Description: Who the hell thought it was a good idea to make two firewielders fight in a place full of things that explode? Whoever it was, we hope they're not monetarily responsible for whatever damages are incurred, because a HELL OF A LOT OF DAMAGES WERE INCURRED. (Winner: Ash)
He was still thinking about it, that run-in he'd had with the red-clothed man the other day. The other 'thief': or so he had called himself. A lot of what the Frenchman had said had been mere nonsense and vagary, easily dismissed or ignored. But some other things were not so easily forgotten. The insinuation that both were wielders of fire. The suggestion that they had both stolen that power-- though at least one received it unwillingly. And most of all, that hint that whatever power the other man had... it was greater. Or at the least, more refined.
K' might almost have regretted walking away quite so fast if Ash didn't unnerve and irritate him so much.
It's Saturday night, a few days later. K' followed Maxima's advice, as he's wont to do, and signed himself up: as a result he's found himself thrust into a different sort of fighting circuit, one in which almost everybody's just a little bit 'special.' Arriving a bit early to his assigned venue, he walked in, took one look... and his eyes went flat behind those obscuring shades. "You've got... to be kidding."
He's waiting for his slated opponent now, perched morosely on a stack of fireworks near the center of the half-stocked warehouse. They might be sealed away in their heavy crates, but K' is nonetheless fully aware that his slightest loss of control could spell death. He almost welcomes the tension, the knife's edge of command he's forced to walk. It keeps his mind busy, and not on matters that trouble him more than what would happen if he dropped a spark...
Well, he wasn't wearing red when he last encountered K', but today, the wielder of those strange green flames does happen to be dressed in his distinctive, crimson fighting attire, and he's currently brushing a bit of lint from one of the sleeves, travelling to the scene of his scheduled match in a limousine. He has a few of these outfits, though more often than not, they seem to wind up destroyed by the end of his fights; perhaps today, that won't be the case... Or so Ash thinks, as he sits there, but then that thought is immediately dashed as the limo pulls up in front of a fireworks factory. Oh man... What a STUPID idea, putting Ash in a place like this. Stupid, but of course with the potential to be incredibly entertaining. Even moreso when the garage type door opens and, emerging from the vehicle he's been riding comfortably in, the flamboyant Frenchman steps past the gathering crowd and camera equipment to spy... that guy from the grocery store! "Mon dieu, is he my opponent?" Ash wonders, very much aloud and just as rhetorically, and one of the SNF fight organizers nods pointlessly. The Frenchman gives him a sidelong glance, then shrugs and continues past crates and boxes containing the live fireworks. Now this fight is officially stupid, potentially entertaining, and incredibly DANGEROUS. Did anyone factor in that they could both DIE here? Probably not, but who can tell, with Saturday Night Fight?
It's not long before he's facing the seated K', and with those slender hands upon his narrow hips, the red-clad man smiles quite brightly and without restraint, his voice sounding just as cheerful. "Bonjour, mon ami! It's been a while." Though only a couple days, truth be told. And unlike the leather loving flamewielder, Ash never left that store with anything to mull over. Instead, he went about his usual routine, which of course meant keeping up with his soaps, and even met Angel, someone to compliment his own rather absurd style. They chatted over dinner and he painted her nails, how sweet. But now, what was forgotten comes flooding back to him, and those blue eyes, that lack the warmth his smile projects, close, making him look positively foxlike. He strikes, swift and fierce, "Are you new to this, as well?" Because he's never seen this fellow before. Not in a tournament, SNF, or any other fundraising activity. There's also that Neo-League thing, but even Ash isn't capable of following everything in the professional fighting world. Let his happy punching meatsack roommate take care of that; it's something that makes Shenwoo useful if Ash ever needs any information on a fighter.
"Good evening everyone, and welcome to Crazy Zhin's Dynamite and Fireworks Factory, generously donated to Howard Enterprises as a site to use for Saturday Night Fight! And what a fight it should be! We ask that the crowd please keep their distance from participants, and please avoid crossing the barrier into the fighting arena for their own safety! This match is going to be explosive... Literally!" The announcer, a short man rambling away in English while a cohort translates in quick Mandarin for the crowd, gestures grandly at the garage door to the two fighters within, "Dressed in red, the flamewielding Frenchman who once fought in our very own fight circuits of Shanghai, ASH CRIMSON!" And of course, there's one helluva cheer, if only because his popularity here is bolstered due to his association with the self-proclaimed 'God of Battle'. "Dressed in black, the unknown newcomer and someone to definitely keep an eye on, Kay-dash!" The second introduction gets another cheer, if not so loud as the one for Ash. These people are, after all, excited to see a fight!
