Description: A FIGHT. In a SCHOOLYARD. For the sake of the CHILDREN. FIGHT, RUST, FIGHT FOR THE CHILDREN. And well, A BATTLE ENSUES. BUT IN THE END... THERE IS ONLY ONE.
There's a whole lot of places C.Jack's gotta visit. He already met a church, and there happened to be some people in it. And C.Jack? Well. He didn't let that stop him from having a little chat with someone certain up there.. but his message apparently WASN'T what the kids there liked.
One of them surprised him, but hey, he got his fight.
This time, the hat wearing Hispanic's found his way down to the Southeast Section of Southtown, and what he finds there was exactly what he was looking for. Teaching the students with a 'global community'. Yeah. That's why some of them came down to Thailand when the big boss was there, and ended up taking him down in the end.
Well, it's payback time. C.Jack doesn't know the name of every fighter, but what C.Jack DOES know is that he ain't too happy with how they got involved. These schools had some of their share of eager young minds and faces, as well as bodies, who happen to throw themselves in places they don't belong.
Walking into the Campus, C.Jack draws enough attention, what with a aluminum bat hanging off his back as he walks in, hat over his eyes. And it doesn't take long before he's set upon by at least a security officer or two.. and having one of them ending up with a bat to the stomach.
A quick motion, and the guard's down. Not killed, no, but Cracker Jack ain't all to interested in the guards anyways. Those plucky young students.. that's the stuff. "You didn't get rid of all of us, boys and girls." The bat hits the cement twice, the sound ringing through the air. "I came back to repay the favor!"
It's pretty obvious .. someone's gotta notice this.
Howard Rust... well, it hasn't been that bad a day. Sure, nobody came to class today. Even though Pacific is lax about attendance, it's not something he entirely approves of. On the other hand, it gives him some free time to pursue his own personal projects around campus. Sadly, he wasn't allowed to go run out to his favorite sandwich shop to grab lunch. That's because they've got world class cooks here to do it. The food's good and all. Great meals, nutritious, and allows those who attend here to experience cuisine the world over - which tuition already covers (and he gets for free, being staff). But sometimes, a man just wants his sandwich, damn it. That'd have to wait until the school day's over, barring any discussions with the principal, other staff, some parents, or students seeking some assistance on their latest class assignment. (Some of them... are very needy, in that regard.)
Turns out he doesn't get much of a chance to daydream as he roams around within the gates of Pacific almost aimlessly. He probably should just wait in his office or the classroom. But, as luck would have it, he is within the vicinity of the latest of incidents to hit Pacific. Good luck, bad luck, who knows. But the sound of a yelling security guard, followed by the sound of something hitting cement twice. Hey, that's how he tries to draw attention when student crowds are going ballistic! It certainly gets his.
Jogging over to the front gates with all speed he can muster (...which isn't much) and a creak in his right knee every three steps, his right hand's on the ill-defined 'hilt' of Ol' Rusty as he draws near, just in case. Better not be another student tantrum. This better not be another student tantrum, he thinks.
He gets his wish there as he happens along Cracker Jack standing before an injured, defeated guard. His throat clears loudly, his other hand brought up to his mouth as he coughs once after the fact. His throat gets so dry these days.
"The hell is going on here? What the hell are you doing?" Pretty standard responses. The man's shorter than he is, maybe by a few inches... doesn't look like a student. Some kind of mugger? He has no idea who he's looking at.
In more than one way.
Well, you get what you get with C.Jack. Hispanic, hat covering his face, somewhat lazy style of clothes, mostly dressed in white save for the black shirt he always wears. Mostly. "I can tell you the answer to all of those, but you know? It doesn't matter. See. You got some students here, somewhere, who have to learn, sometime, that it ain't always the best idea to stick their head into places it shouldn't be. Sure they've been taught some lessons already, but me? I'm here to teach them on they might never forget."
Big words, coming from a smaller man than rusty. And with another length of metal, a pretty large bat, hanging in his hand. "Looks like you're just some kind of construction worker? You don't need to get involved in this." C.Jack doesn't need to get other involved if need be. It's between him and the brats. They got Vega, they ain't getting another chance.
"See, Vega wouldn't really be happy if we didn't get a message out. While Vega ain't here right now, I'm pretty sure he isn't one to be too happy about the interruptions he kept getting from the brats here. Get out of the way, and I ain't gonna have to get my hands dirty on another. Course, I'll take you up on the offer some other time."
