Description: Objective: A cut of Pacific High student allowance. Obstacle: A dreadful combover and the man attached to it. Alias: None. Summary: Idle hands are the devil's tools, or so the saying goes. Even with a reliable source of income now, Ayame can't seem to stay out of trouble. Preying on the student population of Pacific High, she's had her fun and is ready to get going. But the students have something else to say about it. Stepping in just in time to keep Ayame from carving a path through the student body on her way out, Howard Rust finds he has his hands full with having to deal with the scores of weapons she seems to be carrying as he tries to bring the young hellion in.
Ah, just another day at Pacific High. Much like any other, there's students milling about, proctors watching the halls for any ditchers, atheltic teams busy out on the fields with practice, and all other types of activities of various types. In Ayame's eyes, it makes for a land rich in opportunity - a veritable sea of victims often too young to know any better and easily scared whenever the girl starts to show her 'teeth'.
Pacific High is a favorite for Ayame. So many of the students blatently ignore the dress code that she doesn't even have to bother scrounging up a uniform before going about her antics like she does at some of the stuffier, more strict schools like Justice or Seijyun.
This afternoon the girl has pulled together some of the students for a mild case of corruption of minors. Pacific kids have a lot of money, the girl has found. Unless they're Luc. Then they're just defective. Rich foreign families put them up here for the most part, though some are admittedly attending on scholarships. Coupled with money is detectable amount of pride. The perfect combination to get suckered into some gambling!
Out in back of one of the main buildings, Ayame has drawn a small group of students together for a 'friendly' game of dice. It started out innocent enough, students laughing and teasing each other about whether their rolls were good or bad. But before long, Ayame had them putting money down. Placing bets, challenging each other randomly for a while. And finally worked her way into being the de facto 'house', and had everyone playing against her. Of course, that's when the weighted dice came out.
It didn't take long for Ayame to start cleaning the students out of their allowances for the week, her pockets full of bills and change as one by one she cleans the kids out. Having accrued quite a stock pile without having to land a single blow, Ayame is pretty pleased with herself.
But then one of the boys, out a substantial amount of money, starts getting worked up, his face red with anger and embarrassment. Ayame is ready to move on when his hand comes to grab hold of her wrist, accusing her of robbing them all blind. "Che," was the only noise Ayame made as her hand slips a knife from a sheath hidden in her belt. Flicking open the butterfly knife, the girl whirls on poor Fuchi, bringing the blade up and tight against his throat. "You lost. Now go cry to mommy and daddy to send you some more money and get out of my face."
Needless to say the rest of the students crowded around start to panic at the appearance of the bladed weapon being used against one of their peers. Some scatter, others stare, one girl starts carrying on with an obnoxious noise. Ayame growls, pulling Fuchi forward and to the side, her hand coming up against the side of his head as she pounds his skull once hard against the side of the school building, allowing him to drop to the ground unconscious. "Shut up!" she snaps, advancing on the screaming girl next, knife still drawn.
Argh, just another day at Pacific High. Howard Rust, the newest member of faculty as of roughly a month or so ago, hasn't been here for long and he's already getting headaches from the subtle social differences between the privileged and people who had to actually /work/ their way through life. Then again, he was a lot better off than he'd give himself credit for in more ways than one.
He wasn't teaching class today, but that didn't mean he had a day off. Early in the morning he had to meet with some parents over the behavior of their children here - the sort of parents who believed their kid could do no wrong and were mildly offended that he didn't furnish his office with overly expensive name-brand furniture but rather stuff he made himself. It's not the best feeling in the world when they put you down over your own best personal skills.
Even with these difficulties, it is the best job he'll likely ever hold. Maybe he'll get used to it soon enough. A little patience would go a long way to getting over the hump. A little patience, maybe a nice stroll around one of the main buildings to let him know that this really is a nice-looking place. Opulent and pleasing to the eye. A nice break before the principal called most the staff in for a meeting over academic records and new ideas and other things that would end up as a lot of talking with very little actual implementation. It was very nice compared to his morning.
At least, until one of the older teachers was mumbling something over a bunch of students hanging around behind the building. With a sigh, he resigned himself to checking it out in case of any funny business. Like vandalism. Or smoking. (Or both.)
Rather than take the closest back entrance, he decided to approach from one of the corners to get a better look at it all. Make them think that they aren't being watched. And once again give proctors the stink eye for having to do their job, if he has to. (Taking that punch in the gut by Marisol was not a pleasant experience.)
The pretense of stealth is quickly dropped upon the sound of screaming and the sight of a bladed object being pointed at some of the students. His right hand grasps the rusted, banged-up length of pipe of indeterminate make from its designated hole in the destroyed pocket of his toolbelt, striking it into the pipe that connects the roof gutter to the ground nearby to dwarf the commotion with a loud series of 'ping' noises. He'd still be a good twenty to thirty or so feet away from the gathering.
"Hey! The hell is going on here?!" He calls out, wearing a face that fails to hide the fact that he has had a very, very bad day so far in the face of a supposed student threatening another. Damn kids these days! They're hooligans.
And if Ayame has her way, his day isn't about to get much better. The sound of the pipe being pounded against the drainage pipe creates enough cacophany of noise to drown out the screaming girl or the irked swindler who just soaked half a dozon kids for all they're worth this week.
Just before the startling noise, Ayame's hand had already lashed out to grab hold of the other girl's blouse near the collar and pull her forward, her right hand cocking back with the knife in it in order to make sure she gets a good clean look at the weapon. "Be quiet or I'll make you-!" *CLANG CLANG CLANG*
Brown eyes glance from her victim of the moment over toward Rust, the girl taking in the appearance of the adult figure. Hn. Foreigner. Middle aged but looking a bit old for his age. Taller than some but not as tall as others, he looks fairly non-threatening. Except for the detail that he's almost definitely some kind of staff on campus. That makes him more threatening than any other aspect about him.
Ayame pauses, her arm still held back, her left hand still gripping the poor girl by the collar. A lot of the students in the immediate vicinity have started to back away, though one girl runs toward Rust bawling her poor eyes out, babbling about how Ayame just clonked unfortunate Fuchi out against the wall and now it looked like she might be about to hurt another girl as well! Something mentioned about being a no good thief comes out as well, but she's only barely coherent anyway.
Ayame's eyes narrow. Time to scram. Her work here is finished for the moment anyway. Shoving the girl hard to send her stumbling backward, Ayame turns on her heels and starts to run for it. She'd have gotten away easily too. Young, fast, and with a healthy head start... Were it not for a pair of arms that wrap around her legs at a very opportune moment, sending her falling forward to the ground with a cry of surprise.
Catching her fall on her hands, she glances over her shoulder to see who has caught her only to glare into the bloody face of poor Fuchi. The boy wasn't so unconscious after all, and it seems he's not about to let the reprobate get away clean. Clenching her teeth, Ayame pries one leg free and uses her free foot to push against the boy's face, trying to get him to let go of her left leg. "I'm going to start cutting fingers off if you don't release me," she snaps, sounding every bit like she means every bit of it.
The teacher thought trying to break up a fight between Marisol and another student who bears an uncanny resemblance to Fuchi was about as bad as it was going to get. He starts to come closer when the aforementioned girl runs at him and starts sobbing the words out. He has trouble catching most of them mostly because of the tears and sniffling in between. His free hand raises, an open palm that soon has three fingers curved inward save for the index and thumb fingers, in something he hopes communicates a 'calm down, give me a moment.' Someone's still carrying a deadly weapon after all.
He comes close enough that his advance is halted a second time with the girl being shoved back a ways towards him, who he catches with his free arm before she fully hits the ground. He hasn't any idea that Ayame is not a student, other than for having never seen her on campus prior - this school seems to have been hoarding a lot of 'rebel' types lately when it comes to the dress code. Trenchcoats, blouses from expensive designers... you name 'em, he's seen 'em.
"Break it up!" The teacher barks out in support of Fuchi actually letting go. His very misconception of who or what Ayame is may very well work to her benefit. His knee emits a loud, disconcerting cracking noise - as if he didn't already look old for his age! This doesn't seem to bother him so much in place of the present situation of 'kids on campus are being psycho again.'
