Description: [Alan vs. Marisol] Alan and Marisol meet up in a dark, rusty warehouse and immediately start fisting each other left and right on conveyor belts. Fun for the whole family! [Draw Match]
A warehouse was the last place Marisol expected to be put into a fight.
Having arrived relatively early in hopes of catching the Suiryuu before it arrives, the half-Spaniard girl entered without so much as an ounce of hesitation. Despite the odd looks and stares a girl her age received upon hitting the dockyard, the redhead didn't seem to mind. Casual was her stride, as she made her way straight into the warehouse, if only to access the "arena" which had been decided upon by the...well. Whoever the hell is really in charge of the "tournament." Does she really care?
No way. She gets to fight. It has been some time.
Thus does the half-Spaniard Pacific High girl wait. Seated on top of a large wooden crate awaiting its pickup by the nearby - and currently inactive - crane, the O'Connell girl idly swings her long legs back and forth. Clad in her usual skirt and blouse duds, the redhead casually observes her nails with one hand, while the other hand is sitting atop a random hard hat. OR IS IT SO RANDOM?
Whatever the case, the girl waits patiently for her scheduled opponent with a small impish grin haunting her lips.
Time passes. Minutes stretch into hours. Dockworkers jeer and catcall. The sun slowly begins to dip below the horizon, burning the clouds shades of red and purple. It's a beautiful sunset.
And still, Alan R. B. does not appear.
The Suiryuu arrives at Dock 26, and it explodes into activity. The crane begins to move. Dockworkers haul crates full of all manner of things. The conveyors start up, with much complaint. The beating veins of the warehouse, carrying supplies, luxuries, all manner of things onto the crazy ninja ship. The crate upon which Marisol sits jerks with movement, and starts its own conveyor belt journey.
And still, Alan R. B. does not appear.
So much for being prompt and punctual.
As time stretches on from minutes into hours, and despite the annoying heckling she receives, Marisol seems oblivious. She has one thing on her mind: to beat someone up. Particularly, a rematch. He got her good once. Can she beat him again?
Watching the sunset out of the massive threshold of the dock warehouse, Marisol seems utterly content in sitting on the crate and waiting. But the moment ends as the Suiryuu docks, and upon settling into position, the dockyard around the redhead springs to life. Briefly she is startled, but those full lips soon pull into a Cheshire's grin.
As the crate below her springs to life, Marisol seems content to just sit there. "Ah well," the girl mulls, laying on her back as it crawls along the conveyor belt. Crooking her arms behind her head, she beams at the warehouse ceiling as she's slowly escorted along. "I guess I get a freebie!"
So much for a fight!
The crate bumps and rocks along on its epic journey under Marisol's ass, occasionally jerking abruptly to the side as it rounds a corner. The dockworkers are no longer making crude comments on Marisol's body, as it's all business now, and ninjabux are as good as anybux. The crate jerks hard again as it hits a vertical incline... and again... and again. This is getting ridiculous.
The music reaches a dramatic swell as the crate jerks one more time, with finality, before one side of it falls open, as if hinged. There are many amazing coincidences in this world - a heavy boot can be glimpsed drawing back into the crate, and kicking out again to send the side spinning. The crate is reinforced, and doesn't collapse with the loss of one of its walls.
Packing materials pour out of the crate like the blood of transportation as Alan R. B. suddenly rolls out, straightening with his back to Marisol, already lighting a cigarette. He looks over his shoulder, that smirk on his face.
"Babe, I'd give it to you for free any day. You legal yet?"
The comments of the dockyard workers go unnoticed still; in fact, Marisol is quite content in simply laying out like a lazy cat, waiting for her arrival into the mysterious Suiryuu, and one step closer to the finals. Yeah, this one's in the bag, as far as Marisol O'Connell is concerned. No fight? No problem!
But it's somewhere near the end of the line that something doesn't "seem" right. The crate itself is moving more than it ought to be - anyone would agree. Blinking owlishly, the redhead slowly sits upright, lips puckered as she watches the crate beneath her stir and rock about, as if something unpleasant within...wanted without.
