Description: K' wanders free in spite being the living byproduct of obscene resources worth of research and development. Now, not only does NESTs want him back, but Rugal has taken an interest in him as well. The 'Kusanagi' flames he was implanted with may end up being way more trouble than they're worth if it means drawing the attention of the tyrant of 'R'. Caught alone, K' is ambushed by Bernstein with no hope of help in sight...
Half past midnight, mere feet from the barrier separating city from river, K' slings his leather jacket across a derelict bit of construction machinery, loosening the black t-shirt beneath with a sigh. Pushing hair out of his eyes, and squints downriver with a frown. It's been a long night, and the chill night wind is quick in drying the sweat from his dark skin. It feels good after the heavy, drenched air he'd been breathing for the past few hours.
If there's one thing common along the disreputable banks of this filthy river, it's bars that let out their basements after dark for unsanctioned and brutal fights: many of which end up patroned by fighter hopefuls, looking to get into the real tournaments. K' rarely meets anybody of any real skill or consequence while shopping these venues, but it's nonetheless a way to stay sharp between those fights of actual importance. It's also a quick way to earn a couple hundred-- especially since nobody in their right mind ever bets on the skinny, morose kid who looks like he just ropeladdered out of his bedroom window to escape a grounding.
There's something cathartic about sweating blood in a cage, inches from a snarling opponent, moments from slamming the back of his leering and unmarked face into the unforgiving steel mesh. It's animalistic and base, and more than likely a mere waste of time other than the monetary benefits and the exercise-- but then, K' was never the sort of person to be bothered feeling anything other than the most stark cynicism.
Presently, K' rolls a single shoulder, inhaling deeply. His gloved hand flexes absently, and he shrugs his jacket back on. Cooled down, sobered, he's ready to start the long walk home. At least the sky's clear.
K' hardly leads what one would call a glamorous life. Nor is he exceptionally public. But that doesn't mean he is entirely untrackable by those with a vested interest in finding him. Recently having stepped out of obscurity into the limelight with his appearance on Howard's Saturday Night Fights this last weekend has exposed him to some investigation by those who are interested in knowing all about the fighters that are worth noticing.
It's unlikely that he would've noticed a single individual in the barfight audience the last few nights. A small, inocuous looking little fellow that no one would really know anything about, nor would they think it important to. But somehow he manages to be there at all of the bars K' has chosen, perhaps at random, this week. Sometimes showing up late. But never missing a fight. Just another cog in the web of information gathering resources available at the fingertips of the tyrant of 'R'.
The sound of leather soled shoes clacking against the concrete are perhaps the first indication that K' isn't alone. His habits have been observed, recorded, and reported on. And tonight was selected as the one to meet him in person, it would seem. The sounds are attached to no one at first. No one, that is, until Rugal Bernstein himself steps out from beneath the blackness beneath an overpass. Dressed in his signiture red suit, appearing almost black in the dimness of the night, he hardly looks at home here among the gutters and backways of Southtown. He reeks of aristocracy, wealth, and power. His right hand idly folds and unfolds the end of the thin, black scarf that hangs open around his neck, tucked beneath the collar of his jacket. His people told him K' would be here. And his people were right.
Proper, polite, friendly greetings are for lessor men. Rugal simply cuts to the chase. "You are to come with me." he states, advancing on K' with a slow, methodical pace, his inhuman right eye flaring to life with a thin pinpoint of red easily visible in the otherwise gloomy riverbed. It doesn't sound like he's interested in negotiating the demand. Sure, he could send other people to try and take care of this task themselves. But certain interests are best done yourself if you want to see them done right. Besides, K' might fight and weaker minions might not be able to take him. Rugal so hopes he tries... It will make this outing all worth it.
It's the sound that first alerts K' to the presence of another nearby. That rhythmic sound of steps that don't bother to disguise themselves. The young man's steady lope changes infinitesimally, a hint of bestial wariness entering his motions, and behind dark shades his gaze is heavy with caution. He still looks completely nonchalant to the untrained eye, but anyone else would be able to tell... he's on his guard. And he's about two seconds from vanishing into the darkness, melting away like a wraith.
Bernstein's sudden appearance cuts off any thought K' might have had of trying to disappear into the shadows. The timeliness of Rugal's abrupt appearance stops the former NESTS project cold in his tracks. Six very simple words are offered as a greeting: direct, and to the point. They hit K' right in the face, and the boy visibly flinches as though they were thrown darts. Perhaps he would have been more blase had they been anything else-- perhaps he wouldn't have reacted at all-- but those six words are the ones he's been dreading to hear ever since he got free.
It's a reaction of instinct, nullified in the next few instants by cold judgment. The instant K' gets a closer look at Rugal, his expression locks down: an endeavor aided by the shades he's wearing. He might not be precisely aware of who Rugal Bernstein is-- his existence hasn't permitted him to keep up on culture much-- but he does know this man probably isn't from NESTS. No NESTS operative sent after him would look quite like this...
Price of going public, it'd seem. Fine...
"Sorry." K' begins to circle like a cornered animal the instant Rugal starts pacing closer, eyes narrowing at the flare of red that pierces abruptly from what should have been a right eye. Unaware of exactly what kind of twisted 'honor' it is to have Rugal himself coming after him, he's somewhat sharp in his reply: his voice painfully dry, heavy with sarcasm. "I don't go off with strangers... especially not ones that don't bother explaining themselves." K''s head tilts slightly, his expression unreadable behind those veiling shades: though the set of his mouth betrays a hint of scorn. "You sure you're harassing the right guy...?"
His steps would have brought him directly up to K'. But as the young man begins to circle, the tall stranger's direction does not adjust to account for the change in location. Instead he merely comes to a stop, body still facing the way it was but his head turning just a notch so that his eyes - especially that one clearly doesn't belong in the face of any normal human, can remain on him.
His right hand releases the end of his scarf, allowing it to drop down limply against his knee before the cool, midnight's breeze begins to play with the long fabric, tossing it gently to the side while rustling the man's coat just a little. The suited tyrant may not be here acting as a NESTs bounty hunter, but his personal interest in K' do pertain to his background. Of that he can be quite certain.
