Description: Bison's heard about the YFCC. That it's got some badass dudes there. So he goes to see, and a question is asked: Is K' a Bad enough Dude to save... the kids?!?
There are things Mike Bison does for Vega, leader of Shadaloo, dead or alive. These things include gunrunning, the 'testing' of potential Shadaloo recruits, the disciplining of rogue agents, the distribution of drugs... normal, everyday criminal activities. His personality is well-suited to this; he is mean, amoral, and self-centered, all qualities that in one way or another aid him in these endeavours.
Then there are the public things that Bison does--Saturday Night Fights and other similar street fights and setups. These are things he does just to blow off steam, really; he's already been a champion. His focus in a fight has little to do with any sort of champion status--he does what he does because he enjoys hurting people.
And that is precisely why he does some of the -other- things he does. For example, this afternoon, when the big bruiser of an ex-champion boxer busted the doors of the YFCC open. They're not too damaged--just with some fist-sized dents in the frame. Bison had to duck to get inside, and when he did, the place went quiet. Most of staff there probably recognize him; he is fairly (in)famous, after all. The kids, maybe not so much--but the more serious students and practitioners most certainly.
The man is big--huge, compared to most of the kids--and instinctively, the older kids, the ones in their teens, are pushing the really young into one of the rooms, closing it off. They don't need to see what's going to happen next.
Bison watches, for a moment, an ugly smirk twisting his lips. And yeah... they know what's coming, as he raises his hands to a boxing guard, and just starts wading forward.
"Well? C'MON!!!" booms his deep voice, and nearly as one, the first wave of students and student teachers hurl themselves at the big man, screaming in an ululating, rising wave of wordless sound that starts confident and then, as he begins swinging those big fists... modulates into a tone with a crisp undercurrent of fear and terror.
The YFCC is, all things considered, a relatively small place. If you're inside the building and in one of the main areas-- i.e., not hiding in the basement, or far off in a soundproofed room somewhere-- you're guaranteed to notice if something starts going down near the front doors. You're especially guaranteed to notice if the kids start running to fetch you: as some are now doing with regard to K', who-- as they're aware-- happens to be present this afternoon.
K''s first indication that something -really- bad is happening is the fact that some of the younger children-- who're usually a little afraid of him, and thereby reluctant to approach him-- actually run towards him when he appears irritatedly in the main hallway branching off towards the lobby. A brow flicks upwards in mild surprise. Evidently, there is something in the lobby scarier than he is.
Cutting into a swift lope, K' arrives on the scene midway through Bison's methodical progress through the group of young students. Ripping off his shades as he considers the scene, K''s yellow eyes narrow. Something happens behind that long, studying look; something unusual. His customary disaffected attitude of faint annoyance melts away. The change is subtle, but anyone who knew him would recognize that something just snapped in the back of the young experiment's mind. Maybe it's bad memories. Maybe it's that a personal parallel is too easily drawn. But whatever the case, no matter how poorly K' gets along with children... it's usually a bad idea to go to town on them in front of his face.
"Back off." The command is barked sharply over the mess, K''s voice hardly considerable in volume-- but still possessed of enough authoritative bite to slice through the chaos and make itself heard. K' doesn't customarily raise his voice-- mostly because he usually doesn't -have- to. "Stand back." Shouldering through the crowd of kids, K' roughly and physically shoves back anyone who doesn't listen to him. His path takes him straight towards the boxer.
"You." K''s bared eyes zero in on Bison, narrowing coldly. An insouciant, humorless smirk knifes open the grim look on his face. The look, despite its resemblance to one, is not a smile in any shape or form: it's a fierce, canine-baring challenge. "You get off beating on kids? Get out..."
Ah, the main event. Or so Bison hopes. He stops just as soon as K' calls out--stops, in fact, with his fist no more than a millimeter from a teenage kid's face. That kid faints dead away. The big boxer stops, turns, and grins, wickedly. "'Get off' on it? Hell, naw. These chumps is just a warmup. See, I heard 'bout this place. I was hopin' there were some real fighters here. I knew these kids weren't it." See? He -knew-. And he did it anyways.