That's the problem with school life. Every day has the potential of being worse than the day prior. Thinking each new low is as bad as it's going to get is definitely setting one up for perpetual disappointment. The teacher has now been caught up some on the nature of the conflict, albeit lacking certain details. Such as the non-student status of the girl perpetuating the entire mess in the first place.
But that doesn't last for long as two students speak back and forth to each other, staying carefully behind Rust, leaving the adult figure between them and the dangerous girl with the knife. "...I've never seen her before, have you?" "...no, no I don't think so..."
Ayame blinks as the teacher calls to break it up, freezing, having sat up and started to lean forward to make good on her threat regarding the boy's fingers. Or at least look like she was serious about it, at the very least. Fuchi lets go at the order barked, rolling over to the side, hands coming up to press against his head that's aching something fierce now. Ayame, on the other hand, tucks her legs under her and rises to a standing position quickly. Flicking the butterfly knive closed, she slides it into the sheath on her belt.
Her expression has shifted from an angry one to a beaming smile as she lifts her left hand to wave back and forth at him cheerily. "Hey, teach. Sorry about the confusion. Anyway, time for me to go!" And with that, she turns on her heels. That she has no intention of sticking around the scene of the crime is putting it mildly!
He's only hoping tomorrow, which is Thanksgiving back home, is not going to be full of this kind of tomfoolery. He has already jinxed himself twice this week and he's probably going to spend the weekend drinking it up if it gets any worse. Which, undoubtedly, it will.
Things quiet down a little from when he first jumped in on the scene. His eyes shift focus to the right upon mention that they haven't seen her here before. Hm. Almost like that girl that appeared too old to be here to begin with yet he took for a senior student anyway. Boy oh boy did he get chewed out for that one. She looks to be the right age to be here, though. He appears contemplative for that critical moment.
Then she addresses him promptly, which brings him back to the exact situation at hand. His mouth opens as if to say something, right when she decides to try and turn tail. Oh hell no, he saw the knife. But a part of him still wants to give the benefit of the doubt on the case of identity - he didn't come here seeking to beat a kid down, he doesn't like the idea of having to do that, and most importantly he doesn't want another set of parents breathing down his back about their 'perfect' child not doing well simply because they believe he's unqualified to educate them.
But, unfortunately for Ayame, he is not above throwing his left arm straight forward, another exaggeratedly loud crack of joints forming at the movement, as he tries to get a firm grip on her upper arm and pull her back with a harder tug than he'd normally allow himself before she runs off - if she does, he just simply wouldn't be able to keep up. "You're not going anywhere!"
...Or is she?
COMBATSYS: Rust has started a fight here.
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Rust 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Ayame has joined the fight here.
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Rust 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Ayame
COMBATSYS: Ayame fails to interrupt Medium Throw from Rust with Light Kick.
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Rust 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Ayame
Ayame has no idea what Rust thinks of her. Mostly because she doesn't intend to stick around and find out, so it's kind of irrelevant. Oh, sure, she'd like him to think she was just some student, since it presents less of a problem on likely return trips. But hey, if not, he's just one guy who she doesn't plan on seeing ever again if she has things her way.
Rust has a different plan in mind for the girl though as his arm snaps out. The creak of his joints tips her off early though, so Ayame isn't caught completely off guard when his hand comes down around her upper arm. That part she expected. Which is why she's swinging around with a swift kick at the same time, leveled toward his upper thigh, right where it meets his hip. "Not so fa-" she starts to smack talk, only to find herself being yanked hard off her feet, stumbling into his side rather than kicking him like she had intended.
"H-hey!" the girl stammers, caught off guard. That pull of his was strong, and his grip tighter than she expected. He must work out. Or something. Her left hand comes up, attempting to push against his chest as the girl starts squirming like an agitated rat to get free.
"I saw the knife. I don't need to tell you that you're in deep shit," and there goes Howard Rust, letting another foul word that shouldn't be reaching the ears of the privileged here. It's been a bad day, it's more fortunate he hasn't slipped three to his current one. "Name, grade, homeroom."
He gestures with the pipe in his right hand towards the injured Fuchi, and back towards the direction he came. He hopes they pick up on that, he's only got that hand free while he's trying to keep her in his grasp for the time being.
That's when he tries to, much more gently, direct her up against the wall. This might be an opportune moment to break free given he'd still only have a grasp on one of her arms at best - even with all her pushing, he's difficult to budge. If she doesn't slip out by some means, he tries to pat her down for any other weapons with the pipe. He saw where the knife went, he's ready to deal with that if she draws it on him. His attempts at patting are slightly more forceful than what would be expected of the practice, trying to poke at her a few times to make sure there aren't any other nasty surprises hidden in there - maybe shake some loose, if there is.
If he gets that opportunity.
COMBATSYS: Ayame dodges Rust's Weapon Jab.
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Rust 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Ayame
Rust's tight grip and somewhat immobile stature as Ayame shoves at him tells her right off the hand that the guy is no push over. Her first guess was that he just works out. But now she's not so sure what to think. "You're messing with the wrong girl, teach-!" And then she's shoved against the wall, all pretenses of playing the tough girl card sort of having a rough time at it when she grunts.
Stuck against the wall for a moment, the girl is now starting to wonder if he's some kind of undercover cop! Maybe Pacific High's solution to the problem student woes teachers have to put up with here all the time. If that's the case, then she's really in trouble!
As he starts to pat her down with the pipe, keeping his distance a bit safe, Ayame finally makes her move. Just in tapping at her clothing he'll likely hear a couple metallic rings - the indication of something likely being hidden some place. And of course she tucked that knife away somewhere near her belt as well...
But his investigation will have to wait as the girl finally shoves one foot up against the wall and pushes back with everything she's got to slide out of his grip and even position herself behind him in the process. "I know you didn't know what you were getting into, but let me make it a bit more clear now." comes the verbal warning. The second warning will be the distinctive metallic clacking of a butterfly knife being flicked open, pulled back out of the sheath sown into one of her three belts.
"This one's just for warning. Leave me alone before you get yourself /really/ hurt." Her tone is ice cold, her demeanor nothing that would seem appropriate for a high school student. Whether she's just faking, whether she was just raised horribly wrong, or whether she's just somewhere she doesn't even belong isn't quite clear.
What is clear though is that knife is being put to use - a single, direct stab aiming for Rust's side. The blade isn't long, but it is sharp and sure to cut. Nothing vital is being targetted though. At least, not yet.
COMBATSYS: Rust endures Ayame's Quick Strike.
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Rust 0/-------/------=|=------\-------\0 Ayame
"Am I?" Rust asks in turn, quietly, as he clears his throat after the statement. His throat keeps getting so dry in situations like this. His evaluation of what else she might have gets a tap of... something under there. More than one. He can't really tell the nature of them other than that. She's loaded, just as he thought. His eyes narrow.
Then widen a bit as she shoves off and withdraws the knife. She's going to try and fight him off with that? If it weren't a grave issue of apparent student misconduct he'd almost encourage her to try as she gives her own set of perfectly fine, well-stated warnings.
His fist and teeth clench, with another series of joint cracks. He pretty much lets her jab him in the side without him even facing her. She pierces the clothing, but she might be surprised to see that no blood is drawn in the impact at all. It's like she poked him with a finger more than a blade. A hard poke, an annoying one.
"Young lady," he finally starts after he lets that moment pass for her to realize this, "I have had a very bad morning." With yet another of what will undoubtedly be a great number of joint cracks and popping bones in the exchange, he turns around with an elbowing maneuver from his right arm - followed by a backhand swing of the pipe in more of a shoving motion rather than a striking. It's a very restrained motion - if she wants to brandish weapon against faculty, he intends to strike it (...and anything else) out of her if she's going to continue endangering people on campus.
So he can take a hit - but how does he measure up when he strikes back?
COMBATSYS: Rust successfully hits Ayame with Medium Strike.
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Rust 0/-------/------=|===----\-------\0 Ayame
Ayame pulls her knife back out after the stab, her brow furrowed as if confused about something. It didn't feel like she just punctured skin. The girl has, unfortunately, stabbed many a target before, but it's never felt quite like it did in striking Rust. In the background the students begin whispering to each other as the girl seems to have decided to take her chances against the pipe wielding instructor. He's got himself a fiesty one there. As all such school yard fights might expect, some are cheering the rebel, while others take the side of the authority figure.