C.Jack just really likes to fight, and well, he's not entirely a brute.. but such things don't exactly get to be seen very often, as C.Jack's far from 'nice' right now. Lately, he's been going around to get some old fashioned revenge. Then, you know, he'll get on it.
It? Finding Vega. He's GOTTA be out there somewhere.
Taking the bat, C.Jack dashes towards one of the students.. "Hey, punk, you tell me who stuck their nose in our business, or some heads are going to be cracked!" Clearly, he doesn't get the message.
Eh, then again, he's the Drill seargent to Shadaloo. He doesn't NEED to listen to most people.
Smaller man, sure. A smaller man that made short work out of campus security. They aren't the toughest men Howard Rust has ever known, but even at his most cynical about the behavior of several teenagers that attend here, they're perfectly fine at keeping most people that shouldn't be here out. This man's got to have skills.
Rust, here, sure, he might be larger. But in so far as weapons go, if one were to look, his is nowhere near as imposing. Short. Doesn't even reach around the top of his head in full. An earnest fabrication made in hopes that he does not appear any older than he actually is. Also, a banged-up, rusted metal pipe of some indeterminate make that he must have picked up just about anywhere thrust through a toolbelt pocket he ripped off the bottom of so it'd go the whole way in, easily at least a few inches shorter than Jack's best friend.
Crimes against the very word 'hairstyle' and unassuming weapons aside, Rust doesn't seem ready to relent on the onslaught of explanations and demands and promises of violence and all that. "I work here," he puts emphasis on the word 'work' when it comes to getting involved, "and who the hell is Ve--" His voice trails off.
Wait. Thailand. That was all over the news months ago. Aw, shit, they were involved in THAT? His mouth nearly hangs wide open, a pop from his jaw. This is just that more serious as Cracker Jack seems to dismiss him as somebody he has no interest in beating down in favor of the kids.
He can't let this happen. Problem is, he almost does as Jack passes by after one of the students. Hell no, hell no. Ol' Rusty stubbornly refuses to properly be pulled out from the top, so he has to bring his hand down low and yank it out from underneath all-too-hurriedly, ripping open the toolbelt pocket it was stuffed in. Teeth clenching, blood pumping, he dashes after Jack.
If Jack ain't paying attention, Howard Rust has a much different proposition for him. With a popping of the joints in his left hand, he reaches out for the back of Cracker Jack's head and tries to force him down onto the ground. With the other, if he gets a good hold on him, he'll attempt to bring the butt end of the pipe down on his back multiple times to try and knock some wind out of him.
"Get the HELL AWAY FROM THE STUDENTS!" Almost heroic. If his shoulder didn't feel like snapping with every sudden movement, it'd be in agreement too.
COMBATSYS: Rust has started a fight here.
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Rust 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: C.Jack has joined the fight here.
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C.Jack 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Rust
COMBATSYS: C.Jack fails to interrupt Hammering from Rust with Medium Kick.
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C.Jack 0/-------/-----==|=------\-------\0 Rust
He works here? Oh, who cares. He's not the one who was there, he couldn't have been, and on top of that, he's gotta WHOLE LOT of student's to go through. Shouldn't be too much of a trouble. But then, as Rust moves closer, Rust ends up reaching for the back of his head, Cracker Jack sending a foot around.. but only getting ripped off his feet and being slamming into the ground, the butt end of the pipe instead falling towards his solar plexus, impacting multiple times as he struggles.
To note, however, the hat still hasn't moved. Perhaps it's just one of /THOSE/ hats.
Either way, once Rust keeps beating into him, C.Jack's grinning. Once he finishes, or once C.Jack is getting tired of having the wind knocked out of him, as the pipe slams over and over, "You .. got one hell of a strike ..." A trail of blood from his mouth? Eh, it means it hurt enough. But C.Jack's pretty tough, and while that was one HELL of a strike.. Rust is going to need a whole lot more.
Grabbing the pipe, C.Jack pushes it back, perhaps with Rust, and forces himself to his feet, brushing himself off as he brings his fists up, crackling them one by one as well. "Alright .. if that's what you wanna do it.. I'll just start with you.. you seem promising. Making an example out of you'll have to do for the moment."
He's WANT to punch back .. but he's still getting his breathe back.