"They's just... warmup. Gettin' the word out, so to speak. I wanna see what you guys got." After all, if there really -are- good fighters here... well. Vega can be damn persuasive in changing minds... even if Bison hasn't heard from him in a while. The work goes on.
Those small, cruel eyes give K' the once-over. And though he is cruel and vindictive he's not stupid; there's a shrewd sort of native intelligence in those eyes. He might not be high IQ and he might not ever be a teacher, but don't ever let anyone say Bison doesn't know his fighting.
He tsks, audibly, clearing the way in front of him with a casual kick to a kid's gut. Hardly karateka-worthy but enough to shift the boy's weight, it is. "You it?" he asks, making it a dismissive question, the big man flexing his thickly-wrapped fingers before putting them into big, meaty fists again.
"Kinda skinny. You look delicate." Those lips pull into that ugly sneer again, as Bison squares up on his real opponent; the kids still up start pulling the injured out of the way, posthaste; the boxer pays them no mind.
"Hope you don't break as easy as these kids here did."
Initially, K' does nothing to stop Bison kicking and punting kids out of his way. He simply watches, seeming entirely emotionless, his narrowed eyes downcast and his expression blank. Still and severe, he looks about as empathetic as a sheet of steel. His complete lack of reaction to the man's brutal behavior might come as a surprise, considering his status as a member of staff at the YFCC. He barely blinks when the kicked kid goes skidding past his feet.
In truth, however, with K' stillness is just a sign of building rage. Bison is on -his- territory, kicking around -his- kids-- K' doesn't take to that at all, much in the way wolves get upset when a wolverine happens on their den full of pups.
Kids are vulnerable things. It's easy to fuck them up, because they have so few defenses against the malevolent forces in the world. K' knows that firsthand-- suffered for that fact all his life-- and that's part of why he's getting more pissed than even he expected himself to be.
Eventually K' glances up, as if rousing out of a reverie. After a sweeping look around to check that the kids are getting out of the way, he settles a piercing, hard gaze on the boxer. He evinces no reaction to Bison's dismissive assessment of him, either. He just lets his hands flex shut once or twice, a roll of knuckles eliciting a quiet series of muted cracks. He tunes out the majority of what Bison's saying. There's no need to listen. His eyes half-lid.
And he grins. "Kids are shit warmup," he abruptly replies, as a flare of flames swarms to life about his right hand and arm. The blazing limb flicks up with an accompanying snarl of fire, K''s hand turning palm-up. "If you get any real benefit warming up on -them-..." The sustained Kusanagi fire bursts abruptly as K' claws upwards in a sweeping rake. A rush of flames blasts outwards at the boxer. "...this will be short."
COMBATSYS: K' has started a fight here.
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K' 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: M.Bison has joined the fight here.
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K' 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 M.Bison
COMBATSYS: K' successfully hits M.Bison with Eins Trigger.
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K' 0/-------/------=|==-----\-------\0 M.Bison
Oh, it's easy alright. Too easy. Bison's just trying to get a rise out of K'... these 'heroes', with their attitude... so easy to rile up. Bison loves it. There's a clear path now, Bison bobbing and weaving like a true boxer, smirking at K' from behind his big fists. He meets that piercing, hard gaze with one that is just as hard--if K' thinks he's the only one who has bad childhood memories then he's terribly wrong.
That fire just earns a sneer from Bison. Kids and their fire and flames... like a goddamn Dragonforce song gone wrong. Bison doesn't need that shit. He fucks people up the old-fashioned way--with his fists. It's a sport as ancient as the Olympics--though it's fairly certain than the Olympiads would recoil in horror at what Bison's made of the ancient and noble sport of boxing. That flaring energy...
Bison grins, wider. "Nah, you're right. These kids are shit. I just wanted to get you riled up," he accedes. Hey, why lie? That snarl of flame splashes over Bison; he didn't even MOVE. And it rocks him backwards, with a little hiss; his body smoking, black sear-lines burned into his clothing, exposing dark brown, heavily muscled flesh.
