Description: Gripping Action! Astounding terror! Luc, Stasya, Marisol, and Camille fight it out in the midst of a packed casino room floor at the illustrious MGM Grand! Who will succeed these overwhelming odds?! What horrible past secrets will be revealed?? Can Luc handle the OVERWHELMING AMOUNT OF COOTIES!? Who knows who the winners could be!! (Winners: DKO)
Camille says, "low"
Camille says, "ok"
If Stasya's father only knew what was surrounding his daughter right now. The blonde, waiting nervously by the demarcated fight area for the fight to start, finds herself unable to take her eyes off the countless identical-looking party boys swarming about the MGM Grand. She's never been to the casinos in Vegas, despite having been just about everywhere else on the planet, and she's finding all the glitz to be a bit of a headache-- chiefly because of the sheer volume of people radiating feelings of utter despair as the slot machines take more and more of their hard-earned money.
It had been rough enough convincing Aleksandr to overcome his trepidations about his baby girl flying all the way out to Vegas for something so high-profile as an SNF-- but ultimately, he had been unable to resist Stasya's sheer excitement at the chance to participate. Thus, he had agreed to let Stasya hare off on this wild SNF venture on one condition. He had to be permitted to come with her.
-So embarrassing-. Luckily, he had agreed to keep his presence a secret so she wouldn't be shamed -on international television-. He's somewhere in the casino now. He may or may not be deftly swindling people at the poker tables.
Quietly, Stasya hopes he doesn't get himself in trouble as she cracks her knuckles in nervous habit.
"THIS PLACE IS TOO FUCKING LOUD."
Luc Schroedinger had angrily made this statement in a volume equivolent to a blood-curdling roar approximately five minutes after he arrived at the MGM Grand. The pitch was loud enough that it made the SNF workers around him shrink back and plug their ears, and cause several employees of the MGM Grand turn and stare as if they were looking at a crazy man. As -if-. The German expresses the anger apparent on the curdle of his frown and the twitching of his eyes with as much volume as possible. He doesn't acknowledge the fact that he, too, is being loud.
Luc Schroedinger conveniently leaves himself out of such complaints.
He stands there now, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows as he scans the casino floor around him with the slow roll of green eyes. His lips twist further into a frown. His hands shove deeper into his pockets. He does not look happy.
"WHO HAS A FIGHT AT A -FUCKING CASINO-? ASSES!" Luc continues shouting, feeling that the only way -other- people can hear him is if he is loud in kind -- conveniently not taking into account how annoying he might be. His gaze flits to his partner -- the pale Russian girl. If it could be -possible-, his frown -deepens-. "... a girl? Christ." A pause.
"Oi. -OI-," he beckons, expectantly, "DON'T GET IN MY WAY, GOT IT? I DON'T NEED IDIOTS MESSING ME UP!" Jeez.
It's -far- too loud here.
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the MGM Grand, Marisol O'Connell wanders about, clearly lost.
It all began after her tour bus returned from Hoover Dam. Sadly, the girl had gotten so utterly caught up in the nail-bitingly close battle between her sworn rival Tenma and Momo she failed to realize her tour group left. Then, when the bus finally returned to the hotel she had been roomed into for the weekend, she found she had lost her key. Then, after getting the mix-up fixed, the girl decided to take the available shuttle to the Las Vegas Strip.
And it has been an adventure since.
First she got lost in the Luxor. Then, along the way, she decided to stop in the New York-New York because, hey. She still had three hours to kill before the scheduled fight. Here did she spend a good hour and a half, because not only was the hotel filled to the brim with all sorts of wonderful kiosks of tacky souvenirs, it also had the best thing in all of Nevada:
A roller coaster ride. The Manhattan Express. Well, formerly the Manhattan Express. But details are inconsequential.
Another half hour was spent haunting the aforementioned coaster, enjoying every twist and gut-wrenching drop it has to offer. What's better, she got to meet a few new faces on the ride, including two really loud girls and some Australian guy, then, at one point, a grizzled-looking, sober-faced forensics expert with a etymology degree, who never once hollered; instead, he made really weird, strained faces the entire ride.
He was weird.
In any case, this brings us to now. Outside of the MGM Grand, a winded Marisol stands, hands on her knees as seemingly thousands of people move all around her. Asking for directions and receiving mixed results, the half-Spaniard finally makes her way into the main casino area, where already other fighters have gathered. She's late, yes. And she looks angry for being late.
Never mind the souveniers in plastic bags hanging from her arms.
Eyes search the throngs of people, and eventually the cries of a belligerent Schroedinger bring her to the sectioned off area of the casino. Handing her bags over to a SNF official, the redhead scampers forward, strutting like a uppity rooster as she approaches. Today, her choice of attire is probably not in Luc's favor: she wears a khaki skirt...oh, and light weather white hoodie and a pinky camisole underneath.
"UHHH, SHUT UP LUC WE CAN HEAR YOU JUST FINE!" the girl snarls, thrusting a finger at her teammate turned enemy.
"You should know better! How could you pair up with someone other than your teammate?!"
Nevermind SNFs are scheduled and planned ahead.
"ASS!"
The MGM Grand is a completely foreign location to Camille; she has actually never been to America, and this is something of a first for her. She certainly doesn't seem to be enjoying herself the way her teammate is, though -- no souveneirs hang from her arms, no oh-so-lovely T-shirts adorn her form -- just the usual tube top and pleated skirt.
And the big four-and-a-half foot sword at her back, tilted -just- enough that it doesn't drag on the ground. That's probably also pretty important.
Walking through the Grand, she's already trying to shut out the incessant roar of the slot machines, the people, the numerous distractions. It's one thing to have a crowd, something to feed off of -- it's something else entirely to have a lot of white noise, and that's exactly what this is.
Unfortunately for her, she doesn't know anyone. As such, she stays relatively quiet for now, just taking up a position alongside the exceptionally loud young lady that would be her partner and keeping her mouth shut.
Stasya hears Luc several minutes before he actually comes into view. It's not hard. The girl also starts to pick up on his explosive rage the instant he comes within range, and the intensity of it causes her to immediately put a hand up by her temple. Looks like SNF isn't so glamorous after all, if this is the kind of person let into them. Her father would have some choice "I told you sos" for her if he knew.
Thankfully he doesn't. He's busy finishing up cleaning the pockets of a bunch of people over at the poker tables, and is starting to consider, quite sagely, a strategic retreat while he still has his head.