"Ah, so you /are/ new!" The Frenchman says, because it's a bit of a whirlwind that probably keeps K' from having the opportunity to respond, everyone eager to see this fight begin, but... what kinda name is 'Kay-dash'? Do you write it like that? Oh my. Lifting a hand, he lightly runs a finger along his sharp jawline in contemplation. "Well anyway, I suppose since I'm the veteran here, let's see what you got, ahaha." Ash's laugh floats somewhere between sounding forced and genuine; difficult to put a finger on, like most everything else about him. But at the same time, there's a wicked undertone to his good cheer. Time to put those words from before to the test... This place is going to get blown sky high.
Lost in his own thoughts, his unnaturally-keen senses overwhelmed by an overload of input from staff and spectators alike, K' doesn't even notice the arrival of his opponent until the wide door opens and the noise from the crowd spikes in anticipation. Even then, he doesn't bother to look up quite yet. He remains perched right where he is, comfortably braced with elbows slung across his knees. Head slightly bent, a fall of silver hair brushes across the obscuring, sleek shades that hide away his eyes. His head's slightly at a cant, the slope of his shoulders careless, and the only thing missing that would have completed the look of suave indifference is a lit cigarette.
Too bad that cool first impression he's making on the spectators-- practically none of which know who the hell he is or where he came from-- almost snaps in half when K' finally slants his gaze up through his lashes to glance at his opponent. The young man visibly pauses a second, even though no expression is visible past those glasses and no movement is made. And then, under his breath, he exhales a heartfelt, "...fuck me. It's -you-."
The line of K''s jaw tightens, but no other reaction is forthcoming. After a few moments, he finally lifts his head, the motion lazy and somewhat heavy: much in the way of a tiger. A brow lifts above the smooth arc of the shades, and K' replies Ash's cheerful query coolly, a secretive hint of amusement-- easily missed in the midst of all that studied frowning-- tugging at the corner of his mouth: "Too new to get to choose the fights I want." That bit of relatively-harmless rudeness is left to hang in the air a second, before K' eventually relents to a different topic: the other one he's sure Ash is wondering about. "Since you're wondering, I guess we'll make it clear now..." A single finger lifts, flicking downwards in a representation of a ' mark: the hand then pauses deftly, and then turns palm-up in a gesture of indifference. One accompanied by the casual lift of the opposite shoulder. "Just the letter: and that. Call it..." His head tilts, a surprisingly rakish-- if still somewhat humorless and cold-- smile cutting across his face. "...a label."
K' rises to his feet then, heels balanced casually on the edge of a single crate. He remains poised there, hands shoved in his pockets and shoulders slouched, looking the very picture of nonchalance; but then, one hand lifts to tip down his shades. The hint of dark eyes that's revealed is intent and studying. "So let's get it over with..." he remarks, before dropping down to the ground proper and stalking his way over to the arena. A fingertip hooks into his shades, and he slips them off completely: flipping them shut and stowing them away one-handed. He certainly looks, in this moment, like someone it'd be worth warning the spectators to keep a distance from.
COMBATSYS: K' has started a fight here.
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K' 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Ash has joined the fight here.
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Ash 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 K'
COMBATSYS: K' takes no action.
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Ash 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 K'
"What... you?" Ash says in query to the murmured remark that is his greeting, and he has REALLY GOOD HEARING, apparently. It's just a bit selective, at times. Unlike K', he's not the type to stoop to vulgarities, however... Oh, he has something to say about such an offer, misinterpreting it in the worst of ways. His smile turns predatory, and with eyes half-lidded, an expression that screams RUN FAR AWAY, K'! Because this is going to be SCARY. "Okay, if that's what you want." The Frenchman whispers back in a purr, "But it'll have to wait until our fight is over." Suddenly, there's squeals coming from the crowd, and to be certain, a few girls now have their pairing of choice. They'll be off to post their Saturday Night Love fanfiction shortly, and the tabloids will go wild. Scandal!
However, while Ash has no qualms in providing material for the female imagination of some illicit carnal lust existing between himself and this newcomer, it's still a fight, and he gets down to business, all joking set aside, even if his jovial manner is not. "You can't actually choose your fights, newbie or not, mon ami." He corrects the false assumption with a sardonic twist to his lips, clearly displeased in some manner with what he views as a fault. This fact has put Ash himself in some very unfortunate matches that he would've preferred to avoid. "A label, hm?" he murmurs afterwards; that gets his curiosity going, and he muses to himself as he turns and starts to walk away, expecting the youngin' to take him up on the offer of the first shot, but it doesn't come, and as K' intones his unwillingness to go first, Ash laughs musically for a response. In fact, he laughs for a long time, long enough that a hush falls over the crowd, even the spellbound girls, who are otherwise busy developing all sorts of scenarios for how these two star-crossed fighters met and forged their way in the world with their love in secret. "Well, if you'd rather waste your opportunity... C'est la vie!"
