Description: Wild violence, thats our promise to you at the Seventh Circle. And we deliver. The fighting enthusiast Cracker Jack meets the anti-fighting activist Remy in the Circle to have a polite discussion over their diametric views on our great sport. As a bonus, the returning house fighter Ayame with a dread comission to make them both bleed! Nobody is safe when they enter the Circle.. And we mean nobody. Behold an ending none could predict..
Though the Seventh Circle has started strong and word has spread quickly to those that want to know, it begs the question: What /is/ the Seventh Circle?
Looked at from a completely indifferent angle, the need for it to exist is questionable. With Neo League and SNFs being beamed into the houses of millions of fans across the planet, the Seventh Circle is no competition in terms of sheer fanbase. It's footprint on the media is all but nonexistant. The crowd, though considerable, have all arrived by word of mouth and clandestine 'friend of a friend of a friend' discussions.
Many of the patrons are quite wealthy, though the amount of money made here is nowhere near the amount that Howard Enterprises makes on a weekly basis on the broadcast of Saturday Night Fights alone. Even in the scope of the casino, the fact of the matter is that a slot zombie tossing quarters into a hungry machine is far more cost effective than setting up elaborate arenas/
So why the Seventh Circle?
The answer may very well be: Why Not?
Since the dawn of time, there have been people that desire to see people maimed and mauled for the sheer pleasure of the spectacle, and that niche market tends to be the elite. People that can get away with watching without feeling much in the way of moral conflict. With that mentality in the grasp of the organizers of the tournament, twisted dreams and fantasties of the overly powerful are brought to life.
The fact that Marise is commonly he face of the tournament is not without meaning, after all. But tonight is different. The expansive screens overhead flicker. Instead of Marise's flawless, too-perfect countenance, Elle's face appears. The grim, scarred vision lights up the dim arena, the well dressed crowd already chanting for a fight, the smell of smoke and expensive alcohol reaching up to the very rafters.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Elle says, her voice hard and devoid of the usual rabble rousing techniques that Marise uses to whip the audience into a frenzy. The result is a hush falling over the crowd as Elle speaks.
"Below you are two men," the mercenary says, the lights flickering to spotlight the two fighters in the otherwise dark arena. "Two men of vastly differing attitudes towards combat."
"Cracker Jack. A mercenary who enjoys nothing more than fighting. For him, it's a bodily function and is as essential to his life as eating and sleeping."
"Remy. A man who finds the entire existance of this arena an affront to humanity, and only fights to show others that it's pointless."
"Tonight, two completely opposing ideologies clash, although both are using the same means to assert their positions. Violence. This is a debate that can be won with fists and fire only," Elle's dry voice says as her face fades from the screen. "now, before we begin, there's one final note."
"Some of you have voiced concerns over one of our house fighters. I assure you, she's fine. In fact, tonight she plays a prominent role. Watch carefully," the voice says as another spotlight rises to the top of the arena. Ayame is there, tethered to the scaffolding by a guywire. "For your viewing pleasure, both fighters will have to contend with your favorite teenage arena star...."
And then a focused spotlight aims towards the catwalk lining the roof of the arena, displaying a vasy array of weaponry. Knives. Guns. Heavy objects. The scroll of weaponry is displayed only breifly on the screen as the lights raise, revealing the entire arena. "And everything but the kitchen sink. No guts, no glory."
And with that, the ring of the bell. Fight.
As the bell echoes through the underground arena, Remy inhales, drawing breath through his lungs. The harsh illumination of the flourescent spotlights plays across his face, a mask of disdain. This is not a place he wishes to be. But it is where he finds himself, regardless.
It's funny what life leads one to do.
He lifts a hand, bringing it to his head. He flicks stray strands of green hair from his eyes, a casual, negligent gesture. Then he narrows those eyes at his opponent, the man across the pit, the man standing opposite him in the great sunken depression forming the hellish battleground. Remy stares across the expanse of scarred concrete, regarding him coldly.
"Cracker Jack," Remy sneers, "is that your name?"
His voice is soft, but the microphones directed at him pick it up and amplify it through the arena, above the raucous shouts and jeers of the crowd. There's no hiding the disgust in the Frenchman's tone.
He extends one black-leather clad arm, stabbing a finger at his opponent.
