Description: Can K' dress up? Why is Blanka a Blues Brother? Does Shihong really think she can fight in something that slinky?! STAY TUNED!! (Winners: Blanka/Shihong)
This... was one week where K' opted -not- to arrive early. He had been let off the hook, as it were, for his little stunt the previous weekend due to the fact that his unexpected break from script-- and his ensuing 'dramatics'-- had drawn a lot of attention... and thus, higher ratings. He'd even found himself accosted in the intervening days between then and now by avid journalists who recognized him on the street, whereas previously the media had paid him little mind. Most of them operated under the mistaken impression they could get the taciturn and still relatively little-known fighter to explain exactly why it was he seemed to bear the Irish fighter 'Krizalid' such a grudge.
Still, it would seem the SNF staff have long memories... and their attitude towards K' has changed somewhat now they know the boy's unpredictable and liable to disregard any script or orders given him. Which is why they anticipated that he would show up completely 'unprepared,' as it were, for this match. And indeed, when K' finally shows up, he's not dressed any different from how he would dress normally. Like -hell- he was going to fight in anything that flammable; he comes in leather for a reason.
His thought processes had already been anticipated-- and prepared for. Upon arrival, he's immediately seized and hauled off into a dressing area.
It's largely unknown how the costuming staff managed to get him changed at all. One can only assume they had strength in numbers, or else some choice persuasive words. Either way, when he's finally ejected disgruntledly from the impromptu changing room, he's "appropriately dressed." He had put up such a clamor at the tuxedos that the staff had given in and let him wear the more casual formal attire beloved of Western businessmen. Black suit, black shirt-- and a black necktie. He absolutely refused to have a bowtie put around his throat.
He's waiting now, just outside the designated fight area, seated with his usual slouched negligence and heedless of how badly he's wrinkling up the suit. It'll probably get torched soon enough, anyway. His left hand clutches at the heavy suppression glove about his right hand: the back of the contraption lies open for the moment, but his palm still stays pressed firmly to the glove's interior. The staff had tried to remove that -too-, but had backed off when he'd warned them coldly there'd be nothing left of them but cinder if they did.
It's been a day for Blanka. The large beastman doesn't know Russian, and his English is only about to the level of 'English as a Third Language'. It's hard to communicate to the people he's met on the street the importance of this night's fight. He's taken on to his role of helping bring the glamour and people to Saturday Night Fight as best he can, using his friendly smile and rugged jungle-hewn good looks.. okay, maybe he's just intimidating them into taking the papers he's had printed up and has been passing out all day.
See, Blanka was told two things. Thing One: 'Blanka, you're going to be performing in the Palace Ballroom.' Thing Two: 'Blanka, dress up for the fight.' He's taken them both to heart, and has made his plans after heavy consultation with Dan Hibiki - or at least, a quick raiding of the man's dvd collection. Blanka's outfit is designed to take best effort of wearing a suit, dressing up, and playing the Palace Ballroom, thanks to the help he'd gotten!
He shows up through the main doors, black sunglasses hiding his eyes. A black hat perches unsteadily atop his head, the mass of orange hair making its stay unlikely. He wears a black suit coat that has seen better days, rumpled and not built for someone with his shoulders. Black suit pants, a black tie, and a white dress shirt make up the rest - the shoes forgone, as he realizes that very few people make good black dress shoes with the width of his feet in mind. Around his left wrist is a silver manacle, a handcuff that ties to a briefcase he carries in his left hand. He walks towards K', and then just takes up a stance next to the other man, hands clasped in front of him and feet a shoulder width apart.
And there, dear friends, Jake Aroos waits for the fight to start.
When it was built, Catherine Palace was likely never intended to play host to this sort of engagement. And, somewhere, there are likely a few Tsars--and Catherine the Great herself--turning in their graves at the very nerve of Howard and his established SNF. Nevermind World War II--the potential of three fighters gathered in a place with millions upon millions invested into it is a recipe for disaster.
So is putting K' into a suit. But that's another story.
Unlike K', this is the sort of element that Shihong Mao finds herself meshing herself into very easily. A veritable social chameleon, the woman had no problem in meeting a peculiar and rather curious "dress code" with something fancy and slinky. The result? A sleek black spaghetti strap dress and gauzy silk scarf that hugs to the Chinese woman's form, her long black hair pulled up tightly into a fancy, elaborate and costume jewelry-encrusted bun.
The stage is set, and like all good performances, it must wait for the actors to arrive. First there's the grumpy K', stuffed into his fancy new duds, courtesy of SNF. Then comes the mysterious Blanka, decked out in his own fancy gear, playing the role of the mysterious competitor. So what of Shihong Mao?
Her arrival is heralded by the distant click of sharp heels on the fancy floor as she strides through the adjacent hallway. With a dramatic sweep and push, the ballroom doors open wide, her thin and relatively unassuming figure--clad in that clingy black silk--standing in the threshold. Black eyes, accented with shades of red shadow, survey her surroundings.
For once, the woman doesn't arrive with a phone pressed to her ear. And she's all smiles, as SNF crews begin rolling.