She frowns studiedly, intensely, at Luc as the boy pulls up alongside her, her every sense deeply offended by his presence and words. Germans! Standing as he slings first misogyny, then further insults at her, the girl's eyes half-lid. She looks liable to punch him first, instead of the actual opponents-- but she's not that undisciplined. Not like a -certain Pacific loser-. "Get in your way...?" There's only one response for that, and Stasya delivers it in a cold snap as she turns away from him with a huff: "Blödes Arschloch. I will be asking you not to get in mine!" She adds a few things afterwards, all choice insults in somewhat Russian-accented German, before stomping off into the demarcated area proper.
Her eyes come to rest on Marisol and Camille then, the girl pushing her irritation and the surrounding white noise of sound and emotion alike to the back of her mind so she can focus properly on the fight. It seems the redhead knows her partner 'Luc' already-- and they're in fact on the same team-- which, given how they're both quite loud, doesn't surprise the Russian in the least.
COMBATSYS: Stasya has started a fight here.
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Stasya 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Marisol has joined the fight here on the right meter side.
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Stasya 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Marisol
COMBATSYS: Luc has joined the fight here on the left meter side.
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Luc 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Marisol
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Stasya 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Camille has joined the fight here on the right meter side.
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Luc 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Marisol
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Stasya 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Camille
COMBATSYS: Stasya focuses on her next action.
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Luc 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Marisol
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Stasya 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Camille
"... What?" Luc begins in a slow drawl, eyes focusing entirely on Stasya. "You're gonna get your ass kicked, talking crap like--"
He had a really cool line all prepared, everything. Something to get Stasya to shut up, or just anger her to the point of making this more chaotic than it has to be. It's on the verge of escaping his lips at this point; but something interferes.
'UHHH, SHUT UP LUC--'
"--?!"
'--WE CAN HEAR YOU--'
"Son of a -BITCH-."
'--JUST FINE!'
Marisol has to come in and ruin -everything-.
Luc, not making it a habit to read who he's supposed to be fighting against, is surprised when he sees Marisol -- in her breezy attire and all -- thrusting an accusing finger at his chest. He blinks. He looks down at the finger, pointedly. His right eyebrow twitches. "..." Once. Twice.
"... WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! Like I know who they put me against! Just -SHUT UP- and -DEAL WITH IT-! Idiot!" And that, clearly, settles that. With a snort, Luc turns his back to Marisol, arms crossing over his chest as he views his other, much more (thankfully) silent opponent. "..." He squints, carefully... and then? He smiles.
"Just -enjoy- the fight, you ass."
As the words slip past his lips, they are, in part, drowned out by the announcement of the beginning of the match. The boisterous commotion of the casino continues unabated as the German pits his focus on Camille, brows furrowed in thought. Someone he's never met before. Well...
"Let's see WHAT YOU'VE GOT!!"
He wastes no time. As soon as the announcement is made? The Pacific delinquent -explodes- from his stationary position in a full-on run towards Camille. Black chi crackles around his hands, sparking towards his forearms in entwining masses of power. With a gutteral roar, those arms snap forward, hands presented palm-first to grip Camille by the throat. If successful, he'll simply lift her, twist, and then SLAM her into a nearby slot machine, discharging a sudden burning -mass- of black-blue fire into her body with enough concussive force to rip the machine off its bolts and send it, and her, for an unpleasant trip. "GRAAAAGH!!"
Finally getting SOME form of bearing on her surroundings and environments, the half-Spaniard lifts her arms high above, stretching out and generally working her muscles. Nearby, a strange young woman seems to be lingering. Actually, the only STRANGE thing about this relatively short young woman is that massive sword jutting up from her back. The redhead blinks.
You don't see that everyday. Clearly, this must be...
"My partner, right?" she asks, turning to the woman with a lopsided grin. Stretching a hand out, she offers it to the other fighter on her side, whether she accepts or not. "Name's Marisol! Glad to meet you; let's do what we can, eh?" Hopefully Camille can hear her over this raucous slot machine noise. It's nearly headache-inducing. How do they expect them to fight in this?
The clone-like partyboys drunkenly hollering and yelping at the fighters does not help, either.
However, despite the aural odds stacked against her, Marisol seems to function well enough on a social scale. Smirking a toothy grin, Luc's harbinger - Marisol - barks a laugh his direction. "Way to make friends, Schroedinger!" she sarcastically comments, lifting a hand and haughtily tossing stray locks of red from her shoulder. Then he yells again.
"I said stop YELLING!" she hollers at him. But when he turns his back to her, she simply lifts both arms up and drops them down, dimissively gesturing the German boy away. "Che! Punk!" Enjoy the fight? Why WOULDN'T she?
A moment later, an explosion of activity. Luc tears off after Camille, making an attempt to slam the poor, sword-wielding woman into the nearest slot. Marisol offers a soft scoff, those gray depths swiveling about. Then they find Stasya. Like her teammate, this Russian girl is awfully quiet, which means two things:
One, she's uncomfortable. Or,
Two, she's biding her time. Is she strong, Marisol wonders.
Without a single word (shockingly enough) she throws herself into the fray. Charging for Stasya, the girl's fist closes tightly, teeth slowly bared before she grits them and plants a foot. From her shoulder, her fist thrusts forward, a simple punch aimed right for the girl's vulnerable chin!
COMBATSYS: Camille blocks Luc's Quick Throw.
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Luc 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Marisol
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Stasya 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Camille
"Camille Irvine," comes the older woman's reply almost immediately, shaking Marisol's hand firmly. "Good to be working with you -- try to keep up, hm?" Not much more can really be said -- especially now that the fight's actually starting!
Luc comes for Camille before she can even process the fact that the fight's really begun; his full-speed assault almost catches her off guard, and he does manage to lock in that vicious chokeslam on her easily enough. She's pretty light, though for a girl she might be a little heavier than he's used to, especially with that sword.
However, she's also pretty agile for someone with a giant sword, and when he swingsher for the slot machine, she brings her legs up, kicks out slightly, and uses them to brace herself against the burst of flame that comes at her, and then to stop herself before she and the slot machine go flying. It's a close call, but one that she makes the most of -- with a little extra force, she leaps up on top of the slot machine she was about to get slammed into, then flips backward onto the next one over; this provides her both a high point and a somewhat distant point from the rest of the fighting. She looks out over the 'battlefield' briefly, assessing both of her potential targets.
COMBATSYS: Camille focuses on her next action.
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Luc 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Marisol
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Stasya 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Camille
COMBATSYS: Marisol successfully hits Stasya with Medium Punch.
