soma's Medium Strike.
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Soma 0/-------/-----==|==-----\-------\0 Hellraiser
The bat snakes backwards with surprising speed, shooting in front of the dagger. It sinks deep and snags on a nail, and is wrenched free thereafter. In a somewhat awkward motion the man stumbles backwards, obviously having no training. He might very well be stronger and faster then Soma by a significant margin; Enough to be in a whole different tier. But he has no refinement. Nothing but dulled instinct and ferocity. But the raw power in Burn cannot be denied, and likely was not realized by the authorities despite the tales of those escaping. "I'm never gonna be weak again!! Like hell I'll let you take it away from me! As long as I get a hit a day..." He stumbles forward a moment, but evens out into a rush, hefting up a foot and aiming to slug Soma within the gut heavily with a heel. "I'm golden!!" So that confirms one thing. Burn, if constantly used, gives constant strength. And it seems the longer the fight continues, the more the physiological boosting... and mental shift... takes place. He's no longer the sedentary figure that arrived, and in a remarkably short breadth of time.
COMBATSYS: Soma dodges Hellraiser's Light Kick.
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Soma 0/-------/-----==|==-----\-------\0 Hellraiser
What Soma lacks in pure physical acuity he typically makes up for in precision and sheer speed; he slides backwards out of the kick even as his hand slides back into his sleeve for a moment, dagger stowed back from wherever it came from. He sighs in frustration; the trained part of him knows there's no getting through to this guy now, but the part of him that serves the public trust has to *try*. He's not a criminal, not deep down... he's a victim of a society that made him feel powerless.
And in a way, it just makes his hatred for Crash burn all the hotter.
Flexing the fingers on his right hand, the ICPO agent glances at his opponent with the most dispassionate face he can muster. "I don't want you to be weak... I just want you to be strong in a way that's not... an illusion. But I understand why you're not listening, so..." Best not to play the police card just yet. The longer he can avoid involving the MCPD, the better. Ducking forward again, index and middle fingers of that right hand extended, he seeks to drive them into a nerve point at the thug's shoulder. Easy to access, but not all that painful in the long run.
COMBATSYS: Hellraiser dodges Soma's Quick Throw.
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Soma 0/-------/-----==|==-----\-------\0 Hellraiser
It seems the thug's own accelerated speed does have some use, as he sees the fist coming towards him. Still, it's a remarkably sluggish process from almost exclamatory awareness, to tension, to finally shifting aside so fiercely he almost falls. Scarcely managed, despite such. "So you want me to go back to begging on the street? Is that it? You want me to go back to being beaten up by Mad Gear for fun? Back to being on the one tier so low not even the great and beloved Mike Haggar's assistance programs can reach?! Like anyone would hire some punk addict with a criminal record!" Again he lunges forward, and swings his bat violently, attempting to gouge the nails into Soma rather viciously. "Crash is gonna change this city!!" He swings again. "Finally we can't be ignored!!" What this entails is apparently the opportunity for crime, vice and abuse. But really, from people of such backgrounds, it's hard to blame them. He's sweating however, to a rather profuse degree for such minimal exertion.
COMBATSYS: Soma interrupts Solid Strike from Hellraiser with Light Kick.
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Soma 0/-------/---====|===----\-------\0 Hellraiser
There's an unpleasant sound as the nailbat drives into Soma's *hand*, the ICPO agent having thrown it out to catch the weapon before it could swing into him... and forgetting about the nails. Still, there's only so much pain one can grimace and writhe about in a fight if you want to keep on your toes. With both fighters held in place by the juxtaposition of hand and bat, Soma effectively has a free target... which he takes, spinning one leg up in a snap kick to the thug's shoulder that drives the two fighters apart.
Clutching his bleeding hand for a moment, Soma stares at the thug with a somewhat cold expression. "Change it to what? Rule by the strong? That's fine and dandy... until someone stronger shows up. There's always someone stronger."
The meaty thud into his shoulder truly proves that neither party likely benefitted from that in the end, grimacing in pain and rolling it in the socket a few times. Swift kick or not, it was far from comfortable. "I'll take what I can get..." is offered, spitting to the side and brushing the blue hair to reveal bloodshot eyes and sunken bags, narrowed so far they are almost closed. He then maneuvers himself forward, and shoots out a backhand towards Soma's face, trying to stagger him this time. Yet still with startling force were it to connect cleanly, bat already beginning to heft upwards for a heavier blow... The pair remain alone in this ballet within the darkness of night. For better or worse, neither is likely to get any backup...
COMBATSYS: Hellraiser successfully hits Soma with Quick Punch.
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Soma 0/-------/-======|====---\-------\0 Hellraiser
Apparently the 'sit there and get smacked' strategy is not working in Soma's favor today; maybe it's the distracting pain of his bleeding hand, even if the wound wasn't very severe, or the idea of explaining the tetanus shot he's going to get. Either way, the ICPO agent's attempt to get closed by walking into the backfist backfires spectacularly, sending him stumbling backward with a frown, gritting his teeth. That hurt.