"Good evening, gentlemen," she states, her chin lifting high as deep rouge red lips pull into a playful smile. Tipping her head to Blanka, those black eyes soon drift onto K'. Her expression grows even more playful and amused. "You must be that cheerful young man I've heard about!"
Gliding forward, the woman cuts a path across the ballroom floor toward the NESTS experiment gone rogue. "I can't wait to dance with you. You seem like a very interesting partner. Ah, however," Pausing, those eyes flicker to Blanka briefly. "I must apologize. I'm ever so sorry I can't dance with you. I'm sure you won't mind, however."
Pausing in the center of the ballroom, she offers a seemingly friendly smile.
A beat, and then she tears forward, eyes on K' as she closes in. When she's but a foot away her form leaves the ground, her body twisting gracefully as she strikes out with her right foot aimed for his chest, and a turning kick aimed for his neck as she twists through for a full rotation.
COMBATSYS: Shihong has started a fight here.
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Shihong 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: K' has joined the fight here.
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K' 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Shihong
COMBATSYS: Blanka has joined the fight here on the right meter side.
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K' 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Blanka
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Shihong 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Shihong has joined the fight here on the right meter side.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
K' 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Blanka
> //////////////////////////////]
|-------\-------\0 Shihong
COMBATSYS: K' interrupts Change-Up Kick from Shihong with Second Shell.
-* CRITICAL HIT! *-
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
K' 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Blanka
> //////////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Shihong
K''s gaze flicks over to Blanka as the beastman makes his entrance, yellow eyes taking in Blanka's chosen ensemble. Something of a twitch plays along the line of his black brows as he recognizes Blanka; has he not fought this man before? And, more importantly, was this man... not also in a suit the last time they did? The boy stifles something of a groan. It's not because he has anything against Blanka, or dislikes fighting the man-- it's mostly because he's failing to see why SNF finds it so amusing to squeeze the poor guy into a suit all the time.
A slight shake of the head ruffles silver hair, the young fighter pushing the thought from his mind. His left hand shifts, pressing his hinged glove shut; the glove clasps shut with a sizzle of electrodes, K''s eyes drifting closed as he feels the familiar flicker of impulse down his nerves and in the back of his brain, suppressing the fire that would otherwise flare out of control. His left hand drifts back to his side, winding shut with a crack of knuckles, as he cracks one amber eye half-open to regard the other opponent he's slated to fight this evening.
K' can't help but look twice at Mao Shihong. Screwed in the head as he might be, he's still a teenaged boy. He just spends far less time looking for the usual reasons than most boys would; all too soon, his gaze just turns calculating, that one-eyed regard watching her carefully as she slows to a halt-- and then whips into motion.
Both eyes snap open. K' bolts from his seat, his momentum and a quick snap of a heel sending the chair skidding neatly back out of the way. "I'm not here to dance," he replies her lowly, his head tilting to one side, before a surge of fire bursts in the air before him: sparked by the upwards swipe of an arm. K' meets Shihong halfway with a sharp uppercut kick, slamming the flames into her along with that blow: he recovers quickly, dropping back into a loose ready stance, one eye on Blanka and his clothing already singed.
At least he got called 'gentleman'! Blanka's chest puffs up briefly, threatening the dress shirt he had gotten himself. It stretches just enough though, and the nod of assent he gives Shihong probably says more than he could say if he opened his big toothy mouth. Yup, yup, he's used to that. And really, when it sinks in that 'dance' today means 'attempt to kick you in the chops', Blanka's more than willing to cede that right to K'!
The resultant smashing blow brings a sympathetic wince to Blanka's face, but that's all - after all, this is a fight, and sometimes people get hurt in fights. Blanka almost lets out a roar as he psyches himself up, but he pulls back from that edge, mindful of the locale, and of the image he's supposed to portray. Under his breath, an almost subsonic rumble echoes, and he hunkers down just a bit, seams along the back of his coat starting to split. There's a reason the man wears just shorts when he's normally battling, after all! The burst of motion from the pair signals the start of the battle, and he refuses to be caught too off-guard.
Blanka's first move is a rather simple one. He opens the briefcase on his arm, and removes a small metallic object from it. From the size and shape, it might appear to be a harmonica. Instead, it's actually a genuine imitation harmonica, from China. This means, when Blanka chucks it at the back of K's head, it has the enjoyable stopping power.. OF LEAD! Let's see how K' handles this tricky sticky wicket!
It would seem that not even Shihong's legs and sex appeal spare her from an angry youth. As she moves, her eyes are wide, fixed on the image of K' before her. Odd, she mildly ponders. He has silver hair, like Cherise. Inwardly, she laughs. They're like twins. Is he French too? Then again, he's a little too tan to be related to her.
And it is perhaps these thoughts that distract her from what happens before her. Rather suddenly the ill-tempered young man leaps from his chair and ignites the air before him. A second later he's kicking those flames and sending them into the woman. A mess of flame and expensive silk, the woman goes flying back--across the entire ballroom floor.
And when she lands, she tumbles. There's no grace here; only an audible grunt and wince of grief. Hissing softly through her teeth, the woman gently stirs after a moment, even as Blanka throws a harmonica at the young man. She'll need a moment, and she does precisely that, her motions gentle and cautiously patient as she rises to her feet once more.
