Description: Quite possibly the closest MotM will ever get to a mainline mirror match. Adelheid's been waiting for a fight with Geese Howard's wayward son, and Rock is all too happy to oblige: A return from hiatus that jars Howard's head alert. And probably causes some trauma to other internal organs. (Winner: Adelheid)
Rock Howard's been laying very low for the last month and a half. After arguably the most prolific few weeks of any young fighter alive; Rock's body and soul needed some time /outside/ of the usual fighting spotlight to recover and find his peace. The highway of hell that was rising to the top of the Neo League, claiming the Saturday Night Fight title, storming his father's Tower in the stars, and then finally crashing down to reality by being kidnapped by the most unlikely of enemies in Thailand... NESTS. It was all enough.
Having spent time in the dark alleys of his hometown with Terry Bogard, following the Legendary Wolf's unique form of training exercise, Rock's been staying off the beaten path as much as possible. He's been living simple, mundane, day-to-day like he wasn't a world famous teenage fighting wizard with one of the most famous people in the universe for a father. But that ends today. Today, he prepares for the next wave of showing the world that he's the best fighter alive. Today, he buys a new red leather fighting jacket.
Standing awkwardly at the Motorcylce Paraphenalia store register, Rock waits as the leather-clad woman behind the counter starts counting out his change. She stops every few bills to give him a screwy look. Probably because this is the sixteenth red leather coat he's bought here in the last year. Howard gives her a nervous grin.
Possibly THE fighting prodigy of the new generation. No dark pacts, no shortcuts, no ancient mysticism... just raw ambition, dedication, will, talent, and training... some would say training against the odds. A near force of nature, well before the age of 20, with a father who's more monster than man, unable to accept an heir in anything but his own image. ... an image that's kind of hard to live up to, when one is a lithe boy and not a massively powerful, elder 'gentleman'.
... wait, wait. Who are we talking about, again? As if seeming endless similarities weren't ENOUGH, Adelheid threatens to disrupt time and space itself by selecting the same motorcycle store as Rock Howard, at the same moment Rock is making his purchase. The Bernstein heir's motorcycle is almost CERTAINLY better though. There are advantages to daddy's wealth and power, even if Adel isn't the overt, crazed rebel that the Howard youngster has grown into. No, at least in that, they are different... if Rock is fire, then Adelheid is ice. Cool, collected, cunning, though certainly passionate, the Bernstein boy has certainly inherited his father's wiles... and perhaps a better share of subtlety than his patriarch. Adelheid ALSO isn't here to buy a leather jacket, so THERE!
.. in fact, the idea of accessorizing his powerful, sleek BMW sportbike is all but lost when he sees his pallette swap at the cash register. He knows that guy... well, knows OF him at least, "Rock Howard." Adelheid observes in a smooth, almost melodic, calm tenor. It's a greeting, and a murmur to himself, as the door chimes shut behind him. His own attire isn't that far removed from Rock's, an ensemble of black and silver. Plain jeans, motorcycle boots, a leather jacket accented by several stylized arcs of matte silver across the breast, and tight gloves. Oh, and a set of metallic blue-framed designer shades, complete with eye-obscuring silver lenses. These are slid off with the kind of smooth grace that comes effortlessly to a fighter of his style and calibre, revealing the somewhat unusual - or unnatural(?) - crimson orbs beneath. They settle on the DOPPLEGANGER's almost expectantly.
The cashier finally finishes counting out Rock's change. This is what happens when you use a thousand dollar bill (or is it yen?) to buy a two hundred dollar jacket. You get a lot of cross-eyed looks from the sucker who has to count all those twenties out and you stand there behind the counter uncomfortable for the five minutes it takes her. And, somewhere between palming his change and putting it into the pocket of his black jeans, Rock's name pings off the side of his head like a v-wad in the middle of math class.
Slowly, he stuffs the bills into his pocket and turns to eye the source. The words just had that 'fighter' inflection to them; the typical cat-call of one fighter coming across another in the most unusual of places. Anyone who is anyone in the fighting world has experienced it more times than they can count. You just get a sixth sense about these sorts of things.
Rock's recognition mirrors Adelheid's own familiarity. He knows who this man is. Worse, he knows who this man's father is. Rock has a standing 'job offer' from Rugal Bernstein to join his organization. Howard can only imagine in his worst nightmares what sort of business that organization is involved in. After leaving him broken on the side of the road in the mountains outside of Southtown, Howard didn't give the business card a second thought. Not until he was strong enough to beat Rugal could he feel like he could work for the man.
His son, on the other hand? Tossing his freshly bought jacket over a shoulder, Rock takes a step towards the doorway, his youthful features etching themselves into a wry grin. "Yeah? What do you want? I told your dad I would think about his offer, okay?"
Maybe it was that sixth... nay SEVENTH sense that led Adelheid to happen upon his strange, seperated at birth brother. .... maybe Rugal.... and Rock's mom... oh, man.
The recognition doesn't really surprise Adel. When it comes to fighters of his calibre, his ego could be worse, but he's at least aware of the media exposure, even if he's not in this for fame or glory. Far from it. The world is his classroom, and he's going to need every lesson he can get to pass the Final Exam... a concept Rock is likely familiar with himself, but soul-searching and sharing will have to wait. This isn't a chick flick moment. But, faster than you can say 'tell it to Queen Dopplepopolous, DOPPLEGANGER!', Howard /brings up Adel's father/. God. Why is that ALWAYS everyone's first reaction?