"Alright. I made my ideological speech, you can do with it what you want. But like it or not, I've got a job to do, and that includes keeping Crash from causing trouble in Metro City." Throwing his hands out to the side, Soma creates his signature energy-daggers, silver light crackling with a black edge. Dashing forward, he looks to slice them across the thug's stomach. They don't draw blood because they have no real substance, but they're capable of inflicting wounds all the same. "Save us all some time and surrender!"
COMBATSYS: Soma successfully hits Hellraiser with Gemini.
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Soma 0/-------/-======|======-\-------\0 Hellraiser
"You think you understand what I went through... but standing there, telling me to back down... you have no clue..." The burnout merely grins thereafter, apparently having no further interest in discussion within this fight. Although the lacerating blade of psychic energy cuts rather deep, forearm lifting to guard doing little given the not quite tangible manner. There's a yelp of surprise, but what follows is another shift forward, unleashing a sweeping uppercut with his bat that attempts to clip Soma beneath the chin with enough force to hopefully send him airborne. It's assuredly a frantic maneuver, but regardless of such has a manic speed to it that makes it far more dangerous then it might otherwise be in such otherwise incapable hands.
COMBATSYS: Hellraiser successfully hits Soma with Wild Strike.
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Soma 1/-----==/=======|=======\-------\1 Hellraiser
Frantic has its place in fights, however; Soma attempts to skip to the side, not seeing an opening to strike back, and instead gets knocked clear into the air by the wild swing. Lucky for him he's light, because it gives him plenty of time to think things over while he's airborne... notably, how he's going to salvage this battle considering how badly he's being beaten. Strength, speed, and strategy have all failed, so... perhaps he just needs to go insane. It's working for the thug.
Whipping out an arm, the ICPO agent lashes out with a wire-dagger, snagging the limb of a nearby tree before he can completely fall and *yanking* himself, bodily, through the air back toward his opponent. Swinging that arm back, the wire-attached blade flies back through the air toward Soma... who, as he flies toward the Hellraiser, swings his arm down and lashes the blade out at at him like a yoyo. "Yeah, I don't really care about your damn sob story anymore," he grumbles. After all, he tried to do this the nice way.
COMBATSYS: Hellraiser endures Soma's Fierce Strike.
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Soma 1/----===/=======|=======\===----\1 Hellraiser
Frantic can be met with frantic just fine. The Hellraiser lurches forward, and although he's impacted viciously, he only skids away rather then is send staggering. And one hand shoots out, in an attempt to grasp Soma by the front of his shirt. The intent is to hurl him viciously into the ground in front of him, and then begin what can be called nothing less then an old-fashioned gang beating. Kicks, swings of the bat, curses, all intermingle in the attempted onslaught, which is by no means minute in force. But he's beginning to grow pale, and his movements less smooth and more jerky. Burnouts, they are called... Apparently why can be seen, as more and more of his reserves are drawn upon within the course of this fight.
COMBATSYS: Hellraiser successfully hits Soma with Savage Beating.
- Power hit! -
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Soma 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|===----\-------\0 Hellraiser
Apparently Crash's rule of Metro City will be hindered by one less individual tonight. The only way for Soma to salvage anything of this is to weather the storm and deliver some sort of crushing counterattack. Sadly, Soma is too ineffective a fighter to accomplish that. The hailstorm of bat swings and other miscellaneous blows is simply too much for the young ICPO agent's body, which flies through the air and lands, heavily, on a nearby park bench, which snaps in half from the meteoric force his broken body is travelling with. A number of bloody gashes and cuts are par for the course; a few joints don't appear to be bending the right way anymore either. Serious medical attention might help, but... kind of a shame Soma didn't tell anyone he was coming, now isn't it?
Of course, this also means the thug can leave unmolested, or better... certainly the near-lifeless body has a wallet to take back. The worst shame, of course, is that it's only now that Soma truly proves that maybe he was a good candidate for Burn after all.
COMBATSYS: Soma takes no action.
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Hellraiser 0/-------/----===|
COMBATSYS: Soma can no longer fight.
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Hellraiser 0/-------/----===|
Indeed, the Burnout went a little more overboard then he thought, which he realizes upon the end. He glances towards his bloodied bat, and the rush of his mind is clouded by the realization of just what he's done. Soma was right about one thing; He's not a bad man. He's not a horrible monster. A desperate individual who craved some position in life, even the house of cards that Crash has constructed for the rats of the city to perch precariously upon. "C'mon..." is stated, with a laugh. "That... that all you got?!" There's almost a desperation here, almost insistent that Soma stands up. He approaches, unsteadily, to look upon the fallen body. Shock etches that blue-mopped face, dropping his bat. "Hey... h,hey!!" He shakes Soma rather violently, entirely unsure what to do of his own accord. He didn't want to kill anyone. That much is certain. Digging in a frantic manner within his coat, he pulls out a cellphone -- one that's only supposed to be used to speak to Crash. But instead he dials 911, something he's never expected to do. He gives hazy directions, and is far from reasonable, already backing away from the scene. Losing his nerve towards the end he snaps it shut, and then bolts for the darkness, his weapon left behind... Unwilling to fully check if he actually did what he did. Mayhaps now, through savage violence instead of words, seeing just what Burn truly did to him.
COMBATSYS: Hellraiser has ended the fight here.
Log created on 21:16:01 08/14/2007 by Soma, and last modified on 12:00:09 09/11/2007.