Reaching down, those long fingernails disappear between the cracks of a crate filled with fireworks, and seriously needing to physically exert himself to lift it, somehow, despite looking rather skinny, Ash does! He defies gravity, pulling it up towards his other hand, and as momentum starts to carry him, well... He pivots on his heel, flinging the heavy crate straight at the still partially seated K'. Ash then stumbles forwards, arms windmilling, trying desparately to keep on his own two feet. Which he does, and then... "Ow, I think I pulled my shoulder," he says mournfully, almost pouting. ... Is he really taking this seriously, or was I just lying before? Pushing with a palm against his right shoulder, he rotates it gingerly. "Tch."
COMBATSYS: K' overcomes Large Thrown Object from Ash with Second Shoot.
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Ash 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 K'
K' stares up at Ash flatly for a space of time, the most withering look of 'are you fucking serious?' on his face. Eventually he decides he simply doesn't have A DAMN THING to say to that kind of thing, and simply gets up with a dismissive and irritated snort. He pushes past the red-clothed fighter with the worst sort of spurning scorn, ignoring even the squeals of the feminine half of the audience. PISS OFF, HE'S NOT GETTING IN BED WITH ASH CRIMSON.
And from what Ash is telling him, he'll have a lot of random weirdass fights like this to put up with if he continues doing this crap. Wonderful. For a moment, the displeasure on his face at this news mirrors Ash's-- the only time their expressions come close to matching-- and then he shrugs and turns away. He steps off silently, pacing off a decent distance from the other fighter, wanting room to maneuver. If this man wields fire anything like he or Kyo Kusanagi do... they'll need the space.
Even if said space is filled with about ten million tons of extremely volatile explosives. The thought, far from cowing or concerning K', almost exilharates him.
K' finally turns around at Ash's spate of laughter and amused acquiescence to go first. Tilting his head and cracking his neck, he rolls a shoulder and waits lazily for the Frenchman to get on with it. The attack, when it comes, does surprise him slightly: but in an instant, he knows exactly what he wants to do. They want to see explosions? Let them have their god damn explosions.
That gloved hand lifts, the fingers coiling tensely, and with a sound like the snap and rip of cloth an intense flame lights in his palm, winding about his wrist. The same color and intensity as Kusanagi fire, it shrieks a loud and crackling hiss as K' rakes upwards, lashing a ring of fire directly before him: and then, he swivels to deliver the gout of fire a quick roundhouse. The wash of flame becomes a bolt, which snarls towards the crate-- and tears straight through it with a roar of detonating fireworks and splashing, fiery color. With luck, some of that flying shrapnel will hit Ash-- or, even better, those irritating girls in the first few rows who're screaming themselves hoarse at the sudden deafening clap of sound.
COMBATSYS: Ash negates Second Shoot from K' with Ventose.
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Ash 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 K'
Aw, how cruel, wanting shrapnel to hit the fangirls who now have eyes only for them, and their love affair. The attitude of K', clearly rebuking such an idea, will do nothing to deter them... Especially not when Ash will probably encourage it. After all, such things won't be the weirdest thing anyone's ever said about him. And K' is sorta attractive, in the rough way that Shen sometimes strikes him as cute... THIS TRAIN OF THOUGHT IS ACTUALLY VERY DISTURBING.
When fire meets the crate, and events unfold in exactly the manner that he had hoped, which was to enable him a glimpse of K''s power, Ash is in the midst of giving his shoulder another testing roll, and at the explosion, the older fighter freezes. The blue eyes widen to their very limits briefly, and not because his ears are predictably left ringing and suddenly there's fireworks rocketing around the room in every direction, exploding with crackles and bangs. It's because they shouldn't, but the flames strike a strange chord in him, though he can't seem to make any sort of connection as to why, but this really isn't the time to just stand there.
Unfortunately for the leather-clad flamewielder, should he wish to injure the Frenchman with bits of wood and the bright sparks still sizzling away, probably soon to ignite more boxes all on their own, he'll have to do better than that. As a particularly large bit of firework leaves a trail of blue, shimmering light in its wake, aimed right for Ash's face, it meets a rather loud demise as it's suddenly devoured by a wave of green. Green fire, that is, and a LOT of it. Both hands out before him, he's made a shield large enough to protect his entire person, and then as it seems there's more than just fireworks heading for him eventually, having survived through the chaotic introduction, suddenly the flame pulls itself inwards. Drawn into his hands as it someone had held up the nozzle of a vacuum cleaner. Ash slashes through the air with one arm, and follows it up with the other, and as he laughs, the two crescents of bubbling emerald energy are soon unleashed into the 'battlefield' meet K''s own fire in another, larger explosion. Both bursts of flame annihilate each other in a flash of orange-red and vibrant green, the force of the eruption pushing Ash back slightly as he stands, braced. He then straightens leisurely, left in the clearing smoke as a lone sparkler feebly sparkles. Clearly the clash was too much for what might have eventually been more explosions, dousing the other fireworks that had been left to unwisely burn away happily on their own. "Oh my," Ash says, jovially. "It seems you're getting all FIRED up." Ba-dum, PISH! His bad jokes are far more dangerous than even his distinctive flames!
