Description: On the abandoned set of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, the Ikari Warriors square off against EVIL!! ...nah, it's just K' and Blanka in costume! Witness as Whip finds herself the butt of Howard Enterprises' joke! Behold as Heidern wears something that isn't military fatigues! Is K' in a skirt?! Blanka in a suit? WHAT MADNESS IS THIS?? (Winners: K' and Blanka)
The set of the second Indiana Jones movie. A macabre showing of heathen, Godless excess overflowing with grisly props, infernal smoke and fire, and-- slashing through the center of it all-- a massive chasm, opening onto a river of searing lava. Or 'lava.' It'd all look far more intimidating were it on screen and augmented by proper lighting and editing, but live it seems a little... lacking. Maybe it's the fact that everything is rather noticeably fake, the 80s feel of it all rather carefully preserved.
For the time being, things are surprisingly peaceful despite the chaotic scenario the set presents. The SNF staff are busy flitting about with last-minute arrangements, especially concerning preparations for the 'special' stipulation of this fight. Towards that end, most of their activity concentrates towards the rudimentary dressing areas erected off to one side. The entire area possesses the peaceful liveliness of a beehive-- albeit an infernal, heathen beehive-- the quiet hum of activity undisturbed. At least, up until one of the main fighters of the event chooses to finally... just snap.
A literal explosion of rage rocks the set from the direction of the dressing areas. If there are any words involved in the sheer fury being unleashed, they're drowned out in the bursting snarl of fire that rips the relative quiet of the pre-match atmosphere apart. Wisely, SNF had invested in fireproof changing areas a long time ago, and so the closed-off area doesn't go up in flames; but a rather magnificent display of fire does, briefly, show itself from within as the door is simply -blasted- off its hinges. This occurrence is coupled with the extremely hasty exodus of the makeup personnel and costume designers, most of whom end up falling out over one another as the door gives way, as if they'd been cornered against it just prior to detonation.
A suspiciously-horned object, possibly the cause of this entire unfortunate outburst, is thrown violently after them. It rolls into the chasm of sacrificial lava death.
The source of it all snarls something to himself under his breath as he stalks out of ground zero and onto the set, dropping disgruntledly into a disgusted lounge on an obligatory pile-of-skulls prop and sinking into a brooding sulk. No one is close enough to hear him, but if they were they might hear something along the lines of, "...fucking lucky I like this fucking movie." Et cetera, ad nauseam.
Unfortunately for the young man, the theme of this fight was, -again-, costumes. The look he's been assigned to sport is the bastard child of savage tribal and heathen priest. It fits in distressingly well with his shock-white hair and dark skin. His yellow eyes have been circled and darkened with black liner, a usual stage makeup trick: the job looks haphazard, though, a little melted: like he didn't want to stay still for it (he didn't). Red paint claws fiercely in a series of horizontal stripes across the high planes of his cheekbones, a pattern repeated upon his bare shoulders. His throat is encircled by a series of stacked necklaces of various lengths, strung with horrific bone and twisted claws-- and a silver cross?! K' absolutely refused to remove his own necklace, resulting in this humorous incongruity.
As for the attire in question, well, it's actually just a really long, rectangular strip of red and black cloth: wound tightly and secured low on the waist, but left to drape freely pretty much everywhere else. The costume designers had thrown the free tail of the cloth over his left shoulder in a diagonal about his bare torso, mostly for lack of anywhere else to put the trailing end. Black leather bracers guard both wrists, and tightly encircle his upper arms. His usual gloves-- both the red one, and the fingerless black leather one-- remain. He needs them, as much as he hates the fact.
He hates it about as much as he hates this getup. And SNF. And Geese Howard. How is he supposed to fight in a robe? It was okay for the actual Mola Ram, all he had to do was rip out hearts. At the least, it
At the least, it might teach him something about fighting handicapped... though this attempt at self-consolation falls considerably short.
Luckily, it seems like Blanka won't be the only 'monster', today. K's impersonation of the persnickity priest of Kali was far more outrageous than Blanka's own costume. It's amusing - the second fight with K', the second time they've both been forced to dress up. The beastman is quite a bit more 'proper', dressed in a grey suit, wide thing glasses half-covering his face. His hair is as slicked back as it can be, the red spikes seemingly straining against the gel, intent on exploding out to the standard shock of hairdo he has most of the time.
As he makes his way onto the 'stage', his eyes are open wide, jaw hanging out in surprise. He's seen the movie - recently, in fact. Dan's collection of DVD's is getting raided before each SNF Blanka enters, each time trying to find a new manner of human emotion to express. He stalks over towards K', standing up before the slightly shorter man. He inhales, and attempts to get Chatter Lal's officious, slightly haughty expression set correctly on his pug nose. Teeth flash in a tight smile. "Would prefer real jungle. Pretending hard. Fight well." It's all he can offer - after all, he knows K' is more than able to handle himself.
Whip is cranky.
For one who does not commonly participate in the more flashy and famous fighting circuits, one can imagine her surprise when, the week she had finally decided to enter, she would be rewarded beyond her wildest dreams. 'Indiana Jones' and 'costumes' were the first words to pop out at her upon receiving her fight notice, to the young woman's immediate and immeasureable delight. Of all places, of all people to be playing during a fight... it was only a blessed, celestial, divine sort of perfection that, of all people in the entire world, it would be her playing--
--Short Round?!
SHORT ROUND?
"Short Round," Whip is seething, no doubt for the two hundredth and sixty-fourth time in the last hour, stalking out towards the set in a get-up she wouldn't even let herself get buried in. Her trusty tunic and breeches have been exchanged for jeans and a ripped, batted tee, overlaid with a dusty grey jacket that is lined with frog buttons. On her head is a New York Yankees cap, forcing her short dark hair to get hastily ponytailed back, tresses escaping from the bind and framing the scowl haunting her jaw. The only deviations from her detailed costuming are the massive Desert Eagle holstered on her back and the numerous amount of knives she has stashed on her person. Her very, very unimpressed person.
Whip, of all the people in the world, is not Short Round. She has the gun. She has the pulp get-up. She doesn't just dress Indiana Jones. She is Indiana Jones! How could the moronic fight personnel overlook such a mistake?!
Her sneakered feet stepping her up to where the main cameras have made station, the young Ikari is too busy in her own scowling world to even take notice of the other fighters present. She can see them there, but she's not looking their way. Not yet. She's not finished suffering. How could they not make her Indiana Jones. She even has the damn whip...!