"Yeah, show him!" yells one boy. "Look out, Rust-sensei!" cries out another more loyal girl. Of course Ayame doesn't really care what the heck any of them are saying, her attention fully on the teacher who she just stabbed... only to be disappointed to find that not only is he not squeamish about seeing her carve out some of his blood... he isn't even bleeding in the first place.
So confused by the rugged nature of this instructor, his backhanded pipe swing ends up knocking her knife weilding hand hard, knocking the knife clean out of it and sending it spinning to the grass at her side. The loss of the weapon elicits a wince from the girl, but the strike of the pipe on her arm is the bigger deal.
Hissing as she shakes her right hand, trying to ignore the throbbing pain, the girl takes a step back, looking at the teacher completely differently now. But as he surmised, where there's one weapons, it seems like there's more. Her left hand darts to her belt - this time he'll see it, the hidden sheath sown into the wide middle belt at her waist, pulling out a second butterfly knife in her left hand instead of her right. "Bad morning, hrm? I predict it getting a lot worse!"
Where one stab doesn't seem to have made an impact, maybe a lot of them will? When Ayame comes at Rust this time, it's with a lot more than a 'warning shot' as she swings her left out to stick him in the stomach, her right hand swinging in with a clenched fist to strike him twice on the side, once near the base of his rib cage, and once further back, trying to land a kidney shot it seems. To top it off, she brings up the knee of her right leg as well, aiming to shove it hard into his stomach and then a second higher snap kick aiming for his chest. One weapon down, but it looks like she doesn't mind throwing limbs as well. Though her punches and kicks seem pretty much like street fighting than any particular martial art, they'll still leave an impact if they hit, right? In theory, anyway!
COMBATSYS: Rust blocks Ayame's Assault and Battery.
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Rust 0/-------/-----==|===----\-------\0 Ayame
With the swing, the teacher turns on his heel to face her fully. He keeps the pipe pointed directly at her as the students go to either side and cheer for whomever. Aw, hell, here he is fighting someone who is clearly still a teenager. He hates that - not from feeling they don't put up a fight - it goes against the way he carries himself.
Or tries to, anyway.
Another butterfly knife comes out again. He spreads his legs apart further in his stance and tightens his grip around the pipe, a tiny squeal of metal. She wants to go all out and take him down as fast as possible, he has a better idea. The left hand clenches itself tightly once more at her quip. She taunts, he readies instead. When she comes at him, he seems almost /too/ ready for it - her fist ends up meeting his several times, switching it up with his right shoulder to lean into both of the kicks. She actually gets him in the chin with the second snap kick, almost mitigated by him leaning his head back in a timely manner. It barely leaves a mark.
He flexes his left arm once in the aftermath of the assault, grunting as he shakes it out with another set of creaks. Maybe it did more than he let on? Noticeably, he makes no single attempt to hold his pipe to guard against any single blow. He must be very confident of his own ability to absorb any given set of physical blows as he rears his head back just that much further - with another crack, damn man - and lunges it forward with enough force that his body drags itself forward a short ways.
She gets a clear top-down view of his harcut. It's the worst combover ever. He's lost way too much on the top to even believably comb some of it on the side over, who the hell is he fooling? And the back of his head, the hair is made of downward spikes. This is the shoddiest attempt at matching the local hairstyles ever seen.
This, sad to say, is the only real conversation one can make about this particular brand of headbutt.
COMBATSYS: Ayame fails to counter Hardhat Rush from Rust with Random Weapon.
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Rust 0/-------/----===|==-----\-------\0 Ayame
To say the least, she's shocked that the lead pipe didn't come into play. The entire point of the multi-targetted attack was to keep him from being able to use the obvious weapon to defend himself. Hard to when attacks are coming from all sides - she knows from experience. But instead he weathers her blows with his limbs instead, and even takes one on the chin... and hardly seems worse for wear.
There's gotta be a catch. How can he be this tough? "What are you doing on a school, anyway? Last thing I knew, they weren't hiring iron golems for faculty these days." comes yet another taunt from the disrespective teen. The knife is flicked closed, though, and slipped back into her belt. That stabbing him seems to be not working in the slightest is becoming increasingly clear.
And what's this? He's showing off his hair? "Nice." But she has just the answer! Now that her hands are free, the girl reaches toward the top of her blouse before litterally slipping her hand in and pulling out a thin metal object from a sheath in her shirt. A flick of her wrist and it unfolds to reveal itself as an old fashioned War Fan, modeled after the style of such weapons in Fuedal Japan days.
And it's that strange defense that she attempts to slam into the way of the incoming headbutt, intending to hurt him back as well as defend herself all with the same motion. Much to no avail as the girl gets clonked hard instead, the fan knocked aside as she stumbles a couple of steps, arms lowering against her sides as she starts to shake her head to clear it.
Okay, this isn't working. Time to go back to taunting! "You should look into getting implants." she remarks, tapping the side of her head as if to make it obvious what she's referring to.
he man's got a hard head. Harder than a safety helmeet. Grodier than one, too, maybe. Now Ayame may have combover cooties! And she'll reek faintly of whatever bad hairspray he must've used for the hair in the back! Ewww! Gross! (Or... not?)
He rolls his neck around once as he lifts his head from the attack, one very specific thing catching his eye as one eyebrow cocks. She's probably still got a lot more things in there yet, in a bunch of different places. He can't really see where, but there's got to be a way to disarm her without hospitalizing the poor girl. Especially if it's some student after all! Such mercy for an apparent lowlife might seem laughable in this day and age, but there are some things, sometimes, you just have to give the benefit of the doubt on.
Through the insults, the put-downs, the stuff at expense of his /own age/, he tries to keep something of a cool head here. It's hard with the rich spoiled kids all around treating this like it's entertainment when she damn well might have damn well killed one or two were it not for his involvement. If he's still standing at the end of this, there'll be talkin' tos, all right. Lots of them.
For a moment, the pipe is held outward and back, as if preparing for her continued assault. She gives him that opening much faster than he anticipated, upper lip opening slightly as he goes for a forehand swing towards her left side. It's not so much intended to be a crippling blow as much as it is trying to knock a couple things loose out of her before she starts picking up an offensive against him again - or any of the other students.
Then again, it's already been a very, very bad morning and this afternoon ain't looking much better. Accidents could happen. Messy, job-threatening, stomach-turning accidents. (Other than his hairdo. And let's just leave it at that.)
COMBATSYS: Ayame fails to counter Fierce Strike from Rust with Requiem For Fallen Blossoms.
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Rust 0/-------/---====|===----\-------\0 Ayame
The girl's hands are busy even while she's flappin' her jaw with comments about the stawlart teacher. The fan, having failed to stop him from conking her with combover head is flicked closed but rather than being put away she just discards it on the ground. She's got something else for going toe to toe with the instructor and his vicious lead pipe!
From a pouch affixed to a tighter belt around her skirt she fishes a half foot long metal tube roughly two inches in diameter. Ah, pipe fight! Or something. He's coming in on her though and the girl isn't quick enough on the draw as she fumbles with the tube for a moment before she finally manages to get it in the way of his 'sidearm' right before it crunches into her side, absorbing a bit of the impact at least even though it all but doubles the girl over in the process and knocks the tube clean out of her hands to send it falling to the grass instead.
"Ugh," the girl gasps, both of her hands pressing against her side as she winces. "Okay, okay," one hand comes up, palm forward, waving back and forth rapidly as if to fend off any other attacks. "You got me!" Is she surrendering? Sure sounds that way. "I give up, teach." The reprobate is still on her feet though, and it's hard to say how much she's just hamming it up verses being legitimately wounded bad. Is she out of tricks finally?
Vicious, and likely to give you tetanus! Then again, his surname is 'Rust.' It's ironic - did he grow up practicing some family style involving the sheer concept of metal erosion, is it some silly coincidence, or did, for some reason, the Powers That Be decide that a man of the family name Rust actually wield a weapon that is packed to the brim with it? The world may never know.
The pipe that flies out of her hand, actually, comes very close to flying right into his face. He even sways a bit off to the side to let it pass, yet another of those creaks coming from somewhere in his right leg as he does so. He's not ancient yet, but he's certainly beyond his youth now. Probably doesn't have a lot of movin' and groovin', these days.
