Description: Judas Priest (1979). Once again, Elle stops by the small fighting ring in the harbor district on the summons of her business partner and minor lackey, Bobbo. Rumor has it that there's a new face that's trying for one last chance at the fighting life before calling it quits, and Elle's quite interested in seeing what his deal is. Rust accepts the challenge made, and Elle finds that sometimes age and sheer cussedness can make up for a lack of youth and skill.
Roberto "Bobbo" Gutierrez is a rennaisance man.
Sure, at 5'4" tall, with a greasy pompadour of hair, weaselly posture and a cowardly demeanor he cuts more of the image of 'dirtbag', but the fact is that he's made good considering what life has handed him. The Harbo Fight Club is known throughout the lower classes of Southtown. It's a place for people to go, test their skills, and Bobbo makes sure the money flows, that people don't get too hurt, and that everyone gets a decent shot.
In a sense, he's probably one of the most responsible underworld figures in making sure that everything is running smoothly, although a lot of this may have something to do with his sponsor. Elle Belmounte, leader of the mercenary group Blackjack, is an old friend of his. He helped her early on in her career, setting up matches where she could hone her skills and pick up some pocket cash. Nowadays, the relationship has changed. Elle has surpassed Bobbo and his activities both in size and scope. Nevertheless, she's never forgotten the greasy little twerp and makes sure that he's taken care of. For a price, anyhow. Bobbo provides her with a lot of information which is more valuable than the nominal cut of the earnings she also gets from the set up.
"Yeah, I got me a new face," Bobbo says as he leads Elle towards the ring, where a Yakuza foot soldier is throwing down with a Syndicate-leaning dockworker. The resounding crack of a fist crashing into the Yakuza fighter's face punctuates Bobbo's words as he stops his talking to observe for a moment. "Buddy of mine says he's a retired fighter. I think he may have been by once or twice and went a few rounds with some of the bigger guys down form F Dock and took them down. Figured you might wanna see him in action."
Elle listens, considering Bobbo's words. Truth be told, the fight club isn't much of a recruiting tool. It really just filters in the flotsam with potential, and allows Elle to keep track of fighters she normally would never see. But that's how fishing works. Sometimes you don't catch anything. One day, it could conceivably get something for her. "What's his name?"
Bobbo lets out a sharp cough, wincing as he checks his battered, grease stained notepad. "Calls himself 'Rust'. Dunno if that's his name or his handle. Never asked." As Bobbo is a good businessman for the blue collar division, asking questions never yeilds any answers he wants to hear anyway.
Howard Rust, age 37. One of many American-born residents of Southtown. An overweight man out of his prime, built of a frame evidence of hard work over many years of labor. An unfortunate victim of early baldness. A newly recruited teacher at a prestigious international private school who sure doesn't look like he belongs among the upper crust of any industrialized nation. Nearly every weekend morning, he jogged up to the docks to have himself a workout or two away from all the children. This isn't a kid's place. This factor won out over the inherent dangers of this part of Southtown.
They weren't always peaceful workouts. Indeed, he had himself three different tussles out by the water between him and some of the thugs and lowlives. He almost thought better of coming back down this way again when a certain someone had a proposition for him on his visit yesterday: 'we got a place for guys like you, you'll like it.' Those aforementioned scuffles... likely had a hand in it.
Whether or not he has put two and two together, he has come along. Possessed of a wide frame, if not the tallest height common among the most brutish of fighters, a short and thick rusted length of pipe that may come just short of being the length of a baseball bat is already resting against a shoulder in his right hand. Is this some kind of silly street samurai motif? Maybe... maybe not. For all that is said about him, there probably isn't that great a difference between him and those that are said to come by here. Working men with difficult lives and meager pay, just want to have a little enjoyment in their lives. Right? That's what he gathered.
The first thing out of his mouth at all is a low, long whistle as he takes in the sights of the fight club. He looks upwards briefly towards nothing in particular. Some things don't already click. But after a week of flippant rebel kids, there are some scraps of faith he wants to hold onto.
"This is the place... for guys like me. Right?" He asks himself out loud as he heads on further inward. He likely already knows the answer.
Rust's words reach Bobbo's ears immediately, and the greasy little man seems swift fto appear by his side, already patting the man on the back. "You bet," the Puerto Rican immigrant says. "We got a good long list of people that've been itching to see what you can do, right?" And in effect that's true. There are quite a few people here that have heard about Rust's exploits. Some are amused at what he's done, and others harbor feelings of revenge. It's a complex situation, given the circumstance. Rust isn't a hardened criminal like many of the people here. But what he can do is fight, and that's really the entire point. Doesn't matter who you are and where you're from as long as you're willing to toss a few punches.
Is this the guy? Elle's face is unreadable as usual as she strolls closer to the fighting circle, where the Yakuza thug has just had a bowie knife kicked from his hand just prior to getting kicked out of the circle in it's entirety with a good boot to his bottom. The gangster goes sailing over the heads of the betting corwd straight into the murky, polluted waters which cause no end of howling laughter.