"Is that supposed to be /cute/?"
COMBATSYS: Remy has started a fight here.
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Remy 0/-------/-------|
Well, the audience? Heck, they aren't even thought about for C.Jack, and Jack is looking for a fun time alright. As the bell rings, the man shambles out, almost dragging his feet, taking it nice and easy. Walking out, the straw hatted man makes his way to his side of the arena, and from there, tips his hat, covering his eyes, to the crowd and the lady up there. Infact, he doesn't simply just look at her.
"Hey, good lookin'! You're so up you must be an' angel. So how about you fly down here to be with us demons?" He grins beneath the hat, his face mostly covered as he keeps a bat behind him, 'attached' to his back. Hey. Priorities are priorities, and that swinging woman over head is certainly a pressing matter! But then, of course, it seems the entirety of the arena's getting the wrong idea about him. Shifting his shirt as he turns about to the crowd, finally noticing them he's not effected. He came for a fight. They came to watch. He ain't raining on their parade. Hearing Remy, C.Jack turns, looking over his shoulder, "Cracker Jack's my name alright. And it isn't cute. What they got wrong here is that I ain't no mercenary. Work for Vega, bet you know 'im. And my name? Well. You'll about it. Name's Jack.. but you're gonna learn why they threw in Cracker!" A broad grin as he just breaks from his position, barreling towards Remy already, the fabric of the shirt moving as he closes in towards Remy.. with a single fist towards his face. "I do this for fun .. but you probably won't be havin' it if what she said's true!" Pfft. Pacifists.
COMBATSYS: C.Jack has joined the fight here.
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C.Jack 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Remy
The spot light's back on her. A month ago, Ayame never would have expected to be here. Sure, she'd frequent pit fights in the seedy parts of Southtown, slipping in with disguises to place bets against herself for her own fights, then go on to throw them just to make a buck. But this is something else entirely. Beneath the multi-million dollar casino the Seventh Circle is like nothing the girl had ever thought to be a part of.
The bright focused light bears down on the diminutive figure of a fighter who just fought down in that pit but a week ago. While her left hand is bare outside of a black leather, fingerless glove, her right hand is wrapped up with black tape. She rubs her right palm idly, fighting back the numbness she's felt there since Aranha skewered her hand with her own knife. Her strawberry-blonde hair has been done up in a pony tail, doing a good job of concealing the missing lengths that the so called Venomous Spider decided to cut off as part of his victory over her.
Lowering her right hand to her hip, and tossing her head once, her mouth quirks the faintest of smirks as she speaks into a mic clipped to her top, "Don't worry about me. I could hit these two jokers with my eyes closed." She steps around to the edge of the platform, running the fingers of her right hand along the tops of all kinds of objects on a rack just waiting to be put to use. Several other platforms are similarly armed and thanks to the guywire, she can swing around to all of them with minimal risk.
The attention is back on the fighters, but one seems to be focused more on her, but his remarks only earn a laugh from the girl as she shakes her head. "Oh please, you'll find out soon enough there's no angels in the Seventh Circle." Her left hand lifts to brush her nails idly on the front of her blouse, "Get real, pops."
Her hand comes up with three machetes. As the two fighters address each other, the girl idly juggles the trio. "Yeah, yeah. Enough talk!" she finally calls out, taking a quick glance at the positioning of the two down below before she turns her back to the fighters. Down comes one blade before it gets flung Remy's way. The second one reaches her hand and is flung toward Jack. The third? She holds onto that, it will come in handy in a moment.
COMBATSYS: Ayame has joined the fight here.
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C.Jack 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Ayame
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Remy 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Ayame successfully hits Remy with Medium Fling.
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C.Jack 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Ayame
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Remy 0/-------/-----==|
COMBATSYS: Remy blocks C.Jack's Medium Punch.
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C.Jack 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Ayame
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Remy 0/-------/-----==|
A hiss escapes Remy's throat as the weapon slashes across his torso, slicing through the leather of his jacket to cut his arm at the shoulder. Flecks of blood splatter across the concrete floor, staining the pit with fresh crimson. The machete clatters to the ground behind the Frenchman. He kicks it aside, his eyes focused on the oncoming form of his real opponent here...
No distractions.