Try getting hit with a pipe and taking it like a man.. AND getting back up. C.Jack ain't even that much.
log/addcast 1=C.Jack Rust
log/desc 1=A FIGHT. In a SCHOOLYARD. For the sake of the CHILDREN. FIGHT, RUST, FIGHT FOR THE CHILDREN. And well, A BATTLE ENSUES. BUT IN THE END... THERE IS ONLY ONE.
l
"Yeah, thanks," which Rust almost doesn't mean in a polite way, but there's a part of him that feels good that he can still dish it out. He exhales deeply, stopping the assault only because it takes a bit of wind out of him to do for more than a few good, strong hits. His shoulder still pops like it doesn't want to. He didn't get much of a chance to really stretch prior, but that kind of concern takes a back seat to some stranger that was involved in some bad shit months ago strolling in with the intent of taking out his students.
But how far is that going to really carry him?
His eyes widen in surprise as Jack pushes up and forces Rust back off with enough force that he nearly loses his footing. Rust knows he's got a strong arm on himself, but that... that's a good grip, a good shove. And he's taking this like he likes it. (A part of Howard Rust, a pretty big part of him, also likes a good, clean fight. But when you're up against someone that seems to /enjoy/ what you can dish out...)
"I don't know... I don't know what they did over there," Rust says as he brings his right arm down to point Ol' Rusty outward towards the side, "but... ah, fuck it," there'd be no real reasoning here. Threat on campus, and he's probably the only adult here who could take care of it. Unless Roy strolls by and casually beats Cracker Jack into the lower stratosphere or something.
Nah, he wouldn't be that fortunate.
With a start again, his left hand reaches out for Jack's collar once more, in roughly the same type of grab from when he was first trying to hurl him down and away from the students. If he can get a good, uncontested grip - and given what Jack just did to push Rust back off, this is going to be a challenge in itself - tries to hurl him upwards and behind him, back towards the gates. The further away he can get him away from the student body, the better.
The more and more Rust doesn't realize he may very well be out of his weight class in down 'n dirty brawling, the better too, while we're at it.
COMBATSYS: C.Jack interrupts Strong Throw from Rust with Soccer Ball Kick.
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C.Jack 0/-------/----===|=====--\-------\0 Rust
It doesn't take long for C.Jack to get back into it.. but it doesn't either, it seems, for Rust, because as Rust brings Ol' Rusty out towards the side, C.Jack is listening alright. "They got in the way of Vega. In the end, can't find the guy anymore. And that means I have a LOT of free time now. Guess how I decided to spend it while I'm waiting for the boss to come back." C.Jack responds by pointing the bat towards Rust.. and as his collar's gripped once more, C.Jack's almost hurled upwards and behind without his own power.
He couldn't avoid it. Instead? He went into it, and as he was being chucked away, he brings a foot backwards, and in mid throw, slams it towards Rust's back, with all the force he can muster.. which prevents Rust from completely chucking him MILES away, but he still lands, rolling, to a stop.
A knee first, then standing, C.Jack's away from the students, but Rust may not be enjoying the way it happened, though. While C.Jack isn't exactly the strongest guy you'll ever meet, he's one hell of a brawler, and his fists come up again as he lets Rust recover.. "Heh... I think you don't got what it takes.. but you're going to be one hell of an interesting fight. You're not just falling over. Let's see which of us goes down first." Unlike Rust, C.Jack's able to keep going for extended periods of time .. well, what do you expect from someone who's a drill instructor. I mean, look at Hayato! That guys crazy.
The bat, however, has yet to be used... maybe he's waiting for something. MAYBE.
"So, let's see what you got left! You better fight.. because if I'm still in enough condition to keep on going, these kids aren't going to take long to end like you!" .. Although you have to realize.. this is probably going to come close despite the blood and bruises on Jack's form already. He can take it, and dish it out.. but how long?
Howard Rust doesn't want to talk about the very idea of a big name terrorist leader having interest in attacking his own school. Even if this crazy man just wants revenge for whoever it was among the student body that went over there and... did... something? He doesn't know specifics other than what the news reports on TV mentioned. God damn, is he teaching a bunch of soon-to-be secret government agents?
(Maybe.)
Makes his job that much more complicated. He knew Southtown was going to be a tougher place than where he lived all his life prior, but this... oh man, oh man. Maybe he'll have to go have a word with the principal about all this.