Everyone likes it when street trash take a tumble, and Elle makes no motion to help anyone as the gaudy suited man thrashes around in the water, clearly pissed off for losing as money trades hands. It may be 'illegal' but there's a certain sense of honesty about it. Everyone here is epxected to honor their bets. Certain parties have seen to it that the penalties for welching are particularly harsh.
"So hey, check this out," Bobbo says, leading Rust towards the circle. "I got a proposition for ya. You can fight the usual yahoos we have hanging out around here for the usual wager, or you can throw down with a friend of mine. You get paid full boat for standing up for three rounds with her, or half the pot just for playing."
Bobbo points to Elle, who's talking to some of the people in the circle. They seem animated by her appearance, even if there seems to be some invisible force that makes them keep their distance. Elle fighting is a big deal to them. They usually don't get the level of fireworks Elle can generate just in a dock battle. Every time she does battle, it means a whole other level has come to visit the circle, and that means higher bets and a chance to score big.
"I won't lie. She plays rough. But form what I hear, you're not just another pushover like these yahoos," Bobbo says, getting a few angry shouts of 'screw off, Bobbo', or 'your mom's a pushover'. "But that's the stakes, right? If you wanna get better and make the big bucks, you gotta step up and out of bounds."
The man of the evening (or so he is being called) brings his free hand up to the top of his head at the mention of people who wanted to see what he could do. He's got fans already? He hasn't yet mustered up the confidence nor initiative to get himself in the big leagues. This has gotten awkward for him already. He looks both left and right to the cheering crowds, interrupted only when someone tumbles out of the ring and into the water. The fingers around the analogue of the hilt of his trusty partner tap against it twice with a faint hint of nervousness. Look where you got yourself this time, Rust. What would your dad say if he were here?
He makes an honest attempt to keep a good game face here. This is the place. His own moral convictions get bombarded by inner tinges of desire. These people want to see you fight! Why should he even hesitate? So long as there isn't a big deal made out of it, that's not going to get him in trouble at work. It was already a great stroke of luck that they even hired him.
He lets himself be lead in without incident, partially because he's thinking too deep about the whole thing to really bother resisting being brought closer and closer in. He follows where Bobbo points. He has to move his head a bit because one of the people in front of her is pretty tall and he can't see over their head. If she's making a guy /that/ big keep his distance...
You've been in more fights than a lot of people, he tells himself. You got experience. The guys he all fought out and around the docks, he doubts they were past their mid-20's. A good measuring stick. You're getting back in shape, right? Right before his conscience could get it through him that even standing around here is a bad idea, he exhales slowly. This helps for when it is time to Suck It Up(tm).
"I'll give her a shot." He nods. He doesn't really bother commenting on the pay, probably because his mind wanted to drift elsewhere in the sea of 'omg what are you doing here' and 'this might be the best sunday I've had since I found out my favorite sub sandwich joint has a local branch here.' "I'm in," he says hurriedly after.
"All-right," Bobbo says, enunciating the syllables as he motions to the circle to seperate. "Looks like we got ourself a contender!" The weaselly man's voice carries over as the crowd pauses in silence, watching Rust enter the ring.
"What? This old guy? He'll get murdered!" "Hey, that last old guy did alright!" "What, you mean Popeye, or whatever? He had a harpoon. All this guy has is a pipe!" The words fly in quick succession as Elle eyes Rust with a questioning glance. To be honest, the man doesn't look like all that much. Then again, neither did Katelynn, and she nearly took Elle down.
Elle strides directly into the crowd, who part in front of her like the Red Sea for Moses. Boots scuff to a stop in the middle of the circle as she stands in front of Rust with another questioning galnce before looking at Bobbo. "This is him?" She can feel the discomfort. It's not a psychic ability, just a matter of perception as Rust looks like he's questioning his even being here.
"Hey pal. I don't know you, you don't know me. All you really need to know is this: I play for keeps," she says as she backs up, and Bobbo disappears into the crowd, the circle already closing. "But since this is my house, I'll give you a head start." Her hand reaches behind her back as she pulls out a mace. The heavy pounding implement made for combat, in contrast to the pipe in Rust's hands. She doesn't take a battle stance and instead just stands there with the weapon in her hand as she observes Rust, wondering exactly what his style is.
COMBATSYS: Elle has started a fight here.
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Elle 0/-------/-------|
The 'old' man eyes the direction of wherever the first loud comment about his age. It goes back quickly to Elle a ways in front of him while the crowd parts away. She's pretty tall for a woman. Maybe even one of the tallest he's ever seen within the time he's been in Southtown. He enters the ring at last once the crowds are fully parted, rolling his left arm around the shoulder with two very loud popping noises. Too late to walk out now, but at this point his conscience has lost this fight. His appearance remains unassuming, rather than overly confident or even desperate. A good fight. That's his heart's desire, through and through. It may even be nearly childish, courtesy of an often recurring mid-life crisis.