"More ninja tomfoolery?" the half-Spaniard girl wonders aloud, going so far as to sit on her hands and knees as the crate rocks. But then, suddenly, a boot can be seen! And soon after the infamous Alan himself. His odd but notable entrance earns him a curious look. Then he talks.
The redhead looks bemused. Then her features darken, her face red.
"Ew, that's gross!" she exclaims, pushing up onto her feet before she hops off the crate itself before she lifts a white sneaker and shoves the crate itself off to one side. In her hand is the hard hat, clutched in a furious grasp. "It's about time you decided to show up. What were you trying to do, sneak in a free win? Are you afraid of me?" Smirking sharply, the girl's smoky depths narrow in amusement.
"And if you're trying to be a charming pervert, you should try a little harder than that."
Beneath her, on the conveyor belt, her feet slide a bit as she holds her ground...before she suddenly pushes off and, in one swift motion, attempts to plant her knuckles into Alan's gut. She'll show him!
COMBATSYS: Marisol has started a fight here.
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Marisol 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Alan has joined the fight here.
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Alan 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Marisol
COMBATSYS: Alan blocks Marisol's Medium Punch.
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Alan 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Marisol
Alan's left hand drops down, crackling as it interrupts and knocks aside the blow. His eyes are hard, for once the smirk not actually reaching them. "I was hoping I'd kick the top of the crate open and throw you right off. Damn thing's sturdy." The two reach the top of the incline, coming closer to the last big conveyor belt that stretches over the water, where the climax of this fight is likely to take place. The boxer breaks away enough to thread his fingers through the iron rings on his belt, pulling them up and away. He's balancing easily on the moving path.
He whips around, 'threads' of lightning crackling around his right hand as he just straight-up snatches at Marisol's face. "And I don't need to be charming. If I really want it... I get it." His grin is right-out predatory. If he makes the grab, electricity floods out of his hand like a lashing net as he whips a foot around Marisol's ankle and /shoving,/ slamming her down into the ground.
COMBATSYS: Alan successfully hits Marisol with Dynamo Grip.
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Alan 0/-------/-----==|==-----\-------\0 Marisol
Her attack, stopped with a swing of Alan's arm. Furrowing her brows, the girl seems a touch puzzled, but otherwise rolls with the proverbial punches. A minor setback, that's all. Pursing her lips lightly, the redhead just narrows her eyes as she peers at the strange boxer before she sports a lopsided smirk in response. "What, are you calling me fat?" she chides, hands on her hips as she takes a step back and away. She continues to observe him, despite the moving belt beneath them.
Then he moves and, in a blur of sorts, snares the girl by her face, despite her attempts to snap a hand up and grab his wrist. There's no chance to respond - snared, she's shoved downwards, hitting the belt with a thud and groan before he releases her and lets her free. A beat, and the girl's feet kick outwards, planting flat on the belt as she pushes up, scrambling to her feet. But her motion doesn't stop.
Instead, Marisol beelines for the other boxer, swinging a fist to fiercely gut punch the man and, should it successfully land, will grab his skull and shove it into her knee, followed by a swift vertical kick aimed to strike him fiercely in the jaw and send him staggering back.
"Then I guess we're more alike than I wagered!"
COMBATSYS: Alan dodges Marisol's Chain Reaction.
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Alan 0/-------/-----==|==-----\-------\0 Marisol
Alan moves with a focus not normally seen in the man, moving along with Marisol's fist, hopefully causing her to overbalance as he circles around, coming dangerously close to toppling off. But does he? No! For he is agile, and agile people don't just fall off conveyor belts like giant dorks.
The fat remark gets no response, but her latter statement gets a small chuckle. "I don't know if I'd go that far. I can't imagine you want this as much as I do." Fists snap out as Alan pushes back in, a simple pair of jabs to the girl's face. Or back of the head, if for some reason she didn't turn around, like maybe someone had a really amazing diamond ring? I don't know. Girls are weird.