His injured arm hangs by his side. But he moves his /other/ arm, sweeping it up into the path of Cracker Jack's punch, smashing it aside with a crunch of bone on bone.
"FINE," he growls, his ire directed both at the fighter in front of him and the mocking girl up in the rafters, "let's see how much fun you have..."
His voice rises into a roar, a raw sound of fury blasting from his throat.
"WHEN..."
In quick succession, he thrusts a palm into the Hispanic man's face.
"...YOU..."
And if that connects, he follows it up with a brutal knee to the abdomen, then a punishing uppercut, delivered with all his strength.
".../BLEED/!"
COMBATSYS: Ayame successfully hits C.Jack with Medium Fling.
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C.Jack 0/-------/-----==|-------\-------\0 Ayame
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Remy 0/-------/-----==|
COMBATSYS: C.Jack endures Remy's Crazed Waltz.
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C.Jack 0/-------/-======|-------\-------\0 Ayame
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Remy 0/-------/---====|
COMBATSYS: C.Jack has joined the fight here on the right meter side.
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Remy 0/-------/---====|======-\-------\0 C.Jack
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Ayame 0/-------/------=|
Cold. That's pretty cold. "Pops? Well, guess I can't win 'em all." C.Jack laughs at his own expense as she brushes him off like some kind of dust. Hey, he's not ancient. He's still pretty young. And then that's about when the 'angel' produces some weaponry. What do ya know? Grinning, C.Jack watches as Ayame tosses it towards him, or one of them towards him, and does something simple. His hand reaches back towards the hilt of the bat.
"But you coulda' been a little more nice. After all, I'm planning to get some enjoyment out of this, and if it ain't through him, it'll be through you angel! So better make your shots count. I'll be having a riot anyways." Oh, now that's reassuring.
And then the voice of Remy distracts him. "Eh? What now?" The Machete slams into C.Jack's back, jamming in there nice enough, and then causing Jack to stagger forwards a bit.. but perhaps this is the best, because as the punch slams into Remy's own arm, and Jack's fist is swept to the side. Well, this'll be .. and then the fury takes over, it seems, as Remy slams a palm towards his face, a knee to the abdomen, an uppercut. But Jack is ready this time, and as the palm slams forwards, he takes it head on, a knee causing him to falter, but as the uppercut slams against his chin, he's grinning. "Perfect."
He moved with the strike.. And Remy is uppercutting. C.Jack is already looking worn, too, but like heck is he going to simply stay on the defensive. As he's struck, Jack's hand on the hilt of the bat is swung forwards, and the metal weapon is brought upwards towards Remy. It aims to slam him upwards.
And then, if that quick, heavy strike reaches it's target, C.Jack is already leaping up to grab Remy and then bring him down, face first, to the ground. Hard.
"I don't know..feels alive to me. Better than anything I can be doing." He's spattered with his own blood, white cloth growing crimson, "But I feel like you should learn why I'm called CRACKER Jack!"
Ayame glances over her shoulder to see that both of her blades struck home. Hmph. A little numbness in her hand doesn't seem to be hurting her aim any at least. Then again, she's been warming up for this fight for the last couple hours since Elle described it to her. Get out there and make a scene, shed some blood, cause some chaos. She's never actually been /asked/ to do something like that before, but it was definitely right up her alley.
"If you can't handle him, you can't handle me," Ayame rolls her eyes at Jack's retort, left hand snaking up the wire affixed to the belt around her waist. She watches the two fight below before glancing over the arena at the array of things that were set up in advance. Split second calculations result in the next course of action as the girl leaps off the platform in a swinging dive.
A flick of her wrist and two ropes are severed, their payloads allowed to freefall. She's good with math and her figuring puts both of the fighters at just the right place for the two heavy sand bags now plummeting toward them.
The girl completes the swing on a secondary platform, only have watching to see the result of the falling weights. Right now she's eying what else she has to pick from. "Hmm... Should we go with sharp or explosive?" she asks, glancing toward one of the cameras nearby as if entertaining the audience's preference on the matter.
COMBATSYS: Remy dodges Ayame's Large Thrown Object.
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Remy 0/-------/---====|=====--\-------\0 C.Jack
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Ayame 0/-------/------=|
COMBATSYS: Remy endures C.Jack's Power Hunter.