"Ha ha," she says, her voice carrying. "My friend, she would like you."
And with that, Shihong does not move. Instead, those long, spidery fingers gently coax her dress' strap back into place upon her shoulder. Dark, ebony black eyes hood as she simply observes the dark-skinned youth, the tiniest hints of red glowing like weak embers in her gaze, while upon her singed face, her rouge lips coax into a muted smirk of delight.
COMBATSYS: Shihong focuses on her next action.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
K' 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Blanka
> //////////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Shihong
COMBATSYS: K' dodges Blanka's Thrown Object.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
K' 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Blanka
> //////////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Shihong
Rather an unusual tableau the three of them have going here. Watchers at home might have expected that it would be the skinny kid and the young woman up against the mountain that is Blanka-- but instead, it seems that it's the boy that'll be the one challenged by two adversaries here. And K', tell the truth... kind of likes the challenge. There's something far more fast-paced and dangerous about fending off multiple opponents, something closer to reality about having to go it alone-- and K' is not interested in anything that can't improve his ability in the most practical of ways. The media is already picking up on that drive for betterment. There'll be comparisons to Rock Howard any day now-- something which is likely, in actuality, to gall K' given the way their meetings usually turn out.
Standing there between Blanka and Shihong, turning slightly so his back isn't square to one or the other, K' huffs a humorless sort of breath at Shihong's words. "Would she?" he asks dryly, almost disparagingly: not knowing, of course, she's talking about Cherise. "Dunno how you can already tell, just from this--"
And his words cut off into a hiss of effort as he detects something coming straight for him. He whips to one side as the small object goes humming past, barely even registering what it is, fire already springing to life about his lean figure once more. The flames concentrate before him, as before: he whirls in a tight, fire-streaming circle, smacking a kick into the blazing mass and sending a bolt of it clear back at Blanka.
COMBATSYS: Blanka endures K''s Second Shoot.
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K' 0/-------/----===|====---\-------\0 Blanka
> //////////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Shihong
There's no resulting '*CRASH*' of metal hitting the windows of the ballroom - Blanka was careful enough that it'll just skid along the ground and come to rest against the wall. Better that, than having to pay for the price of something so expensive! He's a bit surprised that K' is good at avoiding things so well - the quick recovery reminding him a bit of their last fight. He also remembers the flames - and how much they hurt.
But today, he's bold - besides, these clothes are starting to hinder and interrupt just how he moves. As K' kicks the bolt of fire towards the jungle man, Blanka throws his hat up into the sky. It's safely out of the way as the flame washes over Blanka, singing and ripping shirt and coat to flame-tattered shreds. The hat falls back towards earth, landing atop the beastman's noggin. He then launches himself forwards, trying to use the surprise of just standing there and getting burnt (ow) to catch K' off guard! The smoke from singed hair is hindering him, though - he can't quite see where the boy is! He tucks into a ball half-way there, and just hurls himself in the right direction - hopefully, that'll be enough!
When K' blurs to motion and summons those strange flames of his, Shihong just lets forth a cheerful laugh. Those black eyes widen again, her amusement and delight clear as she watches that fire strike her teammate of the evening. Clearly, there is more than meets the eye with the enigmatic beastman tosses up his hat...and lets himself catch on fire.
The woman laughs again. This is too much fun!
"I assure you, I know she would!" she exclaims to K', as Blanka curls himself up midrun and bodily hurls himself at the young man. Rather than hide away and simply bide her time further, Shihong sprints in behind the green-skinned (??) fighter. Midway, much like her teammate, she skids along, dress be damned, before her hands plant firmly on the cold floor. From below, her legs shoot out, suddenly igniting with strange, richly red energy. Those sharp (and likely expensive) heels shoot for his ankles before a foot swings upwards, flames dancing along her long legs. Her intent is to clip the young man in his jaw as she rises into an odd handstand, followed by the second leg, should the first connect.
COMBATSYS: K' blocks Blanka's Rolling Attack.
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K' 0/-------/---====|====---\-------\0 Blanka
> ////////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Shihong
COMBATSYS: Shihong successfully hits K' with Coiled Serpent.
- Power hit! -
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////////// ]
K' 0/-------/-======|====---\-------\0 Blanka
> ////////////////////// ]
|=======\-------\0 Shihong
K' does indeed remember the last time he fought Blanka-- possibly why he's using his fire so early in this particular fight. It's not his custom to sling flames quite so early, as he usually prefers to hold back and play a mind game with the opponent as to when exactly that punishing fire'll come out... but in this case, he can already tell that holding back can only be unwise. And as such, he's quick to kick fire at Blanka-- and quick to be surprised when the man simply opts to -take- it this time.
Not so surprised that he's unprepared for Blanka's assault. K' slides a few feet back, arms lifted in a cross that takes the brunt of Blanka's momentum. He skids backwards from the force of it, eyes narrowing in exertion and alarm alike as he realizes it takes him straight into Shihong's path.