If he ever gets the chance. As chance has it, right when he tosses Cracker Jack up, Jack cracks a kick back down on his back that puts the brawler back on track with a kick that could crack a spine of a lesser man. It's more than enough force for Rust to eat the ground face-first. He lets out a manly gasp of pain. That wasn't a small hit, and he once was able to pride himself on being able to take virtually any kind of hit head on and come out not much less worse for the wear. If he still believed he had all that, this would be a very humbling gesture.
Not to mention how Jack seems to dismiss him... er, initially. Is he a good match? Is he not? Hell if he knows if he is for Jack. His body cracks and creaks and groans as he rolls onto his back and sits up, eventually. At least Jack's giving him the space to get back up, something Rust would not have given in turn given the situation.
He coughs for good measure, blood seeping out of his mouth. He didn't notice he bit his cheek when he took it in the back. So, maybe it isn't that he's out of shape, Jack just knows how to throw a good hit. He'd worry about that when the jackass is off the campus, thank you very much!
He actually has to use Ol' Rusty for support to get back up, his neck cracking again for no good reason. He shakes his head thrice and brings Ol' Rusty up to bear. C'mon now. Take a step. Any step. And screw you if you start to cramp up on me now like you did earlier, right leg, so he'd think.
Steps are taken. Once back in something approaching melee range, he decides not to really give much of a care for Jack's perfectly good boxing-like stance. Sure, he's in a good position to hold him back or knock him upside the head, but he's not fighting here to doubt what he still has or hasn't.
Ol' Rusty is taken in both hands, his left towards the bottom, as he lifts it up and thrusts down towards Jack's collarbone with his right arm the dominant pushing force. It's as though he were trying to shovel the pipe into him, teeth clenching as he bites the same cheek he did earlier. One eye widens at this late realization.
Can you dig it? (Ugh.)
COMBATSYS: C.Jack endures Rust's Deep Strike.
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C.Jack 0/-------/-======|======-\-------\0 Rust
As Rust gets back up as well, his neck cracking, Cracker Jack has got more than enough time to show him about 'cracking'. Heheh. But as Rust takes old rust in both hands, C.Jack takes a tried and tested, and also found to be successful, action. In all of his time, C.Jack knows when to take a punch, as with the current fight. Ol' Rust and Rust get pretty close, and then thrusts down towards Jack's collar bone with the pushing force, slamming towards him.
Oh. It hits. And it hits hard. But as it does, C.Jack doesn't give a single step, actually walking towards it.. so why would he... it becomes apparent rather quickly, as Jack takes back his other fist a moment later, a large grin on his face as he then slams the fist forwards, towards Rust, as he ends up slamming the pipe towards him.
Now, if this was any old punch, it'd be less than amazing. Instead, this punch is packed with enough power to cause Howards Rust to bend, perhaps, and even to break. Slamming it forth towards the solar Plexus, the fist moves with all of Cracker Jack's weight, and is intent on forcing itself inside of Rust's guard. Especially with the sudden ferocity of the strike out of nowhere.
Leaning into it, hit or miss, Cracker Jack steps back afterwards, spitting some blood to the ground. "Looks you CAN hit pretty hard .. but I'm not sure you can take a punch yet.. gotta hit you more than once." Cracking his knuckles, it looks like C.Jack isn't taking all the abuse as well as he'd like to, but in the end, he's sure as heck not backing down.
He doesn't have any love for this place, nor much things, but he has them, and a fight is a fight .. even if they're just kids. Rust ain't, that's for certain, but it's what C.Jack likes, and is good at.. to a point.
COMBATSYS: C.Jack successfully hits Rust with Final Punch.
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C.Jack 0/-------/=======|=======\==-----\1 Rust
Rust got crackin' on that counter-cracking business, but as it so happens, Cracker Jack is a tough nut to crack. Crack wise about it all you want. The exchange of blows is nothing to crack up over if one isn't adept at taking a punch themselves.
Cracker Jack, in fact, goes so far as to do the sort of thing he would in a situation like this. Step up and take it. When Cracker Jack doesn't move back from the sheer punch and those knuckles crack, he takes a very, very deep breath. His gut gets sucked in pretty visibly at what he only has a split second to do as he tries to swing an arm downward into the way of the oncoming punch.
WHAM.