COMBATSYS: Marisol endures Alan's Light Punch.
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Alan 0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0 Marisol
Again Alan proves a bit swifter than she anticipates. Brows again furrow, smoky gray eyes offering a look of mild annoyance as the man otherwise steps out of harm's way, and doesn't fall flat on his ass in the process. At least if he would have fallen she could have had SOME sort of moral victory!
In any case, when he speaks she does little more than gently scoff, her amusement clear. Narrowing gray eyes further, Marisol keeps her eyes fixed on him, as a fist swings forward with the intent to punch her in the face. In fact, when his fist impacts. ..she smirks broadly around it.
Twisting her body, she swings a hand up, to dismiss his arm entirely before she executes a one-two punch; her fist swings, attempting to deliver a solid downward blow to his face, the other across. Should she yield successful results, her body twists, both fists intent on planting into his chest and, as result, a burst of chi erupting between them!
"I DO, in fact!" She has something to prove. "I can't let my teammates go on without me!!"
COMBATSYS: Alan blocks Marisol's El Matador.
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Alan 0/-------/----===|====---\-------\0 Marisol
"Pff. Some friendship shit, huh?" Alan's entire upper body contracts at the punch, forearms locking together like a wall, which is a lot like what it feels like to punch. Alan's own chi crackles around Marisol's burst, diffusing a good amount of it. The impact tears a rent in Alan's sleeve, but he doesn't seem to care - abnormal. "Then I hope you've got some other plan, babe, because I'm taking this easy way!"
Now, of course, the two /could/ come to an agreement and just not fight and have a nice happy conversation until they get on the crazy ninja ship, but come on. /Come on./ "Sooner or later, kid, everything goes to shit, and nobody's going to be around when you need them." Alan glances around, taking quick stock of the area, then darts forward at Marisol. His hands come in like a vise, his left aiming to slam into her ribs an instant before his left. Then, assuming his hands aren't completely intercepted, he breaks away, leaping out for a hanging chain. It's a ballsy move, and they're some distance up, but Alan swings from the chain to a narrower, faster conveyor with supreme confidence.
COMBATSYS: Marisol fails to interrupt Hook Punch from Alan with Red Clover.
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Alan 0/-------/---====|=======\-------\0 Marisol
His scoff earns the boxer a sneer, the redhead's expression briefly irritable as he staves off her blows. "Friendship shit?" A sharp laugh escapes her, eyes widening briefly before she simply steps back and points a finger at him with a grin. "Says the guy whose only friend is his boss AND, who I might add, thoroughly trashed you. I don't forget hilarious shit like that, especially when it involves someone like you covered in fruit."
The latter, however, gives Marisol reason to frown sharply, eyes narrowing once again. "Then you've had shitty friends. My friends won't do that." Even as he charges her, Marisol simply twists her body, an attempt to sock the main in the face and stun him. He proves the faster, however and, as result, the half-Spaniard is sent staggering to one side as he himself leaps away and finds the faster belt.
Marisol sneers.
"Get back here, you coward!" she shouts, thrusting a finger forward and in his direction. "Don't try to run away! Finish what the hell you decided to start!"
Ah, the fruit incident, Alan remembers as he sails through the air, landing on the faster conveyor belt, building up some distance. It's an attack on Alan's pride, and fortunately for him, he's built up quite the shell against those. "Don't start thinking I'm an idiot! I work for 'im, I've got no illusions on how much I mean to him!" Alan almost overbalances when he hits the speedier conveyor, dropping to a crouch to steady himself, then straightens up.
He keeps a stony face through the rest of Marisol's words, but notably doesn't respond. He also doesn't grin, smirk, or spit to the side. He only takes the time to take out a cigarette, pop it in his mouth, and light it with a fingersnap, before holding out a hand and giving Marisol the ol' 'Come on!'. "Maybe you forgot, but this ain't just a fight! I'm getting on that boat, one way or another!"