"It wasn't a request," comes the neutral reply, the tone of a man not used to 'asking' for things. His left hand sliding into his pants pocket, his back arching just a little, his entire body seeming to relax in the face of the build up of tension in K'. "And I am quite certain of my information. Or would mentioning your dear almamater, NESTs, not ring a bell?" The card is played, making it clear the man isn't going to be bluffed easily. His right hand raises, fingers open at first, before his fist closes tightly, the popping of knuckles echoing against the concrete walls.
Only then does he turn completely in order to face K' directly. The entire motion one of deliberate patience, as if he has all the time in the world to work with here. Or maybe he's just toying with the young man. A predator seeking idle amusement before going for the jugular.
Down here, this late, the two seem to be completely alone. Calling out for help or hoping for others to wander by and interfer with this exchange would be a vain hope indeed. Bernstein selected the precise moment and location to approach K' after all, certain that he had ever factor carefully planned. This 'boy' is quite the catch after all.
The dark-skinned young man circles Rugal slowly, measuredly, for all the world like he's the predator in this confrontation. And he could still be one, in truth, outmatched though he is: a lither, younger one, warily leaping in and out to take small bites of a larger foe. He prowls around until he's at a point just behind Rugal's right shoulder, and then he stops. His gaze, hidden behind the blackness of those obscuring shades, flicks right to left as if seeking some point of escape.
There is none. No easy way out-- no chance of interference from others. Rugal truly planned this well.
Knowing this, K''s stance hardens. It braces, the boy prepared to fight viciously to keep his hard-won freedom. He isn't entirely sure what Rugal wants with him, though, or how much the tyrant knows--
--that is, until Bernstein graciously reveals that knowledge himself.
At the name, K' freezes, locking up stiff-legged and bristling like a dog tensing before it begins a fight in earnest. His head lowers slightly, shoulders hunching, and the effect of that defensive motion is not dissimilar to the way cobras spread their hoods and hiss in warning. The message certainly isn't any different, especially considering it's accompanied by the slight bare of white teeth-- stark against dark skin-- and a deep snarl: "...What do -you- know about NESTS?"
Subtle, K' is not.
The more K' tightens up the more Rugal seems to relax. Even with the comperatively passive way he is observing the young man right now, he is slowly assembling information on him. Evaluating muscle tension, nuances in movement, whether or not he seems to favor certain postures or limbs that would reveal any recently obtained combat injuries... Nothing escapes Bernstein's attention. And the more information he obtains, the more he can relax. Knowledge is in every sense of the word 'power', and with passing seconds Rugal's power grows.
"Enough," he states in reply to K's demand for an answer. He knows he wants to know more. And he knows that this escapee stands a very good chance of making that possible. "Enough to know that unlike other NESTs projects... taking you won't start an open war with them." There is a faint smirk then and his voice cuts off. He's already said more than he really even felt like stating. After all, the lab rat doesn't need to know why it's life has to be an excruciating hell. Only that it is.
His left hand comes up to his neck, adjusting the black string tie there, before lowering back down calmly to his side. "And that they did something to you... Something very interesting. I suspect they would like to get you back every bit as much as I intend that you come with me. And that, in and of itself, makes you worth my time." There's more to it than that. The key to the genetic manipulation mastered by NESTs. The answer to a question of TRUE power grafting... Oh yes, K' is very much worth Bernstein's time.
And then it seems he's done with deliberations, moving from standing to going on the attack suddenly, both feet stomping down as he turns with a flurry of scarf and suit coat flaring out behind him - out of tranquility comes the storm, out of waiting comes impatience. One hand extends toward his neck, intending to land a crushing, vice-like grip, the other an open palm driving directly toward his face, intending to smash those glasses against his head. It's a careless, bold move intended to shut down any further discourse with decisive brutality.
COMBATSYS: Rugal has started a fight here.
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Rugal 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: K' has joined the fight here.
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Rugal 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 K'
COMBATSYS: Rugal successfully hits K' with Strong Throw.
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Rugal 0/-------/------=|===----\-------\0 K'
What can be gathered from K''s movements and carriage is, quite simply, the fact that the boy is heavily-combat trained and therefore versed in hiding weakness. He's tired already from the fights of the evening, a little sore in the left leg where he was slammed against cage bars hard enough to get even him to give voice, but very little of this is evident. There's little to be gleaned from him save the knowledge that K' is rather more than he appears to be: not just a punk kid with dyed hair, barely even legal to drink.
But special though he might be, there aren't many people that can track Rugal's movements when the man decides to get moving.
Part of K''s lapse is also due to panic. Rugal's words touch off something in K', who at his core is really nothing more than a beast that's only recently managed to chew free of its trap. Being taken away again, used again, and experimented upon-- the mere suggestion of that is enough to make that spasm of fear rise in the instinct-governing back of his brain. The rush of blind, defensive rage that comes afterwards... comes about half a second too late.
A choked snarl kicks out of K''s throat as he's seized and struck; the sound feral enough it might almost herald a sudden and savage bite. But that's not what is in store. Hardly. Half-blinded by the attack, furious and terrified, K''s instinctive reaction is somewhat different. His hands bite forwards, seeking purchase on Rugal: if he can get ahold, he's dragging the man forwards and twisting around to one side of him, driving an elbow straight for the spine in a blow hard enough to knock Rugal -away- from him. "I WON'T go..."
COMBATSYS: Rugal fails to interrupt Spot Pile from K' with Medium Punch.
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Rugal 0/-------/----===|====---\-------\0 K'
It's incredible what that spike of fear and bestial panic can spur. Vestigial survival instincts combined with raw power, honed timing, and pure will to survive. To be free. That very thing Bernstein seems intent on denying him. As the lapels of his suit coat are grabbed, the man merely laughs. What is this? Does the boy hope to be able to wrest himself free from the deadly grip he has on him now?
Intending to punish him brutally for such audacity, the taller man pulls his left hand off K's face, open fingers clenching into a deadly fist while his right hand maintains that steel vice of a grip on his neck. As his arm cocks back and his muscles tighten, it's clear that he is about to knock the fighter's head solidly.