Rust doesn't go anywhere. Did he take it? Did he take the punch heard the campus 'round, bone-shattering force and all, and survive it intact without a lost beat? His posture is statuesque, broken only by a tear that rolls down his cheek as he slumps down onto his knees and onto his back with a number of vocal groans and a couple of joint cracks that compete to be heard over himself.
That answers Cracker Jack's question, doesn't it?
He looks ready to just lie flat and let all that soak in. Adrenaline prevents him from getting a good handle on anything that just got broke, or ruptured, or what have you. Blood flows out of the side of his mouth at a steadily increased rate. Once bitten, twice unlikely. He bucked the trend on cheek-biting. At least he hasn't done it thrice in a row yet.
The way he crumples and the way Cracker Jack stands, though... that provides an opportunity despite being shown up at his own best qualities so far. He could reach out and get Cracker Jack's belt with Ol' Rusty without much of an issue.
An obvious choice of action presents itself, deciding that the more time he spends crumpling under something that surpasses his ability to take it, the more time Jack has to threaten the students. He nearly wasn't able to work up a damn while the sting worked its way over.
"What's it look like?!" Rust bellows hoarsely after the hiss of a deep grimace, foregoing trying to get in a better position as he thrusts the pipe up somewhere around Jack's belt, his right arm already cramped from taking such a punch so stiffly with his elbow creaking in the sudden movement. If he can hook it inside it juuust right, it'd be a trifle to lift him up and give him the sort of thing you'd see a school bully do to their victim.
An atomic wedgie.
Not that Rust would be able to prolong it in a best case scenario, tossing Cracker Jack along a couple moments later after a few overly dramatic waving movements born from having to dead-lift a full grown man with a single arm that hasn't done a lot of weightlifting lately. Assuming Cracker Jack or the cramp in his own arm doesn't do him in first, in any case.
COMBATSYS: Rust successfully hits C.Jack with Wrecking Ball Swing.
- Power hit! -
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C.Jack 1/-----==/=======|=======\===----\1 Rust
As Rust collapses onto his knees, groaning, C.Jack slides the bat behind his shoulder, grinning, and shakes his head. "You gotta have more than that..." Bloody? You bet he looks it. But laughing, C.Jack isn't going to really care. After the grimace and hiss, The pipe catches Jack's belt, and hooks it just right.
And then, of course. Jack's being deadlifted, and thrown. And thrown FAR.
Launched, C.Jack lands... but not altogether very nicely. He lands, and boy it hurts. He's got some time.. he's not yet, but what's the choices he got? There's alot of them, that's for sure. But bleeding, and now pretty bruised, Jack's not doing too well.
Forcing himself to his feet, C.Jack tips his hat forwards once again, bleeding, shirt messed up and all bloody, he's still standing. Perhaps that's a bad thing for him. Maybe he really needs to take a breather, you know? Probably, but in all seriousness, C.Jack isn't one to let himself get worn down. Instead, wounded, in such a state, Cracker Jack does what any good ol' boy in his condition would. HE COME'S OUT SWINGING.
"Alright .. so you AREN'T worthless like the rest, but you know.. I've had some fun, but this was going to be personal.. so how about I just get rid of you." Tapping the bat twice against his feet, C.Jack then breaks out in a straight rush towards Rust.
The bat is swung once, but then let go of, C.Jack slamming a fist towards Rust's midsection if the bat hit's or not, aiming to drill the earlier strike in farther, before slamming a kick towards his center, and then following up with a few low punches before taking a fist back, like he might recognize, and then just SLAMMING it home towards his gut.
He's crazy, man.
COMBATSYS: Rust endures C.Jack's Crazy Jack.
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C.Jack 0/-------/------=|=======\=======\1 Rust
Rust might not be bleeding so badly. But he's taken his licks in several painful places, and under those clothes one could almost think the bruises formed to really be some advanced stage of cancer in curious places. And hey, there's still blood coming out the side of his mouth, which has already dribbled down onto his undershirt and stained it - and that vest - a deep red color. He bleeds like any other man does. Creaks like any other man does, when his knuckles would go about as white as any man could manage under the gloves. Ol' Rusty squeals under the tension as Rust lets Jack fly. This gives him ample space to rise up, doubled over. The kick to his upper back and that fist to his solar plexus, neither have really blown over yet. Jack's left some licks that Rust will remember him by long after the two are done swinging at one another. He breathes in and out, unsure if that was the one to finally take him out. His belly heaves up and down with every breath. Sweat runs down his forehead, wiping his free hand against it and those thin strands of hair that try in vain to travel the distance between one side of his head to another, the sweat glistening off of the shame of man's greatest futility at this point.