When Ayame falls over after this latest exchange in (apparent) serious pain, he takes a step forward. It's not a cautious step, it's not a guarded step. He rests his pipe up against his shoulder in his right hand, Ol' Rusty probably having earned a break after the last few successful blows. Before long, he's standing well within arm's reach of her, looking down. Does he suspect nothing, at all?
He clears his throat again. "So, while you get rid of every other thing you got in there - what the hell were you," he then motions backwards with his pipe towards the crowd, "doin' out here with the rest of these kids? Pointing that knife like you wanted to kill somebody?"
COMBATSYS: Rust takes no action.
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Rust 0/-------/---====|===----\-------\0 Ayame
Sitting on the ground, the girl hardly looks like a dangerous threat. Dazed by the strikes the teacher landed in justified self-defense, and robed of a couple of her weapons, the girl has certainly seen better days. And right now she's in an awkward position of really wanting to run for it but left with so many of her prized toys lying around in the grass, she feels like she at least has to take a stab at not leaving having lost so much. Even the decent money she's taken from the students can't replace everything.
Inhaling deeply, the girl exhales a sigh as he instructs her to, well, disarm essentally. And as he stands over her, at first she seems to be contritely cooperative. Her hand reaches over to a wrist guard over her left wrist, from which she pulls out three small throwing knives and sets them on the grass.
"...We were just having some fun," the 'student' mumbles, "Playing some games. Then bloody-face over there," she continues with a nod toward poor Fuchi, "Got all huffy." She reaches over her back and pulls out a set of four, long, slender blades affixed to a ring. Who knows what the heck that is. She sets it down in the grass as well.
"I just got mad. I wasn't going to hurt anyone." Fuchi's face to the contrary. "That's all. Nothing serious." Her right hand reaches up behind her head to the black hair ribbon that keeps her long, strawberry-blonde hair in check, and with a tug on one end she tugs it free. Wait, what?
"But that doesn't mean I'm just going to sit here!" the girl snaps, shoving herself up off her feet, the ribbon in tow in her right hand. Looks like she's going to persist all the same. Stubborn girl. It's pretty clear what she's going for as she leaps up, attempting to swing the ribbon arund the teacher's neck, clearly intending to use it like some kind of frilly garrote, trying to slip in behind him in the process in order to tighten it. Even if she gets it on him, it's more of a stall tactic. Surely the Pacific students aren't going to stand by as some hellion strangles their teacher, right?
COMBATSYS: Rust endures Ayame's Strong Throw.
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Rust 0/-------/=======|===----\-------\0 Ayame
There's justified self defense and there's excessive force. In the mind of the teacher, he doesn't think any of these kids would hold up nearly as well against a knife stab as he can - but so far in this confrontation, he's had the upper hand throughout the entire battle. He's not at his peak - but even with /that/ he has overcome nearly her every effort. And he still thinks this is probably one of those more delinquent students - all this adds up to a willingness to relent, and the sudden fear that he might've accidentally driven what was hidden under the place he struck into her. It'd be nearly impossible to tell if she was bleeding due to the black clothing she wears. He can only hope /not/, because that'd... not end up well if she actually was a student.
But he does, at the very least, remain stern on his demands. Get those weapons out, tell him what the hell went on. Eyes narrow as he keeps as careful a watch on where the weapons are dropped. "Fun... games," he echoes the words most interesting to him in a stern, very loud voice. He thinks he knows what she's talking about, given what one of the girls was babbling through her tears and the violence he saw coming up on the gathering. But maybe one of the kids over there will further clarify.
He doesn't follow her glance towards Fuchi, having actually seen her kick his face in (and the drawn knife - he might be aging but he's still got his vision intact). The throwing knives hit the grass, followed by the blades on the rings there. He lost count of how many she's tried to pull on him so far. How many does she still have?
"You got mad, drew a weapon on your peers," is he correcting her story? His left hand waves around in a circular sort of gesticulation right before she insists that's all, "and me..." For all the careful watch he puts up, he doesn't suspect the ribbon she removes. Doesn't look sharp. Did she have something in her /hair/? Damn loaded kid, he'd say when the time came to write this all up.
But then, it happens in a flash. He reaches out with his free hand as she almost literally rockets up and gets the ribbon around his neck. "Oh you're -- ARGH!" His face goes about as sour as it's been, eyes squinting shut, teeth bared, a knee making another cracking sound as his left hand comes up against the ribbon and tries to yank it off. His neck becomes very, very, very tense in an attempt to resist her being able to go far as to actually strangle him.
But she cames damned near close. He breathes in and out through his nose obnoxiously loud, struggling with her attempts to tie it around him and seal the deal. He doesn't sit still, moving about backwards in some attempt to push her off so he can get this damn thing off his neck.
There may be one thing he has over his opponent in this dire situation. He can't reach back and hit her again with the pipe as, due to the struggles, she's pretty much back against his left. He does know where one of the telephone poles are by heart. And so, his continued struggle attempts to direct the both of them over there and, once in range, bat his head back into her to smack her right into it with another loud crack in his neck.
A part of him can't believe he up and fell for /that/. It's a smaller part than 'I'M CHOKING, GURGLE NOISES' but even that has to share space with it in his psyche.
COMBATSYS: Ayame dodges Rust's Random Weapon.
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Rust 0/-------/--=====|===----\-------\0 Ayame
She's got him now. Hah! And he was so confident, what with all the making demands and telling her to get rid of her weapons and, and, well, being all responsible and teacher-like! Ayame smirks as she cinches the ribbon in tightly. That one caches a lot of people off guard. Looks like any old ribbon, but it's far stronger than that, reinforced with very thin, flexible wires along its length. Perfect for putting the squeeze on someone's neck.
The students begin to murmur, even those that were cheering the reprobate on start look less convinced now. Punching and kicking and hey, waving some flashy metal around is something they can grok. Trying to choke the strength right out of their teacher is another matter entirely.
But Rust doesn't cooperate quite like she had hoped, moving around with his size and raw strength advantage, driving the two of them off toward the telephone pole. Smaller than he is, and lighter weight, there's not a lot the girl can do to keep him from heading in that direction. Realizing that she's going to just get herself stuck if she stays there any longer, she finally releases the ribbon with one hand, allowing it to slip off from around his neck, darting to the side at the last moment to let the sensei stumble into the pole with no rebel to cushion him.
And he isn't left to enjoy that new backscratcher either, as Ayame jumps back several yards, raising her right arm straight out in front of her as if aiming at him, her fist clenched. Wrapping the ribbon around her left hand for safe keeping, she then moves her left hand over to pull back the arm wrap covering her right forearm, exposing a strange little device on her right wrist. As the 'wings' of it expand, it becomes clear that it's a small, wrist mounted cross bow.
Ready. Aim. Fire! The little projectile launcher sends its single bolt zooming through the air toward the teacher. Jeez, it looks like she still hasn't run out of things yet. The bolt in and of itself is going to be annoying to get stuck by, to be certain. But it's also laced with a bit of nerve poison. Not enough to take down anyone, but it might numb some muscles to slow one down for a few seconds, creating a window of opportunity for the opportunistic girl. "Take that," the girl whispers to herself.
COMBATSYS: Rust blocks Ayame's Sudden Fling.
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Rust 0/-------/-======|===----\-------\0 Ayame
It's very fortunate for ol' Howard Rust that Ayame relented in the nick of time in at least one way. He might be tough, he might be damned near impenetrable with a blade barring good enough strength to really drive it in deep - but in his surprise, he was almost too late to tense up against strangulation. He doubles over right as she lets go, hitting the telephone pole with his back. The impact would be painful for most other people. For him, it's merely uncomfortable.
His free hand rubs at his freed neck, one eye popping open, teeth still clenched. She's got more nerve than Marisol! He makes a loud snorting sound go with the crack of the joints in his right hand as he starts to grasp at holding onto his temper. She's still a danger to himself, not to mention the kids! And he's had a very, very bad morning. Right now this afternoon is just in regular 'bad' territory. But, as she did promise, it is going to get a lot worse.