But that last second timing spares him the blow, the tyrant's clench fist scraping by, missing his face by under an inch as his leather soled shoes clap against the ground - the mighty fighter knocked sideways, slightly off balance. His right hand releases the grip on K's neck the moment the fighter drives the elbow into his back, and at last even the lion of the two is forced off into a stumble.
He doesn't fall - oh, no, it would take far more than that to get him clean off his feet, but he has to turn around then, hand clenched tightly as he glares at K', jaw set tightly. "Come now - compared to what you have been through with your previous keepers, I could offer something far better... A moment's reprieve followed by an eternal rest once I have what I need... You can't just keep running forever, /boy/. You are alone in this world. Why struggle to life when life itself has all but rejected you? Ha ha ha!"
K''s sheer will is something not to be underestimated. Far from breaking his spirit, confinement and experimentation by NESTS has simply forged it into something stronger than it would have been, had it not had to undergo such trials. It's a pity that steel will had to come with such moments of self-hatred-- of doubt, of fear, of intense loathing of his own perceived mediocrity. There are mornings when, the moment consciousness and awareness come crashing in, the sudden weight seems too much to bear and it's all he can do to drag himself upright.
Still, if nothing else, he has his freedom now. And he is not letting it slip away again.
K' hisses in a breath between his teeth at that impending retaliation, but he doesn't stop his own action. To stop would mean certain pain. And he's rewarded for that persistence, at the least, finally released from that deathgrip. He immediately skids back a few paces, not wanting to stay close, looking for any chance to flee-- but the fact Rugal isn't even put off his feet kills off that avenue of thought near-instantly. K' pants in a few breaths, swiping the ruins of his shades from his face with a clawing hand. His bared eyes, fixed on Rugal's, glint strangely: the dark amber of them alive with a vague and unnatural glow. Like a sunset seen warmly through a bottle of scotch.
That hint of fire is the core of what Rugal's seeking, in this boy.
"I won't go back on the leash for any man--" K''s right hand vises shut with a crack of knuckles, the manacling glove cutting into his flesh. "--or for any cause. I won't have any more keepers, and I won't be used again." He doesn't deny life's done nothing but kick him in the teeth, doesn't deny it's an uphill struggle sometimes just to live it; but damned if he'll go back to the kennel and spend that miserable life wearing a collar again. "So you..." K''s expression twists, a smirk warring with a look of searing bitterness on his dark face. It's the wild look of a cornered beast lashing out desperately. "...can just piss off..."
K''s gloved hand opens abruptly, uncurling into a claw. It rakes upwards, and those stolen Kusanagi flames Rugal's no doubt quite interested to see roar to life in the air, conjured in the form of a ring. The boy's lithe form abruptly twists like a whipcrack, a roundhouse kick delivered to that gout of flame to send it bolting towards Rugal.
COMBATSYS: Rugal blocks K''s Second Shoot.
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Rugal 0/-------/----===|=====--\-------\0 K'
COMBATSYS: Rugal has saved the state of this fight.
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Rugal 0/-------/----===|=====--\-------\0 K'
He was sure of it when he saw the broadcast. The flicker of flame different from the elemental manifestations most fighters are able to demonstrate with their control over the breath of life around them. There's chi blasts, then there's the destructive power wrought by forcing living, deadly flames to dance at your behest. The difference may seem trivial to the teeming masses who know no better. But to those who have faced the precious few who really can fill the air with scalding, punishing flame, the gulf is significant. It's no wonder Bernstein seeks that control for himself. That there is one not from the Kusanagi bloodline that weilds their flames is proof that it is possible. Somehow. And he must know, at any cost.
But first, he must see for himself. And there it is, that flickering coil of power. He must know if it is real. His eye tells him that it is, but he must feel it to know for sure. When the roundhouse kick sends the wreath of burning fire his way, Rugal slams his arm forward, literally driving his spread fingers into the fire, disrupting the forces at work within the attack yet also getting that confirming contact that he desired. The flames scattered, he raises his arm up slowly, both eyes coming to look at the burned sleeve of his suit coat. The signs of heat exposure on the flesh of his hand. Just the proof he sought. His attention comes back to K' immediately, burned hand lowered with enough power to woosh through the air. "Just as I thought. The product of billions of dollars and decades of research... and you're out here traipsing around entering pit fights in order to scrape by some meager existence. Feh." Irony at its best.
Now the predator knows what it is he has and knows that he wants it all the more. There's no way he's letting his prey get away now. When Bernstein charges next, he pushes off from the ground into a forward lunge, his right arm cocking back before slamming forward, a knuckled fist slamming toward K's chest before attempting to recover from the leap into a more controlled landing.
COMBATSYS: K' fails to interrupt Medium Punch from Rugal with Claw Bites.
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Rugal 0/-------/---====|======-\-------\0 K'
That Kusanagi fire burns sustainedly about K''s wrists like living bangles, lingering in the wake of the shot of flame. The boy stands there quite still: now, deceptively calm. His eyes fix upon Rugal's, trying to judge the older and more experienced man's movements, and largely... failing. The man is too quick. So this is the sort of strength that exists outside the cage bars of NESTS; the strength against which K' himself could have been made as one of the cartel's lines of defense.
Or, as the case might be... aggression. Who knows what NESTS was out to take with the power it was gathering?
He doesn't notice how Rugal actually seeks to confirm the truth of that fire with the block. All he sees is that the man is able to scatter them with a strike, and his eyes narrow. They slit even further at what Rugal has to say about it all.
"I wouldn't call any existence free from being -known- as a 'product' meagre..." is the low retort, the boy's hands coming up into a mantling, aggressive stance with a growl of fire. Shoving his weight back on his right leg, he pushes off from that leverage, trying to plow through Rugal's oncoming strike: a searing trace of fire carving through the air as his right hand claws forward. But he has misjudged the speed. He's struck solidly before he can connect his own blow, taken off his feet and sent arrowing towards the concrete barrier; he twists agilely in the air, slamming sidewise into the barrier surface in a three-point stance, and then he drops to all fours on the ground like a thrown and ruffled cat.