...Ew.
Looks like it's not done yet. Rust's head hangs with a scowl. Dammit, he doesn't know if he could really take another and keep standing. Ol' Rusty hangs back, pointed outwards by his right arm as Jack calls back. He still wants to crack some heads, and Rust's resolve may reach the cracking point against a clearly superior enemy out to do some very, very serious ill.
And here comes Jack, faster than Howard Rust can blink. In fact, he doesn't. His eyes shut tight, as if to go 'oh my god, no, don't let this hit me, c'mon, don't.' His left hand clenches tight, his teeth shutting so tight it's a wonder a tooth doesn't crack under the pressure. Oh, his cheek? He just bit it again. That makes three times.
The blows are merciless. They're all something of a blur. Things sting in places he's not even /struck/ at. His right arm just rears back further, but then the joints simply lock up as blow after blow is landed. His gut is far softer than Jack might have expected for a man his size, and they all register almost indistinctly. Right before the final hit, Jack might think Rust is on the ropes.
Rust thinks he's on the ropes! He's numb down in the center, it hurts to breathe. Despite having an arm cocked back and in absolutely perfect condition to strike, he hesitates. Does he want to risk it? Jack doesn't give him the chance to really pre-empt the final blow, the fist striking dead center.
Dust kicks up all over from the friction as Rust slides back about a good... two feet, at most. He remains bent forward, exhaling at the conclusion with one, softly spoken word. "No."
His right arm doesn't want to move again. But it had damn well better! Ol' Rusty finds itself thrust forward despite the protest of his arms bending in ways that, while perfectly normal, recoiling back at Jack far more quickly than anybody who stomached all those shots really should. It conflicts with his right arm's desire to just not twist around so much with a chorus of creaks and cracks. His knee, too, groans as he puts most of his weight on it into his own forward dash.
It's not a prolonged series of strikes. It's just one as he seems to dash by Cracker Jack, maybe even glancing at his side. If not stopped or interrupted by any means, Rust comes to a stop about a yard past Cracker Jack and tries to thrust it back into the toolbelt pocket it normally resides.
Or would, if it didn't get ripped off when he yanked it out to begin with. One quick strike, almost in a samurai-esque fashion. Does he manage to get that far in the face of this most punchiest adversary yet?
COMBATSYS: Rust successfully hits C.Jack with Condemned.
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C.Jack 0/-------/---====|===----\-------\0 Rust
Rust slides back, and from the final strike, C.Jack attempts to look over the dust, looking on from under the hat. Yet at this time, he can't see anything. Barely hear anything. And then Rust speaks. Oh, damn, he heard that alright. "I think it'd be best if you did." And that's about when Rust recoils as far as he can, with some pretty bad sounds from what he can tell. C.Jack's never had his body make THOSE sounds before, before the dash occurs, and C.Jack is suddenly looking upon a Rust slams by C.Jack.
But nothing, SEEMS, to happen. Rust stops a yard past him. And then suddenly C.Jack coughs, flopping forwards almost, his breathe unable to be found, to be grabbed, to be HELD. He can't breathe for a few moments, the wind knocked out of him, and when he gets that again, he wipes off a larger stream of blood from his mouth. He gets to his feet, but the fatigue is getting to him now .. and he's not able to keep going, as it is, that well either.. looks like he might need to take a breathe.
"... That... was ... pretty good." But C.Jack's got a few tricks left .. well, maybe just one.
He's going to need it, provided he's not crushed under the weight of Rust's skills. It's getting pretty close .. first time he ever had to actually hang back.
COMBATSYS: C.Jack gains composure.
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C.Jack 0/-------/----===|===----\-------\0 Rust
That is the very first time, in years, that Howard Rust was able to actually pull that one off. Compare this to when he just threw himself off the end of Elle's chi wall of pain without really thinking of the composure. Hell, he was pretty eager then. It was a good fight. Kind of like this one.