K' is not a sadist, nor particularly evil-spirited, but neither is he known for not having his moments of cruelty. Moreover, like anyone else, he's prone to thinking a whole lot of things that he doesn't actually wish would happen. -- or at least, it's -hoped- he doesn't actually wish they would happen. One never knows, with him.
It's too hard to see through the roar and clamour of the exploding fireworks, so Ash gets away with that uncharacteristic expression for now: K' doesn't see it. What the boy -does- see, however, is the wave of green fire that consumes his own in a burst of struggling, twisting flame. K' frowns slightly as the two blasts cancel one another; he's never seen anyone use green fire. Much less such a quantity of it.
That eye-narrowed, wary regard lasts only a moment. K''s only response to Ash's horrible, horrible joke is a mirthless, unamused sneer of a smile and two words: "Spare me." He lunges forwards, pouncing a few steps forward: and then he leaves the ground entirely, surging forward in a leaping snap kick at Ash's face.
COMBATSYS: Ash blocks K''s Minutes Spike.
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Ash 0/-------/------=|=------\-------\0 K'
Honestly, Ash has never been the sort of person to keep such things as 'moderation' in mind. His personality, for instance, is a tad overbearing, and he enjoys using his powers. Lots of it, in fact, should he find an opponent worthy enough... But that concern is usually just saved for street matches, now. When it comes to SNF, he knows that he'll face someone suitable, though whether they qualify to see his full potential is something he can't tell until the fight begins in earnest. Let's see how K' measures up. "Tsk, you'll hurt my feelings if you keep that up." The Frenchman remarks lightly in regards to those two words, and in comes the other fighter, pouncing, lunging, leaping... Whatever it is that he does, which kinda looks something like a demented grasshopper, but as that leg comes up to kick the flamboyant, effeminate man in the face, NO. DENIED. He likes having his nose intact, because Ash is rather vain. Digging his feet in to absorb the impact, the outstretched foot meets a gloved hand. Both of them, actually, as Ash intercepts the leaping forward kick. His arms protest as he holds his ground, and when the pressure eases up, it's possible that K' might find himself in a lot of trouble...
Should he be able, the green flamewielder pulls that foot in towards himself, disrupting K''s inertia and manipulating it in order to use in his own best interests. The other hand slides up the his opponents's leg (GOODNESS ME! And the fangirls squeal again.) to catch him at the back of his knee. The slender body of Ash Crimson twists around in what seems like an interesting step to a complicated dance, and fully intending on using K''s own appendage as a fulcrum, he'll swing the younger man up and over like a helpless doll, before bringing him slamming down roughly upon the ground and scattered remains of the fireworks already used. Leverage can do amazing things, you know... And all the while, Ash smiles that genial smile, as if he weren't trying to beat the stuffing out of K' at all.
COMBATSYS: Ash successfully hits K' with Strong Throw.
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Ash 0/-------/------=|===----\-------\0 K'
A muted snarl kicks out of K''s throat as he's seized mid-attack. The suggestiveness of that touch does not register with him-- he's too busy being concerned about the ground he's about to smash into. He meets the floor hard, hands a meagre brace between himself and the concrete that keeps him from getting completely knocked out, and hisses out a short breath of pain.
Yeah, it'd be best not to judge on appearance when it comes to Ash Crimson. Not that K' is prone to doing such things anyway.
Within moments he's in motion again, twisting agilely around in his opponent's grasp. Hurt his feelings, will he? "I should keep it up, then," is his low, sardonic deadpan of a rejoinder, before his gloved hand lashes out at Ash once more. A coiled whip of fire snaps outwards, flaring at Ash's torso from close range.
COMBATSYS: Ash interrupts Eins Trigger from K' with Nivose.
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Ash 0/-------/----===|======-\-------\0 K'
... Wait, what? Hey. There was no suggestive qualities to it, merely a swift interpretation made by girls with overactive imaginations. To them, that touch was of the utmost intimacy. To Ash, it was a necessary means to an end; he didn't want K' falling on him. But /anyway/, the leather-clad fighter is unfortunate enough to wind up snagged like a hare in a bear trap, and things pan out in the best of ways for the Frenchman, as he cruelly hurls his opponent at the ground without a hint of remorse. This is a fight, after all... And it's questionable as to whether or not Ash is capable of that emotion, regardless. Ah, sympathy... You are not missed.
It is advice truly worth acknowledging when facing the Frenchman, not to judge him based on his strange appearance, or flippant attitude. Such mistakes have lead to very detrimental consequences, and so K' is wise in his younger years. Wise, but perhaps he also thinks too highly of /himself/. Ash smirks in a rather impressive manner when it seems that the youthful, silver-haired one is dead-set in being an ass, and ooooo, pretty fire! Except, Ash brings a hand cutting straight through K''s flames as they burst in front of him, willingly accepting at least part of the strike. His hand is bears signs of being slightly burnt, and his clothing smokes faintly around the torso area, but the lean man giggles, and his cold stare finds K' through the remaining licks of red and heat. "Too slow!" And then it happens.