Wait a minute. Her dark eyes glance down towards her side, where a very familiar weight should be -- at yet is not. Whip's eyes widen in alarm. In all her seething, she forgot Voodoo!
Sometimes there are the very rare occasions when Commander Heidern of the Ikari Warriors decides to bite the proverbial bullet and offer his 'services' up to those in charge of the Saturday Night Fight. Though he is not particularly fond of the venues, or the occasional odd circumstances he encounters--such as being nearly assassinated on live television by one of his many enemies--the man realizes it's not only a great way to hone his talents...but also to find out information about other fighters and, more importantly, potential threats.
But sometimes...the Ikari Commander regrets his decisions. Today is no exception.
When he received the venue, he was vaguely amused. Team up with his colleague Whip? Excellent. It had been some time since he got the chance to fight alongside other Ikari Warriors.
On the abandoned Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom set? He was again vaguely amused. It would be like Christmas day for Whip. She was a huge fan of the adventurer, after all. What better way for her to return to the SNF circuit than in a venue she'd clearly enjoy?
But when he discovered the fine, tiny print, all amusement was cast aside.
Costumes. It had to be costumes.
Clearly, though, the one-eyed Ikari Commander isn't the only one lamenting his situation. K' is clearly pissed about it, but what else was new with the experiment? Blanka...seemed to be giving things an honest effort, at least. This was surely to please the SNF officials. Whip? Not so much. It's a miracle no one has died for such a cruel oversight. She's the world's biggest Indiana Jones fan, after all!
Slowly but surely, three fighters assemble in the heart of the abandoned set, now rejuvenated with a bit of work. The 'lava' burns, the set is alive as it once was; all is well here in California. The only problem is, however, that they're missing one contender.
Commander Heidern himself.
Eyes flicker between two SNF officials, their features concerned. He did get the memo, yes? He was instructed and given the plane tickets, right? Then he should be here? 'Get the man on the line!' the producer on set exclaims, arms waving frantically. They have a fight to start, and no sign of the fourth fighter is in sight! What will happen..!?
DUH NUH NUH NAAAAAH--!
Someone in the audiobooth freaks out, having accidentally cued the notable theme. He panics, throwing his arms up as he attempts to shut it off. Everyone gathered is startled, eyes jerking every which direction. 'LEEEEEWIS!' the producer exclaims, comically shaking his fist, when, suddenly--
A figure swings in from practically nowhere.
It draws gasps and squeals, a few women and men clearly spooked by this mysterious figure. From the rafters it flies into view, a blur of white and shades of brown. With one harsh motion and a notable 'whipCRACK' the figure flies from the rafters and releases the whip from its coils in the steel above, heavy boots hitting the faux stones with a loud 'thud' and puff of dust. It skids across the ground, before it comes to a crouched stop.
Then, slowly, dramatically, the figure rises to full height, all six and three. From beneath the chocolate brown fur felt fedora, a solitary blue eye peers toward the gathered people.
--NUH NAH NUH NAAAAAH NUH NA NAAAA!
It's Commander Heidern, dressed in an open white button down with sleeves rolled up his forearms, khaki slacks with heavy boots clad on his feet.
And a whip in his other hand. A whip Whip is obviously familiar with.
"Here," he states simply, seemingly ignoring the fact he's forced to dress up.
"You left this."
COMBATSYS: Blanka has started a fight here on the right meter side.
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|-------\-------\0 Blanka
COMBATSYS: Heidern has joined the fight here on the left meter side.
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Heidern 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Blanka
COMBATSYS: K' has joined the fight here on the right meter side.
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Heidern 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Blanka
> //////////////////////////////]
|-------\-------\0 K'
COMBATSYS: Whip has joined the fight here on the left meter side.
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Whip 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Blanka
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Heidern 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 K'
He won't laugh at Whip's consternation. Oh no, no - he's sympathetic! He would have loved to be someone a bit more nice in his own costume, like Indy's buddy Sallah, or something of the sort. After all, John Rhys-Davies was much closer in bodyshape than Chatter Lal was for Blanka. He does grin, just a little - teeth showing, then hidden behind a pursed, arrogant sort of look. He sniffs a bit, pug nose wrinkling and glasses flashing in the reflected stage lights.
However, that's enough - he loses his composure when 'Doctor Jones' shows up, the music sending a thrill down his spine, just like it did on the DVD. When Heidern lands Blanka applauds enthusiastically, hooting and howling in excited expression of his enjoyment. But still - it's a battle, and Blanka will recover himself quite quickly, yes. He leaps into action, and gives into a lack of decorum, opening his mouth giantly wide as he roars. He brings his hands up and around, aiming at Short Round, intent on knocking her down and away from her 'partner'. If he can do it quickly enough, perhaps she won't have a chance to get her whip back!!
COMBATSYS: Whip dodges Blanka's Medium Punch.
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Whip 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Blanka
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Heidern 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 K'
Whip suddenly forgets she's cranky.
It was the moment she had moodily decided to look at her other opponents, perhaps to gauge them as whether or not she could even risk the absence of her precious whip--
--was when she heard a familiar sound. CRACK. And a thousand cracks from a thousand different whips, Whip would always, always be able to recognize her precious Voodoo.
It's the man wielding it that makes her doubletake. When Indiana Jones makes his dramatic entrance, landing smoothly, crisply before the gathered fighters, Short Round is left looking a little dumbstruck. Just a little. For as long as she's been with the Ikari and served under Commander Heidern, he has been a constant presence in her life, an unchanging one that extends even to his imposing appearance, which has never been without its formidable uniform and all its hundred buckles and thousand more pleated edges. He has never had one shred of it out of place.
She's never, ever, ever, EVER seen him like this.
Short Round's Yankees cap saves Whip's life at that moment; it serves well in hiding the faint blush that rises on her cheeks. After a moment of shocked staring, her military training seems to automatically kick in like a back-up generator, and clearing her throat, her posture straightens as she greets her commander with a stiff salute.
It's only her voice that wavers just a little. "S-Sir."
And, as Whip dutifully reaches for her proffered weapon -- it's then she catches movement out her peripherals and hears a sudden roar. She's finally forced to regard her opponents for the first time -- or one at them, at least -- when Blanka takes the immediate offensive. But the young Ikari is quick, moving without thinking, as she dives to one side, snatching her weapon from Heidern's hand the instant she tucks herself into a low roll. Pulling herself up to one knee, one crack of her arm has suddenly unravelled Voodoo's blue length, and the sudden crack has her weapon abruptly snaking toward Blanka, attempting to snap its length around one of his ankles. Should it connect, she is viciously yanking on the line, trying to throw the well-manicured beast off his feet.