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Remy 0/-------/-======|=======\-------\0 C.Jack
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Ayame 0/-------/------=|
Down below, in the sunken pit, the sound of a bat smashing into human flesh and bone echoes through the arena like a gunshot. The bat smashes into Remy's skull, snapping his head back at the neck, with a punishing, punishing crunch of abused vertabrae.
It would seem that the Frenchman managed to dodge the sandbags...
...right into the path of Cracker Jack's namesake. The bat. And the ensuing crack. Yes, he /does/ know why the man's named such now, as the concussion rings round his skull.
He flies skyward, before being grabbed...and slammed hard into the cold, unyielding concrete.
But amazingly enough, the Frenchman doesn't make a sound. He simply glares at Jack, wrenching himself free. He works his jaw, spitting out blood and a loose tooth.
"First you," he says, flatly "then the /bitch/."
Oh, how sweet. He hasn't forgotten Ayame.
But he's attacking the Cracker Jack. First things first.
The Frenchman is sprawled on the ground, in close proximity to the Shadaloo fighter. But he moves, now, blasting into the air. Remy doesn't bother to stand - he just explodes straight up from lying on his side and back, rising on a plume of spirit-forged power. Without any startup, without any warning, just sheer explosive speed from nowhere. Both of his feet flashing towards the Hispanic man's face, carving a rising crescent arc of blue-white fury, a blazing light that engulfs the pit with retina-searing power.
COMBATSYS: Ayame successfully hits C.Jack with Large Thrown Object.
- Power hit! -
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Remy 0/-------/-------|=======\==-----\1 C.Jack
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Ayame 0/-------/------=|
COMBATSYS: C.Jack stops Supreme Rising Rage Flash from Remy with Batting Hero.
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Remy 0/-------/-------|=======\==-----\1 C.Jack
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Ayame 0/-------/------=|
"Can't handle you?" Now there's a challenge, and if you know Jack, you know he's not one to back away from challenges. With Ayame's left hand snaking to the belt, before she leaps off in a dive, severing two ropes as she lands on a secondary platform. C. Jack notices it. It's planned.
Oh he's going to be doing SOMETHING that's for sure. And Ayame might not like it.
But things don't go as well as planned, do they, and C.Jack's attention is grabbed by Remy. And that's when the sandbag slams into him, crashing him forwards, causing him to stagger. C.Jack isn't ready for it anymore. His plan, before, would have throttled Ayame, his original plan. This, however, is quite painful. Nearly crashing to the ground, C.Jack's pretty pained, the pure luck of being blindsided by it. Oh he saw, but it's so easy to forget about those things! One hell of a headache, C.Jack has now, but that never stopped him before. Of course, he never had Remy rushing towards him.
And as the Frenchman blasting into the air. There's no way to get out of the way. But Jack isn't interested in running. Swinging the bat in his grip, C.Jack grins. Long shots. Oh, how he loves them. As the explosive speed and then the crescent arc of blue-white fury engulfs the pit, the entirety of the pit would go silent after a heavy ringing sound, the crack of a bat against something with rather incredible force collide. Whatever does it mean?
When the flash fades, the bat is dented, but both feet are stuck against the bat, force against each other straining to get through. "Looks .. like you ain't ready to move on just yet!" His muscles strain as he holds this position, holds him from getting to him. Leaping back, breathing heavily, C.Jack grins under that .. slightly bent hat, due to the sandbag, and his dented bat. He's also, of course, still bleeding. "One hell of a fight.. and I just got back into the swing of things. Don't let it be over.. still got plenty!" Oh, but man is he winded.
Watching the fights from the platforms is like having VIP seating to the best show in town, but Ayame's attention is divided between watching the brutal blows and split timing defenses on the part of the fighters and looking eagerly over the inventory of items available for her disposal. "Oooo," the girl speaks into her mic, not having missed Remy's implied threat toward her. "That's real scary coming from the guy that's probably going to surrender before this fight is over."
Her fingers play over the rack of instruments for making the fight interesting for /her/ at least. Being down below is probably not so great. Her bandaged hand comes up with a giant bladed discus. "Hm, looks like we'll stick with /sharp/ for now." Stepping to the edge of the platform, she curls her arm and then sends the heavy metal object spinning through the air toward Remy.