Ol' Rusty drops out of his hand, largely forgetting the 'shealth' got ripped off. That, and one eyebrow cocks high, one eye wide. FUN?! What the hell, you're thinking this is fun? He scoops up Ol' Rusty off the ground as it clatters, rising to turn around. The weight of what struck him moments earlier wants him to sit down, maybe even lean forward. He leans back instead, Ol' Rusty resting on his shoulder for the moment.
"Let me say... something." The odd pause comes as he has to cough again. "You really think that's... that's good. Yeah, I might be, you know, flattered. If you weren't... weren't going after my kids." This is giving Jack a little space to catch his breath, but for how long?
"Don't know which ones. Which ones you're looking for. But, you think it's fun.... fun with me?" He shakes his head, frowning in disapproval. Blood continues to seep out the side of his mouth, which he's finally of the mind to wipe off his cheek with his left hand. He only pauses once to wonder just how much blood it's been, maybe that's why he feels a little light down where he's been struck.
"They ain't going to let you off so easy. Not nearly as easy as I might if," Ol' Rusty descends down by his side again in his right hand, same stance as earlier, "if you," and thus he lunges forward, one eye shut closed as sweat trickles into it while his right hand spins the rusted, battered old pipe in his hand in an almost impressive fashion compared to most his other movements. Most of the time they're simple brute force, or hefting around, or whatnot. Is this Howard Rust's own little trump card?
"Get," he swings it upward as he reasserts his grip into a powerful, high-swinging uppercut, "your ASS," which almost leaves a shiny, rusty streak in its motion, "OUT OF MY CLASS!"
By now, those who have witnessed the fight have probably run to go get some more help. It's not the first time they've caught their Shop teacher getting into a fight with some of the less virtuous people of Southtown.
And, really, the snappy remark would've been better if they were actually where he conducts class. He's bleeding, battered, pissed off, and on a righteous mission to get this son of a bitch out of here. It was the first thing that came to mind because it rhymed.
Can Rust continue to press the advantage?
COMBATSYS: C.Jack blocks Rust's Cement Upper.
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C.Jack 0/-------/---====|==-----\-------\0 Rust
As soon as Rust seems to get back into the game, it doesn't take C.Jack very long to, either. "Game's not over .. we're running late into the final inning .. but if you think I'm just going to get the hell out because you ask me, you got another thing coming.." And then, he asks him a different way.
C.Jack certainly likes that way, though, and as the pipe comes up, slamming towards C.Jack's body, C.Jack brings up his own metal blunt instrument, and the baseball bat is held between both arms, raised upwards, and the metal pipe, rusty, emits a showering sparkle and a ear hurting cry of metal to metal, as well as the force between both instruments creating a vibration, which C.Jack stops by putting his bat down.
"But now .. I had some fun .. But man... you're going to make Jack.. CRACK Your skull!" Stepping back a few, a bit tired, C.Jack slams the bat against the ground once, twice... and then takes off towards Rust. Much like Rust, this may not be is best... but it IS the one he reverts to to try and finish a guy like him.
"You're just about to learn why they call me CRACKER Jack!" Dashing towards Rust, he spans the distance pretty quickly, and right before reaching Rust, drags the bat against the pavement before bringing it around, aiming to slam Rust straight upwards into the sky...
And if that powerful swing hits, Rust is going to have to come down sometime, at which Jack leaps into the air and then grabs him out of it, to slam him straight into the pavement.
He's giving it all he has. Even if the students are going to end up getting some help.. that he can't deal with.
COMBATSYS: Rust endures C.Jack's Power Hunter.
[ \\\\\\ < > ///// ]
C.Jack 0/-------/--=====|=====--\-------\0 Rust
The two weapons clash, rusted length of pipe that could've come from just about any butt crack of industrialized society against proven, durable, lovably manufactured metal baseball bat. And in that clash, if the earlier shove was any indication, that would be a weapons lock Rust would have eventually lost.
Until Jack decides to relent very briefly, leaving Rust to lean forward and dangle as the adrenaline starts to fade and the collective wounds start to want to have a word with him. In private. Howard Rust's ability to banter is at wit's end, in terms of his ability to keep focusing on the fight and not collapse under his own wounds. It's a close fight between will and giving way.
The fight between Jack's own uppercut and whatever pat of Howard Rust cares to catch is... seemingly, much more clear-cut. It's a direct hit, a clean one that sends Rust sky high with a loud declaration of pain. He goes high. High. High.
...
...
...