Within seconds, he crouches down to the concrete floor, then springs up once again, from complete rest to a full backflip that would make a gymnast jealous... But as Ash does so, the heel to his kicking foot ignites. With it, sailing up and dispersing the rest of K''s attack, he sends that foot crashing right into the kid's chin, and probably knocking him straight off his feet into the air. It's the quick way to get up, really! The Frenchman himself soon completes his rather aerodynamic interrupt, and with his arms extended to either side, as though he were an olympic athlete on the dismount, floats back to the earth gracefully. He touches down with nary a sound, aside from a short, "Hee hee." Fingers rise daintily to cover his mouth and stiffle the laughter, and once K' has recovered, Ash says, "If you want to beat me, you'll have to do better than that."
Even at his worst, spitting blood, cut to pieces... K' would still be an ass. There is just no beating that out of him. If he's still got breath left to be a bastard... he'll be one. Even when coming to realize the obvious skill of Ash Crimson-- that this is in actuality a very even match, if not one in which he himself is outclassed-- he's still got one corner of his mouth pulled up in that strange, fey expression: a smirk that expresses as much self-hatred as it does scorn for the rest of the world.
The look in his eyes as Ash interrupts his fire is, very briefly, possessed of that poisonous sarcasm. Then, he only has time to brace.
Punted straight back, disoriented and reeling, K' only has enough presence of mind to twist to land on all fours: heavily and somewhat awkwardly. Skidding to a stop, he pauses a few moments like that, slunk low in a bracing crouch like an animal. His right wrist, the gloved wrist, still smokes slightly. A minute sign, perhaps, that his stolen fire is not completely under control.
Spurred, perhaps, by the taste of blood-- it's coursing freely from the corner of his mouth, and he hasn't bothered to wipe it away-- his only response is an expression half-snarl, half feral grin. Consumed by anger, or else by some lust for violence: whichever it is, there is a wolfish, unreasoning quality to the boy that was not present before. He isn't out quite yet, though he might do better to exercise some more caution about the more calculating, less impetuous firewielder.
K' is not without some craftiness of his own, however, and it shows in his next attack. K' lunges abruptly, one armored hand flashing forwards in a seeming palmstrike. If it gets anywhere near Ash, it'll only be in the last -inch- to his body that the true form of the attack emerges: that open hand shutting abruptly into a piercing fist.
COMBATSYS: Ash blocks K''s One Inch.
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Ash 0/-------/--=====|======-\-------\0 K'
There's something to be said about those with the ability to wield fire: For the most part, many of them are obviously hot-headed, and they rarely stop in order to think their actions through. K' would be the very proof of this statement, as would the Yagami scion, but Ash Crimson is on the opposite end of the spectrum. Belying the nature of his fellows, he is shrewd and calculating as was noted, knowing how to best respond to any given situation, and when his reactions fail him, due to slight misjudgements or underestimation of his opponent, the Frenchman is capable of adjusting his plans accordingly rather than stubbornly clinging to a given course of action... And here's another shining moment for him. As K' admirably picks himself up and lunges in with his open palm, the already small blue eyes narrow further, and one thin leg snaps up to intercept. Whether or not the young fighter chooses to follow through from there, all he meets is the red sole of Ash's white shoe, and the freckle-faced flamewielder smiles encouragingly. C'mon, kid. Don't disappoint him. But this doesn't mean he'll show mercy, either. Especially not when he's reminded of his brawling roommate, what with that feral grin and all.
In fact, he can almost replace the image of K' with Shenwoo right about now, and like how the other fighter will forever be an asshole, the arrogant Frenchman is... an ARROGANT FRENCHMAN! :D It's not much of a roundhouse kick, but as he leaps up, the leg he had been standing on is swung over the other and unless his opponent gets out of the way, he's going to wind up kicked right over once again. "SHYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" he bellows, borrowing a mighty battlecry from his punch-happy friend. This time, however, it won't be another introduction to the ground if Ash is successful, but one that will knock the tanned teen clean into a large stack of crates filled with fireworks or dynamite. ... What kind of idiot stores dynamite in a place like this? Imagine if there had been any mishaps with the fireworks; they wouldn't be fighting here right now. It would've been blown to smithereens long ago.
COMBATSYS: Ash successfully hits K' with Heavy Kick.