He doesn't immediately rise, remaining right where he is in a wary stance: expression set in a defiant snarl. He shoves the back of his left hand against his mouth as he coughs, still winded from the force of the blow, and when it pulls away the black fabric of the glove is stained red.
While K' is recovering from the vicious strike, Rugal simply walks forward slowly, advancing like a monster undeterred by the obvious signs of pain in his target. He knows what he wants, and if it means subduing this reluctant walking science project with brutal injuries, then so be it. As long as he doesn't kill him, he will be able to get what he wants. Access to K's DNA, research into his body, his genetics, his mind. The scientists of 'R' will have a field day with this one. And when they're finished tearing him to pieces, they better have the answers Rugal demands, or else their own lives may be forfeit.
"Hm, hm, hm," comes the deep chuckle of amusement as K' attempts to battle the destiny Bernstein intends for him. "You can feel it already, can't you. The difference between us... You didn't grow to become an able fighter like me. You were merely crafted... I am the result of decades of training, rising ever closer toward perfection. You were merely given strength and flames you don't deserve and left to thrash about violently with power you hardly understand... Your future has already been decided. All that you have the power to chose is how painful your entry into it will be!!"
As his voice rises, echoing off the concrete walls around them, Bernstein goes on the offense again, charging once more as he closes the gap. His arms extend out to his sides as he literally intends to crash his chest into the thinner fighter and smash him straight away into the wall behind him with crushing force. "RAAH!"
COMBATSYS: K' dodges Rugal's God Press.
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Rugal 0/-------/----===|======-\-------\0 K'
There's something to be said for partners. They work best in tandem, when there is a deep-rooted sense of understanding between them. One of these understandings may very well be understanding of the fact that, sometimes, your comrade might be prone to wandering off on his own to do thinks like stoically think ellipses to himself. From this, the other must understand just where that person would go when they want to think deep and troubled thoughts, so they can more easily find them when they have something to discuss. Sometimes, nothing comes of this. Other times...
Unfortunate as it may be, due to his very nature K' is something of a trouble magnet. People from all over want to kick him in the face and maybe even go so far as to kill him, whether it be because of his unique, genetically-crafted powers, his former connections to NESTS, or simply because he can sometimes be a dick. As it stands, it's only natural to assume when one hears fantastic sounds of combat in the middle of a location that K' may or may not haunt, that it's likely due to one of those reasons.
But despite his poor attitude, K' is hardly alone. As Rugal strikes out, seeking to slam the poor, white-haired young man into a wall, a form begins to approach the pair. Large and imposing, it would normally be hard to miss -- but in the heat of battle, some things are overlooked. As Rugal crashes into nothing more than empty air? He may feel a single, gloved finger tapping on his shoulder.
"Yo," Maxima's greeting is impossibly friendly and casual, complemented with a wave of one massive hand. "Rugal Bernstein, right?"
And that's about when one massive hand lashes out, seeking to grip onto Rugal's face, lift him with unnatural force, and then simply -fling- him straight over the massive Canadian's shoulder.
Sometimes it pays to have big, cyborg friends.
COMBATSYS: Maxima has joined the fight here on the right meter side.
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K' 0/-------/-======|-------\-------\0 Maxima
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Rugal 0/-------/----===|
COMBATSYS: Maxima successfully hits Rugal with Quick Throw.
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K' 0/-------/-======|-------\-------\0 Maxima
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Rugal 0/-------/-======|
COMBATSYS: K' has joined the fight here on the right meter side.
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Rugal 0/-------/-======|-------\-------\0 Maxima
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|======-\-------\0 K'
With a snarl of a grimace, K' clears his head with a vicious shake, moving like an animal as he pulls himself upright into a low and taut stance. There is no particular hope or confidence in his gaze when it focuses back on Rugal, but the fearless, indomitable will there is unmistakable. This boy will not be one to simply fold; the master of 'R' will -have- to beat him unconscious before he can take him away.
His chest heaves slightly with his panting breaths. But once Rugal starts talking, even that movement stills. K' goes deadly silent, stock-still as if stricken, the instant his inferiority as a mere 'creation'-- deemed insufficient for the purposes for which he was made, undeserving of what power he -was- given-- is touched on.
He doesn't raise his voice. Not yet. But he does reply, and he does it in a low and choked snarl. "Shut up..." Teeth bare in a feral expression. "What the hell do -you- know about me!"
He surges upright as if reaching some sort of fury-sparked second wind, lunging aside as Rugal attacks. His swift evasion seems almost like a shadowstep, so wreathed in a weird black 'shroud' it is: it's a strange show of ability decidedly non-Kusanagi. And it saves him getting knocked flat again.
He turns abruptly, spinning back to face Rugal, intent on doing his level best to tear into him: but he's stopped cold with astonishment by the sudden appearance and intervention of his partner. He looks nonplussed a moment, and then his eyes slink half-closed. Unimpressedly, with the barest hint of a smirk lurking about the corner of his mouth, he declares darkly, "About -time-." Though he hasn't taken his eyes from Rugal.
COMBATSYS: K' focuses on his next action.
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Rugal 0/-------/-======|-------\-------\0 Maxima
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|======-\-------\0 K'
As K' slips out of the path of the crushing attack, Bernstein slides to a stop a few feet past him, his outstretched arms folding in over each other, having intended to snare him in his grasp. There is a sense that more was at work there than pure muscle power - a taint of something unseen in his wake, a pulse of power that causes dust and small pebbles to roll into a cloud around the polished shoes of the man that failed to connect with his target. Whatever it was, it would seem as if K' just avoided a very painful assault from the tyrant of 'R'.
A minor set back. It just means he will need to be struck one more time than Bernstein had calculated he would need. Hardly any concern at all. But then there is that concrete rattling thunk of a foot behind him. That isn't K's footfall. Not even remotely. The tap on his shoulder is timed perfectly for his subsequent spin to face Maxima, a clenched fist already rising as if prepared to smash this interloper out of the ballpark and get back to business
"Yes, unfortunately for you," he growls at the oh so friendly greeting, fist swinging forward in the same moment he finds his own face gripped in the powerful paw of Maxima before being hefted right off of his feet and then flung uncerimoniously off to the side. He rolls with the landing, coming up into a crouch then rising up to his full stature... even if he now finds himself dwarfed by the not-just-human human cohort.