Whirling around herself to snag a second one, that one is enroute to Jack in the next moment. Heavy, sharp, and spinning down from above like a frisbee from hell. "At this rate we'll have to declare the stage props the winner," she adds with a quick laugh.
COMBATSYS: Remy endures Ayame's Power Fling.
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Remy 0/-------/----===|=======\==-----\1 C.Jack
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Ayame 0/-------/-----==|
Blood oozes down Remy's hand, running in rivulets between his fingers.
The bladed edge of the disc rests against his palm. Slicing through the flesh, reaching clear to bone. His head is bowed, eyes closed. His spine curved, his body hunched over. His chest heaves, as he inhales, his breath ragged, coming in fits and starts.
He looks up, then, eyes opening, focusing on the girl up above, suspended in the cradle of steel.
He smiles, his lips pulling back, showing too many teeth.
"Stage props," he says, in a deceptively mild voice, "the winner?"
The soles of his boots scrape across the blood-slicked floor. And Remy lunges forward, arm whipping to full extension, slicing the circular blade in a razor arc in front of him, a crescent of lethal steel. Towards Cracker Jack, then, and his own pathetic excuse for a weapon.
A wordless cry escaping Remy's lips.
COMBATSYS: Remy successfully hits C.Jack with Random Weapon.
- Power hit! -
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Remy 0/-------/---====|=======\=======\1 C.Jack
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Ayame 0/-------/-----==|
COMBATSYS: C.Jack interrupts Power Fling from Ayame with Home Run Hero.
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Ayame 1/---====/=======|====---\-------\0 Remy
COMBATSYS: C.Jack can no longer fight.
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Ayame 1/---====/=======|====---\-------\0 Remy
Jack loves to fight. Elle wasn't wrong with that! But no house rules had said that C.Jack COULD NOT wipe the hell out of someone who deserved it. And currently, C.Jack couldn't find someone else who doesn't deserve it more than the woman about the ceiling.
And at this point, there's a heavy, sharp, spinning object towards Cracker Jack. But that'll come later. First, as Remy smiles, a mild voice before Remy lunges forwards, C.Jack thinks he's ready.. but the circular blade slams towards Cracker Jack. And it slams heavy into his body. Blood gushing from the front, C.Jack looks up from the straw hat, grinning to Remy. "Well.. you won this one 'pal... but it ain't the way I wanted it to be. And right now.. I'm gonna take care of something... " Coughing up some blood, C.Jack doesn't even wait for it, and with his steel bat sliced a bit, C.Jack's got one hell of a weapon.
Giving it his all, C.Jack kicks against the side of the pit putting all his strength behind it, the heavy star slamming into C.Jack as he rises.. and it's enough to take him down. But not yet.
"Alright, Angel, this was fun, but how about you and I do it alone some time.. instead of so far.. AWAY." Ayame, on that platform, is suddenly assaulted by C.Jack. And not in a good way. The slightly sharp, bent, broken bat is swung with full force, a heavy home run strong, but this one aiming to slam against Ayame and drive her into the wall between the audience and the fighters.. before collapsing on the platform, hat sliding over his face. Guess Remy's the automatic winner here. Until he beats up on Ayame that is.
Cracker Jack swung for the fences, though. And that's what matters. Because he didn't strike out.
He had one hell of a time, too.
This time she watches the twin spinning projectiles as they whirl down into the pit. Heavy 'artillery' like those aren't exactly her forte, so she can't help but be curious as to the accuracy of her aim. And it looks like both of them hit their marks... though she can tell neither really tried to avoid them either. "Hmn. Okay, so maybe I should have gone straight for the anvil drop." she admits, eyes straight thoughtfully over toward a wooden plank straining under the weight of a dozon iron anvils. She'd like to see someone tough that out!
But it seems one of the two has finally decided to take the fight to her, leaping up onto the platform to pay the pesky girl a visit. Eyes widen slightly with obvious surprise as the foreigner decides to get up close and personal. "Maybe sometime when you're not already bloody me-" she begins to reply but he cuts off the retort by slamming what's left of the bat into her chest, driving the girl clean off the platform against the area wall. She's lucky it's not Spike Night as she slides down to the ring below, landing hard on her side.