The strange energy lining her long legs as she stabs a kick straight into his ankles, and then snaps upwards twice into his jaw, reminds him vividly of the energy Cherise wielded, the energy Miu had used against him; he grits his teeth as he retreats, staggered by the kicks and that unusual sensation alike. He shakes his head like a dog, angrily clearing his mind and hissing in a sharp breath.
When those yellow eyes focus again, it's on Shihong-- the closer of the two combatants. Fire bleeds from his right hand as he steadies his stance, lunging forwards, and a sharp upwards swipe slings that gathered flame straight at her.
Blanka's lucky - he only has to fend from one attack at a time. Not two - that sort of fight always swings the wrong way for the beastman. Too many choices, too many options, and his brain isn't quite wired for pack fights. He is, however, good at working within a small group, a skill he learned thanks to his pink-gi'd friend. As he lands on the opposite side from the other two, he takes quick stock of what's happening. He sucks in a large breath, trying to properly recover, then refocus.
As K' goes after Shihong, Blanka is there to follow up. He's got his mind set on what he's going to do, and with K's back to the beastman, he's got a perfectly open shot. He tries to latch onto the boy from behind, his mouth opening impossibly wide and his teeth coming out to play, aimed right at K's shoulders. Time to wear down the boy with a good old fashioned bearhug and chomping!
COMBATSYS: K' successfully hits Shihong with Eins Trigger.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////////// ]
K' 1/-------/=======|====---\-------\0 Blanka
> ////////////// ]
|=======\=====--\1 Shihong
In one fierce explosion of movement, Shihong reenters the fight, all smiles as her body smoothly follows through with motions second nature to her. The poor dark-skinned youth is caught in her explosive web, and he's sent staggering as she comes to rise at full height once more. Still, the woman smiles.
"Are you angry?" she asks, words sounding distantly bemused.
Flickering her gaze to the side, she keeps an eye on the other fighter--her partner--as he moves around. He's awfully quiet, she decides. Narrowing her eyes slightly, she watches as he blurs to motion. Those black eyes swivel back, searching for K'--
And he's right there.
Try as she may to shield her body from the gout of flames, she's struck harshly and sent flying back once more, her body smoking as she hits the ground and tumbles. But unlike before, the Chinese woman springs up by her hands, landing in a deep crouch before she rises once again. And still, despite the visible burns lacing her pale flesh and the pain, Shihong is grinning.
"I will end this now!" she cries, black eyes widening before she laughs. Sprinting forward, the woman makes a clear charge for K' before suddenly leaping high. Rather than kick at him or land, the woman's feet ignite with that power once more, legs coiled tightly before she twists. Landing at an angle, she slides, her heels aimed right for K'. As she nears, a foot sweeps out, glowing and attempting to drop his feet out from under him...
COMBATSYS: K' endures Blanka's Wild Fang.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////////// ]
K' 1/-----==/=======|=====--\-------\0 Blanka
> ////////////// ]
|==-----\-------\0 Shihong
COMBATSYS: K' interrupts Guardian of the Gods EX from Shihong with Heaven Drive.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////////// ]
K' 0/-------/------=|=====--\-------\0 Blanka
> // ]
|=======\===----\1 Shihong
K' feels Blanka's approach behind him, keen senses picking up even the minute snick of sharp teeth as the beastman lunges. Even hearing that impending approach, feeling the lunge resonate through the floor beneath him, the boy... fails to move from his position. Scissored between his two opponents, watching Shihong close with him even as Blanka bites towards him, K'... lets his eyes slide closed, bracing to take the hit. Blanka's teeth sink into his shoulder, blood drawn: the taste of it weirdly hot and smoky, as if it were mingled with fire. Is he angry, he's asked. The reply doesn't have to be terribly long: "...Yes."
K''s expression twitches. His eyes crack open, narrowing on Shihong's leap. Abruptly, that blood surges hotter, the taste of fire coming out even more strongly, and flames spark down his arms, torching his thin sleeves to tatters. K' rips free of Blanka with some considerable effort, meeting Shihong halfway once more. One clawing swipe of a gloved hand rips into her, knocking her airborne; K' twists hard in midair, following her up, smashing another fire-laced uppercut into her to carry her even higher. His lean form twists again at the apex of their mutual ascent, and a long leg whips around to impact the woman and send her searing back to the floor.
He lands, a bit unsteadily, fire lingering about his tense figure. His yellow eyes settle on Blanka.
He's angry? Shihong knows well; she can feel it in her bones. That fire, that anger--it's practically palpable to the woman. But does it hinder or hesitate her step? Never. Thus does she press her attack...but perhaps avoiding those dangerous emotions from the angry youth was her mistake. A mistake she pays dearly for.
Smacked airborne, she's buffeted about, her body licked by flames and fierce, unrestrained punches and kicks. At apex, his foot shoots out and cruelly kicks her at the floor below. It's going to leave a definite mark, she tells herself amidst the pain.
She soars like a ragdoll, her body twisting and turning as it arcs most gracefully, trailed by the faintest plumes of smoke. But like before, what goes up, must inevitably come down. And fall does Shihong, landing on her shoulder with a harsh, meaty slap of bare skin on smooth floor. The woman, tired and sore, winces, lips parting as a ragged croak escapes her lips.