... okay, so really, Adel can understand why. That just makes it worse, really, doesn't it? "Yea, well. I'm guessing you don't want to work for my father any more than I want to work for YOURS." Ah, 'father'. The synonym of the extremely respectful child. ... maybe. Sure, cover over ignorance with TURNAROUND. His tone is barely altered, with just that slight undertone of irritation. After all, "I didn't come here to talk business with you." Adelheid slips his sunglasses into an interior pocket on his jacket, and cracks his neck to one side, a bit of a quirk curling his own lips, "But this does make shopping a bit more interesting. Here I was afraid you'd gone to ground, after all that ridiculous 'title' bull. Don't tell me you actually care what labels the media slaps on you. It's the fight, man. Now do you have what it takes... or don't you?"
Speaking of things fighters get used to instinctually reading, we have the classic challenge. Despite the taunt, the words are matter of fact... goading, but not intending insult. Rock doesn't seem the sort to necessitate excessive prodding with pointy words.
Rock has some evil blood boiling in his bones. He doesn't usually need more than the words 'let's' and 'fi--' before he's ready to exchange knuckle to skull. In this case, he gives Adelheid a few more seconds to get out what he needs to say before he lets that cognition dawn on his mind. That's fine. The guy wants a fight. Rock's been itching, fiending, /dying/ to get back in the ring for the last month. But a man he respects with his very core told him that sometimes you needed to take two steps back for every step forward.
But the sabbatical is over. Inner peace is for losers and old men. Now, it's game time. The titles Rock's won (and lost) aren't so much about the glory and prestige so much as the affirmation of how far he's come in his training goals. He settles for nothing less than perfection, himself. He knows he's not there; he's years from there. But each day, each battle, gets him that much closer.
"I don't blame you," Howard says, a little ruefully. "I wouldn't work for your dad either. He looks like an eighties porn star. Now," a fingerless, leather-gloved, hand snaps out of a jean pocket and gesticulates towards Adelheid's jacket. "You done putting your glasses away? I haven't broken someone's jaw in a month."
COMBATSYS: Rock has started a fight here.
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Rock 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Adelheid has joined the fight here.
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Adelheid 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Rock
Evil blood? Why, evil is as evil does! ... or something like that. At least, that's what one likes to tell oneself when one's father is rather, well, CURSED. Rock may not have genetics on his side in that regard, but Adel's not about to make excuses for him. Two steps back? Maybe to observe. For his part, Bernstein has been walking a rather methodical path forward... not as sudden, or dramatic as Rock's, perhaps... but it suits him just fine. Howard's words just widen the Bernstein heir's smile, to the point he gives a quiet chuckle, "Ah, so you do measure yourself by that yardstick. Interesting." It may not be directly related to what Rock said in retort, but that just makes it a better comeback, right?
"Eager to get started, hmm? Let's see if your skills still match your bluster!" Done putting his glasses away?!?! Bernstein spares the easy-to-make jibes at Rock's old man - perhaps because he realizes the hypocrisy, and perhaps because he's already in motion as the store clerk starts to speak up her stammering protest. Adelheid lurches forward, all but launching into a near-glide of a sprint, one gloved hand snapping forward at a level even with Rock's face. Yes, face.
It's not your standard technique, but if he's had his teeth handed to him by Rugal, he might recognize it, "You'll need to exceed it to HOPE to break anything but your own bones!" Should his open palm find its mark, fingers would clench tightly around Rock's skull, and with a sudden twist, and lurching shove, an -explosion- of torrential silvery chi would blast forth from that palm, point-blank into the young Howard's face. Tendrils of arcing, cutting chi have a way of helping with the one-armed launch backwards... but Adelheid's muscular arms can do their part, as well.
COMBATSYS: Rock blocks Adelheid's Scorpion Deathlock.
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Adelheid 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Rock
Thank god Rock's last fight before his sabbatical was against this guy's father. Otherwise, he wouldn't have relived all those techniques in his mind over and over again. They say the most recent loss is always the hardest; it doesn't matter if you lost the Superbowl ten years ago, you're going to feel the pain of that old timers game last weekend just as bad. You'll replay all the worst moments; all the things you did wrong in your head until you have a chance to erase it from your mind by winning.
Rock's weight shifts back onto his heels just as Adelheid swallows up his personal space. Both of his hands react, on memory instinct, meeting the lunging claw-like palm of the other kid centimeters from their clutch on his skull. He can smell Bernstein's gloves they're so close. But it's enough, it slows them just enough that he can get his footing strong beneath his toes and answer Adelheid's challenge in the truest form possible.
--With a knee for his gut. Thrusting his weight forward, Rock launches his right leg up, pistoning it towards Adelheid's chest with all the weight he can muster while contorting juuust enough that the surge in chi energies bristles across the top of his head -- singing through blond hairs.
The cashier's ducking and covering, as one of the hubcap racks in the back of the store goes nuclear.