K''s gaze skates upwards as Blanka comes to a stop before him, startling yellow eyes appraising his teammate: who he easily recognizes. Some of his crankiness ameliorates slightly into a look of harsh amusement, though the look in his eyes retains just enough inscrutability to be unsettling. So. This guy again. SNF probably just puts them in the same fights so they can advertise with some sort of 'beast' tagline. Beast of Prey. Beastman of the jungle. How cute! More like putrid.
He hasn't got a problem with Blanka though, which mostly just means 'he doesn't like or dislike him.' Which is about the best most strangers can hope to get from the NESTS experiment. He might have lost last time they met, something which grates at him, but it was only narrowly: thus, he can find it in himself to forgive. The beastman is too uncomplicated and earnest to draw much in the way of ire, anyway, even from someone as skilled at finding ways to be angry at people as K'. K' pushes to a stand impatiently, left hand roughly clapping Blanka's shoulder in wordless acknowledgement of his greeting.
K' steps around Blanka, his gaze coasting disaffectedly towards the opposite side of the set as Heidern Jones coasts in dramatically. His yellow eyes narrow. The Ikari Commander-- someone he'd have liked to have some words with, were they -not on international television- at the moment. He had been appraised of Maxima's encounter with the man, and while he doubts he himself could make much headway against the commander's obstinacy if even Maxima failed, he should at least try. Just not with the world watching.
Then his gaze travels to Heidern's partner. It stops there for a long time, K' staring far longer than is characteristic for him. For the better part of half a minute, K' internally struggles quietly, biting down hard on the immediate impulse to show any hint of joy at seeing her again. Circumstances aside. He wants badly to recognize her, to assure himself she remembers him and their meeting was real-- but such is dangerous for both of them.
He turns his shoulder to her as Blanka attacks her, ignoring the wellspring of vague worry beneath his skin, as he closes with Heidern with a rustling of cloth and a clack of the bone strung about his throat. He abruptly snaps his bare arms out, wrists loosening with a rough prepatory shake: the free end of those trailing robes hops dangerously, inches from sliding off, as his right arm rakes upwards. A snarling roar of fire cuts the air as a ring of flames bursts towards the Ikari commander.
COMBATSYS: Heidern Toughs Out K''s Eins Trigger!!
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Whip 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Blanka
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Heidern 0/-------/-----==|=------\-------\0 K'
Whether the Ikari takes note of poor Whip and her blush, it remains unsaid.
Instead, the one-eyed soldier peers down at his comrade, an arm extended forth to provide her the weapon she clearly left behind in a fit of feminine fury. Short Round, really! What were the SNF staff thinking when they brainstormed up this particular match?
The world may never know. But back to reality.
This is a strange new happening for...well, everyone. Heidern included. Something feels odd about not being in public without his infamous olive-green fatigues, but he worries little. He is an adaptable creature, and this is but one obstacle he'll have to overcome. That solitary blue eye meets Whip's gaze beneath the brim of his fedora, but there is no smile.
He lifts a hand...and places it on her shoulder, the whip--Voodoo--in the other.
"Good to see you, soldier," he offers with no stiff formalities. Why, he even sports a tiny grin, some half-hearted attempt to present to the flustered little Ikari a roguish smirk. It seems stiff and awkward, but it's there.
"Do your best, Whip." That's about when Blanka makes his move. Sliding back with a shove off of his foot, the Ikari weaves out of harm's way, as Whip does the same. With the beast between them, he seems intent on taking the initiative against the green-skinned creature he's seen in fights before. Worried? No way; Blanka seems like a good person beneath that scary exterior.
Besides, the old soldier has something ELSE to worry about. As off as his vision may be with but one eye left, he catches sight of the strangely dressed NESTS experiment to one side. Turning, the soldier meets the angry, dark-skinned man dead on as he suddenly motions his arm, a gout of fire erupting between them. Rather than run, or even try to shield himself, the Ikari does quite the opposite:
Tipping that fedora, the soldier blazes right THROUGH the ring of fire with an arm stretched out. His intent in that moment is simple: to grab K' by his stomach and whatever cloth he can and plant a foot, hefting the young man up shortly thereafter. He'll twist his body and slam the young experiment down onto his back before an arm shoots skyward, before a gloved hand comes down and attempts to lodge itself into the youth's midriff...with less brutality than he often employs, of course.
At least for now.
COMBATSYS: Blanka endures Whip's Snare Whip.
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Whip 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Blanka
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Heidern 0/-------/------=|=------\-------\0 K'
Whiff! Blanka tumbles a bit as he flies /over/ Whip, the girl a bit more agile than Blanka was prepared for. Instead of finding himself impacting her, he bounces once on the stage floor, then lands atop his butt, skidding to a stop. He starts to get up - and suddenly finds himself wrapped around the ankle by something looking vaguely like a jungle vine. Or... a whip.
Yoinked from his feet, Blanka hits the ground like a sack of potatoes, his glasses snapping, much to his consternation. He scrabbles against the ground, his hands digging divots in the flooring until he can push the pieces of glass to his face again. Back to his feet, he affects a 'ha-ha-ha, that didn't hurt me' haughty laugh like that Chatter Lal would use before he interfered with Indiana's pummelling of his partner. And with that, he attempts to do just that.
Turning away from Whip, he instead tries to launch himself at Heidern, his mouth opening wide and showing a row of very sharp teeth. He attempts to latch it to the back of Heidern's head, giving him a fair amount of awm nom nomming, and possibly doing something HORRIBLE to that fedora. That beautiful fedora. It's a replica, right? They wouldn't use the /real/ one, would they?!
Short Round allows herself a private little smile when Voodoo does its job, her free hand tipping the brim of her Yanks cap. But acknowledged as an Ikari soldier who is quick on her feet, she means to uphold her reputation, flexing her arm to free the fallen Blanka's ankle in the next moment. She stands, taking a defensive stance, calling her long-ranged weapon near to try to stay any retaliating strikes... that never do come her way.