"Not bad, kid. This might even be FUN!" And then he's off--crossing the short distance between the silver-haired hero and himself, his right fist cocked back to deliver a smashing straight punch aimed for K''s chin.
COMBATSYS: K' blocks M.Bison's Dash Straight.
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K' 0/-------/-----==|===----\-------\0 M.Bison
If K' is a 'hero,' he's the most unlikely one on the face of the earth. Meanness, amorality, cruel self-centeredness-- all these qualities of Bison are ones K' himself has as well, in spades. On top of that, he's got a troubling taste for vengeance that is singleminded in its fervor. It's simply that, for whatever reason, K' has found himself on the right side of the tracks: through no effort of his own. It's sheer luck that's had him run into good people in his life, people who have subtly steered his ferocity towards less questionable paths.
Doing that is just a matter of playing on K''s personal feelings, a matter of framing things in his own wants and fears. By appealing to his past, one can even get him to protect children with that singleminded fervor of his. That, and K' likes doing a thorough job of whatever work he gets assigned. He's too insecure in his own ability-- he's spent too long overshadowed by others-- to half-ass anything he does. He has to prove himself.
Nailed to the floor between Bison and the rest of the YFCC proper, K' holds his ground immovably: an unlikely bastion standing between the boxer and the center. His right hand snaps up to catch and redirect Bison's punch slightly downwards, K' sliding back a few inches as the force of it slams the back of his hand against his chest rather than his vulnerable jaw. Bison just wanted to get him riled up?
"It worked," K' replies shortly, his harsh voice a deep grit, as he sets his stance and twists his grasp: attempting to vise his blocking hand shut about Bison's wrist. Should he get a grip, he'll pull forwards hard to off-balance the other, aiming to expose the back of the neck long enough so he can drive a stunning blow into that vulnerable spot.
COMBATSYS: M.Bison blocks K''s Spot Pile.
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K' 0/-------/----===|====---\-------\0 M.Bison
Nobody's perfect. But in situations like these, one man is always cast as the hero, and the other the villain. Clearly, Bison has appropriated the role of villain--ergo, K' must be the hero. And an indubitably good job of playing the role he is, at that. He may be a reluctant hero, but those Kusanagi genes seem to bestow more than just that hot fire.
"Good!" growls Bison, at K''s response; he loves being able to get at people. Not that he's some sort of psychological genius--Vega, and even Balrog, are much more deft at manipulating people with word and deed. Bison is a boxer--and a power boxer. He takes the straight-line approach to things, almost always. Thus, rather than loudly and boisterously calling out for a 'fighter' and maybe having to wait...
He starting kidpunching. Still, one of his best techniques just got defended; Bison can tell that K''s the real deal, and as such, he treats him accordingly. Bison is pulled forward--but as K' drives that elbow down, Bison lunges forward and twists, taking the impact on his left shoulder rather than to the neck. And then he comes up swinging, twisting around to fire a hard hook punch for K''s temple--a stunning shot if there ever was one, a blow aimed at a specific portion of the anatomy, meant to rattle the brain and force a concussion.
Sure, he's a crazy power puncher, but he learned his boxing too. "Glad to hear you got yo' heart in the right place." People who wear their hearts on their sleeves like this just make them a target for a punch, in Bison's estimation.
COMBATSYS: K' endures M.Bison's Hook Punch!
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K' 0/-------/-======|====---\-------\0 M.Bison
Most people, when confronted with a man of Bison's stature and strength, would not just stand there and take a straight punch from him. K' is not most people.
As soon as he feels his strike hit the bone of the shoulder rather than the yielding spot between the vertebrae for which he'd originally aimed, K' backs up one step. His stance widens, setting immovably, and when Bison snaps upwards and twists around hard, K' just lets that blow hit him dead on in the face, tilting his head just enough it strikes lower than intended: missing the crucial temple. Delicate, his ass.
With a reddened, bloody snarl, K' twists immediately back in an instant retaliation. "Fuck that," is his opinion on Bison's assessment of where his heart is, a lurid blaze of intense flames lighting along his arm once more as he claws a mirroring uppercut straight towards Bison's face. A violent arc of flames laces his raking blow. "I'm just pissed you interrupted my afternoon."