He straightens up after the shoulder rotations while Elle addresses him with the facts. The mace is none too intimidating compared to the one he's facing down now. At the end of it all, he raises his head up just slightly and almost forces a smile. "Thanks for letting me be here."
She wants him to act first. Act first, he might as well. The pipe, far less threatening in appearance than Elle's mace, lowers slowly to the ground. It's not held in any sort of defensive position, if Elle wants to compare his stance to any of the many sword wielders that frequent fighting rings. It's not held in front, but rather down and off to the side. She might be able to hazard one of his preferred attack angles based on what she probably heard from the talent scouts - he's got a good uppercut, and his posture is a good one to throw such with. Is that going to be how he plans to start off.
He almost seems hesitant to move in too close at the beginning. But, she won't have to come rush him down for him to start taking swings. A forward step of his left foot signals his approach as he leans forward and swipes the pipe from Elle's lower left up to around chest level in a textbook horizontal swing. His arms are exaggeratedly thick, though with visible fat - the velocity he swings it at may very well be promising in all matters of pain.
COMBATSYS: Rust has joined the fight here.
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Elle 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Rust
COMBATSYS: Rust successfully hits Elle with Medium Strike.
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Elle 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Rust
She attempts to guard against the strike, but Rust's attack is coming from her left. Given the extensive damage that side of her perception has been suffering from as of late, the motion to defend comes too little, too late. Elle is caught by the pipe, the weapon sweeping up to crash into her ribcage. The woman staggers back, letting out a sharp noise as feet steady her stagger.
Rust is going to be looking for a good battle, and therefore Elle is ready to oblige. The mace is turned in her hand as she starts to move, rotating around in the circle as she recovers from the first strike. He fights with a swordsman's stance, which shows that he's not just some pipe weilding nutjob. She's going to actually have to use effort.
Elle's stance, in contrast, is that of a straight brawler. It doesn't appear that she's using a lot of fancy stances or footwork. Her main method of attack is just power. With a sudden motion, Elle whips her mace forward, the head of the weapon disengaging as a long chain slides out from the weapon's shaft. The weapon becomes a flail in short order as Elle swings it around to wrap the chain around Rust's arm and viciously yank him to the ground like a rag doll.
COMBATSYS: Rust dodges Elle's Antisocial.
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Elle 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Rust
Rust doesn't hold his ground after the successful strike. The movement he makes with his arm and weapon alike are strangely fluid in stark contrast to his build, the arm moving downward and back towards the position he held it as the chain shoots out for where it would've been had he chosen to simply hold the weapon there in preparation for a return swing. Not that he foresaw such, as he sidesteps off to the right and even moves his upper body back to the right thinking it'd be swinging at a similar arc to his own attack. Fortunately, it wasn't. Just as fortunate that he did manage to move aside in a timely manner to begin with.
He shifts gears from defensive to offensive afterwards, one long step forward by his right foot the next cue. His pipe-wielding arm doesn't move. No, his left foot moves into what looks to be a sweep. Instead, a loud, jarring noise echoes throughout the docks along with another creak of a stiff joint. Rust winces at the creak, but that isn't all. It only provides a half-second pause as his left foot rapidly jabs at the ground where Elle's legs presently are, that same loud noise repeating itself many times over. It is very much like a jackhammer.
People who are nearby but not watching the fight could conceivably confuse the ruckus for one.
Rust doesn't hold his ground after the successful strike. The movement he makes with his arm and weapon alike are strangely fluid in stark contrast to his build, the arm moving downward and back towards the position he held it as the chain shoots out for where it would've been had he chosen to simply hold the weapon there in preparation for a return swing. Not that he foresaw such, as he sidesteps off to the right and even moves his upper body back to the right thinking it'd be swinging at a similar arc to his own attack. Fortunately, it wasn't. Just as fortunate that he did manage to move aside in a timely manner to begin with.
He shifts gears from defensive to offensive afterwards, one long step forward by his right foot the next cue. His pipe-wielding arm doesn't move. No, his left foot moves into what looks to be a sweep. Instead, a loud, jarring noise echoes throughout the docks along with another creak of a stiff joint. Rust winces very visibly at it. Straining himself on a simple low kick? Wouldn't that be embarrassing.
COMBATSYS: Elle blocks Rust's Strong Kick.
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Elle 0/-------/-----==|-------\-------\0 Rust
With the flick of her wrist, the swinging flail is retracted, the chain sliding back into the main body of the weapon as Elle drops down, taking the blow to her legs in a more guarded fashion that deflects the brunt of the power away from her. Looks like this guy knows what he's doing. The fact that he took down a bunch of dockworkers doesn't surprise her in the slightest at this point.
Still, Elle's seen what he can do defending against one of her weapons. Now it's time to see what he does against the rest.
The mace is stowed away with one smooth motion as she charges his position, her arms shifting as she produces twin Katar. The weapons slide easily over the combat gauntlets she wears. She squeezes the twin handles within, and the straight blades multiply, the triple edges flashing as she moves with considerable speed now.