A lot worse, like when she tries to shoot him with that wrist-mounted crossbow. How many weapons does she have? He guesses the trajectory she's about to fire at right, flexing his right arm inward to catch the dart. It doesn't even seem to get in that far at all, but the point sticks in enough for the nerve poison to start taking effect. He almost notices right away when the muscles in his arm start to relax to a... admittedly comfortable degree. That's the arm he wields his pipe with. If it spreads enough throughout his body, Ayame just might have found a way to overcome his uncanny ability to almost completely shrug off much of the damage she has done, and may continue to do if he doesn't press a solid offense.
Now there's taking care of the /rest/ of him. He pulls out the dart with his teeth and spits it out into the grass, perhaps inadvertedly introducing more into his system in the process. There's a distance between the two, and his right arm wants to fall asleep. What to do?
Rather than return banter, he starts to dash up after her. Well, try to, anyway - if she thought he was pretty slow to move, she'd be right. With a grunt of exertion in spite of what courses through him, he seems to trip into the ground about two thirds of the way in... or does he? Rolling onto his back, he switches the pipe into his off hand and, in one swift, wide, and low arc to around her knees, tries to clip her with the difference in reach between the two with the additional momentum from the slide.
If it weren't angled up a little higher than the ground, it'd be a lot like he were trying to swing along the very foundation of this makeshift battlefield.
COMBATSYS: Ayame dodges Rust's Foundation Layer.
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Rust 0/-------/--=====|===----\-------\0 Ayame
Fortunately for Rust... unfortunately for Ayame, the crossbow only bears one bolt. The device is too compact for her to have designed a clip for it yet. Which means he's spared any further pesky bolts and that poison they're packing. And the effect on his arm should taper off fairly quickly with his rugged constitution factoring in on his behalf. But hey, maybe it's having more of an effect than she thought, Ayame muses as he trips forward to the ground.
"Hah!" the girl laughs, still apparently lacking anything resembling proper respect for her seniors. "Don't even bother getting u- ACK!" She realizes in the nick of time that just because the teacher is down doens't mean he's out, hopping back to avoid getting smacked in the legs. In fact, to a certain extent, she wonders if he did that on purpose, as unorthodox as it may have looked. There's definitely more to this teacher than she's able to figure out. But that doesn't mean she isn't going to just stand there.
Oh no. Ayame has already had the fear of Ol' Rusty put into her by now, so when the teacher is down on the ground, she turns and makes a run for it, charging over to the metal tube he knocked out of her hands with his pipe earlier. And in a moment he'll see why, as she turns around to face him, trying to judge the time she has to work with still. With pressure applied to a point only she knows, all the sudden the tube's ends jet outward, telescoping until it reaches the full length of a bo staff, somewhere around six feet in total.
Holding onto the pole that's longer than she is tall, Ayame braces behind it, holding the two-inch diameter titanium staff in a defensive position, glaring back at the faculty member trying to bring this ruffian in for due process. "I'm not going to let you get the better of me!" Ayame snaps back. "You're too slow for the likes of me!" she continues taunting. Kids these days. Not enough spankings or something.
COMBATSYS: Ayame focuses on her next action.
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Rust 0/-------/--=====|===----\-------\0 Ayame
A lot of people with 'slide' techniques tend to do them in such a way that they're easily left open to counterattack. Rust puts a slight spin on it by trying to do it at the utmost end of his reach. If he decided to wield a longer pipe, it'd be nearly faultless. As it is, those astute can usually get away by stepping back - but that's why he tries to swing it as fast as he can despite the awkward position.
Looks like she managed to figure that one out quick enough. He exhales slowly on the ground as she backs away, teasing him for his lack of speed. Ten years ago, kid, you'd eat those words. Or so he'd say. But she's backing back towards the vague direction of the kids, and regardless of whatever it is she just drew - seemingly metallic in nature - he's still got to put the kibosh on it one way or another.
His left arm scrapes up against something on the ground. Oh, lovely, you dove at her and nearly fell on top of the weapons she dropped so far. Very smart, he'd mock himself. Substituting the pipe into his still somewhat numb right arm, he decides it might be best to try and cover his recovery by lifting up one of Ayame's throwing knives and just pitch it at her. A no-looker! A daring shot!
More troubling, he decided to throw it by the bladed end. That means she's at risk of getting beaned by the handle unless she deftly catches it (or otherwise overcomes this curious choice of tactic). Turns out he's got a good enough throwing arm on his off hand to bring along the need to... what is it that kids a decade ago would say?
Oh yeah. Think fast!
COMBATSYS: Ayame catches Thrown Object from Rust with Weapon Jab.
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Rust 0/-------/--=====|=------\-------\0 Ayame
The girl's eyes narrow as the more veteran fighter gets back up... with one of /her/ kunai at that. What's he think he's going to do with that? "Hey, that's mine!" she yells back. Sure, her name may not be on it, but that doesn't matter! But apparently he feels like returning it to her all the same, handle end first.
And this time, the girl really does seem to be a bit more on the ball as she puts that long staff to use, tilting one end of it upward just in time for the kunai to strike it instead of her. The small metal dagger is sent spinning up into the air with a steep arc, also at the behest of the girl... and then it drops down into Ayame's waiting hand as she catches it out of the air. "Hah! Please. Stick to something you seem to know about. Like bad hair and a real need for arthritis cream."
The girl slips the throwing knife back into its sheath beneath her left wrist guard in the meantime, taking rapid steps backward. Still lots of her weapons lying around. The fan, the blades attached to the ring, the the other two throwing knives, the two butterfly knives... The girl has a habit of making a mess of places she fights at to say the least. "But you've put up a good fight." She sure talks high and mighty when she's not sitting on the ground waving a proverbial white flag. "So I'm going to let you off easy and take my leave now." she grins, giving Rust a snappy salute and turning on her heels, ready to make that break away that she was so determined to do earlier in the fight.
Only to find... her way blocked off by the crowd of students, slowly growing in size as word has spread around the campus about the violent alteracation going on behind the main building. More and more students have flocked to the scene, and right now, they're forming a very convincing blockade in the direction Ayame was seeking to go. At first she looks startled, but then she falls back on old tricks.
"I'm going to start swinging this thing," she hefts the titanium staff, "And if you don't get out of my way, I don't care what happens to your heads!" Okay, maybe not just a 'trick' exactly.
Creak. Snap. Grunt. The whole point of the exercise was to cover his recovery. While he's not down from the count yet from sheer /damage/, per se, he's gotten himself a bit winded all the same. By the time he's getting out of a kneel facing the right direction, she manages to deflect the metal dagger (thrown the wrong way to begin with) and deftly catch it. Seems like she's better with what she has now, compared to what she was trying on him before. It's a bigger staff, a longer one - she'd outdo him in a battle of reach easily, if it came to it.
"You come back here!" He barks the way only a slighted authority figure really can as she starts to take off. She'd have gotten away, too, if it weren't for those pesky kids and their... oh, no dog. Just the pesky kids, then. He'd appreciate the gesture a lot more if it didn't put them into serious jeopardy against someone who still has hell knows how many weapons left in them.
The nerve poison must've lasted a bit longer than it usually does, as his right arm's recovering its feeling about as rapidly as he does take many good, long strides towards the escaping Ayame. It's not a stealthy approach, either, as the joints continue to express their own protest about being moved around the way they are as fatigue started setting in.
"I'm going to start shaking you down," he says as he tries to grab Ayame by the collar with his left hand, heft her off her feet, turn her around so she's not facing the students and, literally, shake her, "until you don't have any other shit left to threaten my students with!"
But ah, dramatics and Ayame's own skills, would they let him get away with such a noble cause and an almost heoric declaration that is really a disintegrating temper?
COMBATSYS: Ayame interrupts Quick Throw from Rust with Harvest's Reaper.
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Rust 1/------=/=======|===----\-------\0 Ayame
Uh oh. Irrate adult at six o'clock. Ayame is standing there, waving her staff at the students getting in her way, trying to get them to back off that way. And surely, some do. Not all of them are that keen on the idea of getting clobbered by six feet of metal, even if it's nice and shiney and not rusty like, well, Ol' Rusty.
But for those who don't get out of the way, the girl has a treat for them too. She wasn't kidding when she said she'd go swinging for heads. She just wanted them to move first, because, frankly, if they get out of the way voluntarily it's a lot faster than her having to scythe her way through the crowd. Which is why she backs up a step then, lefting up the staff and positioning it up behind her a ways, in prime swinging posture, surely to brain any student bold enough to not get out of her way now...