When the very, very unusual-looking Chatter Lal decides on a quick detour and rounds on Indiana, Short Round widens her eyes. "Sir!" she echoes herself, though her voice now is clear and loud, attempting to warn him to the attack. Her fierce and absurd loyalty to her commander shines through, as she immediately rounds on her second opponent, attempting to cover Heidern by forcing an attack on him in hopes he'll retreat, or better, attack her. She doesn't want to see Heidern weathering them both.
The guy in the stupid Mola Ram outfit... she needs to get his attention. She has just the weapon.
In one smooth movement, she snags the monstrous Desert Eagle from her holster, aiming it quickly on K', the barrel pointed down at one of his ankles.
Fate is a fickle creature. And she's got one sick sense of humour. It's because of her that Whip only recognizes the man under the Mola Ram an instant after she's pulled the trigger.
COMBATSYS: K' endures Whip's Desert Eagle!
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Whip 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Blanka
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Heidern 0/-------/------=|==-----\-------\0 K'
COMBATSYS: Heidern successfully hits K' with Lead Belcher.
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Whip 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Blanka
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Heidern 0/-------/----===|=====--\-------\0 K'
Not expecting Heidern to simply plow through his fire-- you'd think he would come to expect that by now, what with all the people who seem inclined to do it-- K' isn't prepared for the reprisal. The attack might be less brutal than usual, but it's still a tearing scythe of a bladed hand straight into the vulnerable spot beneath the solar plexus. K' hisses a sharp breath, jaw drawing taut as Heidern rips into him. He tears free quickly, retreating and spinning back to a low crouch warily.
And now Whip wants K''s attention? Well, she gets it. The familiar sound of a gun firing cracks the air, and K' has only time to emote a very disbelieving, very vehement "/..../" before he's already bracing grimly: swinging clear around to just -take- the speeding bullet with a snarl and a spike of annoyed temper. The bullet lodges shallowly, catching on the bone of his ankle, and with a rather emphatic "God -damn- it!" he reaches down and digs the bullet out in a fit of pique.
A brother's patience can only extend so far.
Heading rapidly towards a full-on sulk, K' -storms- towards Whip, crushing the distance between them with a bolting 'teleport.' His tolerance completely gone, he gets right in her face. And, furiously, sotto voce so the cameras won't pick up on it, he demands, "You have -got- to stop doing that!" There's only a pause of an instant, however, before his expression just turns sly. "You're right though," he continues, still in that harsh whisper, "it's got to look convincing we don't know each other. So just think of this as my way of protecting you--"
And then K' just tries to get ahold of Whip, seizing her by the front of her shirt in an attempt to yank her clear off-balance. Should he manage he'll bring an elbow around to impact the spot between her shoulderblades, spiking her to the ground.
COMBATSYS: Heidern fails to interrupt Wild Fang from Blanka with Quick Throw.
- Power fail! -
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Whip 0/-------/------=|===----\-------\0 Blanka
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Heidern 0/-------/--=====|=====--\-------\0 K'
With one smooth, precise motion of Heidern's leather-clad hand, he delivers unto the NESTS clone - a notoriously angry young man he has heard about, yes - pain. Fortunately for the young man, he holds back a little. Once the harsh blow is delivered, however, the soldier swiftly steps back, his movements fluid and graceful as he recoils from his 'victim.'
That'll do, he tells himself.
A split-second later, however, the shrill and familiar cry of Whip's voice echoes through the cavernous set, drawing a mildly bemused expression across Heidern's face. He hears the warning and, turning, he attempts to snare the brute out of midair, before he can chomp into that famous hat and destroy it.
Unfortunately, it was a good idea on paper. In execution, however, it doesn't quite pan out. Slipping on stray rocks, the soldier's hands miss the green beast and, as result, those sharp fangs dig into the old soldier's cranium and the fedora attached, causing the man to sway and stagger from the blow, streams of red trailing down his weathered forehead and stinging his good eye. A few people off to the side gasp. The producer faints. Yes, that was the real thing. And Blanka just drooled all over it!
Spielberg is going to KILL them!
Chew chew chew, awm nom nom. Ugh, fedora. Somewhere, Blanka probably hasn't realized that he shouldn't be chewing on this specific piece of costuming, but he quickly does. You know, when the people start fainting, and gasp in shock. Blanka has his hands around Heidern, holding on and squeezing. His mouth hangs half-off the fedora, eyes open wide and his jaw no longer working, strong muscles not trying to nom anymore. He emberassedly eases his head back, making sure the fedora doesn't get any more drool on it, and pats it once back onto Heidern's head, then lets go.
Dropping to his feet in front of the large Indiana Jones, he launches himself backwards, a handspring to give him a little breathing room. As he does, he tries to bring his feet down near Whip's feet, and at the last second, he actually slides down completely flat, pushing himself at her ankles, trying to team up with K' and catch her either first, to push her off balance, or to catch her second, and totally smush her face afterwards with GIANT FEETS.
COMBATSYS: Whip blocks K''s Spot Pile.
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Whip 0/-------/-----==|===----\-------\0 Blanka
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Heidern 0/-------/--=====|=====--\-------\0 K'
COMBATSYS: Blanka successfully hits Whip with Backstep Rolling.
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Whip 0/-------/--=====|====---\-------\0 Blanka
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Heidern 0/-------/--=====|=====--\-------\0 K'
It would take a hawk's eye to notice the twitch that burdens Short Round's stern, frowning face. Thankfully, the brim of her much-appreciated hat hides the way the young woman's eyes widen when an all-too-familiar young man stalks toward her, pulled out of her recent past and plopped back into her life. Of all her luck. This is not what she needs.
But Whip is startled enough that K' gets his handful of her clothes, pulling the reluctant Ikari mercenary forward to his irritated whispers. She just stares like an owl into most of it. On a distant, and more rational level, she agrees. He's right. But not entirely. He wants convincing, but...
"Hmph, protect yourself," she retorts in a low voice, reacting suddenly and swiftly, adjusting her balance in time to twist. His elbow meets her turned forearm instead of her back, and frowningly, her eyes narrowed, she thrusts her arm to dismiss his attack aside.
However, even if K''s assault is defended, it works to distract Whip from Blanka's sudden return. She turns her head, registering his sweep at the last second. Her brown eyes widen. There, she tries to outstep it, but she's just not fast enough, and the strike takes her down. She hits the rock, and hard.
Short Round loses her hat. Looking up, and none too pleased, she pulls herself up to a crouch, a toss of her arm reminding her that Voodoo is still ready for work. Whenever Chatter Lal deigns to stand, she's rushing forward, a sudden and loud crack echoing through the cavern as Voodoo snaps forward to try to snag him by the throat. If she manages to catch him, Whip is both yanking back on the line and leaping forward, attempting to intercept Blanka with an aerial roundhouse to the face.