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Luc 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Marisol
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Stasya 0/-------/-----==|=------\-------\0 Camille
With a huff of annoyance and a toss of blonde hair, Stasya ignores Luc as he's summarily distracted by his redheaded teammate: who appears to be getting on with HER partner a bit better than she is with her own. She lets her stance open, clearly intent on just getting on with the fight so she can get out of earshot of Luc as quick as possible. His fury is starting to color her own mood, the empath uncontrollably picking up on his anger and starting to reflect it in her shortened temper.
Perhaps all that emotional overload is why she's mildly unprepared for Marisol when the boxer closes in. Never having seen Marisol before, not sure what sort of attack to expect, she gets clipped hard in the jaw and sent stumbling backwards. Shaking her head sharply to clear it, she hisses out a breath before she lunges abruptly back in, a burst of psi arcing sharply down her arm: the veritable blade is swiped at the Pacific student.
Somewhere in the middle of that, she asks Marisol, "Your teammate, is he?" A long pause. "How is it you are putting up with him?" She's genuinely curious.
Well.
Camille reacts quickly enough, at least.
She's agile too. He hates it when they do that silly nimble bouncing around crap. It means he has to try and follow them -- which isn't hard, but it sure is -annoying-. Green eyes bounce in concert with Camille as she pushes -off- the slots and through the air. As she does, he feels the dull throb in his arms... and grins. "Heh, so that sword's not just for show," he observes. Good.
It'd be -boring- it it was.
Polished shoe scrapes across the casino floor as Luc shifts his right leg back. Idly, his gaze flickers back to the fight between Stasya and Marisol. His eyes narrow, complemented by a distinct frown. "Hey, you stupid piece of crap! I said DON'T SUCK!" Luc Schroedinger: future motivational speaker.
Giving a derisive spit towards the ground, the German looks up towards the sword-wielding woman now perched atop those machines. He leans in, squints. Then... he says something relatively simple and easy to understand:
"Get down and -fight already-!"
Unfortunately for Camille, he doesn't wait for her. Flames lick out from under him, before surging -outwards- in a concentrated burst from the soles of his feet. It propels him far faster than he should be able to, launching him into the air like a human rocket as the sheer -velocity- strains at his entire body. Deftly, the German twists, his right leg extended in a single, brutal jumping kick aimed at Camille. Black-blue fire laces itself around his leg in a slow, snake-like spiral. "LET'S DO THIS ALREADY!"
And with that declaration made, Luc seeks to bury that foot into Camille's sternum in a jumping kick, all that chi wrapped around it releasing in a deluge of black and blue fury that will explode upon impact with the poor girl, intent to send her flying into a nearby blackjack table.
COMBATSYS: Marisol endures Stasya's Halteclere.
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Luc 0/-------/-------|==-----\-------\0 Marisol
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Stasya 0/-------/---====|=------\-------\0 Camille
Ahh. There's nothing greater than the sensation of someone's jaw cracking underneath one's fist. Hopefully, however she CAN keep up with her teammate, who is currently being assaulted by the angry German boy she's allied herself with. "Good luck!" she offers the British woman. Meanwhile...
Her particularly forward and direct charge into the Russian girl seems to do the trick for Marisol; as result, the poor blonde is sent staggering backwards. Those full lips ease into a wolfish grin, smoky gray depths alight with delight as she meets the blonde's gaze. How does she put up with him?
Rather than avoid that blade of angry psi energy, the half-Spaniard just grits her teeth harshly behind her lips and lets it carve into the girl. It draws a gasp from her, eyes widening before they hood, a dangerous light in her eye. Dangerous...but delighted. Yes. She's strong. But.
How DOES she tolerate Luc?
"Because," the girl begins, just as the swath of psychic energy clears across her body. Rather viciously, Marisol thrusts a hand outwards, attempting to seize Stasya by the collar of her shirt and drag her inwards. Right into her face. Should it land, the opposite hand clenches into a tight fist, swinging mightily into the blonde's gut, before she delivers two harsh, chi-laden hooks right for her face.
"He's a good fighter!"
COMBATSYS: Luc successfully hits Camille with Tyrant Strike.
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Luc 0/-------/-----==|==-----\-------\0 Marisol
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Stasya 0/-------/---====|====---\-------\0 Camille
This time, Camille actually lets herself get intimidated by the black-blue fire that Luc wields -- at first, she was running on adrenaline, but now she's actually realized that hey, there's that SEARING ENERGY that usually GETS HER TORN APART. That simple, straightforward kick catches Camille just as she draws out that sword at last; she goes sprawling back and into that blackjack table, cracking it upon impact.
With a quick kip-up (yes, a quick kip-up with a four and a half foot sword), though, Camille's back on her feet and ready to fight. She's already bleeding a little, probably from that nasty impact with the table, and her motions are definitely showing that she doesn't want to take another hit in the chest anytime soon.
And what's a better way to avoid taking hits than start doling out a few, at last? Going from that kip-up to an offensive position in one smooth, easy motion, Camille leaps up toward Luc, allowing Stasya and Marisol to keep trading blows. "You really want this to get underway?! FINE!" comes her reply, as she speeds toward him.
Spreading her legs slightly and trying to catch his chest with them, she seeks to push him down in a forceful Lou Thesz press, then do what works best on a prone opponent: repeated strikes to the face, in this case with the butt of a very heavy weapon. As if to seal the deal, the Brit -- if she can maintain the hold -- caps it off by grabbing a nearby dropped poker chip, placing it on edge behind Luc's head, and slamming his head down toward it.
COMBATSYS: Marisol successfully hits Stasya with Red Clover.
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Luc 0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0 Marisol
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Stasya 1/-----==/=======|====---\-------\0 Camille
Brought in close to land that blow on Marisol, Stasya finds it hard to back out before the other girl retaliates. Dragged in close and struck a devastating three times, the breath hisses out of the Russian girl as she's sent skidding backwards again, blood coursing from her mouth from where she's bitten her lip upon impact. Her father may freak out upon seeing her after this.
"Hmmn," Stasya mulls, slowly wiping a trail of blood from the corner of her mouth and cracking her neck. Her grey eyes focus on Marisol. "You are as well."
The vague compliment precedes Stasya's sudden rush right back towards the other girl, a swift aerial cartwheel killing the distance and drawing attention away from the crafty little palmstrike that subsequently lances out towards Marisol's jaw. Should that blow connect and disorient the other girl, Stasya follows up with a harsh uppercut kick, the blow coated with more of that slashing chi. Her heel drives back down afterwards, towards the back of Marisol's head, before Stasya finishes with a rough flash kick back towards the Pacific student's jaw: one hard enough to drive her airborne.