Reluctant hero indeed. That is, in fact, one of the factors contributing to his state of irritation about this entire encounter; though to be fair, it's not the main one.
COMBATSYS: K' successfully hits M.Bison with Crow Bite.
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K' 0/-------/=======|=======\-------\1 M.Bison
At least K''s willing to admit he gets pissed. So many of these goody-two-shoes deny their baser instincts. Bison believes in expressing oneself honestly. Uh... not that you'd ever catch him using that kind of language. Not at all. Bison is just barely finished with his punch when K''s coming at him with another snarl of fire; the power blossoms around him and picks him up off the floor, hurling him away with a flaring, burning sensation that seems to sear right into his nerves.
"Fuck, kid, 'least ya eat yer Wheaties." Bison says, picking himself up off the deck. But, he doesn't come charging in immediately; instead he starts pounding his fists together, snorting like the bull he's named for, growling. Getting himself pumped up, his muscles literally, visibly bulging and swelling like he were some kind of mutant.
To be honest, he's kind of enjoying this... though not as much as were he -actually- beating K''s ass down... but that will come. Not in time, because Bison doesn't fight well over the long run. He's just too impatient for it, really, to be all that tactical... he's well-named, certainly, the kind to rush down the enemy before his eyes.
"But you ain't won shit yet, kid, so don't fuckin' go get cocky..."
COMBATSYS: M.Bison gathers his will.
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K' 0/-------/=======|=======\====---\1 M.Bison
Oh, K' has no problem admitting when he's pissed off. He has no problem admitting any of his baser instincts, really, or any of the aspects of his nastier, crueler nature. In fact, most of the time he doesn't even have to go as far as to say he's pissed off; usually, he's unrestrained enough about it that people are able to tell quite fine by themselves when K' has gone and lost it... again.
He has a bit of an anger problem.
"I'd give you the chance to just walk out," he starts coldly, the chill tone of his voice a stark contrast to the hot flames still burning sustainedly about his forearm. The Kusanagi fire spreads slowly, blazing in a sort of creeping mantle that crawls across his shoulders. It's hardly the grandiose flaring display or intense sizzling aura of his 'brothers' Krizalid or Kyo, but it gets the same sort of meaning across just fine in its own, understated sort of way.
K''s head dips. His eyes stay on Bison, however, staring narrowly at the other man through his veiling lashes. "...but I don't like wasting my breath." He's not getting cocky, though, not for all his set, aggressive stance and his cold words. From that straight-on hit he took, he knows how hard this man hits; and he's obviously preparing something now.
COMBATSYS: K' gathers his will.
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K' 1/----===/=======|=======\====---\1 M.Bison
"Walk out?" Bison smirks, shaking his head almost sadly. "Naw, kid, I ain't goin' nowhere! This is a fight to the finish, boy, if you can last that long!" Bold words, especially considering that K''s done a whole lot more to him than Bison has to K', but Bison is nothing if not bold as all get out. He's sort of like Howard Stern, except meaner and less inclined to be witty. So maybe he's more like Andrew Dice Clay, minus the bad accent... eh.
Bison lunges forward again, cocking his right hand back, his head-on lunge looking like a complete and total commitment to a terrible, punishing, horrible blow; and well, that posture is not entirely false. Bison, however, abruptly drops the cocked right arm, bringing it back to guard--
--instead, it's his left hand that's doing the striking, aiming a pistoning thrust for K''s stomach, a blow designed to bruise and strike at soft meat, to dig knuckles into the surface of internal organs. Not exactly a kosher blow in boxing, but then, the only thing that's possibly kosher about Bison is that he likes to eat pastrami on rye sometimes.
COMBATSYS: K' interrupts Fierce Punch from M.Bison with Quick Throw.