COMBATSYS: Adelheid blocks Rock's Light Kick.
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Adelheid 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Rock
Laces OUT, Dan!
His hand collides with Rock's defenses, but it's close enough for that rampaging chi to do /something/, at least... and also close enough for the other blonde's rebuttal to be well nigh unavoidable. As Rock lurches forward, Adelheid twists in -towards- the attack, dropping his weight, along with a braced arm, into the path of that snapping foot. The sidelong block leaves a stinging impact against that guarding forearm, but it also allows Adelheid the time he needs to recover from his initial offensive... with no loss in point-blank proximity.
Bernstein doesn't even retract his chi-blasting hand. Instead, he seeks to use Rock's guard against him, and latch his grip onto one forearm instead. It's as much a feint as it is a fulcrum, and it's quite possible it could distract Howard just long enough from the snapping boot that seeks to painfully relieve him of his footing with one potent, sole-first thrust to the ankle. Of course, should that work out according to plan? Adelheid will reverse his previous twist, stepping to Rock's side as he's flipped forward. Unfortunately for Howard, his arm would go with the Bernstein heir, the intent to twist it painfully... and come down atop Rock for the instant it takes him to hit the ground, face and chest first. It's not an unusual wrestling takedown, but one tends not to expect such moves from someone of Adel's stature. Still, Rock is far from your typical fighter.... but as we've established, much the same can be said (yet again) about this evening's opponent.
COMBATSYS: Rock fails to counter Medium Throw from Adelheid with Gedan Crack Counter.
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Adelheid 0/-------/-----==|==-----\-------\0 Rock
Rock is fine with Adelheid swallowing his knee. It still brings a satisfying feeling of impact; that sensation of his body colliding against another fighter in that dance they call combat. It's been too long. There's too much Howard in him to sit on the sidelines for long. There's too much latent, irrepressible ambition and drive. There's too much thirst for experience, exertion, and engagement.
"Ha!" Rock calls, approvingly, as he centers (or so he thinks) his footing by pulling his intercepted knee back from his opponent's grasp. "I feel like I've been waiting for this /forever/! I'm glad you wandered--"
Abruptly, Adelheid just keeps crushing skulls and Rock's banter cuts itself off. For a brief moment Rock realizes what is happening and visualizes his countering move. He'd intercept Adelheid's kick by stepping into it, letting it bounce off his strong side, and use the opening to power his elbow into the man's core... That is, if he was a faster human being. Instead, leg clipped out from under him, he feels his weight shift forward with very little of his own volition. Hitting the floor with his arm screwed back as Bernstein slams down on him, Rock's mind floods with the satisfying sensation of true pain. Ahh, he's missed that. The edge. The razor thin line that exists in a fight between victory and defeat.
If Rock weren't face-down on the rather unforgiving mall floor, he might see the smile that crosses his 'R'-affiliated counterpart's austere face, confirmation of a similar sentiment of satisfaction. Of course, Adel isn't going to complain that it's Rock dealt the tangible pain, this time.. the audible smack of impact is more than enough reward for him, after the quick display of defenses on the part of both youths, "You'll have to be faster than that!" Adelheid encourages, after a fashion, shoving off of Rock with one hand, and all but launching himself back to his feet, "You're good, though. Real talent is hard to find. Let's try this again with you not writing me off as an easy mark!" Howard gets a few passing moments to start to right himself, but Adelheid doesn't let off his offensive.
His single, leaping stride backwards becomes several graceful, suddenly sprinting steps that bring him right back in at the other prodigy, his right boot kicking up and forward, a flying snap that carries Adel right off the ground, the Bernstein heir's heel leading the way on the path towards Rock's solar plexus. His intensity remains as fervent as ever... there's no overconfidence here, nothing to echo Rock's own bloodlust... efficient, unrelenting, and quite thoroughly engaged. One thing is certain - the thrill, the instinct of battle is every bit as ingrained in the other crimson-eyed blonde (how recessive can you GET?).
COMBATSYS: Rock blocks Adelheid's Light Kick.
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Adelheid 0/-------/-----==|===----\-------\0 Rock
When Adelheid releases the pressure on his back, Howard doesn't hold still for long. Immediately, he grinds his knuckles into the ground at his sides and pushes himself forward into a roll. He comes out of it, spinning his legs around to come back beneath him, and bring him about to face Adelheid just as the other kid starts ramping up for another strike.
From his low position, Rock finds himself with the perfect leverage to meet the oncoming jump kick. He knows he sure as hell doesn't have time to get out of the way, but he can at least meet it with enough forward force that it shouldn't hurt /too/ bad. Launching, tiger-style, out of his crouch -- Rock brings his arms across his body in a defensive cross-slash of forearms to meet the oncoming leg. The sound is loud, as boot meets bone, and the force drives Rock's heels against the tile floor of the store.
Back bumping into a rack of motorcylce helmets, before the green six-ball colored can even reach the ground, Rock's launching himself back into Adelheid's perimeter. He amps up his assault considerably, having felt the measure of Adelheid's speed and power to the point that he feels confident in his game. Two sharp steps grind steel-toed shoe to cement stoned floor before Rock's body blitzes into a floom of glowing chi. Right arm swinging, elbow whistling with it, Howard crashes towards Adelheid riding the train of his favorite technique.