Somehow, be it driven by determination or sheer insanity, the dark-eyed woman rises up, favoring her left side as she stands. "Ha ha! Yes, she would most definitely like you, I think," she muses, her breathing ragged as she hoods her eyes. It'll take a bit of effort, but she must...she refuses to let this strange youth get away so easily!
And without hesitation, driven by pure adrenaline, the woman in black launches herself at the dark-skinned surly fighter, long fingers reach out to fiercely grab at the glove-clad arm at his side...
COMBATSYS: Shihong can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////////// ]
K' 0/-------/------=|=====--\-------\0 Blanka
Tossed off of K', Blanka's left with the nastiest taste in his mouth since he bit Zangief. Talk about ick - oil and hair never mix! Spitting briefly as he recovers, he's witness to the violent apprach and lunge that K' treats Shihong to. He's certainly not able to do more to stop it, and instead just has to watch it happen. He winces in sympathy /again/, then shakes his head to clear it. She's still moving, so Blanka still needs to help.
Bounding forwards again, Blanka brings his arm up and around, the heavy hand of a giant green goliath swung at K''s noggin. It's not that he's trying to smack the man with a fist, oh no - he's still holding onto the briefcase, and is aiming a corner of it towards the man's temple. If he can catch him off-guards /again/, well..
COMBATSYS: K' dodges Shihong's Savage Tiger EX.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////////// ]
K' 0/-------/------=|====---\-------\0 Blanka
COMBATSYS: K' dodges Blanka's Random Weapon.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////////// ]
K' 0/-------/------=|====---\-------\0 Blanka
Admirably fearless of the young woman. In such a strange world as this one, angry teenagers are more often than not actually quite dangerous; especially since half of them are angry in the first place due to having power far beyond what mere children should, by all rights, possess. K' is, it would seem, one of those sorts-- gifted with unusual strength, but too emotionally immature and unstable to understand or command it to any mature degree. That was how Rugal had put it; and K' can't say as the man was entirely wrong.
Remembering that might be the reason for the brief and bitter look that ghosts across his features as he watches Shihong pick herself up. "That makes -one- person," is K''s sardonic reply to her comment, his low voice darkly amused but lacking in any of the warmth that accompanies real humor. "--well. Maybe two." His attention splits between her and Blanka as both combatants start to close on him, his focus narrowing down to the exact way each fighter moves. He tenses, and in an abrupt burst of crushing, shadow-laced speed, he slips past Shihong's grasping hand-- weaving under Blanka's swiping attempt to hit him.
The boy resolves back into mundane sight some distance past Blanka, skidding lightly to a stop, stance low as he kills that speed. He is quiet, not prone to speak when in that fighting mindset unless spoken to-- and besides, the rising flicker of intense fire that blossoms slowly to life about his arms, further destroying what remnants of his sleeves yet remained, can do most of the talking for him.
It's quick to quench. K' shakes his head, the beginnings of a headache building behind his eyes the more he pulls on his stolen fire. He's used it a great deal already this fight-- he can feel the tingle of the suppression current under his skin, constant and buzzing in its task of controlling the fire for him-- and it galls him to think how much he's had to lean on that Kusanagi flame. His hands shut, the boy lifting himself out of his low stance slowly, and he does something most people wouldn't really think to do when confronted with somebody like Blanka. He lunges, the red glove becoming a sort of built-in metal knuckle as he lances a direct blow at the beastman.
COMBATSYS: Blanka fails to interrupt Medium Punch from K' with Vertical Rolling.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////// ]
K' 0/-------/------=|=====--\-------\0 Blanka
So it's down to two - and the dance card is apparently still full. Blanka crik-craks his neck as K' finishes with Shihong. She'll probably be alright, right? After all, she wouldn't be in the match if she couldn't handle herself. Blanka's assured at least of that much, and determind to help her win the battle, even if it means pushing himself harder.
Possibly even too hard. As K' rushes in, Blanka bounds forwards and then straight up, trying to catch the youth with a rolling attack, large body bouncing upwards in an attempt to catch him under the chin. A miscalculation sends him sprawling back, the metal fist catching him right in the back of the neck. He tumbles, dizzily standing, and holding his head as he sways from side to side. Ow.
K' sees Blanka rush in to meet him, but by that point his own momentum is a bit too great to simply stop. As such, K' simply puts on speed, lunging even faster-- and seeming to catch Blanka by surprise. The young NESTS experiment lands his own blow in that moment where Blanka leaves an opening, and abruptly skids to a stop. He steps a few circling paces back as Blanka reels, giving the other a moment to recover-- and taking a moment himself.
His jaw setting, K' shoves aside the sizzle of pain beneath his skin, pushing back his own doubts and self-castigations and simply using the weapons given to him without-- for once-- thinking too hard about them. A flickering flame lights about his right hand, the twist of the fire deceptively tame for the moment. It plays along his knuckles as he lets his eyes-- still fixed on Blanka-- half-lid and focuses on the stolen holy fire in his blood. Fire winds up the length of his arm, stanching the bleeding of his ripped shoulder by literally searing the wound partially shut. K' doesn't seem as pained by the burn as he could be; likely because he is used to it.