K' grins sharply and rakishly in answer to Whip's disconcerted look, an entirely different person in the midst of a fight than he is in social interaction. Confidence wreathes him here, a sort of hot arrogance that fits the fierce marks slashed across his face... and makes it easy to misconstrue his words, perhaps?! Whip certainly seems annoyed by his protective impulse.
He seems unperturbed by the way Whip defends his attack, even pleased by the skill shown: an expression which soon sours slightly at her retort for him to protect himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Blanka arrowing in, and coolly-- for the sake of appearances, of course-- he lets go of her shirt just in time to let her get taken hard to the ground. Perhaps a bit childish-- but then, K' really is little better than a child.
"Suit yourself," he teases laughingly at her downed figure. Brothers are such nice things, aren't they.
He turns away simultaneous with Whip's break towards Blanka, his left hand coming to manacle his right forearm tightly as his yellow eyes half-lid. With a tearing sensation of pain down his nerves, in his blood, he taps the stolen fire coursing therein: teeth baring briefly and stance opening bracingly as he weathers the burn of it. The Kusanagi fire stirs in him, blazing to a higher readiness and spilling over in the form of an abrupt lick of fire that consumes his arms. Part of the robe draped across his left shoulder simply turns to ash, as his left hand releases and he straightens.
COMBATSYS: K' gathers his will.
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Whip 0/-------/---====|====---\-------\0 Blanka
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Heidern 0/-------/--=====|=======\=------\1 K'
Unfortunate for Whip, it would seem she has become the center of attention.
Fortunately for Whip, Heidern has enough faith in the Ikari Warrior to know she will do her best to be anything but defeated. Thus with the tiniest of smirks, that solitary blue eye on the commander's weathered face simply draws to a close. He's still trying to recover from the soft ringing in his ears from when Blanka chose to gnaw on his skull like a melon.
Lifting a gloved hand, he adjusts the drooled-upon hat Blanka chose to leave upon his head, sliding it a bit forward. The brim shields the commander's eye and black patch, his arm tense as he observes Whip and her two opponents. For now, it would appear K' opts to hold his ground, calling upon those flames which do not rightly belong to him.
Thin lips ease into another smirk.
Thus, with little sound does the Ikari Commander crouch briefly before he leaps up high. His body twists at the apex, a leg shooting out before his boot's heel comes crashing down toward K''s head and shoulders with considerable force. If he wants to stand there playing with fire, Heidern will give him something else to worry about.
COMBATSYS: Blanka interrupts Strength Shot - Yuuetsu from Whip with Electric Thunder.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////////// ]
Whip 1/------=/=======|======-\-------\0 Blanka
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////////// ]
Heidern 0/-------/--=====|=======\=------\1 K'
Blanka is standing! He's standing! He's gotten to his feet, and he's started to move already towards where his partner is preparing for epicness. The swirl of fire around K's arm is familiar - Blanka's taken a shot or two from that himself more than once. It's an amazing sight, one that triggers a lot of Blanka's more animal instincts. Fright, shivery tension down his spine, a 'danger' that he has to push past. After all, this is his /partner/.
Where did the air go?
Blanka's growl is choked off quite effectively as Voodoo wraps around his thick neck, the whip perfectly positioned into grabbing him and cutting off his air supply. He straightens completely, focusing /all/ his attention on the woman as she comes in to follow up, and then prepares himself as best he can. He can't shake the connection between them, but he can use it to his advantage. As she heads to the air, he grabs onto the whip - sparks of lightning wrapping around his hands, in his eyes and deep in his maw. He bites down on the whip, and at that moment, those sparks blow up, travelling along the whip to catch Short Round with a burst of jungle electric-eel energy. As he frees himself, able to breathe again, he grunts out something, looking between Heidern and Whip.
"You call him... Doctor Jones!" Oh snap! He just stole her line!!
He can have her lines! Whip is NOT SHORT ROUND.
But she is a little Short on luck, as she soon discovers that very, very few things in life can hurt just as bad as this. Her possessive deathgrip on Voodoo the Ikari Warrior's inevitable undoing, she springs herself in the air in time to get electrocuted. Her eyes widen. The attack hits her, and her kick broken, she trips and crumples on the spot, left little bit a smoking, convulsing pile of young woman, blue whip, and pain.
Thankfully, soldiers like her never stay down for long -- especially in the presence of their commanding officers. She refuses to accept her failures in front of Indiana Heidern. Even as Blanka's retorting line makes her audibly groan.
"...hate Temple of Doom... worst movie in the trilogy..." Whip grits out against the dirt when she can get her voice back, spitting up a mouthful of blood. Finding her strength and centering it, she looks up in time, fiercely, her dark eyes arrowing back up on Chatter Lal. She's not letting that one go. With a flick of her arm, she retrieves Voodoo -- traitorous as the whip just was -- and in a skilled move, calls the weapon back to coil harmlessly over her shoulder. There, she pushes herself forward, grimacing as she rushes back to her feet, dashing towards him as she takes a sudden change in strategy.
Instead of a whipstrike, she tries to meet Blanka with a fierce punch to the face and a secondary swipe of her other arm at his chest, a wicked knife held reverse-grip in her other hand. Who knows where she pulled it from.
COMBATSYS: K' blocks Heidern's Medium Kick.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////////// ]
Whip 1/------=/=======|======-\-------\0 Blanka
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////// ]
Heidern 0/-------/--=====|=======\===----\1 K'
Fortunately for Blanka, that fire is not being wielded in opposition to him this time. Largely oblivious to whatever effects the sight might have on his partner, K' lets the blaze of flames surge high a few instants-- before snuffing it abruptly. Heidern is coming. His yellow eyes follow the Ikari commander's movements, tracking upwards as he leaps in a vicious axe kick. K' braces instantly, guarding himself against the brunt of the blow. Shoving back against it, he goes skidding backwards some distance... and considers.
The swathing garment makes it so bloody hard to kick it's driving him insane. Resisting the urge to just rip or burn a wide gash down one side of it so he can at least move, K' swallows his rising irritation-- the seething anger that makes it so hard to think and calculate-- and tries to focus on the experienced older man's movements. His eyes narrow.