-* CRITICAL HIT! *-
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Ash 0/-------/--=====|=======\=------\1 K'
Stopped and countered, it's a mercy K' isn't still sparking when he's sent straight back into that stack of crates. Because if he had been-- or if, for that matter, any part of him had been on fire and he's just forgotten about it, as is not outside the realm of possibility-- the fight would be much, much shorter than it already seems to be. Even with explosions notwithstanding, it still hurts like a bitch, and when K' picks himself out of the shattered wreckage-- drawing an arm across his bloodied face, licking more blood from the corner of his mouth-- it's with a slight pant of exertion.
The look of encouragement on Ash's face is a foreign thing to K', raised in an environment devoid of any such emotions. It confuses him, and the result is that he fails to take it positively. A twitch of ire mingled with bloody, deprecatory amusement pulls at the corner of his mouth, and his glance slides downwards: towards his arms, which turn such that the insides of the forearms face out.
Fire lights along the length of his arms, starting at his fingertips and surging in a rapid flash up to his elbows. It sears his leather-sheathed arms clean of blood, and then puffs into nonexistence: the flames doing in an instant what would have taken water hours. It's a stylistic thing as much as it is practical, showcasing his glove-given control over the Kusanagi fire. And he does it far, far away from the scattered dynamite.
"You're better than I thought you'd be," he admits diffidently, even as he hooks now-pristine hands into his pockets and steps quietly around, circling Ash in a steady prowl. It's not clear exactly what he's trying to do. Is it an intimidation tactic? Is it something else? His eyes do flicker down every once in a while, glancing over the ground, but it's not clear what he's looking for. "But how much better?"
He stops. His glance flickers down again, and then back up. One hand unhooks from his pocket, turning palm upwards, and a lash of flame abruptly licks up his arm, sparking a steady fire in his open grasp. Within an instant of this, he's swept forwards with surprising speed, describing a straight line directly towards Ash: a violent burst of fire before him, a line of flame etched behind.
He was looking, as it turns out, for a straight line of open ground: though whether the time he had to take to find it will cost him remains to be seen.
COMBATSYS: K' successfully hits Ash with Heat Drive.
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Ash 1/------=/=======|=------\-------\0 K'
While the teen prowls around him, could the Frenchman look any more relaxed? A wild animal would withdraw, pulling in towards itself, with the intent to protect itself from the implied danger, but Ash merely stands with a slight slouch, hands rested against his hips and eyes briefly closed. He's hardly prey, but a predator as well, and he patiently taps the toe of his shoe behind himself, before turning with a smile once Mr. Pantiesinabunch has something to say, "I suppose we'll see," he says, facing K' for the split second before the other fighter launches forward... And then, for the first time this evening, K' achieves a clean hit on Ash, all on his own. Guess that encouragement worked, regardless of its interpretation.
The sudden burst of speed is impressive, but it's not something entirely unheard of. However, while he tries to absorb the impact and perhaps twist the situation in his favour once again, it doesn't work; his timing is off. He reaches out to latch onto K''s arm, and adjust his weight, but instead the hand catches him full on unexpectedly in the midsection. Uttering a cry of shock, Ash curls instinctively around the area struck, but it's not over, he learns soon enough, as the distinct feeling of his feet leaving the ground passes over him. Much to his displeasure, and to the crowd's surprise, the lean fighter is blasted back and away, and he goes crashing through crates of fireworks and dynamite indescriminately, so much of the stock kicked up, along with bits of the crates themselves, that it's impossible to tell where he winds up in the mess.
The dust settles, some fireworks tumbling from the air to the piles of broken just about everything, and then suddenly, Ash reappears. He kicks and claws his way out from underneath the mound of debris that buried him, and then hunches over, panting, once he's finally on his feet once again. There's dust in his hair, on his clothes and he's got a scorch mark on his chest, in addition to the ones he earned previously. "Disgusting." He says, dusting off a sleeve with faint signs of irritation flashing across his sharp features. There's probably rats crawling around here, too. It is China, after all. Of course, the Frenchman's gaze soon settles itself once again on K', and his dirt-smudged face soon wears a rather interesting smile, that can only mean bad things will soon happen. But for now, he does... apparently nothing save tend to his fighting attire?!
COMBATSYS: Ash gathers his will.
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Ash 1/--=====/=======|=------\-------\0 K'
K' pulls back in the wake of his successful strike, a still-burning hand opening and flexing shut again with a crack of knuckles. Coiling like a snake, he watches intently as Ash picks himself up, cool pale features twisted in distaste. K''s own dark face is a mask of impassivity, unnatural in its indifferent regard. There is no particular elation or thrill in his features; he simply stands there calmly, slightly slouched, with his free left hand hooked in a pocket. His style might be unexciting to most non-female arena spectators, but it's simply not his way to react much or show emotion.
He's just waiting, so it seems, for everything to start all over again. Just waiting to start dancing for the crowd again. Disgusting. He wipes a slight trickle from his jaw, the blood there starting to dry and become irritating, and grimaces briefly.