His dark blue eyes lock onto Marisol, watching her movement carefully. He's going to make sure he has the advantage when - if - she comes on over.
COMBATSYS: Alan focuses on his next action.
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Alan 0/-------/---====|=======\-------\0 Marisol
"Whoa," comes Marisol's response, as she slowly drifts along the belt. Thoughtfully a hand rubs her chin, gray eyes slowly drifting towards the high ceiling above as she stands there. "You're talking pretty weird there...are you sure he's not like...you know." Lifting her shoulders in a rolling shrug, Marisol's lips pull into a lopsided smirk. She remains quiet...
Then she laughs to herself.
"Ha ha ha! Are you in love with him, maybe?"
But he reminds her it's more than just a fight. Frowning to herself, the girl looks around briefly, eyeing her surroundings before she simply exhales and turns on her heel, letting her back face him. "So you're more interested in getting on a boat? I expected more out of this fight, especially from the likes of YOU. But if you're going to run away, well."
Again, Marisol shrugs. She continues to keep her back facing him.
"Fine. Be a wimp. I'll just tell everyone you were afraid of a schoolgirl. And what would your boss-slash-boyfriend think??"
COMBATSYS: Marisol gains composure.
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Alan 0/-------/---====|=====--\-------\0 Marisol
Alan R. B. just kind of... gestures. He lifts his hand, palm up, face incredulous. "You know what? Think about whatever gets you going when you're lonely, no skin off my back." Alan is starting to get quite the distance ahead now - the light from the open bay ahead is starting to fall on him, and he can barely hear the lapping of water outside.
The older boxer is really fine with just riding the conveyor all the way out and calling it a win on his part - it was never specified that he had to take Marisol down, since this TECHNICALLY isn't the tournament - but can he really be expected to do nothing with that fine ass pointed right at him? Alan carefully pulls his right arm back, an orb of chi gathering, and there's only the slightest increase in crackling. It might just be some weird artifact noise of the conveyor system.
The two rapid snaps of thunder are probably not, Alan snapping his hand forward rapidly. "Strike! Twice!" The yellow bolts follow each other so closely they might as well be one long one!
COMBATSYS: Marisol blocks Alan's Lightning Strikes Twice.
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Alan 0/-------/--=====|=======\-------\0 Marisol
"W-what??" the response he gives earns him a scoff, gray eyes widening considerably before she stares up at the boxer, shocked. "What makes you think the idea of two old men kissing each other makes me get excited? That's disgusting! You're not even my type, and neither is your boss. In fact, you know what?"
There's precious little time TO respond properly, however. Watching as he gathers his chi, the girl narrows her eyes before she scrambles up, moving along the belt before she finds a chain to scale. The bursts of electricity come, but Marisol seems hardly concerned; in fact, she lifts an arm, accepting the brunt of the powerful blow before she shakes the arm. That stung a little, and her frustrated look shows it.
Scaling the rest of the way, Marisol scrambles along the faster belt, charging toward the other boxer before she swings a fist at his face. "You're just a dirty old man!"
COMBATSYS: Alan endures Marisol's Light Punch.
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Alan 0/-------/=======|=======\-------\0 Marisol
It probably takes a little time of thinking about it before it comes clear exactly what Alan just did. The jab to the face spins Alan around, and it looks like he's about to go spiraling away as his feet leave the ground. But he twists about ridiculously in the air, chi crackling down into his foot, and he bunches up and somersaults in the ear, his heel tracing three perfect circles that are only potentially interrupted by the top of Marisol's head. "Ring! Of! Thunder!"
His foot slams down into the conveyor, shaking it from side to side, and he takes a few fast steps back. He wipes a spot of blood off the corner of his mouth, and sneers. "Ha! Watch who you're callin' old, I still get carded at bars."
COMBATSYS: Alan successfully hits Marisol with Ring of Thunder.