COMBATSYS: K' gathers his will.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////// ]
K' 0/-------/--=====|=====--\-------\0 Blanka
"Good fight.. no over yet, though!" Blanka's finally deciding to speak, his poor english growling out over the rushed, heated breath of his panting. This fight has been exhausting so far, and he's not quite sure anymore he has what is in him to take down the other fighter. It won't stop him from trying, that's for certain. If he can pull off what he needs to do, maybe this will end well enough! He beats his hands on the floor, tucked into a full crouch now, and then jumps upwards, and tucks into another ball.
"Shouldn't... stand... STILL!" He howls that, his body hitting the ground in a roll - sliding along marble, bouncing off one of the cold gold archways, and then rocketing back with speed to spare at K'. He's not pulling punches - just a blur of green and red aiming to bowl the young man over, to show him that fire isn't everything...!
COMBATSYS: K' blocks Blanka's Ground Shave Rolling.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////// ]
K' 0/-------/=======|==-----\-------\0 Blanka
K' cracks a mirthless sort of half-grin at Blanka's growled words, head tilting as the man chooses to speak. While he certainly looks battered, his clothing burnt from his own fire and rent by his opponents' strikes... he doesn't seem -tired-. His breathing still, as of now, comes relatively easily. His wolf-yellow eyes still look alert. They're watching when Blanka lunges forwards in a rocketing, blasting roll.
K''s stance opens, the boy's lean figure bracing hard to take the edge off Blanka's impact. He goes skidding back several feet, one hand touching the ground as he slakes off his backwards momentum. "Then I won't," he replies Blanka compliantly enough, that look of brief amusement dropping from his expression, before he bolts straight towards the other. His hands snatch towards Blanka's arms, seeking to snap shut, yank Blanka forward and off his balance, and bare the back of his neck: all so K' can bring an arm around to slam an elbow into that vulnerable spot.
COMBATSYS: Blanka endures K''s Spot Pile.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////// ]
K' 1/------=/=======|======-\-------\0 Blanka
Bouncing and rebounding off K''s guard, Blanka has to take a second to recover and recoup his balance. In that second, he is weak, open to attack, and can't stop the grab and yank that throws him off-center, towards the wall. The elbow to the back of his neck is certainly icing on the cake, the hollow sound as elbow hits muscle and bone is loud in the large room. Blanka staggers forwards, all atumble again.
But he's wily, too - using momentum for what it is - an advantage. He crashes forwards, spinning into a ball as he goes for one of the walls, hitting and rebounding off. He tries to make it look as if he'll come in for an attack that way, at the last second he springs out straight, hands going for K''s shoulders, trying to wrap the youth up and then hurl him into the ground. "Stay... DOWN!"
COMBATSYS: K' blocks Blanka's Medium Throw.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////// ]
K' 1/-----==/=======|======-\-------\0 Blanka
K' has to admire Blanka's agility-- and from the way he's watching it, he's learning from it. The way Blanka simply turns his stumble into a forward roll, tumbling -with- the force of the strike and turning it into rebounding speed... K' is almost tricked. His arms start to cross as if he's expecting another of those blasting rolls-- but at the last minute, he sees Blanka uncurl and his eyes snap wide.
In the last instants before Blanka gets ahold of him, K' manages to correct. His arms snap out instead of in, driving aside that attempt to seize him, and in the next instant he's winked away in a streak of blurred black, reappearing several feet back after a flickering burst of speed. Stay down? K' cracks a real grin at that, a feral sort of look in his eyes, as he remembers the last time somebody told him to do that. It was Rock Howard, and damned if it wasn't satisfying to thrash the other guy around for those words while barely clinging onto consciousness himself. "...I'm not too good at that," he replies, stating the obvious, even as his right arm starts to blaze again with that sacred fire.
K' stays where he is a second, one knee and his right hand to the ground, flames curling about his arm. The next instant, he's bolted clear forwards -straight- for Blanka, fire-first, ripping towards his opponent with a burst of speed that seeks to simply crush the distance between them: a line of fire left searing in his wake.
COMBATSYS: Blanka Toughs Out K''s Heat Drive!!
[ \\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////// ]
K' 0/-------/------=|=======\======-\1 Blanka
Blanka isn't about speed, not really. Most of the time in the jungle, he gets by being bigger and relativly harder to munch on than most of the things that are around. Snakes, jagulars, crocodiles.. Get them in a bear hug, they run away and suddenly don't want to fight anymore. Humans, though - those are tricky. Their social mores and combat strategies don't make sense to Blanka. He's taller, stronger, bigger.. He should be /winning/. But he can't seem to get any way past this young man's impressive skill and stamina. This requires something that Dan taught him. This requires /OOSHA/.