But the swing never comes. For all his creaks, pops, sore joints, and nerve poison problems, the determination to keep Pacific High's student body safe from deadly weapons and his desire to bring the ruffian in for questioning gives him the burst of speed he needs to get there just in time to keep her from knocking anyone for a loop.
Hefted up by her collar, she's spun around to face the teacher only to have him start shaking her. Rattled, a couple more things shake loose. A heavy metal weight with a clip on top of it drops to the ground. It's anyone's guess what that would be for. A three inch long sharp needle falls to the grass next, laced with the same poison the crossbow bolt had. But before anything drops to the ground, the girl finally reacts. And unfortunately, she still has that staff. And right now, as she grits her teeth, looking all together irate, the entire length of the staff is bathed with a vibrant, angry red aura as the girl channels chi into the weapon.
And then it comes, even as he's holding her. A vicious, upward swing, aiming to conk him on the chin, a powerful swideways slam aiming for his arm, and a final axe-chopping like swing of the weapon. Each smack is marked by a shower of red sparks of chi flowering out and falling to the ground at the feet of the two before disappearing all together. And then she exhales, perspiration rolling down from her hairline, the girl having thoroughly exausted her strength with the assault.
Shake, shake, shake. This has been asked inwardly so very many times throughout this exchange that it sounds like it should bear no further repeating. It really would seem that way. But, somehow, with every new thing that seems to drop out of her, Rust's ability to comprehend the number of these weapons being hidden upon this particular individual compared to the available surface area to really hide them just deteriorates. It's ludicrous. His face is as stern as it's ever been, eyes keeping more on Ayame rather than what falls out of her.
Should've kept his eyes on the staff. Right at the moment the first thing of assumedly many hits the ground, the red aura glows bright enough for him to really want to think about getting ready to ward off the latest of her attacks. She nails him with the shot to the chin, thrusting his head back far enough that, compared to her earlier snap kick, really looks like it might have truly done some real damage to him. The grip on her survives only as long until she slaps the inner upper part of the arm that holds her, enough force causing the fingers to let go of her collar. Right as he sways dangerously back and to her right, she brings it down on his bald head. That combover can't fool her staff, no siree, it gets him on the head. He loses his balance and hits the grass with enough force that dirt flies all over the place.
"Oooh," so groans the teacher as he, for some reason, is overcome with a strong desire to go set up a grill outside and cook some burgers. A non-sequitur brought on by a concussion. (Is it really?) For a while, he really appears still. This is probably the first true, solid hit she's managed to land on him. There's a nice red stripe going across the top of his head - a signal that she has managed to overcome his innate hardiness by some means.
...But even /then/ he's still not out. She might be asking as many questions about his ability to take hits as he does about her arsenal when his right hand thrusts the pipe into the ground in his right hand, upright. It's not long at all. A major league baseball bat's longer than this by a few inches. There's no chi shockwaves or anything else of the sort. A wasted maneuver?
He sits up with clear effort, a groan from his throat and his back making its complaints known, muddied by the last assault. He looks as though he's going to try and stand with the pipe's support, but, Ayame may be rather surprised about what happens next.
He kicks his feet up into the air and tries to balance on the flimsy-looking thing - a feat of his upper body strength rather than much in the way of underlying agility. He doesn't hold this posture for long as his legs quickly kick inwards towards where Ayame rests, hastening a tumble in an attempt at pre-empting any of her other aces up her sleeves. Or wherever else she might hide them, for that matter.
Among other things, seems like the man believes falling right on top of your opponent in a clumsy manner is a perfectly viable form of attack.
COMBATSYS: Ayame blocks Rust's Crashing Down.
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Rust 1/-------/=======|====---\-------\0 Ayame
Back on her feet and struggling to catch her breath, the red aura in her staff quickly drains out, the girl having exhausted herself with that energy imbued attack at last. But now she's running out of steam, and it's starting to show in the way she leans a bit against the staff for support, propping it against the ground.
"Heh..." she gasps between breaths while the teacher groans. "You should've known you were out of your league..." Gasp for breath. "I won't-" *wheeze* "...go easy on you anymore." Her left hand comes up to wipe against her forehead to brush away some of the sweat beads gathering there.
And then he comes up with his next creative attack - the likes she's not sure she's ever seen before. In fact, she seems absolutely stumped at the handstand for the longest moment, so at least the move has merit on surprise factor alone. It's only because of her staff that she's able to weather the sttack out at all, bracing behind the light weight but sturdy shaft to absorb most of the impact. Though she doesn't get hit cleanly, just the force of impact from defending against his falling weight is enough to strain her muscles to the giving in point and the girl gasps, lowering the staff back into more of 'support' position at her right side. By now it's pretty clear she can't take much more of this.
Her hand drops down to the level of her waist where two belts are to be found. One belt is woven through the loops in her skirt and supports a small velcro pouch from which the girl had pulled that staff from earlier before it got so gosh darn big. The second belt doesn't seem to be good for anything else besides just being there. Far too loose to hold anything up, it just sits at a lazy angle across her waist. It's to that one that her left hand goes next, her right hand still holding onto the staff she's using for support. And then *click* Off comes the belt. Scandalous!
It's a coiled cable whip that she pulls off herself quickly only to lash out toward Rust either while he's recovering or when he's standing again. With the whip a bit over a yard in length, it seems she's trying to just get him to back off so she can figure out what to do next. Considering her condition, flopping over exhausted might be near the top of the To-Do list. *Crack!*
COMBATSYS: Rust fails to interrupt Medium Strike from Ayame with Cement Upper.
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Rust 1/-------/=======|====---\-------\0 Ayame
Whump. Not 'whump!' Whump. He impacts against Ayame's defense in such a manner that, by some points of view, it's a wonder she doesn't get flattened under him. Then again, he's only a little overweight. He worked hard on the job years ago, letting his skill and strength atrophy only for all the studying he had to do to get through college after the fact. It wasn't easy. But he did it.
And here he is, now, full of young, scrappy would-be thugs constantly trying him. Marisol... she packs a hard punch but she wasn't pointing weapons at people. He's already thinking over what to say if she ends up rollin' around and asking what the hell happened to get him to fight someone /else/ around her age while he tucks into a neat roll and comes to a stop in a kneel, a ways past her. Ol' Rusty, in his right hand, points outwards and to the side, against the ground as he breathes in and out. Blood runs down the side of his mouth from the shot to the chin earlier. He shakes his head where he kneels. She's really starting to honestly fight back now, is she, saying she's not going easy on him. Hell, does he come off as that much of a wuss in practice?
He doesn't face her. He doesn't want to waste any single movement, instead trying to go by audio cues. A clicking noise. Ol' Rusty is raised up above him. With all the seemingly clumsy movements, Ayame finally gets to have a look at something that completely and utterly belies the way he has carried himself in movement as it rapidly spins in one hand. So rapid, it's a circle of weathered metal.
And then, just like that, he turns around as the whip lashes, swinging it downward in a swooping motion before swinging it upwards towards Ayame to try and put an end to this with the technique that's got him by in many extremely tight situations before this one - to make the best of both brute force and what additional reach the pipe affords. There's one problem.
He swings too early, too short. Ayame may experience a pleasant breeze as she snaps the whip, nailing him square in the wrist. The hand visibly recoils as Ol' Rusty pops up into the air, spinning as rapidly as it did right in his grip.
Unarmed, on the verge of exhaustion, and having actually taken significant damage these last few moments, Rust utters but one word with one eye shut and sweat all over his... you know what, let's not discuss the combover any further. Let's stick to the sweat.
And the swear. "Shit!"
The whip was intended to keep the teacher at bay. That it knocked that pipe out of his hands was an added bonus and one Ayame isn't going to renege on, even taking steps to stand between Rust and his his lost pipe as the girl looks back at him with an expression that would /probably/ come across smug were it not for the gasping she's still doing to catch her breath. But time mends a lot of things, including exhaustion, and as seconds pass, she's starting to find her strength.
The whip is lowered and she stands up straight again, hefting that long staff of hers, no longer needing to lean against it so hard for support. Letting the more flexible weapon drop to the ground, Rust might not have to worry about that one being used against him for the moment. Instead it seems Ayame is intending to deal a final blow with the long, unforgiving staff of hers and take the teacher out for the count.