Elle's arms shoot forward, leaving trailing afterimages as she rams the blades at Rust's feet. The weapons aren't trying to cut him, however. Instead, the let off an ominous hum as they bite into the concrete easily, slicing through like a hot knife through butter. The vibrational attunement is snet like a shock into Rust if she's successful before she heaves upward with her arms, flinging both Rust and a section concrete dock into the sky.
COMBATSYS: Rust endures Elle's Chase the Ace.
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Elle 0/-------/---====|====---\-------\0 Rust
"Argk!" Rust vocalizes the impact of foot against Elle's legs. He's the one who was attacking her there, why the hell is he the one reacting as though that hurt? He didn't give his leg a good stretch before trying whatever it is he did, that's what. When the leg is retracted, he doesn't put much weight on it, balancing it on his toes rather than put the sole back down. This is what happens when you still think your body is 20-something. Those years of college studies when he was about to hit 30 really made him forget, or at least vehemently deny, this very fact. He at least stays standing.
Elle certainly doesn't want to let him sit there and take a time out to fix that issue. He proves too slow to do any fancy movements to move out of the way of danger when the gloves come off.... figuratively. Putting them on again? Pick your favorite metaphor as it relates to putting on something on top of your gloves. He almost considers himself fortunate when she strikes the concrete with startling speed, just when he takes a deep breath and stomachs the shot of pain that went through his lower leg from the kick. That's when he feels that shock go through both of them. Instinctively, to stay on his feet he thrusts the pipe in his hand into the ground and goes into a crouch to stay on his feet while it courses through him. His eyes nearly pop out of his head. His teeth are grit so tightly that Elle gets to witness his perfectly fine oral hygiene.
She lifts him up off his feet despite the precaution, though perhaps not as high into the air as she might have hoped as concrete flies up past and around him, striking him a couple of times in the back in the process. When it comes back down, he might not want to be there. The momentum of the throw carries him almost straight up and just a tiny bit forward - but Elle is directly below.
He's taken a few good falls in life. His personal record, six stories. But that was a little over ten years ago. He doesn't do much other than brace himself properly for the fall into the concrete in a worst case scenario, trying to position his body so that when he comes down on Elle, if he does, it's elbow-first.
Given all the practice swings he's doing he's banking that his elbow won't protest when he finally does hit the ground.
COMBATSYS: Rust successfully hits Elle with Crashing Down.
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Elle 0/-------/--=====|======-\-------\0 Rust
The mercenary can take quite a pounding, but Rust's ability to hit her repatedly is starting to take a toll. The strike doesn't do all that much damage to her, but the effects of Rust's attacks are starting to accumulate. The elboq comes down hard on her shoulder, deadening one of her arms as she lurches backward, staggering before tumbling across the ground.
She scrapes to her feet, evaluating the damage she's taken thus far and finding that everything still appears to be in good worker order as she puts one of the bladed weapons away, leaving the ather arm to dangle as she lets it recover of it's own accord. The free hand onc eagain unlimbers the mace/flail weapon from before, and Elle begins to twirl it once again, the weapon rapidly spinning as she sidesteps, carefully trying to keep Rust in her sights.
With a quick turn of her body, she sends the flail about, the chain seeking to wrap around and constrict Rust upon impact. If that succeeds, Elle will yank the chain taut, sending down a powerful bolt of electrical power down it's length to further punish her opponent.
COMBATSYS: Rust blocks Elle's Powerslave.
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Elle 0/-------/-======|=======\-------\1 Rust
Having Elle break his fall only provides minimal comfort as a significant amount of wind leaves him in a wheeze right as he lands prone. (At least his elbow feels none the worse... for now.) He is not as fast as getting up to his feet, and this all works completely against him in terms of positioning. It is a perfect moment for Elle to turn things around.
The best he manages to do in the time he has before Elle makes her next move is to roll twice onto his back and sit up on slightly more even terrain in the instance he is to be picked up and hurled down again. Jagged concrete hurts more. He'd know.
The chain wraps around him without much incident. In a moment of quick thinking, he gets his weapon-wielding arm thrust outwards as to not be completely entwined. If that were all he'd be home free. Electrical power surges through a moments later. It is no laughing matter in what damage it is capable of doing, holding him in place long enough for his focus to be drawn sharply towards gritting his teeth and resisting that draining shock of power. Despite this struggle, he can't get back up to a standing position but otherwise manages it fine enough in an attempt to flex the constraints loose.
His free arm, finally, decides to try and return the favor as he sort of clumsily thrusts the tip of the pipe into the chain and tries to get a good hold on it. From an awkward position, he tries to lift the chain up and get it at least entwined enough to start swinging - trying to lift Elle off her feet and toss her /somewhere/.
COMBATSYS: Elle blocks Rust's Wrecking Ball Swing.