COMBATSYS: Luc blocks Camille's God Save The Queen.
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Luc 0/-------/---====|====---\-------\0 Marisol
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Stasya 0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0 Camille
-Boom-.
There goes Camille, flying like a ragdoll through the air as Luc lands just beyond the Blackjack tables. Coming down in a full crouch, he's slow to recover; his muscles ache a little from the amount he pushed them in that single endeavor. A dull throb makes its way through his legs, slowing his recovery time to a slow stand just as Camille kip ups from the table. He peers. With a -sword-?
"You're some kinda -freak-, huh?" He questions. A part of her wonders if she's used to dealing with all of that extra mass. He pauses. Considers, in honest curiosity.
"Were you fat or something?"
It honestly never occurs to him that she probably has trained with that thing for years. It never crosses his mind. And he doesn't have more time to -ponder- over it, either, as Camille -CHARGES- at him so fast. The initial push is successful; he's shoved to the ground, just in time for Camille to straddle him. Before the rest of the blows can come, though? He lifts a single hand with a -grunt- of effort, just as she swings--
SMACK.
Sword butt strikes palm with a muted thud, and Camille is introduced to the signature, asshole grin of Luc Schroedinger.
"You call THAT a hit?! ..."
And he laughs.
"THAT'S JUST SAD!!"
And then, from there, he just seeks to push Camille -off- him with a sudden shove, to kip up back onto HIS feet. He grunts, his entire arm throbbing in pain -- that hurt, no doubt about it. But that doesn't keep him from being a jerk about it.
"C'mon. Give me something USEFUL." He takes a step back, scanning his surroundings with a frown. Besides him, a heavyset woman plays blackjack, fretting with worry over both her odds of success... and the fact that a very angry German is crackling with power right next to her. Her forehead shines with fear. Luc fails to notice.
"Bring it -on- already, you chump!!"
COMBATSYS: Luc focuses on his next action.
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Luc 0/-------/---====|====---\-------\0 Marisol
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Stasya 0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0 Camille
COMBATSYS: Stasya successfully hits Marisol with Khanjali.
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Luc 0/-------/---====|=======\-------\1 Marisol
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Stasya 0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0 Camille
The moment the second hook kisses Stasya's chin, Marisol grins wide.
"Thanks," the redhead responds, gray depths narrowing slightly, meeting the equally-gray eyes that peer back at her. She thinks she might actually enjoy this fight, damnable noise and distractions aside, that is. "Let's see what you--"
Before she can even finish, Stasya's on the move - and coming right for her. Caught by the chin with the girl's palm heel, her jaw clacks loudly, eyes widening as she's sent staggering. But she's caught once again, a psi-laced kick to pummel her before she's juggled about, the last kick delivered causing the redhead to fly upwards and arc a bit.
Rising from the ground, she shakes her head, trying desperately to drown out the noise that plagues her. "Guh, ...L-luc, can you stop YELLING SO LOUDLY!?" she snaps, gray eyes flickering toward the German as she scowls. Exhaling shortly afterwards, the redhead shakes her head once more, loose coppery locks tossing about. Reaching a hand up, she wipes away the blood from her nose.
"Anyway," she begins, her lips pulling into a toothy, blood-stained smile. "That was pretty good. You hit hard. You also remind me of someone I met once." Not that Stasya particularly cares, she's sure. But will it serve as a suitable distraction? Regardless, she continues. "Your stuff--" Psi, that is, "is like hers."
Then, rather abruptly, Marisol lunges for Stasya with a laugh.
"More! MORE! Ha ha ha!"
There are a lot of things Camille would like to claim herself above, and high -- /very/ high -- on that list is 'being bothered by fat jokes'. However, claims are rarely, as we all know, synonymous with actual fact; when Luc makes that particular comment, her face scrunches up in what can only be described as some horrible mix of rage and embarassment.
"I..." Camille starts, taking a few steps back from Luc once she's pushed off of him, reaching for that blackjack table that she was almost put completely through a few seconds ago. For a second, she is lost for words entirely, proving herself a poor team player as she doesn't intervene at all in the explosive back-and-forth that her partner is having with Stasya, focused far too much on Luc 'Sass-Mouth' Schroedinger.
"I have been toned /all my life/!" she declares, rushing at Luc and -- putting her sword /away/?! Yes, that's right, she's actually ditching her primary reach advantage again -- though she has a good reason, of course. Namely, it frees up her hands to grab at Luc's head and simultaneously lean back and jump up, dragging Luc's head down to meet her suddenly-raised knees.
COMBATSYS: Stasya blocks Marisol's Hook Punch.
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Luc 0/-------/---====|=======\-------\1 Marisol
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Stasya 0/-------/----===|====---\-------\0 Camille
Stasya lands lightly from her backflip, immediately leaping back a few paces. She's not keen on being hit again dead-on by Marisol-- the girl is quite strong, and in addition uses that chi energy that hurts so much.
But at Marisol's words, her eyes widen abruptly: her intent focus almost lost completely. Someone else with energy like hers? Still new to the fighting circuit, not really familiar with the fact that psi fighters -do- exist, Marisol's words are news to her. Exciting news. The implications are so astonishing she almost forgets to guard when the redhead comes screaming back towards with her a laugh and another of those devastating punches. Stasya guards abruptly with an upraised arm, a harsh breath kicking out of her as the impact stings her right on down to the shoulder.
Across her guarding arm, Stasya's grey eyes are intent and intrigued. "You have met someone with this same energy?" She shoves away from Marisol then, skidding back, taking a moment to wrap her mind around this: as well as catch her breath. "I must ask you who!" A pause. "--perhaps not now, but regardless...!"
COMBATSYS: Stasya gains composure.
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Luc 0/-------/---====|=======\-------\1 Marisol
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Stasya 0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0 Camille
COMBATSYS: Luc fails to interrupt Strong Throw from Camille with Riot Breaker.
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Luc 0/-------/--=====|=======\-------\1 Marisol
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Stasya 0/-------/-----==|=====--\-------\0 Camille
Many people would like to think themselves above taunting. But one thing they never take into consideration is the simple fact that Luc Schroedinger is a master at pissing other people off. He takes to insulting people like a duck takes to water. Why?
Because Luc Schroedinger is a jerk.