The fire laced about his hand eventually quenches as K' finally breaks from his standstill, circling closer. He stops, eyes narrowing infinitesimally... and then he blurs into a smear of black, shadow wreathing his shoulders as he makes a bid to warp in close-- perilously close-- and strike with his gloved fist at the very last instant before he runs headlong into Ash.
COMBATSYS: Ash just-defends K''s One Inch!
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Ash 1/--=====/=======|=------\-------\0 K'
Waiting. Well, Ash can wait too, as he apparently focuses on dusting off his red clothes in the aftermath of that impressive display of speed and flame. Where K' is impassive, the Frenchman continues to smile, as is his wont, but he /is/ paying heed to what the other fighter does, even if he doesn't show it. Obfuscation is an important part of strategy, after all. Finally, K' breaks the standstill; though this same effort was already made once before, and resulted in a spectacular failure, it seems that K' is willing to try again... But persistence doesn't always prevail, unfortunately, and the cruel turn to Ash's thin lips is one that screams of confidence. Still standing within the midst of the debris that lays strewn around him, random bits of wood and live fireworks protruding from the rubble of crates or right out in the open, suddenly part of the mess is displaced, sent flying once again as the teen in leather charges in. Though all the other flamewielder sees is a blur of black, that doesn't mean he isn't able to react. For a moment, his expression turns more focused, even serious, and he twists, that gloved fist smacking harmlessly into the Frenchman's open palm as he skids back, riding the momentum to put some more distance between himself and the other fighter, turning that kinetic energy to his own purposes.
But Ash still has ahold of that striking fist of the dark-skinned teenager, and his grip tightens in an attempt to keep K' just where he wants him. "Let me show you something to aspire to." He smiles again, a broad, cold expression that nearly splits his face from ear to ear, and a sudden breeze kicks up around Ash, created by the sudden surge of his own chi as green flames circle up around him in a sinuous line and casting strange shadows all around. The force of it stirs his clothes and his pale hair, almost hiding his face... But for a brief moment, K' can perhaps see that those baby blue eyes have turned colour, a dangerous red light visible between fine stands of white. Then, suddenly, there's a terrible explosion, ghastly green light flashing everywhere as that line becomes an immense eruption of fire. Whirling around the Frenchman, it seeks out K' as though it had a malign intellect of its own, obscuring the factory in a fiery conflagration that detonates the firecrackers around them. The flames grow, and spreading with frightening speed, they threaten to envelop the entire warehouse and reduce it to rubble, as the spectators and SNF crew back up from behind the barrier, ready to flee screaming... 'Sup, FIRE CRAZY-GO-NUTS!
COMBATSYS: Ash successfully hits K' with Sans-Culottes.
- Power hit! -
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Ash 0/-------/-----==|=====--\-------\0 K'
Caught and ensnared, K''s lithe form skids to a stop, half-mantled and tense. A flicker goes through his eyes, eyes the warm, barely-red glint of scotch in a glass, and they slide up to meet Ash's. They reflect the green of Ash's fire, and go black: their subtle red seemingly killed in the unrelenting heat.
A sardonic look coils on his face, the self-castigation cruel as a strap across the back. Half-bared teeth part slightly in the panting, idle snarl of a big cat snared and bleeding in a trap, and at the last minute it pulls up mirthlessly at the corner in mute answer to Ash's words.
Go ahead and show him. He'll remember it for the next time.
Fragments of shredded wood tear past as that conflagration sparks, fireworks and dynamite set off with a deafening roar, and the only thing that saves K' from even more extensive injury than what he already suffers is the heavy leather he wears. Meant to shield him from the intense heat of his own flame, it helps to protect him from Ash's-- shields him from the shrapnel kicked up by the chain explosions that start off once the green fire touches off those scattered firecrackers-- but it can't fully stop that fire from eating into him with a violent and searing fervor.
Most distressingly, he's entirely mute even despite the intense pain; as though he's been conditioned to accept this kind of pain without a whimper.
The only part of K' that isn't sheathed in protective leather-- his face-- is streaked with cuts, so much so the blood let is like a mask. The gleam of his eyes is still visible, past the red-spotted silver hair and the slither of blood down his face, and-- for the moment-- the fire in them is still bright. Too injured to speak, he simply acts: yanking his still-ensnared arm back in close, he aims to drag Ash back towards him. The intent is to put the other firewielder off his balance, bare his spine-- and then crack that spine in half with a violent stabbing downswing of one elbow. A parting bite from the so-called Beast of Prey: albeit a almost completely blind one. It's the lashing, sightless attack of an animal too wounded to care about anything but the infliction of pain.
Whatever the result, he's out: stumbling back, dropping to a knee, on the very edge of passing out from exhaustion and pain alike.
COMBATSYS: K' can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Ash 0/-------/-----==|
COMBATSYS: Ash dodges K''s Spot Pile.