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Elle 0/-------/=======|=======\-------\1 Rust
The jabbing weapon at her chain doesn't precisely have Elle hurling through the air, Instead, the sudden jerk pulls her off balance and the mercenary crashes to the ground with a bang. The flail is thusly pulls beack, the chain whipping through the air back into it's hilt. Elle quickly pushes herself back up soon after, however. It would seem that she's more perturbed with the durability this man is showing rather than his ability to do her any harm. Time to pull out the stops, then, and see what he's really made out of.
Once again, Elle whips around, her boots churning across the dock as she charges at the construction worker turned teacher. Brndishing the mace like a bat, the woman pulls out all the stops, the buzz of her chi channeling through the weapon, causing a trailing afterimage as she approaches.
Elle's motion is simply a powerful strike. There's no fancy explaination behind what she does. The weapon is swung two handed at the man's body as she ignores the tactical benefits of striking at the head or legs. Sometimes going for the body is the easiest way to cause damage that many people ignore in the hopes of getting a critical hit by always going to the face. Elle therefore tries to discover if Rust is one of those ametures, or something else entirely.
COMBATSYS: Rust interrupts Fierce Strike from Elle with Cement Upper.
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Elle 1/-----==/=======|=======\====---\1 Rust
The retracting of the flail leaves another brief sting of pain as Elle retracts it off of Rust, allowing him to, finally, get back up on his feet again. He kicks the previously injured leg out a little and huffs. A couple of good knocks, a tight squeeze, and couple new bruises. The fact he's acknowledging them as painful detriments, in his mind, is a sign to him that he really still is quite out of shape. He leans a little forward to let the lingering feelings of pain linger as it will for a brief moment.
Elle starts moving in. His upper lip curls. Now's as good time as any as he puts his left side closer towards Elle with a step. Just as Elle closes into melee range, the segments of concrete that Elle launched into the air earlier finally hit the ground again. The biggest chunk gets him in the arm at a most opportune time when Elle swings towards his chest. It was that very moment that the arm bearing Ol' Rusty - the name he gives his pipe - swings forward, the impact giving an artificial boost to how fast it swings forward. His hand swings the pipe about in a circular manner with unnatural speed as Rust makes his play in a trade of heavy-hitting moves.
He grunts as he takes the mace in the chest straight on, without faltering beyond whatever shoving force Elle puts behind it. The spinning pipe stops right on the upward descent, turning into a perfectly ordinary uppercut swing that goes straight for the chin with enough speed that he manages an afterimage.
Certain members of the present crowd would remember getting hit by that very clearly. But, at the end of that exchange, Rust doubles over from soaking fatigue and that last hit alike. Looks like Elle may still have the momentum of the fight in control.
The traded blows have a considerable effect on Elle. The impact from the punch causes her head to kick back and a sickening crunch fills hear ears as she's knocked away, her body going limp as she crashes to the ground. The momentum might be Elle's, but Rust is still in this fight despite Elle's nasty attacks having landed.
Staying on the defensive now, Elle pauses to assess the situation. She's starting to wear down a little, and the fatigue is definitely setting in. Nevertheless, letting up on the assault now only gives him more time to breathe. The mace/flail disengages once more as she starts to spin it rapidly, the weapon whirling about with considerable speed.
Once again, Elle releases the weapon's whirling arc, the chain swooping through the air to wrap around one of Rust's arms. This time instead of pulling him down to the ground, Elle will whip her arm outward in a wild arc, attempting to fling him across the battle circle where the crowd watches into a warehouse behind her. Such a versitile weapon, those flails.
COMBATSYS: Elle successfully hits Rust with Medium Throw.
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Elle 1/----===/=======|=======\=======\1 Rust
Right at the start of the fight, Rust had been making all the right moves with a technique befitting someone of his level of experience, despite woes and worries made by those who wanted to take a gamble in his favor that he really may be too old to even be thinking of doing any of this. His weapon arm hangs limp, for really, that's an elbow that has taken very much abuse throughout. Bruised, battered, and beaten, Rust remains in the fight at least despite a whole bunch of different odds. He could be out of it in a matter of moments.
Elle spins the weapon above her head again. How is he going to do this? The last time he misinterpreted how she was going to swing it, it worked in his favor. He decides to crouch, thinking she's going to go high. Instead, she manages to get a wrap on his left arm. He gives it a little tug in defiance. He gets a free ride into the warehouse behind Elle. But, as luck would have it, he hits the wall. The wall doesn't cave in from the impact, which is about as bad as getting hurled into sharpnel and splinters from personal experience as his momentum is suddenly halted, leaving him to fall into a sitting position with an exhaling grunt.
His gaze falls upwards briefly. Hell of a hard hitter, no doubt. But yet he just /doesn't quit./ He hoists himself up using the pipe for balance, and shakes the arm he was thrown with in order to get blood throwing through it after the squeeze.
He marches back into the ring like nothing is terribly wrong outside of having taken a beating, cheers and jeers be damned. He gets a spring into his step, really, more by the potential that people are probably /cheering/ for him to win despite the odds. It's a good feeling.