Some might think that Dan had never taught Blanka any of the skills of Saikyo. Those people would be wrong. In addition to English, Dan had taught Blanka the fundamentals of Saikyo. Burning spirit, never give up - and always have a signed photo ready. Blanka has one of those in his suitcase, one in his heart - but K' has the burning spirit, and is attempting to give it to Blanka the hard way. As the youth charges in, Blanka takes a deep breath, and then holds out his hands. The fire blasts at his spirit, almost causing it to wither. His breath comes to him quickly, and he bellows out a yell, to try and accept that burning passion for the fight, to incorporate it into his own self.
"AROOOO-SHAAAAAA!"
In the aftermath, Blanka stands, fire whipping around his form, a glow of electricity showing in his eyes. Suddenly, he grins, his fangs wide open as he bounds upwards into the air. His hands strike the high roof, the marbled painting shaking with the force, but not splitting.. and then he comes downwards through the air, feet first aimed at K's head. Let's see if he can take that burning spirit right back!!!
COMBATSYS: Blanka successfully hits K' with Tropical Hazard.
[ \\\ < > /////////// ]
K' 0/-------/--=====|===----\-------\0 Blanka
Normally, K' comes in hard and fast enough in this attack to blast even those of Blanka's stature back a considerable distance. The fact that Blanka doesn't move appreciably is the first warning of its failure that pings through K''s mind. It struggles to register in his conscious thought past all that fire and mindless ferocity. Caught up in the fight, in the sudden violence that's sparked in his mind, erasing thought, K' -snarls- audibly as he tries to simply overcome Blanka with the force of that sacred fire.
Eventually, his strength gives out before Blanka's does. K' can fight an -unnaturally- long time, but even he has his limits. After the relentless assault of two opponents, they're being reached. The fire quenches abruptly, and K' steps back. His eyes follow Blanka's path of attack.
K' grins abruptly, staring down the incoming Blanka, the expression he evinces less like the benign look humans wear and more like the fierce baring of teeth Blanka might have seen on those big cats in his native jungles. Any attempt he might have made to guard himself is simply smashed clear through, the boy sustaining his first decisive hit from Blanka since the match started. And it's a pretty damn decisive blow, one that sends the kid crashing cleanly to the ground, skidding some distance away before he can slam a hand down to stop his progress.
Even then, he doesn't immediately get up. One arm arched, hand nailed to the floor in a rudimentary brace, he stays right where he is a second, breath coming slowly and steadily. But presently, he does drag himself to one knee. He pauses an instant, his lean frame still-- and then he lunges in an abrupt burst of fire, clawing in a sudden rising spiral towards Blanka. Describing a full rotation, he hits the ground again on hands and knees whether or not he manages to connect: still for a moment, before dragging himself dazedly up to a haphazard sitting position, one arm slung across a raised knee and the other wiping blood from the reopened wound on his shoulder.
COMBATSYS: K' can no longer fight.
> /////////// ]
|===----\-------\0 Blanka
COMBATSYS: Blanka blocks K''s Claw Bites.
> //////// ]
|=====--\-------\0 Blanka
Blanka is still standing! And when he hits the ground, he's already feeling elated, the stumble-back of K' making the beast-man feel excited. This was the moment he was striving for, and the moment he was given! He howls again, arms up high - almost /too/ overconfident. As K's lurches in, the wide swing of fire and fists engulfing Blanka, the beastman is unable to summon up the spirit of before. This time he simply seeks shelter behind his hands, allowing his sides and forearms to take the brunt of the gouging strike. Luckily, claws carve skin, but flames seal the wounds as well, leaving Blanka breathing hard, bent and bloody and bowed, but not beaten. He stands above K', knees threatening to buckle.
And then, a giant green hand comes out. "Need hand?" See, Blanka's not /all/ that bad. He's just a very tired, sore and worn out beastman at the moment. And definitely thinking that getting a break and a soak in a jungle spring right now would be the best thing in the world.
COMBATSYS: Blanka has ended the fight here.
K' slants a yellow-eyed gaze up at Blanka as the beastman offers him a hand. For a moment, the look with which he regards Blanka is unblinkingly uncomprehending in the way a bird of prey's look is: focused, steely, but largely without human warmth or understanding. There is a look about him not dissimilar to some of the creatures Blanka might have met in the jungles-- a restless, sharp-eyed ferocity that matches the words splashed across his shoulderblades. A beast of prey, indeed-- engineered and programmed to kill, and nothing more.
But then, that's not really all there is to him, is there? He's been striving to prove that.
The look cracks. K', originally hard-eyed, now just seems tired: immensely weary, and not just physically. He looks his too-young age now, more than ever, and far too exhausted and burdened for it. His eyes shutter briefly, his head dipping in a brief shake, before he glances back up at Blanka. He looks almost awkward in that moment. "...I'm fine," he eventually replies, stubbornly pushing himself to his feet and avoiding the hand-- not really -pushing- it aside, but not really utilizing it either. He glances at Blanka then, aware on some level his behavior might be misconstrued, and wondering if he cares. In the end, he cares just enough to evince a shrug. "It was a good fight," he comments diffidently, which is about as expressive as the poor boy will ever get, before he attempts to simply head off.
And so the battle has come to a close. Blanka and Shihong stand victorious, although Mao herself had been removed from the fight by the silver-haired man dressed for the occasion. She would be disappointed, but... Mao won, even if K' himself had lost.