Raising the staff over her head like an executioner's axe, the polished titanium glinting in the sun, Ayame grits her teeth. "Sorry pops, you should've stayed back at the chalk board for this one."
Behind the girl a student steps forward and bends down, fingers wrapping around Ol' Rusty to pick the pipe up off the ground. The girl from earlier that had been screaming in terror at Ayame's rampage until the teacher had entered the scene to protect the students from the violent girl. "Rust-sensei!" comes the hollar behind Ayame, causing the blonde to glance over her shoulder in the girl's direction, trying to figure out what this interference is all about. The delay gives the girl time to hurl the pipe, underhanded, in Rust's direction, the trusty metal weapon spinning a lazy arc through the air.
"Che. Too late to make a difference!!" the girl snaps, whirling back around to face Rust in order to bring her own staff crashing down toward his head in a merciless, brutal blow to take him out at last.
COMBATSYS: Rust fails to interrupt Fierce Strike from Ayame with Crane Launch.
- Power fail! -
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Rust 0/-------/----===|=====--\-------\0 Ayame
Ayame is young. She'd probably find some energy in her youth to get the job done. Rust doesn't have a lot of that left in him. (And he's not even forty!) Despite the poor situation, he's got at least one weapon left. Himself. He's about as tough as somebody of his caliber can ever really aspire to. Even as Ayame presses the offense in the most mocking way imaginable. He stands tall, about as tall as he can, teeth clenched with blood down the jaw, sweat falling into one eye, and his upper torso bobbing up and down from exhaustion. Just him, Ayame, and a staff with a few remaining weapons that boast better reach than he can match.
"Give it your best shot!" He yells in defiance of his body going 'look, pops, yeah, I agree, you're a pops, but I can't take any more of this, see, so stop before I give you a heart attack, you got the family history and everything.' His right hand clenches tightly into about as hard a fist as it'll get, joints be damned.
A girl calls out to him, but he can't see her too clearly. It'd be out of the eye shut tight from the sweat. Too focused on trying to land this one, final hit to win the day. It's absolutely, positively perfectly lined up too. The way she holds up her staff makes it the shot of all shots he can ever hope to muster. He leans forward, crouching. It takes a split second.
A split second for a weapon thrown in earnest that passes above Ayame's head, yet bounces off the pole at such an angle that its forward momentum turns into a pop as it about comes down on what is effectively Rust's blind side.
Like a trusty friend if an inanimate object really can be considered one, it manages to interpose itself directly between the strike and Rust. He catches a glimpse of it right at the moment of impact, when his right hand's about to go all up Ayame's face.
His left hand catches it at the moment of impact. On one hand, it stops the actual blow cold. This would be the most masterful, lucky defense ever if it weren't for the fact that, in failing to directly strike the teacher, it nails the pipe hard enough that the grip is only momentary, directing it to his forehead with enough velocity that it sends him on his bum onto the ground.
On top of one of the dropped throwing knives. The eye not forced closed from perspiration getting in the way bugs out, a most sour, surprised look on his face. Looks like he expended all his luck on 'not getting hurt falling on top of the weapons on the ground' when he went low at her earlier.
Sweet chin music and/or nausea at what would have come in a more favorable scenario is averted in one of the more... embarrassing ways. But yet, he hasn't doubled over under the collective pain of his wounds.
...Ayame is, perhaps, free to try a do-over.
Her staff drops like an axe, ready to deal the final, fateful blow of this highly unintended encounter. If asked, Ayame might even admit the teacher gave a good fight. She wouldn't admit it now. Now it's all about being convinced she's untouchable. And so much as allowing for the posability that he might beat her is only going to result in her being beaten. And she has a lot on the line here. The list of things she could be punished for are a far cry worse than 'gambling behind the school hall' at this point...
And if law enforcement factored in, she'll be in a LOT of trouble to boot, if they start connecting her face or fingerprints to other... less than law abiding activities. No, she needs to take him down so that she can leave. If she strikes that final blow and knocks the man unconcious, the rest of the students will get out of her way, parting like the Red Sea for Moses as the girl takes her leave. If he takes her down, there's no end to the misery that might be in store. Of times in situations like this, before the fateful final blow, she's remarked 'Nothing personal.' Just business. Just what she does to get by. It's how she justifies it, anyway. Maybe it helps her sleep at night. Or maybe she just stopped caring a long time ago.
But her staff strikes something else entirely. The metal pipe thrown into the mix for a moment, deflecting her swing albeit delivering a different hit to his head than the finishing stroke she had in mind. Her staff rebounds backward with a resonating ring and Ayame actually stumbles a step as a result, staring at Rust as she tries to figure out just happened. Did he conjure a helmet for his head in the nick of time?
She doesn't even know what's causing that expression on his face. That he landed atop one of her kunai doesn't occur to her. All she knows is that he's still up and moving rather than slumping over like she had intended of him by now. It makes no sense. How can someone TAKE that many hits with solid, sharp, and blunt metal objects over and over?
"What do you keep /fighting/ for?" Ayame snaps, sounding incredulous. "You're through. Finished. Washed up. It's over. You just don't realize it yet." she hmphs, gesturing behind her with her left arm toward the crowd, "It's a lot of misery for a bunch of ingrate students that probably don't even appreciate it," the young, mean thing continues.
"You're living in some kind of dream world if you think you can keep up with my generation. We're faster, smarter, stronger... Time to wake up and smell the irrlevance creeping up on you. Give it up."
And as if bound and determined to make sure that that's the case, the girl attacks again, slamming her staff out horizontally toward him at roughly neck level, pushing off the ground to flip up into the air behind Rust. The weapon flares to life again though this time the color is a darker hue - green, earthen tones. And if Ayame gets her way, she's going to pull it in against his neck again, strangling him from behind like she seems to like doing so often, while the chi itself adds an additional burst of crushing impact from the attack.
"Time to put an end to the fantasy..."
COMBATSYS: Ayame successfully hits Rust with Midsummer Fantasy.
[ \ < > /////// ]
Rust 0/-------/--=====|=====--\-------\0 Ayame
If it were an absolute worst case scenario and Ayame were stopped now, there is, actually, a good chance she would have gotten off much lighter than she would have where Rust comes from. She's not quite an adult yet - she can't quite earn a permanent criminal record. Failing that, she might have friends in all the wrong places who may happen to be there at the right time. Two or so years is a lot of breathing space for one of her life experience to work with.
There would be no mitigating the fact she'd probably have to endure several hours with this man trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with her, what she was exactly up to, and whether or not she even really goes here in the first place. But, that's enough about Ayame for the moment, yes.
...Okay, just enough more to mention she's talking to him, addressing him so calmly. Like she knows the way the world works these days at a little under half his present age. And now Rust sits there, having come across an unpleasant surprise where he was pushed. He doesn't bother reaching down to get it out, maybe because he /is/ deluding himself into thinking he can still move it. His heart beats ever so faster as the cold, clammy hand of unconsciousness wants to pat him on the head, go 'shh, shh, it's okay, rest' while his body is all 'SERIOUS MAN, HEART ATTACK, I'LL DO IT 'CAUSE I WANT TO LIVE UP TO THE LEGACY OF MY GRANDFATHER ON MY DAD'S SIDE, HELLS YEAH, I'M THE HEIR TO THE FIGHTING STYLE FROM WITHIN, THE STROKE BABY!' One may argue that, if taken literally, his body still thinks it's like many of these high school kids who are the heirs to their family styles. Only it involves heart attacks and strokes. (It must not be very good at it, he's had a clean bill thus far in life.)
She talks him down all the while as kids look on horrified and he looks about ready to, at long last, actually succumb to it all. He doesn't really have an answer as Ol' Rusty lays almost as limp as something that oft appears about as unbendable as its wielder itself can really... get. Metaphorically. His right arm's so tired post-nerve toxin, he's having trouble lifting it up against her when she just lays it into him.
In and out he breathes, looking up. The words are right on his mouth, 'shut it, kid, that's something the twenty-something mugger at the dock said a few weeks ago and I haven't seen him unclench his jaw since,' but he doesn't get to say it when she just meanders behind him with clever acrobatics, the staff and her hands quickly around his neck with that green, sickly chi. He feels like cooking a hotdog over some open campfire that has no place being inside his inevitable hospital room as it flares to life and eats at his ability to breathe. Not that it does it on its own - Ayame's pulling certainly helps.