Battered as it is from the concrete chunk nailing it, he takes his weapon of choice in both hands - one at either end, rather than close together - and takes one chancy step forward as he tries to drive it down and hard somewhere around Elle's collar, guided by the closer right arm.
It makes no use of what potential range he has offered to him by just swinging it, but it's about time to start turning things around.
COMBATSYS: Elle dodges Rust's Deep Strike.
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Elle 1/----===/=======|>>>>>>>\>>>>>>>\2 Rust
The clang of the flail being retracted once again fills the air, and Elle's immediate reaction afterward is to bring it up to knock the swinging weapon aside just enough to grant a dodging space. The move was slow, but definitely designed to do a heck of a lot more damage than Elle feels comfortable with. So far, she's only stayed a step ahead by managing to absorb the blows properly.
Now it's time to pull out the stops.
Elle flips back, doing a single hand plant as she hurls herself to the far side of the circle, the hobnails on her boots causing sparks to scrape up as she skids to a halt. To the chi-attuned, there's a split second between action and execution that would tell Rust that there was something incredibly wrong. That aside, the sound of a screeching guitar is definitely a sign that Elle's about to unleash something terrible. Her free hand is raises, already trailing afterimages behind it as it reaches the apex of it's arc.
With a rapid motion, Elle punches the ground. The wall of pure sonic energy bursts forth from her motion, the air shimmering as the destructive wall of force seems to greedily consume everything in it's path, chewing up rocks and concrete and rendering them to powder as the sound of a maddening guitar riff trails after it.
COMBATSYS: Rust Toughs Out Elle's Black Sabbath!!
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Elle 0/-------/-------|>>>>>>>\>>>>>>>\2 Rust
Rust loses his balance slightly after thrusting the weapon right into thin air, falling once more into a crouch as Elle shows off her acrobatics and flips backwards. There's a distance between them again. He breathes in and out, winded but letting that throbbing pain in his wounds fade in his mind as he keeps an eye on Elle's movements. It's not a sharp eye, with sweat findings its way inside one eye and the other tearing up. He's taken a lot for a man that may be out of his class now, for a man that probably should not have tried to start fighting again.
He is not very attuned into the use of chi other than little exercises he does for his personal health, which he hasn't done a lot of lately in favor of sleeping in. The screech of a guitar comes. This should be the finishing blow, the one to end the fight right here, right now, and give satisfaction to those that Rust himself had beaten down in the relatively recent past.
Elle punches the ground. The wall of sonic energy rushes forward, destroying the battleground in front of him. He doesn't make any motion to move, or any real move to defend himself. He disappears into the sonic wall as it carries itself well off the battlefield and back towards that warehouse he came from last time he got thrown off. Did he get mulched inside of the wave of absolute power, utterly destroyed beyond mere injury?
He hasn't been knocked away from it. He's /in/ it, getting carried away as his feet drag and bits of concrete whip around at his legs. "C'mon." He mouths as his body should be rattled into goo. Ol' Rusty is held down and straight towards the ground, literally just standing straight and tall with a clenched fist and blood coming out of his cheek. He bit into it rather hard.
As the wave disappears, he's standing there. He hasn't fallen over, he hasn't flown into the water, he's just /standing there/. His left hand reaches forwards along with his left foot. His right rears back. He twirls his neck around once. He holds this posture for entirely too long.
Then, he runs forward. He was never a fast sprinter, so this speed may be underwhelming. Once a single foot is back in the ring, his weapon-wielding hand thrusts forward as he nearly glides at a far accelerated speed. He's got no time to cry over whatever ribs he might've broken or whatever organs got ruptured standing in concentrated sonic waves, all that goes through his head is this - he's really still got it.
Ol' Rusty is thrust straight towards Elle at a high speed, adding one arbitrary sound effect of its own if it connects with any part of her at all - the sound of a wrecking ball demolishing a building. Flash is traded entirely for one brutal, powerful all-out hit.
COMBATSYS: Rust successfully hits Elle with Condemned.
[ \\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////// ]
Elle 0/-------/---====|====---\-------\0 Rust
And Elle is sent backward. It seems that Rust's ability to absorb what's tossed at him outclasses Elle's by a considerable margin, and as a result, Elle's trademark final maneuver is brushed aside as if it had never happened. This makes Elle give pause. That's only happened once before, and back then it was far, far weaker.
So there's genuine dull surprise on her face when Rust charges back at her, and punches her clean across the combat circle into a pile of crates, sending wood and splinters everywhere. The shop teacher smashes clean into the woman, leaving her motionless in the pile of cargo for a moment or two.
This isn't good. Elle doesn't have a lot of fight left in her. Without a little luck, she's going to be out of commission very shortly.
Therefore, she risks it on a final gamble.
From the rubble and rising debris, the head of the flail shoots forth like a spear on a chain, already crackling with ambiant power. The energy tipped mace head goes striking outward towards Rust's gut, trying to slam him back into the ground so that Elle can take a moment to breathe.
COMBATSYS: Rust blocks Elle's Wrathchilde.