The way K' gets greeted tells him in an instant that these two know each other. His intel didn't include this important detail, or else he would have made sure to have Maxima trailed just to guarentee he wouldn't interfer. This presents a bit of a problem. He could tell in that moment of contact with Maxima that he isn't dealing with any normal fighter there as well.
"Heh, nice suit." he sneers, raising the back of his left hand to wipe across his face. "You have no idea what you're getting into the middle of here." comes the only warning he's going to give Maxima before he charges forward, both arms cocking back. He looks to just plow right into the new arrival like he had tried with K'. Only, this time, he swings both of his arms forward, slamming his forward foot down to stop short in order to become a fulcrum over which all of that momentum can be leveraged into that single, devestating force driving in toward Maxima's face from both sides.
COMBATSYS: Maxima endures Rugal's Fierce Punch.
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Rugal 0/-------/-======|====---\-------\0 Maxima
> /////////////////// ]
|======-\-------\0 K'
"Man, K'," Maxima begins slowly after the carry-through of his swing, rubbing his wrists in something of an idle practice, "-Rugal Bernstein-? Why do you have to keep pissing off the wrong people? You didn't make fun of his mustache, did you...?" Really, he has to assume, at least at -first-, that this is entirely K''s fault. Part of him knows it's not; the words are said with a bit of a teasing air that expertly masks his own cautiousness. Rugal Bernstein, leader of 'R.' As a member of NESTS, he had to be kept informed of such people. And his 'mind' such as it is, is chock full of files on Rugal, 'R,' and what NESTS knows of them -- and none of it is promising.
"Sorry about my partner, he's a bit rude sometimes."
Still, Bernstein is back on his feet at a surprising rate of speed. "Actually," Maxima retorts with a slight blink "I probably know more about you and what I'm getting into here than you do. But you're probably not here to argue semantics, right?" Rugal moves fast enough so that for some, it might be a little bit off-putting. For Maxima? ... The man simply prepares himself, lowering that massive body of his to intercept the full force of the armsdealing tyrant. He rushes -forward- about halfway through Rugal's charge, body steeling itself. Those fists CRASH into Maxima's face, skin molding against the man's fists in horrible -- yet oddly metallic -- sounds of impact. Yet?
The exact moment that Rugal impacts, Maxima seeks to once more grasp Bernstein by the face. If successful, he'll simply lift the other man up high... and then SLAM him straight into the ground with such force that it cracks and indents beneath him. "HMPH!!"
Maxima's light teasing is taken with a frown. It's an expression that only deepens into a scowl when Maxima actually calls him rude. "I didn't start -this- one," he protests irritably, though the inflection of his voice is rather unpromising. 'This one'? How many other occasions was it when he -was- the instigator? Probably, judging from Maxima's resigned air... too many.
Learning how to play nice was never in the NESTS curriculum. You can't blame K' for his lack of tact.
As to that name... he's heard of it, though before now he's never really had a face to put to the name. Gleaming amber eyes flit over to Rugal, memorizing his appearance and studying his movements against Maxima. He can't afford not to remember this man; for even if they escape this evening, there's a pretty good chance he'll pursue them yet.
He doesn't even wait for Rugal to close with the cyborg before he attacks again, slinging a ring of flame at the tyrant's intended path towards the cyborg: who ends up tanking the hit anyway. Might have expected that.
COMBATSYS: Maxima successfully hits Rugal with Bulldog Press.
- Power hit! -
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////////// ]
Rugal 1/-----==/=======|=====--\-------\0 Maxima
> ////////////////// ]
|======-\-------\0 K'
COMBATSYS: Rugal reflects Eins Trigger from K' with God Press EX.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////////// ]
Rugal 1/------=/=======|=====--\-------\0 Maxima
> //////////// ]
|=======\=------\1 K'
Just who is this new arrival that seems to know so much about him? The thought that Maxima carries himself with a certain amount of confidence born by possessing information that Rugal had not anticipated only frustrates him more. It's no surprise that he attacks with such recklessness... after all, how will this interference survive the punishment born by being struck with all of his force born by both arms?
Apparently fairly well. His fists impact a face he expected to smash into a fine paste with that blow... he has shattered rocks with less powerful attacks than that, and ended the careers of lessor fighters with even weaker still. But in that moment he realizes there's something amiss. There's too much density, too much resistence to his knuckled fists. What he battles is clearly not a normal human. He should have realized it with that first grip on his face. And he would have, were he not so fixated on his goal here... speaking of which -
The grab at his face from Maxima is successful. There's no way he had expected that kind of swift retaliation from a man who's face he just tried to pulverize. What follows is a painful slam back down to the ground, Rugal caught so flat footed that he amounts no defense at all. Concrete is powdered beneath his back, but that's not enough to keep him down as he swings his legs out, pulling himself back up directly into the path of K's attack. And he just doesn't care.
Ignoring Maxima for now, and in fact, ignoring the swath of flame sent bearing in on him as he decides to seize that grasp on the young man that he sought before. Literally barreling forward with no concern about his own well being. Which brings him crashing directly into the spiral of fire. The impact of the two actually does stop the man short as Rugal roars, extending his arms out to the side, driving all of the energy with which he had propelled himself forward into crashing against the flames, sending them flying back against K' with such incredible speed as to be impossible to avoid. The attack may have been weathered, but Bernstein stands still after that, his teeth gritted, his human eye narrowed with contempt, frustration at this unexpected turn of events on an operation that had been so carefully planed.
Even Maxima hadn't quite expected to hit Rugal with such unbridled force, but the effect is clear, and Maxima is sure to make note of it -- as well as Rugal's phenomenally quick recovery. Bernstein's reckless, almost crazy response to the effect of the pain is somewhat startling, even for Maxima. Despite having been around for longer than he'd care to admit, for having seen so much -- he's never seen such immense fury before. Especially when (two thirds of) NESTS' leadership carried themselves with almost impeccable calm.