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Alan 1/-------/=======|=======\==-----\1 Marisol
Her punch lands and, briefly, Marisol sports a cocky smirk. Curling her fingers into an even tighter fist as she withdraws, the redhead's smoky gaze settles on the man as he spirals through the air. But there's more to it - something that she didn't notice at first. Blinking once, she watches as his foot moves, electricity crackling from it. Looking up, she's met with a painful vision.
His foot kicking her in the face.
Staggering back and away, the redhead clutches at her now-bleeding nose, eyes wide with surprise. "Ha ha...ha ha ha!!" Amused, the girl just drops her hand from her face and continues to smirk broadly, gray depths focused entirely on Alan as she stands there without moving. "Old...is old. But you can still hit. And I like that. But you know what?"
Charging forward, the girl swings a fist heavily at Alan, attempting to sock him soundly with a savage hook to his jaw.
"YOU SHOULD HIT HARDER THAN THAT!!"
COMBATSYS: Alan parries Marisol's Hook Punch!
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Alan 1/-------/=======|=======\==-----\1 Marisol
The fist comes at Alan, and... he doesn't move. His body goes completely still, and the blow just plows right into him. His face crackles and dissolves around the blow, as thin as air, and the after-image of electricity collapses into a series of tiny cracklings. "I don't hit hard." The voice comes from behind Marisol, but Alan's already moving right back around, impossibly quick, chi pouring out of his body and obscuring exactly where he is. "I hit fast!"
Blows start to rain in on Marisol from all directions as Alan runs tight circles around her, sometimes hopping over her, but weaving lightning behind him. Jabs, hooks, rib shots, short uppercuts, straight blows, it all comes pouring out, his fists moving in a blur whenever he's actually glimpsed. Every now and then Alan hops away and back, making it unclear when he's even actually disengaged.
COMBATSYS: Marisol Toughs Out Alan's Storm Front EX!
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Alan 1/------=/=======|=======\===----\1 Marisol
Her fist comes, a mighty swing that slices through the air, and it would seem she hits! ...but soon it comes to pass that she didn't, in fact, hit. Instead, the after-image of the R boxer fades, giving Marisol reason to pause briefly, lips pulling into a thin line across her smooth face. What the?
Then a voice. From behind her the man speaks, giving her reason to suddenly pivot on her heel. "You hit fast?" she asks, her tone amused as he suddenly jerks to life and assails her. But she doesn't move - she takes every hit, regardless of consequence. And her smile grows with each hit, her amusement plain. "You call that fast?"
Twisting her body, Marisol pivots on her heel and jerks to life, moving after Alan as she locks in on his form with a fist raised. Only as she nears does her arm move, a hook aimed to sock the daylights out of him...
COMBATSYS: Marisol successfully hits Alan with Cloud Nine.
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Alan 1/=======/=======|-------\-------\0 Marisol
The hook lands, a solid and massive "crack" echoing throughout the air between them. It brings a massive smirk to the girl's face, gray eyes widening as the opener lands. Succeeding, she pushes the attack without remorse, a low chuckle escaping her. The other hand at her side curls into a tight fist and aglow with chi, knuckles white before she swings it and socks Alan in the face.
Then another chi-laced hook. Her smile widens.
The other hand jerks to life briefly, grabbing the man by his collar before she sharply jerks forward, crashing her skull against his before pushing him back and, with a mighty swing, delivers unto Alan's face a fierce chi-laced uppercut, meant to send the agile-footed boxer soaring!
The first hit knocks Alan's sunglasses off, something happening more and more lately. It jerks him right onto one foot, completely off-balance and unable to do anything about the rest of the blows. The second punch knocks his cigarette from his mouth, the grab to his collar pops the top button right off of his vest. And then he eventually goes soaring into the air. But even with that beating, he still manages to recover in mid-air, feat snapping out and twisting.