COMBATSYS: Adelheid dodges Rock's Hard Edge.
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Adelheid 0/-------/-----==|==-----\-------\0 Rock
Quick recovery... of course, Adelheid expected no less, and it's a good thing, too. Nothing more dangerous than an opponent that is not nearly dazed, when one expects a lull. Howard proves his resilience with that abrupt guard, and while the force of Adelheid's low-flying kick is stunted, the impact is sound. A subtle, further flexing of his leg, and the young Bernstein spins away before even touching the ground, his momentum aligned so that as his non-kicking left boot touches the floor, he's already wheeling into a sidelong leap. It's two thirds instinct and grace, and one third sheer necessity and impulse that carries the young Bernstein into that singular somersault clear of the rocketing Howard, Rock's chi-imbued form crashing harshly through the air, and perhaps over a display or two, as Adelheid comes up fluidly in the aisle. A single shove of his powerful legs brings Adelheid back into the fray, unhesitating.
His left hand shoots forward, looking to grab Rock by the collar of that pretty new jacket (assuming he's already wearing it, at least!), and haul him up and around with a sharp half-rotation. It lasts only an instant, just long enough, should his grip be found, to disorient Rock and launch his fist about squarely into the young Howard's ribcage with explosive force. Why the spin? Why, to align Rock's back with an entire display of shiny, chromed exhaust gear, of course. It might make a lovely landing spot, because like his father.... Adelheid would strike with plenty of force to launch Rock out of his grip, and violently away.
COMBATSYS: Rock fails to counter Scorpion Blow from Adelheid with Joudan Crack Counter.
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Adelheid 0/-------/----===|=======\-------\0 Rock
Rock would need to be a complete idiot to think that he could spend over a month on the sidelines and then step into the ring with /anyone/ wearing the name Bernstein and be on top of his game. Having honed, over the years training with his father, a technique that relies heavily on influencing and counteracting the attacks of his opponent -- you have to always be perfect if you're going to succeed. If you're perfect, you're unstoppable. A force of nature. But if you make the sligest mistake; if your reflexes are a half a second below their peak? The house of cards crumbles down.
Rock can sense what is coming. He has that battle spirit; years of training and know-how on how to read an opponent burning in his brain. But sometimes you just can't make that brain will nerves and muscles to move fast enough. You can't twist back and away from a hand grabbing for the collar of your brand new red and black coat. You can't tighten the muscles in your gut when a fist rams through them like swiss cheese, sending a gulp of air blasting out of your lungs.
Crashing through the display of chrome and aluminum, the various exhaust vents -- sitting in a steel rack -- go crashing down into the ground with Rock's back skiing on top of them. The noise is more terrible than the pain, which tells you why the cashier has started screaming with horror. But Rock, he just lets out a groan of sincerely reverberating pain before rolling onto his side and to the floor of the store, one hand holding the base of his bruising spine. With a pair of stabalizing gulps, the kid hauls himself to a knee, his other hand running along the line of his ribs beneath his coat. One's fractured, he can tell. Screw it.
"Nice try," he says, looking like the devil. "You got any more?"
The top of his game. It's all relative, isn't it? Anyone truly at the top of their game... must get awfully bored, at least in Adelheid's estimation. Or maybe just sadistic and a little nuts, if Rugal is any indication. Either way, improvement is what this is about... Rock's style is a much more focused hybrid than Adel's, perhaps.. but the Howard youth's diverse abilities are most interesting, and this is a meeting that the platinum blonde Bernstein has been waiting for for quite some time.
.. alright, maybe 'waiting' isn't the right word. Training, anticipating, and now that it's here, well... it's always nice to see hard work pay off, especially when it yields such resounding results. Adelheid follows through with the fervent strike as Rock crash lands in the motorcycle parts, skittering metal rolling, skidding, and tumbling away as the Bernstein heir's gloved fist snaps back to his side as quickly as it launched, his booted feet sliding to a stop a short span away as Rock moves to right himself, "Plenty." Adelheid assures his opponent, the volatile prodigy who shares his unique blessing and curse, "The question is... do you have what it takes to find out exactly how much!?"
Mall patrons are gathered by the scream, and then placated by the spectacle... in fact there's one guy out the front windows with a DV-CAM that looks like he's been filming for quite some time. ... couple it with the security tapes, and well, it just makes for an even BIGGER show! It might be more polite and merciful to give Rock a moment to catch his breath, but neither of those elements were taught particularly well to Adelheid, when it comes to combat. Sporting he may be, but the challenge is what it is, and the 'R' Lieutenant's calm words are the only warning before those impeccably quick feet launch him forward once more, at the rising Rock.
An underhand right slams outward, looking to catch Howard square in the face, the snapping uppercut meant to follow through into a sharply dropping elbow, right to Rock's temple. To put him right back into the rubble, of course!
COMBATSYS: Adelheid successfully hits Rock with Fierce Punch.
- Power hit! -
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Adelheid 0/-------/----===|=======\=------\1 Rock
Rock Howard keeps grinning as the four knuckles of Adelheid Bernstein's right fist crash across his jaw. His weight goes with the resounding impact, toes lifting from the floor for but a hair second before his forehead meets the elbow of his opponent. There's something that sounds more like a tree being chopped down than a man being punched in the face before Rock Howard explodes back from the impact point.