His neck muscles appear to have sided with the rest of the body that aches, completely failing to properly tense it up a second time as she jerks back to close his windpipe in. This could be it. This could be the end of him - at best, maybe the last day he's going to ever be able to fight.
This goes on for far too long than is reasonable. There is no doubting that he can't completely weather the attack now. Consciousness starts to fade without compromise as the chokehold is maintained. Worse yet, this is making that stinging sensation on his bum even worse since he didn't deign to yank it out. Neither hand has moved up to try and pull it off. There's not a whole lot of strength left for that.
However, his right hand, as though parts of his bodies seem to be thinking as different entities (which they aren't, but, it's easy to confuse it as such) decides to fight off the residual fatigue from the toxin and clasp itself over Ol' Rusty tightly. It squeals. Delightfully. Disturbingly.
He swings his right arm inward, his left hand joining the act to clutch the other end that's closer to his face. One last gesture, one last movement. With the grit of his teeth and long, drawn-out groan, Howard Rust makes one last play to take the fight to Ayame. He swings his right arm inward, his left hand joining the act to clutch the other end that's closer to his face. One last gesture, one last movement. With the grit of his teeth and long, drawn-out groan, Howard Rust makes one last play to take the fight to Ayame and take her out - throwing his body mass backwards to try and throw her off as his arms, simultaneously, try to thrust the end of Ol' Rusty into her with what is completely unrestrained, bone-shattering force.
Tinges of mercy lose out to a verge-of-unconsciousness-or-worse reflex. He wants to be a gentler hand with this generation than certain figures in his life were, even against ones that want to kill him. But, in the end, he's a fighter. He was one, he still is one. There are some things in life you just have to accept when push comes to shove comes to strangle comes to mouthy lowlives.
Things such as how she might have a point after all as he blacks out mid-motion.
COMBATSYS: Rust can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\ <
Ayame 0/-------/-======|
COMBATSYS: Ayame interrupts Deep Strike from Rust with Quick Throw.
[ \\\ <
Ayame 0/-------/=======|
The hold is secured and Ayame is in a very strong position now. She talked about waking him up from a dreamland, but it seems like that's exactly where she intends to send him. She can feel the fight leaving him. Truth be told, for as many times as the girl has accousted others, never before has she reduced someone to unconsciousness by denying that most essential oxygen to an opponent. Maybe she just felt there was no other way to come out of this. Maybe his impervious to her blunt and sharp objects left her stumped as to how else to get him. The strangle hold wit her ribbon earlier seemed to get his attention though, and so it's no surprise that she fell back on it now.
It's a weird feeling, having someone go weak in your hands like this. Especially a veritable rock of a man like the one she was just fighting. But she can sense the tell-tale signs as he begins to lose his strength to struggle against her. For all of her talk, for all of her bluster, she feels... indifferent. It means she gets away to do what she does another day. Another day to scrape through what she calls a life. Beating him didn't net her a profit, and in fact, considering what he put her through, it was hardly worth the money she's going to walk away with. But she will walk away, and that's priority number one for the girl.
But then comes the last stand of Howard Rust and Ol' Rusty, the pipe clenched in both of his hands and driven backward with crushing force. She realizes the motion for what it is, but in so close, there's no getting out of the way. It's all she can do to twist the man to the side, knocking the strike off course just enough. A blow to her rib cage would have shattered bone and walking away would have been the last thing on her mind. But as it is, the pipe slams hard into her thigh with an incredibly hard impact. Ayame cries out, releasing her hold on him at last, falling to the ground on one knee at his side. Jaw glenched, hissing as she tries to fight the pain, one hand releases her staff to press against her leg. Wounded bad, but still conscious, she falls back to the priority of getting away.
The student body is aghast. Even those once cheering the rebel have fallen silent as Ayame went far beyond what anyone there considered fair play, to say the least. But the blonde doesn't care, glaring back at all the kids with a threatening gaze. One that says 'Get in my way, and you're next.' as she stands up straight again.
But a lot of them seem to be willing to take her up on the unspoken challenge, forming a half circle against the building, keeping the girl trapped in the middle. Ayame glances back and forth. She's trapped. Several students rushing forward to check on their shop teacher, while others in the back dart off to go recruit more staff. Ayame has won the battle, but has she lost the war all the same? Her victory brought her to the brink of collapse. Skilled as she may be, would she have a prayer against the gathered group?
Holding up her own trusty weapon, the girl braces, falling back little by little toward the wall, color draining from her complexion as she starts to lose ground. She's not getting out of this one. Not against all these Pacific High students. Falling back on desperation, the girl reaches into her skirt pocket, pulling out the stack of bills she had won from the other kids, only to chuck them into the air in front of her. "Look, all your money!" she exclaims, drawing many of their attention to the small rain of bills.
It buys her precious little time. The staff is quickly collapsed back down to its portable size and shoved into the pouch at her side. From the same pouch she pulls out the one weapon left that she didn't get to. A pointed, metal object of a few inches in length with a clip on the blunt end. And... from a belt loop on her left she pulls out a wire thin cable with remarkable tensile strength and a clip on the end of it. The weight and cable are cliped together quickly in the confusion and finally the girl hurls the object up the side of the building where it manages to loop a couple times over a light fixture.
"Hope this holds," she mutters.... and then up the wall the unsuccessful thief goes, scrambling up to the high light fixture by gripping onto the cable. Were it not for her leather gloves, the cable would cut into her hands, but as is, she manages to make it up. An exhausted, trembling arm reaches up to grip the roof of the building from there as everyone stares at the girl making her belabored escape... Until at last, Ayame disappears over the edge of the roof. Needless to say, she'll have to give serious thought about ever testing her luck at Pacific in the future. Teachers there /clearly/ don't take their jobs lightly.
Ayame's last ditch attempt to toss him away. She doesn't toss him very far. Instead, she manages to get him roughly face-flat, hand still around Ol' Rusty despite the fact that the rest of him should not be conscious. There isn't any movement other than this bizarre grip. However, one would not be particularly astute if they passed up something a little more noteworthy.
There's a kunai sticking out of his butt. Dead center, bullseye. If any of the kids were feeling particularly cruel despite his attempts to stand up for their safety, this would make for a most interesting conversation piece in which to put him down. No doubt it's going to spread around the campus as much as the idea that he had to fight off a dangerous element in place of the proctors. Again! A bad hair day for Howard Rust.
Er, if one were to think of it, bad hair is virtually every day for him. (Bad rust day?)
He's out cold, still bleeding from the mouth. But, if anybody checks his pulse, he's breathing. That was one extremely close call with strangulation. His neck's red where it really pressed into him, and somehow it's luck that she didn't break his neck in that final struggle.
While being rushed to the infirmary (and/or later to the hospital in case of anything more serious than what is apparent on the surface), he falls into a most colorful, almost far too real dream involving the figure of a withered old man in a leather jacket that's almost eight feet tall in a wheelchair and a giant anthropomorphic heart. The anatomically correct kind, not the 'happy fun love love' kind, in the middle of some cookout outside in a blizzard.
"Huh... gramps?" Rust mouths inside the deep recesses of his psyche. "That you?"
"Damn right it is, Howie! And your poor heart had to go tell me what you were doing to it! You should give it an apology post haste!" It's a loud, booming voice despite the fraility behind it. It's a fuzzy image, a fuzzy memory. He can't make out the image of his face very clearly.
"That's right! Just because I wasn't really going to go into cardiac arrest on you doesn't mean you get to ingore me!" The anthropomorphic heart harrumphs with... valves crossed? It's a strange image.
Howard, in the landscape of his inner-most psyche, just balls up his fist and punches the creepy anthropmorphic heart out cold. "Don't talk to me!" He yells above the howling white snow that probably symbolizes something. Call Freud.
Out in the real world, nothing really happens other than his heart skipping a beat at a coincidental time. He's gonna be wherever he ends up for the better part of the evening and maybe even the next morning.
Log created on 20:08:11 11/21/2007 by Ayame, and last modified on 13:14:19 11/23/2007.