A coughing fit produces flecks of blood at the edge of her mouth as she pushes herself up slowly, rubbing her lips with the back of her arm, using her other hand for support against the wall. "I guess we know what his idea of fun is now," the girl manages between gasps for breath. "But this is certainly the place for that..." Lowering her arm and turning around to prop her back against the wall, brown eyes narrow in Remy's direction.
If he decides to make good on his threat from before, then the audience might be in for a surprise bonus fight, albeit likely a brief one. The corner of her mouth curls up in the faintest of smirks as the blonde eyes the Frenchman back. Her right hand slides down her side to rest against the top of a small pouch, pulling back the cover to open it up.
COMBATSYS: Ayame focuses on her next action.
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Ayame 1/---====/=======|====---\-------\0 Remy
Blood still drips from Remy's hand, his fingers curled around the circular blade. His eyes are locked on the fallen girl. He takes a step forward, then another.
In the background, the crowd roars, their noise reaching fever pitch. The spotlights above shine every brighter, tracking the Frenchman's progress as he stalks across the pit, step after step.
But he ignores that.
Behind Remy, up above, Cracker Jack lies sprawled on a precariously swaying platform. The Hispanic fighter isn't getting up. That means that Remy is the victor here.
But he ignores that too.
No, he just walks towards Ayame. One step. Two.
Three.
Four.
He breaks into a run.
Five. Six. /Seven/.
His lips draw back, baring teeth. His eyes are bloodshot, the whites streaked, his pupils tight orbs of pure mindless fury. He charges, thrusting that blade forward, aiming to simply cut Ayame down against the wall.
COMBATSYS: Ayame counters Quick Punch from Remy with Final Solstice.
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Ayame 0/-------/-------|=======\-------\0 Remy
Careful where you drive that rage. The leaning against the wall. The gasping for breath. Some of it quite real. Some of it for show. And he'll pick up on that as his steps pick up speed.
Sparks shower the arena floor as the blade is knocked aside by a six foot long titanium pole produced seemingly from no where. Only the hydraulic hiss of the weapon extending gave any warning at all that she was far from defenseless.
The deflection was only the first step of what becomes a whirling, dance of pain infliction as Ayame spins forward to slam the staff into Remy's side. "Watch where," another slam comes from the other direction, this time accompanied by a small explosion of red energy trailing behind the weapon. "...you swing that-"
Up from low to high to crash against his chin the light weight but solid metal slams again. "... thing or someone might -" Ayame hops forward into a spin, hefting the entire pole over her back more like an executioner's axe than anything, before bringing it crashing down on the top of the green haired young man's head with one final explosion of violent red energy. "...get hurt."
The girl lands in a crouch, polearm out to her side, head bowed, pony tail resting against her shoulder. The chi coursing along the staff begins to dim, pouring from the lower end of it almost like a fluid, before vanishing against the arena floor.
Remy groans, a pained sound coming from his throat. He coughs, spitting up a thick gout of phlegm, tinted red with bloody. It's not clear if that's just from his split lip or shattered teeth...or a sign of something worse broken inside him.
He presses both his hands to the ground, palms against the arena floor. He claws himself up, rising first on one knee. Then on both feet. He sways on unsteady legs, stumbling. But he's on his feet, all the same. He stares at Ayame.
The bladed disc he caught earlier lies on the concrete, forgotten.
The Frenchman draws a ragged breath.
"Namely," he spits, "you."
And with that simple pronouncement, he snaps an arm out, fingers splayed, grasping the air. Air that /distorts/, as Remy's spirit twists and rents the life-force of the arena. A whirling blade of pure energy, slashing out, blue-green-white. And his other arm comes round, as he twists, a second blade spinning to being as he /screams/.
COMBATSYS: Remy successfully hits Ayame with Dual Light of Virtue.
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Ayame 0/-------/-======|=======\==-----\1 Remy
Ayame is slow to rise back to her feet from her landing position, feeling the effects of the injury inflicted by Jack starting to take its toll. She's going to need to get out of this mess really fast one way or the other, as the suffocating sensation accompanying her attempts to breath doesn't bode well.