Of course, this sometimes doesn't work in his favor. Case in point; Camille shows herself clearly gearing to lay the hurt on the poor, misunderstood German. His head twists, looking behind him at the table. He gets an idea. And then-- Marisol yells. "--What the HELL?! Don't -TELL ME WHAT TO DO-, you -HAG- --"
WHAM.
It doesn't go exactly as planned.
Luc's intentions was to grip Camille just as he makes contact, and send her on an unpleasant journey. This does not go exactly as he planned it would in his head. Instead, before he can properly prepare himself, Camille is already upon him, gripping him by the head and -jumping- up. The sickening crack that follows is the impact of boney knee meeting relatively more fragile cartiledge. In an act that Luc has grown quite familiar with by now, his face and nose are crushed by Camille's assault, blood smearing all over the girl's nice kilt as it spills freely from his nose. He falls backwards towards the ground in a stumbling roll, smacking his side against the nearby blackjack table and jostling -- and -disturbing- -- the nearby oversized woman. She looks down, and sweats more fretfully than ever before.
"Ugh...." Luc looks up, and squints.
"... Hnnn. Stop -looking- at me." Pause.
"And lose some -weight-. Asshole." No, he's not in a good mood at -all-.
Is she...not attacking Marisol?
For a brief moment, the half-Spaniard seems puzzled, that Stasya would not pursue the fight further. Instead, she stands there, clearly surprised by this sudden "revelation" she's just bestowed onto the Psion. So, as she stands there with that arm shielding her face, the redhead takes a few steps back, full lips drawn in a line across her tanned features.
"Uh, yeah? S-sure, I'll tell you later. She's not hard to miss." Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, the young German is barking as per usual - and it causes the gray-eyed girl's eyes to roll upwards. He's calling her a hag?
"Yeah, WELL YOU'RE A SO--" That's when Luc is hit.
"HA HA! Serves you right, ass!"
Then her attention returns to Stasya, lips still pulled in a grin. At this point, it may very well be an ominous one; the light in her eyes is a distantly lethal one. "Y'know," she begins, idly cracking her knuckles before she pulls one into a tightly-coiled fist in front of her chest. "You really shouldn't just stand around."
Then, Marisol moves, closing in on the Russian blonde, swinging a fist once across, before the opposite fist swings in the same, from the opposite side for a savage one-two combo.
"You'll get hurt!"
Pulling away from Luc, Ms. Irvine gives him the dirtiest of all possible dirty looks, her face still contorted in that bizarre expression of negativity. Taking another step back, she secures her sword more completely on her back, thinking that when he says 'lose some weight' he's saying it to /her/. Needless to say, this is a recipe for disaster.
"Well /you're/ about as charming as a two-dollar strumpet ten years past her prime," she says, narrowing her eyes a little and looking down at Sass-Mouth Schroedinger again, attempting to figure out just what he's thinking of planning next -- and when she makes her guess, she knows exactly how to stop it. It's a very simple maneuver, at least.
Stepping toward him again, she grabs Luc's legs, starting to move his head a little closer to the table, -- it doesn't make things easier for her, but it does give her an edge.. After all, a table's pretty good for leverage, if one wants to get out of a hold -- which is just what Camille plans to put Luc in, wrapping an arm around his neck and putting him in a neck vice! Not only that, but she starts to drag his face across the wood of the blackjack table as she grips his neck, probably giving him a bunch of SPLINTERS! Oh no!!
COMBATSYS: Stasya interrupts Fierce Punch from Marisol with Angurva'del.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////// ]
Luc 0/-------/--=====|=======\===----\1 Marisol
[ \\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////// ]
Stasya 0/-------/----===|=====--\-------\0 Camille
"Than--" Stasya starts out in reply to Marisol's assurances that she'll tell her, only to have her brief exchange with the half-Spaniard cut off by Luc. Stasya's eyes roll, the girl casting an irritated look at the German. What an ass.
Her attention goes back to Marisol in time to catch the way the girl's looking at her. But this time, she's more prepared when Marisol lunges. She shouldn't just stand around? "And you should not being so reckless!" Stasya retorts with equal fervor and slightly worse English, as she... totally fails to follow her own advice and lunges clear into Marisol's attack. But still, there's things going on behind the scenes that make that seemingly foolhardy move not as foolhardy as it looks. Stasya had moved in in just such a way as to minimize the damage from that blow... and additionally, she's not just jumping in to take a punch to the face.
Her style swapping from the flashy kicks of her previous move to mimic the boxing of Marisol, Stasya takes advantage of her sudden closeness to lay into the Pacific student with a series of swift and psi-laced blows. A riddling of punches, each bristling with hard edges of psi, slam into the redhead harshly.
COMBATSYS: Camille successfully hits Luc with Quick Throw.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////// ]
Luc 1/-------/=======|=======\===----\1 Marisol
[ \\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////// ]
Stasya 0/-------/----===|======-\-------\0 Camille
Serves him right?! Marisol is serving to help distract Luc -even more- than normal, which is quite the feat. He's prepared to offer an insult in return...
... and then Camille introduces him to Mr. Table.
"GRRLKHKL!! MMGLPH GGKKUUURRRGHH!!"
Highly censored and editted, this translates to:
Hello, Mr. Table! Pleasure to meat you!
Put in the vice, there is little that the German can do but go along for the ride. Initially, he had just planned to take it all and try to set him up for a counter -- but this doesn't work quite as he might have hoped. His face is subsequently -dragged- as he's put into that painful grip, blood smearing across the table. The woman faints, just as the dealer slaps a card down.
"Blackjack," he announces with utter calm and composure. And as Luc drags, he idly wonders:
'What the fuck is a blackjack? Is he -insulting me-??'
Before he can think of a way to reap vengence, he's already attempting to RIP away from Camille and, subsequently, the table. As he does, he begins to spin, pivoting on his right heel as he lifts off the ground... and PUNCHES it. With all the strength and fury he can muster, Luc SLAMS his fist into the hard ground, causing a momentary rumble before an entire -line- of geysers explode forth from the ground beneath him, racing a path for one person, and one person alone -- Camille, seeking to just -explode- the ground from underneath her.
"KILL YOU!! HRAAAAGH!!"
Yes, he's passed the point of reason, now.
Take her own advice? Briefly, Marisol's red brows crease, a distantly thoughtful expression lingering upon her sunkissed features. What the hell is the Russian girl going on about..?
In a matter of seconds, she learns well precisely WHAT she meant.
In a flurry of psi-imbued punches, Marisol is sent staggering backwards from the girl, her rear bumping into the edge of a Poker table. Unfortunately, there are people playing there, and immediately they scatter from their spots around the table. One man looks up and, in a painfully Aussie accent, incoherently babbles at the half-Spaniard. Something about kids, and fridges.