Rock cruises over the overturned steel rack of exhausts. He slams into the cement tile just behind it, back skidding into the stone wall a crumbling crash. A pair of wheels, hanging on display from the ceiling of the store, tumble down. The clitter and clang hollowly in the wake of the destruction.
Frustration is rising in Rock's throat. There's a lump of anger there; growing with each second that Howard finds his body less responsive than he remembers it. Less willing to obey his will. Terry said that taking a break would give him /perspective/ and ultimately make him a better fighter. But he's weaker than ever! He's getting smacked around by this son of Rugal. And even though he hates his linneage, Rock knows that it's a call he can never truly forget.
"That's..." he says, slow and deliberate as he hauls himself to his feet, a gloved hand feeling along the line of his jaw and tasting the blood boiling in his mouth. "That's what I like to see. Speed, power, determination. You've got it all figured out -- a really good technique. I could learn a lot from that."
Rock's dying on his feet with a smile. "If it wasn't so damn boring! Come onnnnn!" he challenges, suddenly breaking into a surprising burst of speed. He feels his body suddenly obeying his desires, granting him a brief glimpse into that pool of potential to make a strong and decisive leaping step over the overturned chopper equipment and straight towards Adelheid. The last three steps aren't necessary, as Rock's booted feet land his striding lunge, his momentum carries him in a skating power-slide right at his opponent; swirling embers of chi power twisting off his body.
And the minute he crosses that invisible threshold, he cuts it loose. The plume explodes, blossoming into a brilliant showering shockwave of power. It rockets out in every direction from Howard as his twin fists slam towards the ground; shaking the shopping complex and letting Southtown hear his call.
COMBATSYS: Adelheid reflects Raging Storm' from Rock with Dark Barrier.
- Power hit! -
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Adelheid 0/-------/----===|=====--\-------\0 Rock
Ah, the clatter of metal. The crushing of store displays. The cheering and jeering and general gasps from the quickly gathering fight-fans outside... there really is no career like it. Even the store clerk is peeking out from behind the counter a bit, trying to catch a glimpse of the events as they unfold. Scared, sure... and that's not liable to abate, if the tremendous power boiling within Rock Howard is any indication. Adelheid can sense it, almost taste it. The flattery, coupled with insult, only brings a quirk of one of the young Bernstein's pale brows. Along with a subtle smile, his narrowed red eyes focused intently on Howard, "Maybe you wouldn't be bored if you'd join the fight!" Adel fires back, almost too amusedly. He may not need any encouragement to show his all, but if banter is a front Rock wants a war on, well. He's got a war!
Not that there's much time to return fire, with Rock launching himself right back into the fray. The prodigal Howard blasts forth that maelstrom of power, and Adelheid simply braces himself for it, flexing his left arm back by his body as he twists shoulder-first to meet the first cresting tidal wave of that tremendous storm of chi. It's not Adel's vulnerable shoulder that collides, however, as a swirling disc coalesces nigh instantaneously between the young Bernstein's body and the hurricane of power, a darkly crackling greyish mass backed up by the splayed fingers of his other hand. It takes all of his strength, all of his focus, ... and he also ducks his head for good measure, but Adel's barrier of oppositional power takes that initial shockwave with a violent, luminescent buckle. The stock around Rock is now well and thoroughly blasted clear, if not shredded, but the reverberations of that violent impact set another quake through the motorcycle goods, blasting over two shelves to either side as windshear explodes outwards.
Teeth clenched, muscles clenched, Adel lets out a gutteral shout as he pushes back against the Raging Storm, the swirling barrier flaring back inwards with a rippling crash, as the fore of Rock's impressive storm begins to quite abruptly collapse back in on its summoner, a raging, haphazard shrapnel of his potent golden power, and Adelheid's silvery, cutting winds, the polarized reversal threatening to redirect that immense force into a dissipating shockwave. ... and make the eye of the storm no longer the safest place to be.
COMBATSYS: Rock negates Reflected Raging Storm' from Adelheid with Raging Storm'.
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Adelheid 0/-------/----===|-------\-------\0 Rock
This has happened one time previously in Rock Howard's life. Mad as hell and not going to take it, he leapt right into the ring with his father -- one of the strongest men in the universe -- and tried to use his own signature attack against him. His father, with a vaguely bemused grunt, overpowered Rock's attempt at the technique with the thundering maelstrom of his own. It was one of the worst experiences of Rock's life. It nearly killed him. It was one of the best lessons he ever learned.
Sensing a similar premonition as the energies of the Raging Storm explode outward, there is a brief moment where Howard's red eyes widen -- staring through the golden shower of chi back at Adelheid. He has no idea where this man is getting this strength. He has no idea how he is able to will and reign his focus to such an immeasurable degree. For that brief moment, Rock can understand what Adelheid's been through with a father like Rugal. For a brief moment, he's jealous of that power. That's his birthright; the blood of Krauser, Howard, and Heinlein. This guy is just an upstart...