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K' 1/-----==/=======|=======\======-\1 M.Bison
K' figured. Bison doesn't look like the sort who'll just turn around and walk off halfway through a fight. It's why K' had already long since settled himself, mentally and physically, to deal with the man for the long haul. He was put here to stop people like Bison however he could, and he's intending to defend until he drops. He's singlemindedly tenacious like that; it's what makes him so good at what he was built to do.
Spitting blood to one side-- cleaning up blood is going to be the least of what's required to fix this mess-- K' considers Bison's lunging attack with a narrow-eyed sort of readiness. He is not unfamiliar with feints and deceptive strikes; he catches the sudden switch of the striking hand in the last moments before it plows straight into him. K''s stance lowers instantly, that crushing blow smashing into his chest rather than his more vulnerable belly; teeth gritting, a hint of blood already wicking thready patterns through all that white, K' twists around Bison's stabbing punch.
Skidding to a stop to one side of the boxer, K' nails his stance in place and braces hard. Hands biting into the fabric of Bison's clothing, K' exerts a ludicrous amount of strength-- a strength far beyond what his lean build suggests-- just to tear Bison from the floor, using the man's own forward momentum to assist in slingshotting the boxer into the opposite wall. The result possesses more speed than actual force, but it gets Bison out of his face for the moment.
Speaking of being single-minded. Bison just got slung against one wall; he impacted with his shoulder and back and now there's a big dent in the drywall. That is probably coming out of your salary, Kay Dash. Alma will take it from you... personally. A grunt issues from the boxer's mouth as he impacts; most of the damage K''s inflicted has been from that fire, so he's relatively uninjured, physically... but that arm isn't moving quite right. At least, not until Bison rotates his shoulder and literally pops the joint back into socket.
"Persistent little bugshit, ain'tcha," he says, casually. At least two kids faint just from seeing Bison pop his shoulder back into socket. Hey kids--you wouldn't make it in pro fighting. He cricks his neck.. and nods.
"Alright then, let's do this shit up proper then!" he shouts.... and then he's moving. For such a big guy, he's moving awfully fast--and his right arm, his dominant arm, is cocked back. It's a straight punch, just like the one he fired off early in the fight... but something about it promises even more pain. The poetically-inclined might think they can even see the air tearing around that fist, as it is thrust for K''s chest, right where the heart generally resides.
COMBATSYS: K' blocks M.Bison's Gigaton Blow.
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K' 1/---====/=======|=------\-------\0 M.Bison
K' gets a few moments of respite when Bison impacts the wall. His hardened stance slackens a bit, and the kid-- he really isn't much older than the other teens watching the fight-- snatches a few panting breaths, squinting at the boxer as he recovers and pops his shoulder back in place. He's quiet for the moment, possessed of that infinite, endless patience that is mandatory for any predator. His focus has tunnel-visioned down to the fight itself... to every movement Bison makes. The only thing he still notices about the world outside the blows he's trading is the continued presence of some of the kids. He keeps track of where they are.
Called persistent, K' just keeps staring intently a few moments longer. Finally, his animalistic look cracks slightly into one of evanescent, unsmiling amusement. He rolls a shoulder disaffectedly, and-- even battered as he is-- he replies with a calm, "I don't drop easily."
It's true. He has already lasted far longer than his lean frame would suggest. There's strength in the lines of him, sure, the sinewy strength possessed by swimmers or climbers-- but he doesn't look heavily-built enough to soak blows well. With time, he usually tends to destroy that initial perception pretty well. Bison's tearing, smashing blow is unabashed about its punishing strength. It's obvious that it could just obliterate anyone unprepared to take it-- anyone -physically unable- to take it-- but K' doesn't try to get out of the way even as that fist shreds air on a crash course straight for his chest.
Instead, he braces. He braces hard. His stance opens, his armored hand coming up to catch the attack and his left hand braced behind it as extra insurance; but even that two-handed block is only enough to cut some of the power of that blow. K' gets blasted backwards in a long, barely-controlled skid across the open floor of the lobby, his guarding hands smashed against his chest; one of them hits the floor to keep him upright shortly after he's ground to a stop, K''s stance broken down into a three-point and his shades smashed to pieces -yet again-.