But she's unaware; instead, the girl grits her teeth behind her lips, eyes narrowing sharply as she fixes her gaze on the strangely potent yet petite-looking blonde. Luc and Camille are, at this point, otherwise forgotten - even if the former is all but berserker rage-yelling at this point. Instead, the girl attempts to not only drown out the hum of the surrounding crowds, but also the god-awful ringing, chimes and bleep-bloops of the casino slots scattered all around the casino floor.
Lifting a hand, the girl rubs her knuckles across her busted lip, her hand stained by a smudge of deep red.
"Okay," she states, words cold. "I do think it's time to stop dicking around."
COMBATSYS: Marisol focuses on her next action.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////// ]
Luc 0/-------/=======|=======\===----\1 Marisol
[ \\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////// ]
Stasya 0/-------/----===|======-\-------\0 Camille
COMBATSYS: Camille dodges Luc's Aufruhr Gemetzel.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////// ]
Luc 0/-------/=======|=======\===----\1 Marisol
[ \\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////// ]
Stasya 0/-------/----===|======-\-------\0 Camille
Camille leaps back away from Luc, pulling out her sword with a shockingly pretty flourish for such a ridiculous weapon and then decides to do something ridiculous /with/ it: namely, slam it into the ground and launch herself up into the air with it, pushing off and completely avoiding the explosion beneath her. Definitely on the ball, that one -- at least right now.
"I see your grasp of English is about as competent as your combat talent," comes Ms. Irvine's comment, as she tries to milk the fact that she perceives herself as having an advantage for /all/ it's worth. It isn't often she really feels this comfortable in a fight -- how curious that her greatest comfort comes when she's managed to put herself on one of the obscenely expensive chandeliers in this fine, classy building.
The fixture that Camille's caught onto during her little aerial expedition shifts back and forth, back and forth, as she hangs on for dear life, sword barely kept held in one hand, her holding on with the other. However, her realization that it can't hold both her and the sword for two long turns this into a positive; swinging back and forth, she causes the thin, decorative chains holding it up to slowly open themselves... and with one final swing, she launches herself forward, landing in the middle of a hotly contested poker game in progress.
Luc, meanwhile, gets the fun of having that chandelier's chains while it's swinging, roughly, in his direction. It is a pretty pointy chandelier.
Heedless of her surroundings, Stasya forces Marisol clear back into a poker table: unsympathetic to the plight of the poor Aussie who's come all this way for gambling and butter. Panting sharply in the wake of her attack, she-- perhaps unwisely-- stays close in to Marisol even after she throws the last blow, perhaps a bit too winded to get quickly out of the way.
Time to stop dicking around, huh?
Stasya grins, a bit lopsidedly, before simply trying to throw a sharp blow of the heel of her hand clear towards Marisol's face. A sharp instigation. "Then show me what you can really be doing," she invites, rather suicidally, even as her empathic sense warns her of Marisol's suddenly-sombre mood.
COMBATSYS: Camille successfully hits Luc with Large Thrown Object.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////// ]
Luc 1/----===/=======|=======\===----\1 Marisol
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////// ]
Stasya 0/-------/----===|======-\-------\0 Camille
This isn't going well.
This seems to be a running trend for Luc. Rather than allow it to effect him too much, though, Schroedinger just does what he always does.
Get very very angry.
He doesn't really have words for Camille's witty retort. If he did, it'd be something along the lines of 'I don't even get what you're saying to me, but you're an asshole.' Luc isn't terribly witty. Instead, all he gets time to do is get smacked with a big old chandelier chain. A swift leap backwards yields only the burning, red-hot pain of metal biting into his chest as he -rockets- backwards like a ragdoll. He slams into a slot machine, the entire thing whirring to life as he slumps down. Blood seeps from his nose, his mouth.
By the time he's dragging himself up... the slot machine has come up with the complete opposite of a jackpot.
If Luc actually knew how slot machines worked, this might be depressing.
Instead, the German just wipes dark crimson from his mouth, glaring in Camille's direction. His brow scrunches in contemplation as he turns to regard everything around him. He grins. "... Heh. You think you're so witty, don't you?" He pauses here, considering. "You're -pathetic-. You wanna know the truth...?" He leans in, as if he could whisper the fact from such a long distance between them.
"I'm just playing around because otherwise a an -idiot- like you would bore me to death. Try. Hitting. -HARDER-."
And, satisfied with this, he leans back, rubbing the back of his neck in disdain.
"Maaan... what the fuck is a blackjack? I'm gonna kill that guy..."
COMBATSYS: Luc gains composure.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////// ]
Luc 1/------=/=======|=======\===----\1 Marisol
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////// ]
Stasya 0/-------/----===|======-\-------\0 Camille
COMBATSYS: Marisol interrupts Quick Punch from Stasya with Snap Wind.
- Power hit! -
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////// ]
Luc 1/------=/=======|=======\===----\1 Marisol
[ \\\\\\\ < > //////////////////// ]
Stasya 0/-------/--=====|======-\-------\0 Camille
Just when Marisol was getting (somewhat) serious, the MGM falls down around her.
Sort of, anyway. The chandelier from which Camille previously swung is suddenly pulled from the ceiling and swings haphazardly at the young German. It's noisy and loud, and most of the MGM wonders if the place will eventually collapse around them before the fight is over.
But Marisol has other, more important matters to attend to. Particularly, the incoming Russian girl who demands her to show what she can really do. Furrowing her brows in response, Marisol seems mildly puzzled by this; then, naturally, the girl just sports a broad, toothy and particularly wolfish grin. "‘kay," she replies. The hand is noted. Here it comes--!!
And so does Marisol's. Right into Stasya's face. It's a light blow, only meant to stun the girl briefly. But the real blow comes from the opposite hand; her fist, a tight knot of bone and muscle, suddenly swings fiercely upwards, to knock Stasya in the jaw and send her stumbling away.
"Psych!" she chimes with an amused glow haunting her features.
It'd be one hell of a blaze of glory for the establishment to go down in, that's for sure -- and if Luc continues with his epic-level sassery, Camille might actually try to quite literally bring the house down around them. Camille narrows her eyes at Luc as he leans in, and as he keeps on talking, those eyes just get narrower.
"Oh, please," she says, narrowing her eyes. "You aren't the only one who's holding back. In fact..." She rolls her neck, giving a last look toward Luc's neck -- she thinks he's rubbing it out of /pain/ rather than mere irritability, and that miscalculation may cost her the match if she isn't right on with what she's about to do.