[ \\\\\\\\\ < > ////////// ]
Elle 0/-------/----===|=====--\-------\0 Rust
With all the momentum, Rust comes damned short of falling face flat. When he throws a hit like that, he puts all he's got into it. Thanks to his added weight between now and years ago, he finds out that his center of gravity has most certainly depreciated and falls, once more, to his knees. He's still riding the rush from eating the wall of chi that would have, and maybe even should have, annihilated him entirely. But his body damn well starts trying to get the message through. His heart is pumping at an unhealthy rate. A dull ache grows slowly over time. Three of his fingers in his left hand feel disjointed, bent somewhat in ways they're not supposed to be. In about half an hour it's going to come back and force him to resign to go seek medical attention immediately. He's still tougher than nails, but an out of shape body still has its limits.
It's tested again as she stands up out of the rubble of the wooden crates. He winces almost sympathetically at the splinters, those things are a bitch. But taking in that sight of Elle getting up again out of a painful place and a painful position, that hardens him up against the thought of getting impaled on any of that.
The mace comes flying for him. He brings his left arm down - not his weapon. (In fact, he hasn't ever actually tried to deflect a single blow with it.) It's a nick-of-time thing, but there's enough impact to knock him over.
Even on the ground, he's not quite out of the fight. His free hand clumsily reaches about for that same mace head she has constantly hit him with. His index finger and thumb, the only two fingers on his left hand bending the right way, try to grab a hold on the chain and tug her with what arm strength he's able to muster as the wounds start collecting more and more. Elle has already demonstrated comparable or superior physical strength, and the grasp is far from the best. But one good tug might be all he needs to tug victory into his hand.
COMBATSYS: Elle blocks Rust's Medium Throw.
[ \\\\\\\\ < > ////////// ]
Elle 0/-------/----===|=====--\-------\0 Rust
Elle is pulled free of the ruble, a stumbling step causing her ankle to twist painfully, but that's the only damage that accrues as Elle retracts the weapon. Having done that, She whirls the mace back into it's holster once again. This can't go on much longer. Elle hasn't calculated on Rust surviving her most powerful attack, but then again sometimes you have to improvise.
Bracing her feet on the ground, Elle starts to geather up resitual energy, the power going to fill up her flagging reserves and rejuvenate some of her combat capability. If she can't manage to pull off the next few maneuvers, the chances of her making it through this are slim.
Electricity snaps across her form, the power leaping from the ground, across her legs, and into her body, infusing her with power as she prepares for Rust's next movement.
COMBATSYS: Elle gathers her will.
[ \\\\\\\\ < > ////////// ]
Elle 1/-------/=======|=====--\-------\0 Rust
No doubt about the exchanges - if the audiences were looking for an exciting close fight, this is is. Win, lose, or worse, Rust might look back and say years from now, yeah, this was a hell of a fight. Comparable to what he would've called his glory days were there any actual glory attributed to them? Who knows.
Now's not the time for that. With a grunt, a gasp, and plenty of exertion, he comes to a stand as Elle gathers her energy. It probably is time to bring this fight to a close as he takes a stroll towards her. His gait is slow, but yet not cautious. The look on his face isn't that of scorn, or smug superiority, or anything. He nods his head once as he draws close, before he tries to settle his left hand down on Elle's shoulder. The hand where he has only two fingers moving at full strength.
If she makes no attempt to shake any of it off, his right arm rears back as the pipe slips down a little so the current short end juts out a bit more. That's when he takes it forward and starts swinging it down at her. Not just once - as many times as he is able to before being forced off or his existent concern for Elle's ability to still continue to fight. He exhales with every swing, mustering up what stamina he's got to make these last hits count, if his faith, skills, and arithmetic doesn't fail him.
COMBATSYS: Elle blocks Rust's Hammering.
[ \\\\\\\ < > //////// ]
Elle 1/------=/=======|======-\-------\0 Rust
And Elle is hammered repeatedly with a pipe. It's not a fancy or particularly sophisticated attack, but Elle knows all about those. Sometimes that's the best course of action. The pipe primarily smashes into an upturned arm, however, so as a result most of the blows are absorbed by the armored gauntlet.
The entire time she's taking hits, Elle is charging up her other hand. The blue glow underneath her speaks as to what she's trying to accomplish. Then again, Rust's relentless attacks might distract him from seeing.
The second the powerful strikes stop, Elle is already bursting into action with the last bit of energy she has left. Her free hand whips forward, energy crackling down her arm as she presses her hand against his chest. Unless he can jump or otherwise defend himself from the massive stream of white-hot lightning she tries to light him up with, Rust is going to have to change his name to Toast.
COMBATSYS: Rust endures Elle's ACDC.
[ \\\\\\ < > ]
Elle 0/-------/-----==|=======\====---\1 Rust
Rust gets in about four or five repeated strikes before he decides to relent after she doesn't show signs of letting down her guard. It may be mercy as much as that he just starts running out of breath entirely. He's close in, on the verge of exhaustion, and may still have one hand on Elle. Everything from the chest down, easy pickings to strike at. It is an opportunity that Elle herself makes great good on.