The boy's body tenses visibly, muscle pulling beneath skin and snaking taut. The next second he's simply gone, stepped right out of the visual spectrum in a blurred black streak of speed. When he reappears in conventional sight he's instants from Heidern, his hand an inch from the commander's chest: it slams shut audibly into a fist, K''s entire form driving forwards to put strength behind the drilling blow.
Cover your heart, Heidi Jones!!
COMBATSYS: Heidern counters One Inch from K' with Killing Bringer.
- Power hit! -
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////////// ]
Whip 1/------=/=======|======-\-------\0 Blanka
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////// ]
Heidern 0/-------/-======|=======\=====--\1 K'
Swinging his leg downwards with considerable force, Heidern's intentions are telegraphed to the young rouge NESTS agent. The lack of flames as his heel descends is noted, evident by the twitch of his thin lips and the narrowing of that solitary blue eye cold as he observes the ill-mannered youth. As expected, he blocks the incoming strike with his forearms before shoving.
The Indiana Jones-themed Heidern simply follows the shove, his body twisting midair once more before he lands a short distance away in a three-point crouch before he slowly rises. From his place there in the former set, the old soldier watches as K''s anger seethes. His muscles tense, and the soldier can see it. He's becoming predictable.
And then, gone. In a blur of black, K' vanishes before the eye of the Ikari Commander.
However...
When he reappears to punch the soldier in his chest, the man moves with brutal efficiency. Swinging his forearm out, it clashes with the forearm of K', deterring the incoming strike and redirecting it completely, throwing his balance off. But Heidern does not stop there; quite the contrary, in fact.
Snapping his arms forward like some cruel serpent, those gloved hands grip the cloth of the young man and throw him into the air. Rather than avoid the falling K', however, Heidern positions himself UNDERNEATH the youth, thrusting his arm sharply upwards. A few crewmembers close their eyes.
They know where this is going.
When K' falls, he'll land on Heidern's chi-laced fingertips, his entire arm aglow with a rich, hazy-red mist. It draws through his body, blood oozing from the wound and drawing down along the man's bare forearm as he just skewers the former NESTS agent. And just when one cannot possibly bear the agony of having all their weight on that piercing gloved hand...
Heidern stands up sharply and tosses his arm aside, sending K' falling or rolling or landing wherever he may wind up.
"No ticket," he states, jerking a thumb over his shoulder toward K'.
"Psst!" the director of the SNF whispers.
"Wrong movie."
"..."
COMBATSYS: Blanka endures Whip's Medium Strike.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////// ]
Whip 1/------=/=======|=======\-------\1 Blanka
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////// ]
Heidern 0/-------/-======|=======\=====--\1 K'
Kali Mah is always supposed to work! Blanka would spend more time being surprised if he wasn't busy with his own part of the fight. No, no - he's dealing with Whip as best he can, the beast-man's costume already the worse for wear, what with the explosion of lightning along his body from earlier. As she steps in under his guard, he tries to reach for her, failing as he expects the crack of her whip. Instead, fire lances along his chest, the sudden surprise of her knife carving through his suit and digging into his chest easily heard from the bestial howl of pain. Eyes wide with shock and surprise, he loses it for a moment, perhaps two. And really, that's all he needs.
Clutching at his chest, he draws a half-step back. His eyes shut, and he focuses on that boiling rage from being hurt, from losing some of the 'fun' of this fight. The side of him in the jungle demands retribution, demands 'payback', right at this moment. He's not strong enough to stop that, either. His body falls forwards, as if he was sorely wounded - but it's a sham. It's just a ruse to get his body tucked into a ball - and then again, he explodes with lightning, blue-white arcs of energy that pop some of the other stage lights from it's fury. He's placed all his power into it, and t shows as he rolls towards Short Round, intent on bowling her over with all that power that he can muster.
COMBATSYS: Blanka successfully hits Whip with Direct Lightning.
[ \\\\\\ < > ///////////////// ]
Whip 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|===----\-------\0 Blanka
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////// ]
Heidern 0/-------/-======|=======\=====--\1 K'
Short Round finds herself fooled. She maintains the offensive when Blanka seems to fall back, wounded by the strike of her knife. She smiles a little. Switching grips on the blade, focusing her eyes, she moves forward to continue her assault -- only to find herself boldly walking right into one painful trap.
She only has time to widen her eyes and let a surprised gasp go-- before the arcing electricity cuts down onto her into a serious and brutal reprise. For the longest time, she can only react to it, unable to think through the smothering agony of the energy. It passes through her limbs in convulsing waves, sparking off the metal blade of her knife, forgotten inside her hand.
Whip collapses, the knife clattering away, heaping down into a lifeless pile, her body smoking much like it did once more. For many moments, she goes completely still, possibly felled for good by that sudden onslaught. However, the fingers of one hand start to twitch, and rustling, seething, Short Round refuses to exit stage right just yet.
Blood smearing across her face and limbs, her skin burned visibly in too many places to count, she forces herself up against it all, this pain, like all that before, just something for her to work through. With enough time and enough work, Whip pulls herself staggeringly to her feet, breathing hard, one twitching hand moving for Voodoo's hand. Her fist tightens down.
And staring dangerously at Blanka, Short Round says, "...Hold on to your potatoes."
Her arm moves with a blinding swiftness, and with a resounding crack, Voodoo awakens to her motions. Dashing forward, a harsh yell breaking from her sneering mouth, Whip with what little strength she has left tries to go to town on him. Without warning, she's a furious storm of strikes and belts from her Whip, continuous with the way she tries to aim hit upon hit upon hit on the poor Chatter Lal, her weapon more than able to shred clothing and flesh in its wake.
It gets easy to lose count just how many strikes she tries to impart on him... but somewhere between twenty and forty, the sneering Ikari suddenly twists her arm and turns a hit into a wrangle, trying to snag Blanka by the arm... impulsively so, despite knowing he's all too able to turn such an attack back on her. But she seems beyond caring, all her will into a sudden pull on her weapon's tether... to try to launch him straight down the ceremonial pit.
Only after it all, whether a success or failure, does poor little Short Round finally collapse.
COMBATSYS: Whip can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////// ]
Heidern 0/-------/-======|===----\-------\0 Blanka
> ////////////// ]
|=======\=====--\1 K'
K''s expression cuts into one of snarling frustration-- that anger finally cracking the surface-- the instant the more experienced fighter directs his blow wide. Thrown completely off-balance, K' doesn't recover quick enough to be anything more than a sitting duck for Heidern's follow-up. Heidern doesn't fight often enough in the professional circuits for K' to have come across many tapes of him, and as such he doesn't know to brace for the brutal -impalement- that shortly follows. The sudden agonizing pain catches him completely by surprise, and as such Heidern gets something out of the boy that few others do. He gets K' to actually give voice: a strangled, coughing sound of pain.