The cyborg can't help but wince, then, as he sees that fury being brought upon K'. The effect is certainly far from expected; the Canadian's innumerable amount of sensors track and monitor the sudden burst in speed on Rugal's part, the way he molds those mystical flames and shoves them straight back into the user with an unparalleled sort of strength. "... Huh." It's just as Maxima thought; this man could become quite the issue.
Of course, that just means it's imperative to take him down as soon as humanly possible. The moment that those flames are thrust back into K''s own body, the massive cyborg leaps forward, interposing himself between Rugal and K'. Feet away from the tyrant, he thrusts out his right hand, his left bracing on the forearm. He says nothing; his actions speak for him. From his wrist, blossoms a series of deadly-looking arm-cannons, wreathing his fist in a series of metallic clicks. Rugal can probably guess what happens next, and that's exactly what Maxima is counting on...
... as he instead thrusts -down- with that arm, triggering off the armcannons. Each one releases immense bursts of steam at the ground before Rugal, condensing in a thick veil meant to blind and obscure the man... and set him up for something else entirely.
"Now, K'! Hit him as hard as you can!!"
COMBATSYS: Maxima assists K'.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////// ]
Rugal 1/------=/=======|=====--\-------\0 Maxima
> //////////// ]
|=======\=------\1 K'
Whatever K' was expecting Rugal to do with his flames... it was not that. Caught by surprise, suddenly staring down his own fire, K' doesn't have the time to move. The Kusanagi power roars searingly against him, burning him intensely as if alive, aware, and very conscious of the fact the boy that wields them doesn't have a blood right to them. Breaking the bonds of control K' has over them, they hit him like a train.
In short, K' gets a little taste of what it's like whenever he burns another with that stolen flame.
One arm braced before his face protectively, he eventually seizes control of his own fire again, gloved hand shutting in a command to quench. Panting and somewhat singed, he regards Rugal with a stark and potent spite. The man seems largely undeterred. At this rate... who knows whether he's capable of outlasting-- even outfighting-- the both of them? Yet such an outcome cannot be allowed, even though K''s feeling the keen edge of exhaustion and the bite of his injuries already. He'll be damned if he gets taken alive. Especially by a man who obviously has terrible intentions.
He might have been about to voice some of these thoughts, but mercifully he's stopped from opening his smart mouth again. Because it's about that time that Maxima interposes between K' and Rugal, effectively blocking the two off from view of one another. K''s first instinct is to snap and snarl, so abruptly and suddenly cut off from the subject of his focused ire: but in the next instant, he realizes what the cyborg's intentions are. And a flicker of a feral smirk pulls briefly at the corner of his mouth. Didn't have to tell him twice.
Few things can be seen through the thick haze of steam; whatever indication of what K' is doing will have to be obtained through other senses. Unfortunately the boy isn't very generous about it, and at first there is nothing, not even the sound of steps. But presently, the first hint comes in the sudden snarl and roar of a rather large amount of fire.
The sound of the flame sparking rips through the hiss of steam like the sound of cloth snapping in the wind: and then shearing in two. It's followed, instants later, by K''s reckless bolting rush straight at Rugal through the obscuring mist: a gout of fire massed before him, and flame streaming from his shoulders.
COMBATSYS: K' successfully hits Rugal with Heat Drive.
[ \\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////// ]
Rugal 1/--=====/=======|=====--\-------\0 Maxima
> //////////// ]
|=------\-------\0 K'
Having multiple hundred pounds of flesh and steel insert itself into your warpath proves to be a deterrent even for the likes of Rugal. The man slides to a stop a second time, fists glenched, feet out in front of him as he actually crouches a little. The calm, controlled fighter that was all but toying with K' earlier is gone. Instead he finds a plan of his unravelling rapidly - a valued prize in human form going on unscathed... He wants his, more than anything he has wanted in recent years. To learn the secrets NESTs have and put them to use. If he can just get his hands on K', then a legacy decades in the making may at last approach completion. And if it were not for this infernal half-man, half-machine before him, victory would have been a certainty.
As Maxima provides the smoke screen, giving K' the cover he needs to strike out with those flames of his, at last Rugal is given a full taste of the power the living genetic experiment weilds. A face full of the Kusanagi flames that was impossible to see coming with enough accuracy to do anything about sends Bernstein staggering backward, his hands coming up to press against his face, his flesh seared and burned.
Lowering his hands slowly, smoke rising up from his shoulders, his suit coat burnt, his white shirt thrashed and scorched, his breathing haggard and uncontrolled as his arms hang loosely down at his sides... the man looks like hell.
And it's with blood crazed vision that his eyes come to rest on Maxima. The obstical in his path. The imbecil that seeks to deny him what it is he desires. His mouth clenches tightly then and in the next instant he tears across the distance between him and the Candadian interference. "YOUR FRIENDSHIP WILL COST YOU YOUR LIFE!"
COMBATSYS: Rugal successfully hits Maxima with Omega Destruction.
[ \\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////// ]
Rugal 0/-------/------=|=======\====---\1 Maxima
> //////////// ]
|=------\-------\0 K'
What comes next is not a pretty sight. Even before Rugal gets to Maxima it's clear that there's something wrong with the man. His right eye, normally a pin-point of red light, flares a violent red, shining through the darkness, illuminating his target as his face convulses with rage unleashed. Fury has unleashed the beast within. Anger at having this plan come part as another gets in the way has shattered his composure. And it in this moment of mental weakness that the traces of a forbidden power rises to the surface, enjoying, if for a brief moment, nearly complete control over its mighty host. "RAAAAAGH!!!" The sudden spike in power literally powders the concrete around Rugal, an invisible blast, impossible to detect - the only evidence the destruction left in its wake. And then he is upon Maxima.
Rugal smashes into Maxima bodily, only to follow it up with a relentless assault of punches and kicks, each one bearing crushing force, each one capable of killing a normal person. Strike after strike, all bluring together, each one laced with a sharp, piercing chi intended to exacerbate each injury even further. But it isn't just Rugal swinging now, but the monster within him, relishing this transient moment of control to strike out at a living thing and crush it.