"Proper indeed," the boy rasps drily. A long breath in, a breath out-- and then he steps clear out of the visual spectrum, lunging so fast he seems to simply blink across the distance between himself and Bison. When he reappears in front of the other, it's with an attempt to stun him with a powerful elbow-drive to the chest.
COMBATSYS: M.Bison fails to interrupt Chain Drive from K' with Buffalo Head.
- Power fail! -
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K' 0/-------/------=|
COMBATSYS: M.Bison can no longer fight.
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K' 0/-------/------=|
The first blow connects-- K' pauses only a moment before he segues into a tearing, fire-laced assault which bears a striking resemblance to the savaging of some big cat. Abandoning restraint, K' unloads the brunt of his temper in the form of a series of seamless, blurring strikes, spending more and more of his bad mood in every landed blow and slashing kick. Unremittingly violent, it unspools in a long chain of brutal attacks for nearly a full ten seconds, driven now not only out of that familiar desire to cause hurt-- but also out of some vicious, latent desire to enact vengeance for the harsh beating the kids had taken earlier. K' is more than vengeful enough, by his very nature, to let his penchant for revenge unfold to include people who are not him.
Eventually the litany lets up, and the flames focus: K' forces the fire forwards in a bursting rush, slamming the resultant surge of flames into Bison with a harsh force.
Hunh. So he wants a head-on collision, does he? Fine. Bison's more than willing to give it to him--only K' ends up being a helluva lot faster than Bison was expecting. The swirling storm of attacks batters then big man senseless. It truly is a brutal series of attacks--where Bison tends to run on the 'less is more' sort of philsophy, K' clearly goes the opposite direction, and that works for him. That's great.
That still leaves Bison literally being blown back through the doors of the YFCC with the last attack, his briefly-flaming body soaring in a low arc and hitting the street outside, before he tumbles twice. Everyone in the YFCC cheers--they think it's over, that Bison's defeated. And he is.
But he is not, as the parlance goes, 'knocked the fuck out'. In fact, he rises less than a moment later, still smoking from the residual effects of that Kusanagi-not-chi flame. Fuck it.
"Not bad, punk." He rolls his neck, and turns to walk off, with an odd, psychotic little grin.
"But I don't think next time you gon' be so lucky..." That's a virtual promise of a next time... hopefully it won't be at the YFCC again. But who knows? It just might...
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K' 0/-------/------=|
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K' 0/-------/------=|
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Skidding to a halt in the wake of his surging rush, K' ends up balanced right on the threshold of the YFCC as Bison goes clear out the doors. Still on a bit of a high from the sheer violent unchaining of inhibition he'd just let loose, K' paces back and forth like a animal right at the doors of the center, his narrowed eyes fixed on the man and his hands still tightened into readied claws. His pacing stops abruptly as Bison picks himself up, the boy tensing in preparation for some retaliation; he doesn't relax until Bison's spit his threat and walked off, and even then, what he 'relaxes' into is still a state moodily tense enough that the kids openly hesitate to approach him.
He might have just defended them, but he did it so violently they still don't want to go near him. He's fine with that. He didn't do it for their approval or their acceptance. He did it because it's his job-- and because, for whatever reason, he couldn't stand to see kids get beaten around, no matter how much he envies and resents them their untouched childhoods.
K' lets out a long, sighing breath. It comes out edged with a wearied, blood-choked growl. Frowning moodily, K' turns his head, clearing his throat of blood, and spits the lurid red to the floor unrepentantly. Shoving his hands into his pockets in a motion reminiscent of the holstering of weapons, he pushes past the quiet, staring kids and walks slowly off in the direction of the infirmary, favoring his right leg and ignoring the stabbing pain in his chest that means a couple broken ribs. He did what he's here to do, and now he's going to leave.
Nobody really offers to help him get to the infirmary, but it's because the air he projects seems to discourage any shows of assistance, thanks, or even acknowledgement.
COMBATSYS: K' has ended the fight here.
Log created on 20:51:05 02/05/2008 by M.Bison, and last modified on 17:47:25 02/06/2008.