An attempt is made to get out of the way of the first blade, though in so doing she steps right into the second energy blade, not realizing one followed the first. The impact drives the girl back into the first one as well, the energy shearing skin and cloth as Ayame's back strikes the wall with a solid thud for the second time this night. This time as she starts to slide down it it's all real, blood seeping from two fresh gashes on her stomach and side. The staff is used to brace her landing, allowing her to keep standing a bit longer than she probably should be able to. Ugly, body shaking coughs only confirm her terrible condition.
Releasing the staff to let it lean against her shoulder, her left hand reaches over to slide back the cloth covering most of her right forearm, revealing a small contraption that expands to become a small, wrist mounted, mini-crossbow. Her right arm trembles as she raises the weapon to point in Remy's direction, but for a moment she focuses, steadying the limb just long enough to fire a true shot directly toward him before her arm drops against her side.
COMBATSYS: Remy dodges Ayame's Sudden Fling.
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Ayame 0/-------/---====|=======\==-----\1 Remy
The whisper of steel against flesh.
The crossbow bolt scrapes against Remy's skin, the barbs at the end of the projectile tearing a new line of red across his face. But he hardly notices the damage. He barely flinches. Another inch, and it'd have taken out his eye...
...but right now, he's far past noticing little details like that. He stands where he is, swaying slightly to the left, his head tilted away from the near-miss of the crossbow. Then his head snaps round, eyes locking back on Ayame.
Remy smiles.
It's not a nice smile.
Not a nice smile at all.
When he speaks, his voice is a hoarse whisper, rasping from an abused throat.
But the microphones pick up his words, amplifying them, sending them booming over the chaotic sounds of the bloodthirsty crowd.
"Having," he asked, "fun?"
His eyes harden.
"BITCH?"
He slams both his arms forward. Spinning discs of blue-green light crackle to being around his palms. And with a ear-shattering roar from Remy's lungs, they explode from his hands. A rapid-fire burst of chi-forged fury, blast after blast unleashed at the girl.
COMBATSYS: Ayame dodges Remy's Light of Justice.
[ \\\\\\\\ < > ////////// ]
Ayame 0/-------/---====|==-----\-------\0 Remy
"Che," is the reaction Ayame provides when her bolt fails to leave more than a grazing mark. Her left hand reaches over to take hold of her staff again, though she's gripping it mostly for support at the moment, brown eyes following his movements carefully as she struggles to remain standing.
She can hear the words he has even over the roar of rushing blood in her ears. But all he gets in return is a flicker of a grin at the edge of her mouth just before the raging blasts tear through the air toward the teenaged fighter.
Blue-green energy blasts into the wall, smash after smash, obscuring her location with the devestation wrought by Remy's power unleashed. "Honestly," comes the quiet voice to his side, barely audible over the cacophony created by so much rage being spent crushing the wall of the pit. "It was a lot more fun being up top."
Already the dual blades of two butterfly knives are on their way toward the young man from the girl close at his side. One aimed for his chest, the other toward his lower back, the long staff from before no where to be seen.
COMBATSYS: Ayame successfully hits Remy with Assault and Battery.
[ \\\\\\ < > /////// ]
Ayame 0/-------/--=====|===----\-------\0 Remy
One knife slams home, driving through the leather of Remy's jacket - and through his ribs, through skin, muscle and flesh. The other strikes his back, just barely missing the spine...but reaching his kidneys, lacerating the delicate organs. He gasps, his eyes wide, vision blurring...impaled on both sides by the murderous assault.
And yet...
...he's still standing.
His breath comes in fits and starts. But he's still breathing. His heart is still pumping. His nerves scream with white-hot agony. But he's alive.
Ayame might have cause to rue that fact. She might, very soon.
Because with strength born of pain and torment, Remy /retaliates/. He -twists- in Ayame's grasp, heedless of the fact this just drives the blades in further. No, that doesn't matter. All that matters is getting a grip on the thrice-damned bitch, closing a claw-like hand around her neck. All that matters is lifting her, spinning her around...and SLAMMING her against the arena wall.
She needs to suffer.
That's all that matters.
COMBATSYS: Ayame fails to counter Disturbed Sleep Outline from Remy with Bright Renewal.