That frustration works for him. Unwilling to relent, unwilling to learn the lesson his father taught him for a /second/ time, Rock cries out as he feels the force of his own energies and Adelheid's mix against his skin and bones. Fists pumping with a pulsing power, he meets the wall of pain with wreckless, unconditioned, abandon. Again, he craters his bodies energies straight outward from every direction, his arms swimming in the sea of power as they slash for what remains of the floor.
The explosion of light is blinding. The silver sheared winds and the twisted golden energy meet a renewed crescendo of effort; their mutual intersection shooting outward in all directions. The glass display of the store explodes with the windshields a dozen cars in the street; another dozen car alarms blaring into the afternoon sky. Sediment in the ceiling buckles, debris and dust crumbling as the foundation of the store shakes yet again.
And then it's over. Power cools, and Rock Howard stumbles forward -- catching himself with a fist to the ground and one knee. He breathes deep and long, staring right at his opponent. A few scraps of red leather flutter down to litter the ground.
Rock's birthright, perhaps... but Adelheid's as well. Two sides to a coin, in another lifetime they might have been childhood friends. Schoolmates. Instead of warriors all but brimming with overwhelming emotion, power, and helplessness in spite of it. For perhaps the first time this fight, however, it's the Bernstein heir who's forced to relent, feeling the wellspring of chi Rock brings to the fore, and the imminent give of his own impressive barrier. Adelheid leaps back, his hair blown violently by the volatile release of energy that follows. He holds his footing, but staggers back from it, shielding his eyes as if from the blinding sun. A pace, then two, and a deep, panted breath that's at least half relief fills his lungs. That was what we in the biz call 'extremely, extremely close.' Adel's next step back is more controlled, born of analytical consideration rather than hesitation or fear.
"You've earned your reputation." He offers in a quieter voice. His smooth tenor's icy intensity has not ebbed, but there is a quiet respect that's more predominant than in the previous posturing. A sincerity, "Don't let the outcome of any one fight, or the antics of those monkeys who love being on television way, way too much convince you otherwise. Ever." The similarity, and some of the differences, in their life experiences is not so much of a passing notion to Adelheid... but he's had time to think about it, and Rock makes no secret of his attitude. When it comes to sussing out the Bernstein boy, well... luckily for /him/ it's a bit harder to tell what he's thinking. About the world, about himself, about daddy dearest, "Come on, let's finish this."
The words are no goading taunt, but spoken with the same fervent appreciation - not just for Rock, but for the sheer tangible thrill and lingering gratification of a battle fought this hard. Holding the momentum of combat doesn't seem to leave Adelheid feeling superior... though he clearly knows he's capable, and his own inner chi has only begun to spark, a subtle tinkle of broken glass the only initial warning as the shattered windows shift, and then more of the debris lurch, a radius about the 'R' lieutenant swirling with a sudden, momentary cyclone of sheer, tangible force, only almost visible, rippling the air about him as his inner strength redoubles, and his forgotten half-smile creeps back to his lips.
COMBATSYS: Adelheid focuses on his next action.
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Adelheid 1/-------/=======|-------\-------\0 Rock
Rock doesn't say anything when Adelheid speaks, as much a part of wanting to catch his breath as hear the other fighter's words. He's always willing to accept the respect of an opponent, but he was raised in a harsh environment. Respect was never given, the only way to ever earn it would be through victory. And that victory, over that one person, that hasn't happened yet. Everything else is a piece of the puzzle on that road.
With a final swallow of air, Rock finally bobs his head in agreement to Adelheid. "Yeah," he says, pumping his fist into the ground again, more to remind himself the tenacity he needs to continue fighting than anything. "I've gotten my ass kicked from here to Kansas City. If you fight long enough and hard enough, you're gonna lose. But that's the only way you ever win. I'm glad," Rock forces himself back up, body extending to it's full height with a labored twist of his back and a shift of his weight back into his usual Hakyokusaken stance. "That you've learned this too."
Red eyes hardening, Rock washes the hesitation from his mind. He finds that battle edge again. The memory of the silenced wolf; the stopping of his fists hammering in their pursuit of better and greater opponents seems like years ago. He understands now why Terry told him to take the break. It sharpens the sword, it stops the dulling of your spirit by reminding you why you fight. Adelheid wants them to end it and Rock Howard obliges.
"Get ready!" he says with lips twisting into a shrewd smirk as he takes two explosive steps forward. Rock lays all his weight into the second step, the balls of his foot grinding against the broken floor for traction, as he pushes off it and into the air. Body gliding forward, the fingers of his right hand curl and like a slingshot he slams his fist forward -- extending it fully on a path for Bernstein's jaw with the weight of his inertia buoying behind it.
COMBATSYS: Adelheid fails to interrupt Fierce Punch from Rock with Crown Prince.
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Adelheid 0/-------/---====|-------\-------\0 Rock
COMBATSYS: Adelheid has saved the state of this fight.
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Adelheid 0/-------/---====|-------\-------\0 Rock
COMBATSYS: Adelheid has left the fight here.
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Rock 0/-------/-------|
Ready? Adelheid was /born/ ready! ... all cliches aside, the surging hurricane brewing within the Bernstein heir is readily evident to anyone, particularly someone sensitive to chi. It's a gale-force charge, building to ever-increasing crescendo as the 'R' Lieutenant faces Rock down. He's intent on this point, prepared for the charge... he hears Howard's words but they yield little more than a nod in initial reply.