Putting her claymore away in favor of gaining a little more freedom of movement, Camille straps the big weapon to her back again -- and once again, her legs come up toward Luc's head. If he goes to block them the way he would those rising knee strikes, though, he'll find himself sorely mistaken -- instead, Camille hooks her legs /around/ his head, grabbing him neatly between her knees if all goes well. From there, it's just a quick whip of her body and Luc... well, Luc gets to take the scenic tour of the room -- he even gets to see a game of roulette up close and personal! Hopefully he doesn't swallow the ball. (Does the stomach count as red or black?)
Stasya seems to notice the carnage going on around her for the first time. She'd been focusing so hard on blotting it out-- the emotional static from the people around is driving her crazy-- that she had barely even noticed a CHANDELIER SWINGING AROUND. And now her partner's about to become a man-- or he will if he doesn't get the hell out of the way of that attack.
Stasya seems, for some mysterious reason, completely unconcerned about Luc's dire straits.
She's got troubles of her own, after all-- like Marisol suddenly bursting clear through her attack with a paired set of punches. Stasya is sent reeling back as expected, spitting blood with a grimace. After a moment, she grins bloodily, and-- falls forward, apparently eschewing her brief sojourn into boxing as she lets her weight fall on her hands. Marisol, of all people, should likely recognize the style Stasya drops into. It's capoeira, and it's an au batido sent snapping towards Marisol: the girl executing an inverted split to whip a quick strike at the boxer.
Across the casino floor, Stasya's father quietly cleans out another table's worth of patrons.
COMBATSYS: Camille successfully hits Luc with Frankensteiner.
[ \\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////// ]
Luc 1/--=====/=======|=======\===----\1 Marisol
[ \\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////// ]
Stasya 0/-------/--=====|=======\-------\1 Camille
It's the girls.
Luc's kryptonite.
Which is very inconvenient because there's -so many of them-. Really, Luc should take strides to overcome this great and terrible weakness. Instead, he just acts like a dick, which works just as well. Except that, even though he can clearly, -clearly- see Camille coming at him... ... he apparently can't constitute himself enough in time to take the hit.
Which is probably what happens when someone is -compressing your head with their thighs.-
"WHAT THE HELLMHGMHPHHR!!"
Good lord, think of all the cooties.
Like some sort of terrible moment in one's life, like getting mugged, or finding out your favorite pet has died, Luc's expression is the very symbol of 'horrified' as Camille clamps securely around his head. Fortunately, it doesn't last long, and he takes the physical abuse of getting SLAMMED into a roulette wheel -far- better than he did the lead up to it. His back cracks against the table, his head SMASHING into the top of the roulette wheel. The ball goes flying, hits Luc on the forehead, and, as the patrons look on, terrified for their lives... it lands.
"R--...R-red 7?" There's a momentary pause, all around. And then, a single man stands up, hands pumped into the air.
"WOOO!!"
"... uuugghhh..."
Slowly, Luc crawls off the table. His face is bloodied -- or perhaps just flushed -- and his shirt is ripped in various spots from all the flying he's been doing, of late. Slowly, his neck rolls in a series of cracks. He's oddly silent, and as Marisol probably knows...
... that's not a good sign.
"..." A bright, violet glow begins to creep along Luc's right arm as he wipes blood from his lips, caked on remnants flaking off in the wake of his rub. Green eyes lift, peer at everyone. And he spits in -utmost- vehemence. "... hate casinos... hate -blackjack-... hate RED 7... AND I ESPECIALLY..."
He leaps. Like a simple -blur-, Luc Schroedinger THRUSTS through the air, LANDING in the dead center of the space between Camille, Marisol, and Stasya. As soon as he lands in a deadened WHUD and a crouch? His hand STRIKES the ground with such force that it splits the skin of his knuckles.
"... -HATE GIRLS-!!!"
And that's when everything explodes.
All that bright and burning power in the German's arm funnels outward in a single instant, forming four long, thin violet lines across the floor. In the span of a second, each line EXPLODES into massive walls of churning black, blue and violet chi, dwarfing -all- of the fighters present. In no time at all... those walls start to rotate. -Fast-. The end result being, to attempt to sweep up each and every one of the fighters in the wake of a spinning -storm- of power, burning and beating into the three female fighters in all Luc's pent up fury and girl troubles before it simply EXPLODES to spit them all out to various locations throughout the casino. One way or another, the motivation is clear.
Luc is flustered beyond repair.
COMBATSYS: Marisol blocks Luc's Demiurge Trigger.
[ \\\\\\\\\ < > ///////// ]
Luc 0/-------/-------|=======\=====--\1 Marisol
[ \\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////// ]
Stasya 0/-------/--=====|=======\-------\1 Camille
COMBATSYS: Marisol Toughs Out Stasya's Light Kick!
[ \\\\\\\\\ < > //////// ]
Luc 0/-------/-------|=======\=======\1 Marisol
[ \\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////// ]
Stasya 0/-------/-======|=======\-------\1 Camille
Maybe, just maybe, Marisol should have been more attentive to the plight of one Luc Schroedinger. If there's one thing she knows well about the ill-tempered young man, it's that when things start to go downhill for him...he kind of loses it. And when he loses it? Well.
Things blow up but good.
But for the moment, her thoughts are simply fixed on the Russian girl, as she stumbles back from the nasty, albeit particularly lackluster, assault on her. And despite this, the girl maintains a good spirit about her. She's smiling, so that has to be good, right? The half-Spaniard likes to think so, anyway. She meets Stasya's grin with one of her own, as she moves. Marisol does not move, however. She takes the kick dead on, her grin broadening. But just as she moves, to punch at the girl...
From the corner of her eye, something swells into being. She can feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end, as that violet energy begins to overwhelm the youth. Then, he leaps in the center of everyone. And then...then it happens. An explosion that really WILL bring the MGM Grand down. There's a moment when time stands still, and Marisol expresses a look of disdain.
"...Schroedinger," she groans.
BOOM. Every direction seems to suddenly erupt into a mass of walls of chi that twist and turn. Yet, likely USED to this by now, Marisol braces the proverbial storm and weathers it out, her feet skidding along the now-dusty carpets of the MGM Grand as the storm explodes. She's still standing. Winded, sore, singed and smoking...but still on her two feet.
"SCHROEDINGER!!" she bellows.