But such things can't last forever. Eventually Rugal slows, reaching the limits of a mortal body that strives for immortality. There is another battle being fought then. Gradually his mind struggles, wrestling against the Orochi's touch in his sub-conscious. For a moment he let that power run rampant. But he knows... oh how he knows... that Orochi would be just as happy to see him die as whoever he is fighting. That power would gladly drive his body onward until it destroyed itself, collapsing beneath the strain that not even he could survive. That sealed, dark god cheers for no man. Not even this beaten tyrant who hosts a sliver of it.
The gambit is a success. Rapidly, Maxima's hulking form thrusts out to the side, large boots stamping into the concrete with incredible force as he provides a path for K' to rush down, directly towards his target. The flames strike, burning into Rugal in a searing display of strength, but more importantly... speed. But Maxima knows... this isn't quite the end of Rugal. The man is still clinging on, and more importantly -- more DANGEROUSLY -- he is very, very upset.
Within less than a second, everything goes awry. Maxima's data readings go figuratively off the charts, all the warning signs in that highly complex mind of his sounding off like a freight train. Rugal's chi is rising with an alarming degree of rapidity. His speed, strength... everything.
Maxima doesn't even know what's happened by the time Rugal is upon him.
He can't even register the speed. He was almost positive he saw Bernstein only a few feet away, and then -- the Canadian cyborg is introduced into an entire, unholy level of pain. Physical blows are mounted against an unrelentingly metal body, his form capable of absorbing most of the damage Rugal's fists can provide -- but still, the titan strikes harder than he has ever experienced before. It's the chi, however, that truly concerns Maxima. Through the haze of pain his mind notes one, specific thing: he can't stick a label onto it. Usually energy comes in a variety of forms, anywhere from manifested fire, to chi channeled by rage, but this...? Nothing. A void. Nothing defined by 'evil' or 'good.' Just complete, total...
... destruction.
Enough destruction that Maxima's massive frame, sporting more weight than should be possible for his height, goes blasting off like a ragdoll. As if he were no more than a pebble in a vicious storm, he crashes into the concrete ground, digging a deep furrow into the earth. His body smolders, but oddly -- does not bleed. Everything organic about him has been trapped within a hull of metal. No, instead, his body just smokes as if he had been struck by a bolt of lightning -- and then struck again ten more times. For a while, he doesn't move.
... But even the full fury of Rugal Bernstein is not enough to keep Maxima down for long. Slowly but surely, the cyborg pulls himself up. He staggers once, but remains standing tall... just as large hands grip for the edges of his coat.
"You're just as strong as all the files on you say you are," he notes with a disturbingly dry tone, like someone analyzing something with complete objectivity. Made perhaps more odd by the fact that Maxima's -chest- is beginning to literally open up, fold away to reveal something underneath. A large cannon, glowing ominously with a cerulean hue. "Sorry though; we're gonna have to cut this short."
Rugal Bernstein gets a rare glimpse into one of the greatest heights of NESTS technology as the cannon literally imbedded in Maxima's chest glows with furious luminosity, and, like the calm before the storm... preludes a massive, torrential BEAM of white and sapphire chi, generated completely by artificial means from Maxima's 'heart.' A massive, puncturing vortex of power meant to slam into Rugal and consume him, and drive him off the only way he understands -- through power.
It's nice to know you're so desired as a commodity.
Except no, not really.
Putting on the brakes in the midst of his own lashing fire, K' swivels mid-stop and drops into a three-point stance, slightly winded from the effort of summoning and maintaining the amount of flame that now wreathes his shoulders. His pause is enough time for Rugal to retaliate in unadulterated and savage fury; except the subject of his ire isn't K'-- it's Maxima. And the tyrant's vicious blows are too quick and too punishing for K' to even see clearly: much less interrupt or slow.
It's around that time that K' sees red. The fact that Maxima still manages to get up afterwards doesn't mollify him in the least. Only the barest sliver of lingering rationality keeps him from attacking immediately and thereby jumping straight into Maxima's beam of chi (again).
Bristling and furious, virtually taken leave of his senses to the point he's no longer got any conception of caution, K' surges into motion with the rapid and precise lope of a panther the instant that beam pierces past: regardless of whether it hits, he's arrowing straight for Bernstein with a troubling recklessness. There's an obstacle in his way, a wide bit of wreckage he can't possibly clear in a single mundane jump-- he as good as ignores it, plunging forwards in a diving leap and springing off his hands halfway in a feline vault. He lands and twists instantly, swiveling a violent hook at whatever of Rugal he can reach. Apparently he's too pissed even for anything fancy.
COMBATSYS: Maxima successfully hits Rugal with MX-II Final Cannon.
[ \\\ < > /////////////// ]
Rugal 0/-------/--=====|=------\-------\0 Maxima
> //////////// ]
|=------\-------\0 K'
COMBATSYS: Rugal interrupts Medium Punch from K' with Genocide Cutter.
- Power hit! -
[ < > /////////////// ]
Rugal 1/-------/=======|=------\-------\0 Maxima
> ///// ]
|======-\-------\0 K'
COMBATSYS: Rugal can no longer fight.
> /////////////// ]
|=------\-------\0 Maxima
> ///// ]
|======-\-------\0 K'
It looks like even the best laid, nefarious plots can fall apart in the face of /friendship/. The fury vented by the attack on Maxima leaves Rugal rather weakened. Slower now than he was before the brutal assault. His breathing is rough, his right arm hangs limply down in front of him, while his left hand clenches and unclenches, blood pouring from between his fingers - evidence of the wounds the attack did to his own limbs; bloody rips in his own flesh that soak through the fabric of what is left of his shreaded coat and shirt. Not even his body is intended to withstand that kind of destruction. Not even it can channel that dark chi without paying a gruesome price.
He stares in Maxima's direction as the cyborg gets back to his feet, but it would seem neither of his eyes are focusing on him. That pool of black that is his own gift from technology flickers red a couple more times, before darkening completely, shutting down as his mind no longer has the focus to control it. It's hard to say if he even sees the man's chest cavity opening, revealing that pinnacle of NESTs research, a cannon devised to be capable of even taking down titans like Rugal. It doesn't matter what goes through the crazed, barely lucid mind of the thwarted madman then for in the next instant he is awash with the blindingly bright blast that explodes out from the barrel of that device. There is the glimpse of him raising his left arm in front of him, fist clenched, as if intending to defy the blast out of raw will power, but considering he becomes impossible to see at that point, it'd be hard to say that he exactly succeeded...