Thrown to one side, K' hits on a shoulder and skids a short distance before he can stop himself. He leaves a long smear of blood in his wake, additional redness meandering down from the corner of his mouth as he breathes heavily, evenly, and wetly. He seems to need a moment to recover... and it's in this time that he sees Whip get completely electrocuted. His head drops abruptly, white hair falling across his face to hide and force down the surge of irrational concern and rage.
He covers the sudden movement, disguising it as a simple prelude to the blood he disgustedly spits to the ground. When he looks up again, he just looks cold. Like he's forgotten there even was a fourth combatant. Pulling himself back upright, he stares at Heidern hard a few moments, trying to regain some measure of focus and equilibrium. This time, there's very little warning before he abruptly leaves the ground again, snapping a sudden kick towards Heidern's dour face. With some difficulty.
COMBATSYS: K' successfully hits Heidern with Minutes Spike.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////// ]
Heidern 0/-------/=======|===----\-------\0 Blanka
> /////////////// ]
|=======\======-\1 K'
The roar is the first sign for Heidern that things are headed in a particularly sour direction. Pausing in his observance of K', that single eye remaining shifts from the dark-skinned youth toward Whip, and for once the man sports a distant but very real expression of worry and concern. The worst part about it is he's not able to help her. Not from this position.
The man's lips pull into a sharp frown.
But then - perhaps miraculously - the girl's hand twitches, and she pulls herself up with every intention of pushing herself. Her tenacity is strong, and her will to fight admirable. Lifting his head a bit, the man hoods his only eye and watches in that moment, as she attempts to go out with a bang.
Or so he would have liked, because rather abruptly his world is shrouded by a boot to his face.
Struck harshly, the imposing Ikari is sent staggering as a gloved hand reaches up for his face. Already a well of red forms, blood trickling from his nostrils, but it fazes the commander little; instead, it only encourages him to want to punch the sourpuss look right off of K''s dour face.
With one harsh motion of both stiff arms from his side, the soldier swings them upwards, crossing one over the other at the apex. This doesn't do anything by itself, naturally; no, the real strength lies behind the blue and white chi that flares up in the wake of his fierce gesture, an x-shape burst of razor-sharp energy sailing right for K''s face.
So okay, it was a lie. He'd clearly rather burn the look off.
COMBATSYS: Blanka endures Whip's Sonic Slaughter KW.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////// ]
Heidern 0/-------/=======|=======\-------\0 Blanka
> /////////////// ]
|=======\======-\1 K'
To be fair, Blanka will be at least a little sorry for going all out on Whip later. He will, however, point out that he was not the one that brought a gun /and/ a knife to a fight. Blanka had stuck to his natural weapons, things that have served him quite well thus far - and the fact that it's enough to batter and bruise his opponent - good. Good, very good. He's breathing hard now, his body aching from the rather savage beating he's been given thus far - and he's certainly not fast enough to move out of the way as Whip closes in on him /again/.
Whips crack, the flick of that tip reaching supersonic speeds at the end of each lash scoring lines along Blanka's suit, shredding it completely at his chest. His pants fare little better, a Hulk-like decency allowed by the heavier material, but only just. He howls into the raging storm of srikes, reaching out for her, only to find himself wrapped up, and chucked towards the edge of the ceremonial pit. And in that moment, inspiration strikes. Blanka goes limp, allowing the impact to chuck him into the 'false floor', to drop him from view. He doesn't stay gone for long, though, his giant green hands catching the giant metal 'case' that the heroine of the scene would normally be put in. However, as it's currently empty, it just makes a great improvised weapon, Blanka swinging back and forth on it, then leaping out of the pit with it held above his hands like a giant wrought-iron gate. He attempts to smush Heidern with it - after all, Indy probably /should/ have been strapped into it at least once during the movie...
COMBATSYS: K' endures Heidern's Cross Cutter.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////// ]
Heidern 1/-------/=======|=======\-------\0 Blanka
> /////////// ]
|>>>>>>>\>>>>>>>\2 K'
K' has had it just about up to -here- with this entire match. He's tired, cranky, bleeding, impaled in several places, -in a robe-, and extremely confused by the fact that the sight of Whip crumpled up over there is -really pissing him off-. And K', like most impatient and emotion-driven people, doesn't react to confusion very well at all. It just gets him madder.
The rage off him is nearly palpable by now, manifesting in the slight shimmer of heat off his shoulders and arms. Heidern slashes a glowing cross straight at the experiment, and-- perhaps unwisely-- K' just storms right through it, yellow eyes slitting as he clears through the burst of energy with a twitch of pain as his face and shoulders are just -laid- open by the razorlike chi.
Too late, he remembers his shades totally got confiscated while he was in the changing area: the revelation earning a slight 'tch' from under his breath. He can make up for the initial distraction they would have provided in other ways, however... those ways involving upping the speed with which he makes his initial bolting rush. That, and his eyes-- heretofore fixed on Heidern's-- stray abruptly, twitching away as if focusing on something else. Perhaps Heidern will be distracted by -that-, perhaps not... either way, K' is gone from sight the next instant, kicking up his speed from 'blurring slide' to something like a true teleport, attempting to slam a harsh blow into the Ikari commander.
COMBATSYS: K' successfully hits Heidern with Chain Drive.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////// ]
Heidern 1/---====/=======|=======\-------\0 Blanka
> ////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 K'
COMBATSYS: Heidern interrupts Random Weapon from Blanka with Moon Slasher.
[ \\\\\\\\\\ < > // ]
Heidern 1/-======/=======|=======\=====--\1 Blanka
> ////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 K'
The first strike connects-- and K' moves immediately into a brutal sequence of punishing strikes, tearing into the Ikari commander in a flurry of peerlessly synchronized blows. The restrictions of his dress seem to drop away as K' chains hook into uppercut into sweep into slashing kick, ripping at Heidern with a desperate sort of ferocity. The speed of his motions seems to slow after a spell, the assault abating... but it is only the prelude to K''s abrupt surge forwards, straight -through- Heidern, with a powerful blow coupled with a burst of intense fire.
Well, this isn't good.