[ \\\\\\ <
Remy 0/-------/--=====|
COMBATSYS: Ayame can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\ <
Remy 0/-------/--=====|
Her right hand releases the handle of the blade sticking out if his lower back, already slipping down to that pouch at her side as before. She makes no move as his hand takes hold of her neck. Good. Squeeze. Get a tight grip. In fact, go ahead and lift her off the ground. Commit to an action, leave no room to change course when-
What she hadn't counted on was the journey to the side of the arena wall that comes next. The thud of her body hitting it for the /third/ time tonight is accompanied by a squeaking gasp as the last of her breath escapes her lips. A six inch long metal tube rattles against the ground next to her foot, the only evidence of the retaliation she had planned on.
No more struggle. Only a single convulsion as the rest of her strength leaves her before the girl's limbs go limp and she slumps to a seated position on the floor.
The second Ayame falls unconcious, the monitors flicker back to life. Once again, Elle's impassive face appears on the screen, looking over the carnage. The match went on farther than she expected, but there's no stopping them once they start. The staff knows the risks of combat. Their actions in the arena largely unprotected. Elle doesn't play favorites as long as the fight continues. Once it stops, however, is entirely different.
And she says as much, but not in so many words. "Remy wins," she says, her voice flat. "The match is over." The tone is definitive. The match is over. The voice has enough inflection for subtext: any further combat actions won't be condoned.
Although barely heard over the screaming of the crowds, the stone faced stare is enough to cause the crowd to take heed as a cage is dropped, the paramedics teams being lowered into the ring to retrieve the unconcious fighters and make sure they get the medical attention that they need. Elle doesn't say anything else. She's not the kind to make a lot of fuss. Instead she remains present on the screen like a looming figure, just to remind the fighters that she's there as people are attended to.
In the meantime, winnings are collected and a seperate lift for the still-standing fighter is lowered. It's time to clean house and make sure that everything moves along smoothly. While the arena may be a hotbed of chaos, Elle runs a tight operation.
His ribs heave, as he inhales, as he exhales, his breathing heavy. Even the simple act of drawing breath brings fresh spasms of pain through his system. The knives are still buried in his body, driven all the way to the hilt. Any lesser being would be dead several times over by now, from sheer trauma, from the blood loss...
Remy's still standing.
He is a man who hates fighters. A man who hates their so-called world. But that doesn't change the fact that he is a powerful combatant in his own right. One who is, so far, /undefeated/ in battle. Not the play-acting those glory hounds bark at. No.
When Remy fights, it's for real.
"How do you like /that/," he sneers, "bitch?"
He raises one boot, lifting it off the floor. His pant leg stained a darker red by streaks of blood, it still makes a decidedly uniform blur of crimson as he lashes out, /kicking/ the fallen Ayame. Mercilessly.
"Liked it better when you were /on top/, did you?"
He intentionally twists her words, as he draws his foot back for another kick.
And that's when the paramedics reach him.
One of them says something, begins to protest his treatment of the fallen girl - he can't quite hear. He isn't listening. With a growl, Remy whirls round, whipping an arm to full extension...and comes all of a split-second close to smashing one of the medics full across the face. The blow stops, though, just /barely/ short, his knuckles inches from the man's face.
With a snarl, Remy drops his arm, and shoulders past the stunned paramedic. Ignoring his own wounds.
He just. Doesn't. Care.
COMBATSYS: Remy has ended the fight here.
Elle sits back in her control seat.
The funny part is, Ayame's not even a fighter. A theif, a confidence trickster, a mercenary. Never a fighter.
A finger flicks off the display screen, and the large projections power down. Remy is as unstable as ever. Unlike him, however, Elle does care. In fact, she cares enough to make sure the man is escorted from the premesis, whether he likes it or not. Prima donnas are one thing. People that can't control themselves are another.
In the grand scheme of things, however, the man did what he came to do: make her money.
Bodies will heal. With the full suite of medical technology Elle has available, the little girl will be up on her feet in no time. Everyone else, however, will get trucked off to the proper facilities.
She stands. It's time to take a walk to the staff infirmary. There's business to take care of. There's always business to take care of. Cracker Jack, Remy, the Circle, all of it is put away for now as something to be examined again later. Right now? There are reports to collect, orders to give, and plots to course.
Boots echo down the hallway again. Time to go back to work.
Log created on 22:29:00 11/30/2007 by Marise, and last modified on 16:28:16 12/01/2007.