His left hand lashes out to catch one of the rusty girders supporting the roof, his sudden weight causing it to groan and grind, red corroded metal raining down from the sky an instant before it snaps from his hand, toppling down onto another nearby conveyor amidst shouts and bellows. A few boxes - one of which apparently full of frozen pot pies - topple off the belt until they manage to stop it and reroute goods. Alan drops down as it falls, landing hard on a walkway and springing off onto the final wide conveyor belt. He crouches there for a moment, going out under the skies and over the waves.
If he cared to look, he might notice a half-naked Brazilian rumbling with a man with a bloody sword.
Alan comes back to his feet, electricity already surging around his hands, and just raises them both in the classic gunhand configuration. "Hey, look... almost there." Blood runs down the side of his face, but that smirk cannot be destroyed that easily. "Better hurry it up! Thunder..." The electricity surges forward, Alan snapping his fingers in a quick left-right-left-right rhythm, hurling fat yellow bolts of lightning back into the warehouse and right at Marisol. "...STOOOORM!"
COMBATSYS: Marisol endures Alan's Thunder Storm.
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Alan 0/-------/-======|===----\-------\0 Marisol
Upon being sent sailing skyward, Marisol's gray eyes go wide with sheer delight, her amusement clearly written across her dusky features. "Ha ha ha! Ha ha ha!! Did you like that!?" she cries, watching even as he corrects himself midair, his body moving as a hand lashes out and snares a rusted girder. It is of little concern to Marisol. She just doesn't care - her concern is keeping an eye on Alan, watching his every movement. The pot pies go ignored, however tasty they may be.
As he moves closer to the Suiryuu, however, Marisol pursues without a hitch. Chasing after the man, her lips pull into a massive smirk across her lips, eyes wide with delight as she watches his hand move, a gunhand aimed at her. Almost there, but not in one piece. Not if Marisol can help it.
Thunderstorm or no, Marisol charges THROUGH the surge of yellow bolts. They sting and hurt, sure, but she doesn't seem to mind it. Instead, her mind is focused on Alan, as he moves swiftly along the belt, toward the boat. The belt SHE is now on. There's no time to dally around now, not when she's feeling so weak.
"Raarggh!" Pushing through the bolts completely, Marisol suddenly lunges forward with a bellow, in a last-ditch effort to swing a chi-encased fist right for Alan's face...
COMBATSYS: Marisol can no longer fight.
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Alan 0/-------/-======|
COMBATSYS: Marisol successfully hits Alan with Red Clover.
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Alan 1/-----==/=======|
Fate must be smiling upon Marisol.
The blow lands, another solid crack echoing between them. The other fist swings suddenly thereafter, fiercely planting into his gut. Grinning a bloody smile, the girl takes a brief step back, surveying Alan briefly before she lurches forward and again swings her fists, two savage, chi-kissed punches across the face, the last meant to blow Alan back and leave him back up on the conveyor belt.
As for Marisol? Well, she simply drops to her hands and knees on the belt, letting it take her and Alan to...whatever. Right now, all the half-Spaniard wants is to rest. Possibly sleep. Forever. But she smiles.
"Th-that..." she manages to wheeze, shoulders heaving as she bows forward. "Was...awesome."
The punches batter Alan, though there aren't any more pieces to go flying - most of the buttons remain on the vest, his boots are boots, and his iron rings are way to hard to replace for me to write about them flying off his fingers willy-nilly. The punches actually hit him harder than the chi, crackles of electricity appearing to drive the energy away in part, unconciously. The final blow knocks him a few feet up, causing him to fetch up against a crate full of bandages (which will come in handy shortly), and just sit there.
"Heh..." Why did Alan make a small laugh? Perhaps he's thinking about how, now that the fight's over, both fighters are too tired to kick the other one off. Guess it's up to the crazy ninjas on the crazy ninja ship to determine what happens next.
Of course, if they try to throw him off, he's definitely not staying off.
COMBATSYS: Alan takes no action.
COMBATSYS: Alan can no longer fight.
Also some chi blood falls down onto the conveyor belt from the cables above. Fucking Tenma.
Log created on 17:26:35 08/22/2007 by Alan, and last modified on 00:47:44 08/30/2007.