Adelheid's eyes narrow, and the winds shift, the area around him surging with a sudden, outward shockwave - a stiff, sudden breeze as Rock crosses into the proverbial breach. His gambit pays off, and in spades, as Adelheid's concentration is entirely shattered by one stiff fist to his face, even as his hands thrust forward. It comes off as a weak shove, obviously not what was intended, and for the first time this fight it's the Bernstein prodigy's turn to reel away from Rock, blood tracing the corner of his lip as he slides back into a three-point crouch. Bracing, he pushes back to his feet, and clenches and unclenches his jaw, again eyeing Rock, "Well now." Adelheid observes, his melodic tenor sounding almost pleased.
"Looks like you might have something interesting left, after all." Confidence? Genuine satisfaction? Or just a calm facade to let him get his bearings back?
Howard was prepared for his leaping strike to be his last effort. One final penetration into the defensive matrix of Adelheid Bernstein's impeccable technique. One that would bring him face to face with his opponent and probably be the end of him. Another wash of dark energy would spill out, light his bones up with an impossible fire, and unconsciousness would do the rest.
When his arm extends and he hears the ringing bell of his knuckle smashing on some piece of Adelheid's skull, Rock is forced to act quick to compensate for his surprise. Adelheid's weak push compresses against his ribs and slows him enough to prevent an immediate follow up strike. Instead, Rock dances back a half a step from ground zero, regains his balance, and levels his fists back into a traditional Hakyokusaken stance. He flexes his fingers, feeling the strain of his gloves against his skin and reflects on a very simple truth about life: Fighting rules.
"I do what I can," Rock replies demurely, wiping one of his hands through his sweat-streaked blond hair. He shakes it out at his side, breaking into yet another grin. "But sometimes I'm so good I don't even realize it."
COMBATSYS: Rock focuses on his next action.
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Adelheid 0/-------/---====|-------\-------\0 Rock
Adelheid doesn't hesitate long, a vague smirk coming to his features as Rock makes his assertion, "Didn't anyone ever tell you that pride leads to a hard fall?" He has some measure himself, but hey: Rock's the one frontin'. The platinum blonde brushes a black-gloved hand through his tousled hair, and with renewed fervor, launches himself abruptly out of his stance.
It's not fancy, it's not technically complex, it's sheer, overwhelming power. Adelheid seeks to quite simply bowl Rock over. Or more accurately? Grip the front of his coat with both hands, and heft him violently up off the ground. There's surprising power in those lithe, corded arms, and should his grip be found, Rock Howard would find himself in a position all dopplegangers face eventually: Utter annihilation.
Both of Adelheid's booted feet leave the ground, an abrupt charge of chi sending both himself and his suspended captive /hurtling/ out of the shop. It's a sure bet the gaping clerk would be glad of this, right? No, there's no pleasing some people - the girl at the register would start screaming her lungs out like never before. Why?
... Well, that Rock-tipped missile would be hurtling out of the store. Through the outer wall. That would be a lot of metal bars and glass to slam suddenly through.
COMBATSYS: Rock fails to counter God Press from Adelheid with Gedan Crack Counter.
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Adelheid 0/-------/--=====|===----\-------\0 Rock
Seems that one touched a nerve. Way to go, Rock Howard. You pissed off a healthier, faster, and more technically sound fighter than you. Brilliant planning. There's a reason that you keep getting BEAT UP by people. Maybe it's because you talk a lot of shit. Maybe it's because you don't get out of the way of the deceptive man coming right at you. Adelheid's fingers curl into the fabric of Rock's recently repurchased red leather coat. The kid plants, pivots, and throws and Rock's body obeys like girl named Virginia at Woodstock.
He hits the designated front window of the bike shop at something like one hundred miles an hour. This might be hyperbole. The point is that he crashes straight through the glass with a shower of splintering shards. The melee of glass makes a terrible symphony the way it -- much like Howard's mangled body -- clatters against the reinforced steel security bars that were in place on the outside of the shop front. Only the glass bounces off them bars... Rock slams right through them, dislodging steel rivets and ending up skidding on his back through the street -- a segment of the bars sliding like a sled beneath his back and shoot red-white sparks up from the friction.
Sliding to a rest, Rock rolls off the segment of bars and onto his hands and knees. He can feel some of the vertebrae in his back either bruised or broken. The stinging pane that shoots up the spine right into the front of your head is already there with each shallow movement. There's really nothing else he can do at this point except ignore it. Except get up, very slowly, and stare down the face of this other man. Except spit out a mouthful of blood, wipe your hand across a scraped and bruised forehead, and think about your mother's best bowl of soup.
Because you're gonna be eating out of straw if you don't lay down, Rock Howard. And you're gonna like it.
Pissed? Oh, Adelheid's cool as a cucumber. Of course, you wouldn't know it from the rather explosive crescendo as the side of the store all but blows out into the mall, the crowd scattering to all corners of the concourse as Rock and Adelheid blast forcibly onto the scene in a brilliant blizzard of shattering shrapnel. As Adelheid intended, Rock gets the worst of it... he may not be pissed, but the legacy of Rugal Bernstein doesn't leave a lot of room for restraint when in comes to pugilism. Fighting may indeed be awesome, and certain prodigies may have fathers who are awesome at it. Rock has his lifestyle, but Adel's... well, let's just say he's very disciplined.