And then gravity finally brings him back down into immediate view. On the way up, Rust was eyeing the ground below, wondering how to best take this landing. He's had a few nasty falls in his lifetime, he knows how to take a hard one. But this... this... may, actually, be the furthest he's ever fallen. A lump ends up passing through his throat around the apex of the launch, little bits of blood from his mouth having flown wherever they will.
He's coming down fast, fast, fast. His left arm rears back as he tries to shift his weight towards his right arm, more so that he doesn't end up thrusting a shattered part of his ribcage into his heart or some grisly, fatal fate of that kind in a worst case scenario. But, very luckily for him, Jack politely leaps up and catches him.
Wait. Strike 'politely' out of the statement. That's because he accelerates him into the pavement, and what an impact it makes! Cement scatters everywhere! Cracks form for at least two yards in radius from the impact. Howard Rust is half-embedded into the pavement on his side, a rather... final, impact if it killed him.
The only hint at all that Cracker Jack gets as to whether or not that indeed finished him off is when his left arm thrusts up for the back of his head again, barely able to really pull himself out of his own imprint. It's a simple path from what he needs to get and what he intends.
Grab by neck/head/collar. Slam down head-first into a big crack in the pavement where a painful wedge would wait - if that Cracker Jack doesn't have anything to say about turnabout being completely fair play in this regard.
COMBATSYS: C.Jack fails to interrupt Brick Stacker from Rust with Batting Hero.
- Power fail! -
[ \\\\ <
Rust 0/-------/=======|
COMBATSYS: C.Jack can no longer fight.
[ \\\\ <
Rust 0/-------/=======|
As Rust ends up slightly imbedded into the pavement, C.Jack thinks it's over, and so when Rust slams a hand towards him, to grab him, and to slam into into the ground, C.Jack smirks. "Wrong idea, pal."
The bat still in his hand, C.Jack SWINGS.
And strikes out.
The grab is well timed, as the swing occurs, he's put off balance, and ends up moving with all that force in the swing straight where Rust pulls him, slamming him straight against the ground..
There's alot of blood, that's for sure, and his hat lands on his face. "Heheh.. Guess I'm out of practice.. next time, the hell you are.. I'm going to make sure Jack gets his licks in the right way...." But he doesn't simply lay there. Shadaloo. Laying there. In the place that you know, they had people FROM Shadaloo? C.Jack's smarter than that, and tough enough to stumble to his feet.
And then stumble away at least well enough to find a place out of sight to bleed, and to rest, in peace.
That church is kind of a nice place. At least, behind it.
Rust is... well... he's half-embedded into the pavement in a way that, were it anybody else, may be fatal. He can't feel his right arm any more. It feels like he's kind of stabbed himself on that side. He... doesn't even really bother trying to get up at this point. When he presses his left arm against the pavement to try and pull himself up, his body's already revolting. 'THE HELL YOU THINKIN' WILLIS, SHIT MAN I'M BROKE, CUT IT OUT OKAY, I'M DONE, I'M DONE - oh wait, you're not Willis, sorry.' And then when the right reminder comes up it's more something like, 'okay, dude, listen. First thing you say if they ask you something, you know they're going to, you tell them, 'I want a Subway sandwich.' Cool? Cool, rest well.'
So Howard Rust doesn't bother to pull himself up any more while Cracker Jack cracks wise after Rust may have cleanly demonstrated why that he is, indeed, named Rust. Or... maybe not. When Jack swears revenge, Rust decides he basically doesn't want to hear him talk. His left hand finds a nice chunk of cement.
...He's not that big of an asshole, is he? Jack's beat, he's going away in peace, just like he asked him to. By all accounts, he should just honor that and let him be. Hell, if he was able to match him... maybe, just maybe, he's got a chance against Marisol when the two have their friendly fight in less stressful and dangerous situations. Yeah.
He mentally shrugs along with the rest of himself and lets the chunk of pavement hit the block it was chipped off of, shattering into a bunch of other chips. Might as well enjoy sick leave after all he's done today.
With a sandwich.
And the kids being safe enough for the day and the guards not being too badly off. Yeah. A good feeling of accomplishment that overrides any guilt he might have felt about thinking any of this was entertaining.
So long as he has that sandwich, dammit.
COMBATSYS: Rust has ended the fight here.
Log created on 14:14:31 12/04/2007 by C.Jack, and last modified on 19:55:58 12/04/2007.