And then she lunges at the youth, stopping only inches before him before punching the ground in front of her. No better than her teammate (when not in this particular SNF!), the girl's fist ignites upon impact. From the earth, pieces of carpet and concrete explode outwards and right at the German, to engulf him in a furious blast of dandelion yellow chi energy.
"THAT HURT YOU ASS!!"
COMBATSYS: Luc successfully hits Camille with Demiurge Trigger.
[ \\\\\\\\\ < > /////// ]
Luc 0/-------/-------|======-\-------\0 Marisol
[ \\\\\\\\ < > /// ]
Stasya 0/-------/-======|>>>>>>>\>>>>>>>\2 Camille
The maelstrom of dark energy that Schroedinger wields is far beyond Camille's understanding of combat, even still -- she just keeps getting torn apart by that sort of thing. Every now and then she gets lucky, but all she can do is throw her hands up ineffectively in the last moment before Schroedinger's GIANT STORM OF MISOGYNY AND DEATH is upon her.
In an instant, she is sucked into it and then burst back out, slammed through two slot machines. It's not any consolation to her, of course, but she does at least end up standing rather than knocked over, thanks to having something to land against. She can't even /see/ Luc anymore, at least not in a manner that makes her much for being able to target him... and Marisol sounds like she has that covered, what with that massive chi burst that's /probably/ where Luc is. So unfortunately for Luc's /partner/... she's the only clear target.
Those who've seen Camille fight would likely comment that one of the best things she has in her arsenal is that vicious kick, that well-build maneuver in the clutch that's often served her as the ultimate equalizer. However, they might also say that it's predictable -- that there are a few obvious times when it comes out, a few obvious moments that just make it easy to see coming. Normally, this is one of the times that Camille would try to finish things up with that devastating kick.
Today's a different day, though. Once Camille finally reaches Stasya with those lumbering steps, she takes one surprisingly fast, final step, maneuvering around behind the blonde quick as she can. She wastes no time pulling out her sword and bringing her boot up, giving Stasya one hard stomp in the back that should, if Ms. Irvine's not off her mark, get her on the ground for a valuable second or two...
COMBATSYS: Camille can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\\ < > /////// ]
Luc 0/-------/-------|======-\-------\0 Marisol
[ \\\\\\\\ <
Stasya 0/-------/-======|
COMBATSYS: Stasya blocks Luc's Demiurge Trigger.
[ \\\\\\\\\ < > /////// ]
Luc 0/-------/-------|======-\-------\0 Marisol
[ \ <
Stasya 1/-----==/=======|
COMBATSYS: Camille successfully hits Stasya with Gallowglass.
- Power hit! -
[ \\\\\\\\\ < > /////// ]
Luc 0/-------/-------|======-\-------\0 Marisol
[ <
Stasya 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|
... and when she gets her down, Camille has only one thing left to do. She swings that sword back once, forward once, back again... and then abruptly /hurls/ it into midair with every ounce she's still got in the tank, seeing it actually cleave /through/ the ceiling.
A second later, of course -- well, what goes up has to come down some time, somewhere. In this case, 'some time' is now, and 'somewhere' is -- naturally -- Stasya, as the big, heavy blade lands on her. It doesn't /impale/ her, of course -- nothing so gruesome -- but with a claymore, getting the edge (far sharper, naturally, than the point) the alternative isn't much better.
Camille does not get the 'satisfaction' of watching this one. Why?
Because after that intense blade toss, her momentum knocked her /right/ over. She's not getting back up.
OW. (Luc.)
-- OW! (Camille.)
-- OW!! (Camille again.)
Now that we've had a look into Stasya's mental state as that series of events occurs...
She's completely not expecting her 'partner' to target her, despite the two of them getting off to a bit of a poor start: she is, after all, aware of the concept of working as a team even if one dislikes one's team members. But despite not expecting it, she still manages to guard herself when that storm of chi slams towards her. It takes all her strength and a violent readjustment of her psi energy within her, but she manages to avoid being utterly taken off her feet and demolished. Though it still -hurts like a bitch- due to half of that force getting through her defenses -anyway-.
Of course, the fact she's focusing off warding off her own partner means she's completely unprepared to do anything about Camille. The girl gets her square in the back, and Stasya hits the ground hard with a breath of surprise. Soon, a -freaking claymore- hits her too, and the girl yelps in pain.
Far, far away, completely out of earshot and (consciously) unaware as to the utter destruction being wrought upon his daughter, Aleksandr nonetheless looks up from his poker hand (a straight flush): some sixth sense alerting him. His glasses gleam in the low light.
In the here and now... Stasya is a bit slow to pick herself back up again, dizzily getting up despite the fact there are now about four Lucs and three Marisols in her vision. Nonetheless, she soldiers on, abruptly hurling herself with a sort of silent rage towards-- Luc. WHAT A TWIST.
Spitting incoherent curses in her native Russian the entire while-- mostly about how she's going to kill him for being a brainless son of a bitch-- she lunges clear towards the vicinity of Luc and Marisol: whatever restraints she keeps on her psi falling away as that lethal-edged red energy begins to spill in bladed torrents from her skin. She aims to slam a bladed kick straight into Luc, which-- should it connect-- would knock him clear back into Marisol, hopefully taking the two of them off balance.
COMBATSYS: Stasya can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\\ < > /////// ]
Luc 0/-------/-------|======-\-------\0 Marisol
COMBATSYS: Marisol successfully hits Luc with Shoot the Moon.
[ \ < > /////// ]
Luc 0/-------/--=====|======-\-------\0 Marisol
COMBATSYS: Luc Toughs Out Stasya's Alkonost!
[ < > /////// ]
Luc 1/--=====/=======|======-\-------\0 Marisol
COMBATSYS: Stasya successfully hits Marisol with Alkonost.
-* CRITICAL HIT! *-
[ < > ]
Luc 1/--=====/=======|=======\=====--\1 Marisol
And with that... Stasya falls over. But as she does, she makes sure to hit the ground hands first. The torrent of red energy about her abruptly concentrates, forced into the ground; the whispering blades sink out of sight with a myriad of sighs. There's only a few moments worth of pause before all that psi energy abruptly -reappears- right beneath Luc and Marisol: the bladed psi spearing upwards in a crooked red forest of sharp and shearing edges.
COMBATSYS: Luc can no longer fight.
> ]
|=======\=====--\1 Marisol
COMBATSYS: Marisol takes no action.
COMBATSYS: Marisol can no longer fight.
Log created on 22:07:13 11/27/2007 by Luc, and last modified on 16:37:43 11/28/2007.