A violent efficiency to his fighting style or no, the Bernstein heir isn't without a certain honor. Sporting compassion? Whatever you want to call it, Rock gets to struggle to regain his senses all free and clear, without any attempt to kick the rattled youth in the face or anything. Adelheid is magnanimous that way. No, rather than press the attack on the staggered Howard, the 'R' Lieutenant brushes down the shoulders of his own leather jacket, sending little bits of glass to the ground as he draws a few centering breaths.
"Hah. Like I said. Pride just gets in the way." The calm reprisal may not sound all that friendly, but. Hell, YOU attend the Rugal school of proper socializing. It always ends in a bronzing or beheading or brutal mauling. By the panther, if you're lucky. Bernstein's fiery eyes remain focused on Howard; he's still a powerful fighter, even battered as he is.
COMBATSYS: Adelheid gains composure.
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Adelheid 0/-------/---====|===----\-------\0 Rock
"Why're you talking about pride so much?" Rock asks, his one still good eye thinning at the other kid. "It isn't about pride. It's about getting it as good as you can give it." He grins again, his teeth twanged red by the flood of copper-tasting fluid in his mouth. He's all sorts of cut up here. He's going to need to buy yet another coat. He's going to need to find a new place to buy one, too, because this store -- after all they've done to it -- is never going to let him in the front door.
Adjusting his weight, Rock presses uncomfortable on the side of his chest, feeling a fractured rib. He's lucky that it isn't completely snapped. It might have protruded right through his skin. Ignoring the discomfort and seizing the brief alleviation in hostilities, he takes a breath deep enough that it hurts, and then he just goes back on offense.
Uncertain how his body is still operating, Rock shoots forward a second after Adelheid finishes brushing his shoulders clean. Intent to do nothing more than return the favor, Rock doesn't prepare a punch, or a kick, or anything fancy from the playbook of Terry Bogard or Geese Howard. No, he just runs right at Adelheid as hard and as fast as his half-broken body can carry him.
By the time he's on the other kid, his eyes are wild, his rictus grin unsettling, and the full weight of his bulk is destined to slam with Adelheid straight into the same remnants of a storefront wall the two journeyed through moments ago. Somewhere in the path of going from center of street to sidewalk to wall, Rock makes some sort of ancient Howard warcry that sounds like an "AHHHHHH!" and a "NYRAAAGGHHHH" and a "HYYAAHGHH!!?"
COMBATSYS: Adelheid interrupts Strong Throw from Rock with Reppukyaku.
-* CRITICAL HIT! *-
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Adelheid 0/-------/--=====|=====--\-------\0 Rock
"That perspective works best..." Adelheid retorts, his eyes narrowing slightly. Rock is still staggered, perhaps, but it isn't much of a stretch to see imminent attack in the attitude, and tone, "If you don't focus on the FIRST part." His turn to take a jab at Howard. Or more specifically, all the blood and bruises on Rock's fragile, effeminate frame. Not that Adelheid has much room to talk, beyond a few extra bicep curls. The Bernstein heir shifts back to a ready stance, both fists brought up in a ready guard before him, his feet shifting as he steps back once, twice.
And by that point, Rock is charging full speed ahead, and there's little for Adelheid to do but brace his arms against the charge, leaping back with the slam. His back hits hard against the store display's frame, rattling the storefront right up to its chrome-a-riffic sign. The 'r' from the 'motorcycles' part topples down beside the fighters; ironic, right? Adelheid may be shaken, but he doesn't give Rock any time to dig in, slamming his foot around as he touches down into that jarring landing, a torrent of silvery chi exploding forth from beneath his boot, washing back over Rock. The waist-high lance of coalescent, raging wind energies knocking his opponent back, Adelheid pushes off to the side, panting a few deep breaths... despite his dominance in this meeting, he's had to work for it.
Not that he's going to let Rock see that, if he can help it. Bernstein corrects his stance quickly, turning to regard the spot where Howard winds up, "But you're right. I see you've been trained like I have." A comment on Howard's disregard, courage... perhaps simple tenacity.
Red eyes wide shut.
There's nothing left in Rock Howard's tank. After a fight that has seen literally every move in his book turned against him by this somehow calmer, wiser, and arguably more experienced fighter -- when his suicide tackle is systematically annihilated by Adelheid in a wave of chi -- Rock gets exploded back from the impact point. He hits the ground a half a dozen yards away, skids against his shoulder to a stop, and dreams about sheep and pretty girl's with headbands. His red coat quaffs a few tendrils of smoke up to the god of the night in sacrifice.
At least it wasn't on National TV.
COMBATSYS: Rock takes no action.
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Adelheid 0/-------/--=====|
COMBATSYS: Rock can no longer fight.
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Adelheid 0/-------/--=====|
COMBATSYS: Adelheid has ended the fight here.
Log created on 20:33:45 08/15/2007 by Adelheid, and last modified on 18:59:15 09/13/2007.