She taps his chest, and he... doesn't go flying back. But he definitely finds himself sliding back all of eight feet as white-hot lightning courses through him in an instant. His horrible, abominable combover stands up on end, revealing the horrible truth about his true hair status to all that were previously fooled by it. The rest of his hair stands on end itself. He stands erect, almost frozen in place as he does, in fact, become toasty.
Elle's image turns double. Just as much as a jolt could get one up, it is, at last, seemingly the one thing that will put him down by all appearances. How can he keep moving after completely soaking her finest and now chewing up just /this?/
Hold your questions. He takes a couple more steps towards Elle, clearly shaky as he moves, as his right hand clasps the rusted pipe so tight that it squeals under the pressure. Once in range, he swings his fist upward in a most standard uppercut to try and take her off her feet.
Now, presuming this succeeds, he brings up what strength still flows in him to try and jump after her, further attempting to stick the pipe somewhere within her clothing to grab her. From there, he would attempt a mid-air rotation or two before she either flies off or just ends up falling down into the ground with him.
Either one is a best case scenario.
COMBATSYS: Rust can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\ <
Elle 0/-------/-----==|
COMBATSYS: Elle dodges Rust's Crane Launch.
[ \\\\\\ <
Elle 0/-------/-----==|
Unfortunately for Rust, Elle has enough presence of mind to simply hurl herself aside at the last minute, the fist just grazing her cheek. The fist knocks the sunglasses on her face aside, which clatter to the ground as she rolls away. Elle skids across the concrete and stands crouched, hre breathing steadied and slow rather than the hacking and gasping she should be doing right about now. She does, however, let out a heavy cough. Her throat is completely dried out.
That was close, and Elle knows it. She rarely if ever is able to get out of the way of attacks. Usually she stops them cold or just takes them in order to get better shots, but Rust seemed able to take what she could dish out and land a few nasty hits of her own. The woman lifts her head, displaying what the sunglasses hid: a clouded over left eye, with a series of white scar line, cour in all, strailing through her brow and across her upper cheek.
It's a wonder she can still see out of the eye, but the dark pinprick in the middle of the nearly white lens shows that she's the recipient of some kind of surgery that leaves the eye functional to some kind of extent. What extent that is, however, doesn't appear to be certain.
The circle is cheering at this point, goging over to help up Rust, congratulating him. Even people that Rust may have beaten up in the past are now proudly saying that they got beat up by him. Maybe it's not the audience that the man wanted... but it's a start. Elle says nothing. Rust did very well, and her errors were her own. There's no shame in making mistakes, as long as you learn from them. She slowly gets to her feet as Bobbo approaches her from her side.
"That son of a bitch is tough," he says, thumbing out the bills with a frown. There goes today's earnings. Not many expected Rust to get that far, but there were enough to clean out Bobbo today. "You want I should give him an invide to your little club?"
Elle shakes her head. "No. Not yet. Let him get used to it first. The second he starts getting addicted to this kind of thing, we'll start thinking about it. Until then... let the man enjoy his kudos. Make sure he gets his money. No troubles, right?" Bobbo holds up his hands as if to allay her concerns.
"Hey, I always play on the up and up with you, lady. you know that," she says, and he breaks away, jogging towards Rust. "Hey man, you did great!"
COMBATSYS: Elle has ended the fight here.
The uppercut hits the air. He takes another step as if to try again, but that's one step too many off a leg that's done holding him up. It wobbles, and the foundation finally gives out. The stout brick house of a man comes tumbling down at long last, and this fight is officially over.
Rust makes a couple of low, pained groans as his left hand goes over his side. It wanted to say to him, 'something broke and you didn't notice,' and now he went and landed on it on concrete. He can take a lot before he's taken down, but when he's down... he's down. Acceptance of this comes moments later.
His view of the world right now is a little too fuzzy for him to make out clean details as to, say, the status of Elle's left eye (not to mention the crowds surrounding him!). That last one... that last one really stung the most, and it'll be a while yet before anything comes into clearer focus. He's unable to hear the discussion between Elle and Bobbo above the crowds - them and their nefarious hopes for his future.
"Thanks. Thanks." He says in rapid succession at a low volume when a couple of guys help him up. He's more in a hurry to get out of here while he can still walk, but there's absolutely no way he is going to be doing any hurrying at all after what he just took. He'd hold his head perfectly high if he could, at least until he gets off the high and remembers he doesn't want to get trapped in this sort of thing. He's got a good life, no need to throw it all away to pursue this, right?
It'll get through his thick head in time. "Never give it less," he says when Bobbo catches up to him to give him the warm fuzzy feelings of a near-victory against their champion. He's riding way too much on the battle high now, and his legs will be scornful of him the next morning for it.
Log created on 11:33:50 11/04/2007 by Elle, and last modified on 21:15:44 11/04/2007.