With Heidern's compatriot felled, he finds himself in a precarious position. Two enemies face him down, and the opposition is far from mere pushovers. Across the soldier's face forms a visible frown, that solitary eye still hooded beneath the brim of his fedora. Where once he had one enemy to contend with, now he has two. And it isn't easy to keep an eye on both - especially when you only have one GOOD eye.
Regardless, Heidern privately resolves to do his best, for the sake of Whip.
So what does he do? Well...
First he's shitbeat by K', but that's a given! Pummeled ruthlessly and brutally over and over, the soldier finds himself dizzied by the sheer speed and strength of the NESTS agent gone rogue. Clearly he has underestimated the young man so far, but he wonders - is this the best K' can do, or..?
With his white buttondown now matted with blood, dust and sweat, the soldier's visible eye flinches as he staggers back from the final burst of chi flames, very nearly felled. But he refuses; instead, that eye flickers to one side, catching sight of Blanka as he staggers and falls into a crouch, his breath ragged. Is he weakened?
No, he's setting himself up.
For the moment that gate comes crashing down upon the man's skull does he suddenly lunge forward, his arm moving in a wide, circular arc. Blue white chi cuts the air, a flash of white as the circle completes and slicing the gate in twain - and cutting brutally into poor Blanka's chest in the process.
Wait, wait, what!? There was this iron thing /between/ him and Heidern. Blanka was sure of this! At least, he was sure until Heidern went /through/ it to get at the beastman, to swipe that hand and slice iron and rend flesh - Blanka's green skin cut open widely. Yellow-gold eyes open in shock and surprise, and he really can't do more than give ground, fall back, stumbling as he lands in a heap on the stage floor.
He's slow to get up - slower still to focus on his opponent. K's got this under control, he thinks - Blanka can get the breather he needs in just.. a ... second. He slumps forwards, then braces, mighty legs tensing and then sending him high above the set. Up into the lights above, his hands grabbing on to metal pipes for support, to steady himself, to aim - then to bring himself down straight at Heidern, feet first.
One might ask 'where the hell did the melons come from?!?' but those questions are best left unanswered. In the end, it doesn't /really/ matter, does it? They're there, and they're falling all around. That's the important part.
COMBATSYS: Blanka can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////// ]
Heidern 1/-======/=======|====---\-------\0 K'
K' stumbles to a haphazard halt in the wake of his assault, heavily winded from the exertion involved in executing that brutal attack. It takes monumental effort to remain upright, but stay standing he does. And by some miracle, he doesn't get hit by any of Blanka's own melon-riddled attack. Perhaps they're laser-guided fruit... or maybe he's just lucky.
Panting heavily, he simply stands back a moment as Blanka careens down towards Heidern with punishing speed. He can do little to aid the beastman now, scattered as his focus is-- tired and reeling as he is. He tries to center himself, pulling himself together in something of a last-ditch attempt to gain some composure and survive just that much longer against the skilled Ikari commander.
His stance folds limply, the boy doubling over briefly to catch his breath. The motion soon translates into a tensed one, his battered form laced with hints of heat and flame, as K' forces his mind back on track: trying to gather himself and reassert his grasp on that elusive fire in his blood.
COMBATSYS: K' gathers his will.
[ \\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////// ]
Heidern 1/-======/=======|=======\-------\1 K'
COMBATSYS: Blanka successfully hits Heidern with Tropical Hazard.
[ \\\\\ < > /////////// ]
Heidern 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|=======\-------\1 K'
And here the Ikari Commander was certain he was through with the beastly Blanka. But soon enough the tenacious beast proves himself by pulling himself up from the wake of Heidern's assault and suddenly leaping into the lighting overhead. Squinting that blue eye, the man's jaw tenses as he observes. What is he doing..?
Then he falls, clearly with melons as well. Briefly the Ikari wonders just that - where DID they come from. But soon enough another thought crosses the soldier's mind. He needs to get the hell out of the way while he can. Again, this was a good idea in thought.
Not so much in execution.
Struck harshly, the soldier is sent stumbling once more before his body twists, hitting the ground with a puff of dust from the old set. For a moment the old soldier doesn't seem to be getting up. Has the commander-turned-hero been so easily felled?
Much like his subordinate, the man's gloved hand twitches twice before it lifts and slams down. Pulling himself up with a grunt, his teeth clench and he offers a mildly irritated look behind otherwise apathetic features. Rising up, he narrows that blue eye on K', as he again plays with fire.
"Not this time," he warns.
And with little more he leaps at the NESTS youth, his body twisting midair in an attempt to grab him by the neck...
COMBATSYS: Heidern can no longer fight.
> /////////// ]
|=======\-------\1 K'
COMBATSYS: K' blocks Heidern's Final Bringer.
> //////// ]
|=======\====---\1 K'
Agonized and clearly showing it-- both from the mess of wounds he's sustained and from the severe burn of his blood, which is near-boiling from his attempts to draw on his uncooperative flames-- K' hisses out a long and pained sound as he finally just... goes out like a snuffed candle. His eyes stay fixed on Heidern nearly the entire time, rife with the wary look of a cornered beast. Blanka is down... but his last hit did the job. Now, it seems... K' just has to live. Easier said than done.
"No. Maybe not this time," he answers lowly, his voice rough. No, he won't be getting any more fire. A humorless, desperate sort of smile pulls at the corner of his mouth and draws a tic out along the edges of his eyes; he isn't finished talking. He looks, by this point, quite mad-- and this time, not in the sense of 'anger.' "But--"
Foolhardy of him to add that 'but'-- but it seems this time, he's just barely able to back up his words. He snaps to a painful defensive as Heidern lunges, his arms lifting in a graceless bid to ward off the Ikari commander's tearing grasp. He succeeds, at the cost of his forearms: the both of which end up brutally torn, dripping blood to an already-stained floor of the set. Funny how SNF takes childhood memories and injects rampant violence and gore into them, isn't it?
K' is too tired, too spent, and too disinclined to deep thought to think overmuch about this macabre bit of irony. Backing away from Heidern some considerable distance, praying the man doesn't get up again, K' just... sits down dazedly. He'll need a few moments. Briefly, he almost glances over in Whip's direction-- but just as quickly, he pulls his gaze away. He can't afford to look too long-- he can't afford to show any recognition.
COMBATSYS: K' has ended the fight here.
Log created on 20:55:34 12/22/2007 by Heidern, and last modified on 18:18:47 12/25/2007.