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Ash 0/-------/-----==|
His grip is like steel, and as the fire coils around them, the air filled with volleys of bangs from ignited fireworks and dynamite, his laughter starts. It's soft at first, but grows louder, rising into the air as the mayhem and devastation spreads throughout their surroundings, and it doesn't break until K' pulls him forwards. Those eyes that flicker from red back to blue of Ash's reappear, widening with surprise, and he loses his balance from the sudden movement, white hair pushed away from his face briefly. Oh snap, a feeling of IMPENDING DOOM! One of the Frenchman's long legs extends, stomping down before him to stop his forward momentum, and as the silver-haired teen attempts to possibly snap his spine in half, Ash springs off to the side with all the power of his legs. The strike doesn't even graze him, as he instead goes smashing in a side-roll through explosions that cause the walls of the warehouse to shudder violently. Finally, one hand hits the cement, and pushing off against it, and he winds up back on his feet once again, starting in a crouch, and getting up properly thereafter.
As he pushes the long and messy locks of hair away from his face, the only thing that Ash can see now is the aftermath of his flames as they're consumed by the rest of the crates exploding, the vibrant green disappearing into the regular old fashioned kind. K', and his actions following that last attack, are completely lost to him. Briefly blinded by the bright lights of the sparklers and bottle rockets, he shields his vision with one arm, and suddenly there's another threatening, ominous creak from above. His gaze quickly whips up to the roof, and the lean man gives a satisfied smile as he sees that it looks that the house is literally going to come down. He did this on purpose. "C'mon, mon ami, unless you'd rather stay, ahaha," he laughs, sounding blissfully unconcerned despite the chaos all around them. A firecracker comes whistling towards his head, and twisting to the side, it flies harmlessly past, smashing through a window some distance behind him and escaping to SWEET FREEDOM. Ash then turns himself, and avoiding a portion of the roof that starts to make it's way to Earth, steps out into the fresh air, leaping over the barrier into the crowd. The fangirls gasp in shock; what is forbidden love without the heartfelt rescue of his life-partner? Eh, K' can take care of himself, hopefully. It'd only insult him to have the Frenchman drag his ass out... Though Ash will go back for his opponent, if necessary. "Bonjour! You might want to get back!"
"... Wha--"
BOOM!
COMBATSYS: Ash has ended the fight here.
It takes a little while, in which time the building groans and collapses worryingly. But after a few moments, it becomes clear it won't be necessary for Ash to save his newfound slash partner. Shaking like a dog, scattering blood across whatever unfortunate audience members happen to be close by, K' finally appears at the fringe of the crowd outside the carnage of the crumbling warehouse. Limping slightly, he ignores the protests his behavior's stirred up, loping mutely towards the barrier Ash has just cleared in a leap.
He doesn't have the strength to jump it. Instead he simply turns to lean his back against it, slouched heavily, shoulders slumped and long legs splayed before him in a bracing stance. Dragging one arm across his face to clear some of the blood, he glances at it briefly before a snap of his arm slings it to the ground. A twitch of a fingertip, and a tendril of flame springs up in the mess, consuming it as readily as it would oil.
"...Not bad," he eventually admits to Ash, though he doesn't actually turn his head to look at his erstwhile opponent. He's looking at the collapsing building, which he watches fall apart with a sort of sadistic amusement. "I wouldn't ever have thought it, first time I ran into you." It's another of those phrases so common in K''s repertoire: an ambiguous statement that's halfway between an insult and a compliment.
There's a real lightshow going over the remains of the warehouse factory, and as K' appears and braces himself against the barrier, the short announcer does his thing, proclaiming Ash the winner of the match. Still, the Frenchman doesn't really pay much attention while the crowd cheers in acclaim of his victory, instead dropping his elbows onto the top of the barrier itself, leaning lazily not far from K', surveying the other fighter with a languid gaze. Not a bad fight, all in all. He was fairly entertained. However, the poor kid's pretty scratched up, and no doubt he'll feel like hell tomorrow, bleeding like that... But that doesn't stop the appearance of a carefree smile that makes him look far younger than he is... Though how old the Frenchman truly happens to be is anyone's guess. Nobody really knows. "We'll have to fight again, sometime." He chirps, choosing to interpret the ambiguous statement how he wishes, and since Ash is a rather hard individual to offend, obviously he takes it as a compliment. "Adieu, mon meme larron," he says. While the white-haired, freckle-faced fighter could also depart on the note that hopefully he'll see more of K''s true ability next time, or maybe quip that he still needs some practice, there's no point, because he's not attempting to provoke the teen anymore, and instead he steps past the shrieking fangirls and avid fight fanatics alike, vanishing soon after into the back of the limo. "Well, at least all I'll have to replace is my shirt." He remarks, pulling out the front of his top to survey the damage, then checking his singed hair, Ash sticks out his tongue. Go figure something like this would happen.
Log created on 16:32:22 09/01/2007 by K', and last modified on 06:00:21 09/07/2007.