From the depths of the crew filming the debacle in the famous landmark, a young girl steps out dressed in a muted tone of gray much like the color of her hair. It contrasts her skin, and has three important points:
It's short.
It's strapless.
It's satin.
And with her arms folded lightly under her chest and a pair of expensive shoes dangling from two fingers, Cherise Bouchard looks down on the victor of the match from afar with a wide grin. She says nothing-- just grinning, her blue eyes alight and predatory.
Hand rebuffed, Blanka pulls it back while doing his best to make certain it doesn't look like it bothers him. After all, it shouldn't! He's grown quite used to it. He rubs at the back of his head, wincing as muscles pull and twist in ways they aren't supposed to, thanks to the rather sever firey pummelling. As he starts towards the edge of the 'arena', he picks up the harmonica, and brings it to his mouth.
No, no he doesn't play well. In fact, it's something very close to a cat's howling wail, in a minor chord progression. The Jungle can have blues, too. And greens. And oranges.
K' is a kid too burdened by his own problems to notice the adverse effects he can have on others with his roughness, social ineptitude, and lack of compassion. He casts only a single glance after Blanka, perhaps wondering briefly, before he turns away to move off slowly in the other direction.
It's about that time his eyes fall on Cherise... and suddenly, he realizes just who Shihong was talking about when she mentioned her 'friend.'
K' really has only one thing to say at this juncture that can properly articulate the situation. "...fuck me."
He's got to stop saying that around people who may take him literally.
"Be proud of yourself! It was an amazing performance, all things considered."
Speaking with that thick native accent and walking barefoot, her steps are only quiet pads, tap-tap of skin to floor. Those shoes-- they look nice, but they're far too uncomfortable to wear for long periods of time. How Shihong manages...? Well, she'll never know. She'll never know, and probably never ask. Cherise does have a good eye and sense for fashion, but she does end up living on the more comfortable and easy-to-wear end of the spectrum more often than not.
Cherise strides toward him calmly, confidently, and with a piercing stare that tries to stab him like whatever knives she may have hidden under the hem of that dress. One hand remains folded across her abdomen, the other comes up to her mouth as the tip of her thumb settles at the corner of her mouth. "You should be careful what you wish for."
Wink.
K' hisses out a derisive breath at Cherise's praise, his gaze turning moodily aside. His slow, halting steps coming to a halt, watching Cherise warily from the corner of an eye as she pads closer, he certainly doesn't seem as thrilled about his own performance as she might encourage him to be: even though it -was-, all things considered, a rather extraordinary showing. "Could have been better," he shrugs indifferently, his voice caustic: self-mocking. "I could have not lost..."
Interestingly, what ire exists in his voice is not directed either at Shihong or Blanka. Nor is his voice indicative that he is a particularly 'sore loser' of the traditional sort-- the sort wont to blame its failure on external causes or pitch a fit over its loss. All it really indicates is that he's a boy with unnaturally high, exacting, and -severe- standards for himself... standards which he feels he's failed to meet just now. He's pushing himself hard to excel... though for what reason, no one really knows.
Eventually, his gaze cuts back to her more fully, those yellowy eyes focusing on her. A brow twitches at her mischievous reply to his rhetorical outburst, irritation settling into his expression. He shrugs it off annoyedly, opting to drop it rather than try and press his actual meaning. With these kind of people... you can't win. "So what do you want...? Shouldn't you be looking over your 'friend'?" Those yellowy eyes threaten to roll. "Seems like she really knows what you would -like-..."
He speaks about his loss in an angry, sarcastic tone-- concepts like that are not lost on Cherise, but her expression becomes quizzical. Why worry, get angry? Simply reflect on the experience and move on! It isn't as though he was hospitalized or killed, is it?
Is it?
Moving to stand at a comfortably close distance-- almost toe to toe-- the French girl looking up to his face. She's calm, collected... nothing like their original meeting, for what the majority of it was. Cherise isn't here to fight, even if she does find herself drawn to and fighting people time and again. She came here to ... well, for the most part, cheer for Mao, and stand by her friend and teammate's side.
"Mao is a big girl," she says, eyes half-lidded. "She can take care of herself quite well. And me."
Without defining what -that- means, the wire-slinging assassin slowly closes one eye. Her mouth twists again, forming that twisted and devious smile that the NESTS runaway should remember. Cherise's hands shift, her left arm hanging low at her side and right hand lightly rested on the opposite elbow. "But... I just wanted to talk. I have not had the chance to see you since our last meeting. I thought... it would be appropriate to say hello." Her hand lifts, fingers wiggling in smooth sequence. "Bonjour~."
Twisting a little bit, she tries to lean into-- against-- K', looking up at him through ashen bangs like she were trying to play the role of an angel. "I will see you around, mister K'."
And with a smooth step and roll of her hips, Cherise starts to walk back toward the engineers and crewhands disassembling the camera equipment, to pass through their number and be on her way-- with one last look over her shoulder. And...
Wink.
Log created on 20:55:04 11/22/2007 by Blanka, and last modified on 13:43:35 11/26/2007.