But when the destruction passes, the man is still standing, though pushed back several yards. His coat and shirt were obliterated by the attack, leaving only a thrashed muscle shirt over his torso. But he's still standing all the same though he seems barely alive at that point; the burned up husk of the fighter he was minutes ago. And then it is that K' decides to take a swing at him, adding his own strength to finish the job, and suddenly Bernstein spasms to life again, that beaten, bloody body turning to face the young man, his mouth curling into a gleeful sneer as if oblivious to the wreckage that has been wrought upon him by now. All he sees is his goal leaping into him, waiting for him to finish what he came here to do. To take down K', capture him, and learn NESTs secrets. And now he's leaping at him, giving him that opportunity. An opportunity that won't be missed.
"Genocide," comes the deep throated growl, blood specks flying from between his lips as he swings his left leg up with a sweeping arc, crashing his foot into the young man's chin with enough force to knock him clean off his feet into the air. If only it would end there... Bernstein leaps up after him, his right leg coming up with a second strike into K's back, a trail of red, lancing, piercing chi slicing through the air behind his foot, "CUTTER!!" The final blow comes from his left leg again, this time another sweeping strike traced with that same slashing chi that drives into K's back a second time. The shout of the dreaded technique that Bernstein has perfected over decades echos along the man-made river bed, shaking the walls and rattling the rebar grates and metal bridges in both directions. It is a shout of triumph, a declaration of victory, an oath of what the man would do were his conquests not abated by such unlikely heroes as the two who stopped him tonight. Were it to suit his purposes, a sweeping scythe of genocide to fell millions would not not slow his rampage.
The sound that follows is anticlimatic. The thud of a body landing without any control. A meaty smack of the tyrant plummeting back into the ground after his last minute ascent into the sky. He lies perfectly still, face down, one hand clenched in a bloody fist.
At this point, Maxima may be the only rational mind left within a twenty-meter radius. Rugal... well, his state is obvious. And K'? Well, if he were still sane, he wouldn't have attacked at all.
Already exhausted himself, pushed to the limits of his endurance, K' has no way to stop or avoid that retaliation. He sees it coming, but doesn't have the presence of mind to stop it. What follows is somewhat like a game of hackey-sack, except with a lot more blood and snapping of bone: driven into the air, half-limp, K' doesn't even have the time to recover his wits enough to effect any sort of defense before he's slammed back to solid earth with punishing force. He hits once, tumbles, and skids, dragging a lurid trail of blood across the concrete.
His movements thereafter are almost pitiful, like those of an animal that's run endlessly from some pursuing predator only to find a steel trap shut on its leg once it's almost clear. Too injured to be aware that Rugal himself is down, he's still, in his mind, fighting capture by a master even crueler. And it shows in his spasmodic movements: the way his teeth bare in pain, hatred, and lingering defiance alike, the way his hands-- unable to even call fire-- twitch... the way he effects little, violent, and ultimately failed attempts to rise.
"Maxima?" The called name is barked hoarsely, the tone of it harsh but nonetheless underlaid with some degree of anxiety. Has Maxima been killed? If he has, it'd be because of him: his fault. Certainly it wouldn't be so easy to off the cyborg, but then... if anyone could...
K' himself can't see for shit, and so he's not bothering to check visually: blood is coursing down across his eyes, and he can't wipe it away because his arms are busy trying to push himself upright. This admirable but somewhat fruitless endeavor continues for a few seconds-- the motions disturbingly like a dog with broken hind legs-- before his strength gives out, and his bloodied form-- laid on its side-- slackens resignedly.
COMBATSYS: K' takes no action.
> /////////////// ]
|=------\-------\0 Maxima
COMBATSYS: K' can no longer fight.
> /////////////// ]
|=------\-------\0 Maxima
Despite the severe amount of damage inflicted to his body, Maxima is nothing if not sturdy. He'll survive; and he still has more than enough fight in him to keep going for a while longer. There are various cuts across that leather jacket he wears, and in the aftermath of his massive assault, the Canadian slumps forward, if only just a little. Glad to see his gambit paid off, and Rugal is summarily consumed, Maxima hardly notices the fact that K' is still running after the tyrant to deliver more punishment upon him. And that's a mistake that proves to be most fatal.
Maxima's smoking chest is beginning to seal itself, the compartments converging in to lock together once more, just in time for him to hear the brutal clash of impact between K' and the mighty Rugal. Dark brown eyes snap up, widening for a moment as he finds K' caught up in the monstrous assault that Rugal is so infamous for. "Man, K'..." he murmurs to himself, "... you're too trigger happy for your own good." It's by sheer luck that Rugal is felled immediately afterwards, falling just as the renegade experiment does. Maxima limps slightly, his machine body already working on repairing his superficial injuries as he makes his way towards K'. A part of him is worried about K''s health, but he also knows well enough...
... K' is too stubborn to be killed like this.
Walking towards the fallen white-haired young man, Maxima furrows his brows as his name is hoarsely called out, seekingly. "Yeah. I'm right here, kid," is his reply, swooping in with massive hands to gently pick up the renegade NESTS agent. "I'm fine. You, though... you got your ass kicked pretty thoroughly, didn't you? Don't worry; I'll take you somewhere to get you patched up." A glance is sparingly given towards the fallen Rugal, before Maxima lifts K' upwards and carefully slings him over one massive shoulder. "Better get out of here before this guy wakes up again. He's got some anger issues." A pause. "I'm surprised the two of you didn't get along better."
And, that said, the Canadian will simply walk off, intent on dragging K' off to the nearest available spot for help. "Maybe next time you can not piss off the angry crimelords, though, alright?"
COMBATSYS: Maxima takes no action.
> /////////////// ]
|=------\-------\0 Maxima
COMBATSYS: Maxima has ended the fight here.
Log created on 01:36:51 09/08/2007 by Rugal, and last modified on 03:40:28 09/10/2007.