Description: what did i do to DESERVE this
Sunset. Several minutes to six o'clock, and the sky is already mostly dark, painted in hues of fading red and encroaching deep blue. Today's been one of the rare days which K' actually had entirely to himself in recent times, what with the demands of professional fighting-- the only practice he felt was worthy to keep his skill sharp-- and the work at the YFCC into which he'd been roped. Between those activities, K' had found himself having less and less time to himself. Less and less time to think about that which -really- mattered to him; that which, despite the temptation to sink into the complacency of his current life, he could not afford to forget. His past, or lack thereof; his future, and the vengeance he had yet to take, mostly for complete lack of knowledge -how-.
How do you attack something when you can't see its heads? When you have nothing but your own two hands for weapons? K' is hardly a man of intellect, but he's clever; and he's smart enough to know that simply chipping at the body of a snake will not kill it, especially when it has such strength and size as does NESTS. From where he stands, it's all very daunting; and that concern burning at the back of his mind is part of the reason he spent his free day brooding at the edge of Southtown proper, musing over a half-empty pack of cigarettes on a little cliff overlooking a slow-moving, sleepy river.
With the setting of the sun had come a sort of resolve. K' had gotten up as abruptly as he'd arrived, dusted off dark boot-cut jeans, and started the long lope back to the side of the long and empty road where he'd left his bike.
It's unnaturally warm for February, the unseasonable 10 C weather warm enough K' had long since taken off his leather jacket; leaving only the close-fit, thin black shirt beneath as a guard against the chill air, the sleeves of it shoved carelessly up to the elbow. That jacket slung haphazardly across a shoulder, K' works his way towards the finish of his last cigarette with a slightly raspy sigh. He wasn't used to the smoke anymore... but the little buzz always helped him think.
Distantly, fadedly, there's the sound of a motorcycle as it motors up that lone road, its gutteral motor getting louder as it grows close.
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single Pás in possession of a conflicted soul, must be in want of a stolen motorcycle.
Today was the first day she was freed of her forced imprisonment that followed that devastating loss to Wellington Sr., one that kept the Brazilian girl still with a lame knee, unable to fly like some pet bird who was clipped of too many wings. She was out of the doctor's office, drunk on her new freedom, before he could even finish warning her not to overexert her leg -- a second time. It felt good to be able to walk again. It felt good to have her freedom.
So why didn't she feel like everything was back to normal? Tenma had talked some sense back into her head, that godawful weight was unlatched off her leg... she shouldn't be feeling unnerved. But she was. Because she knew now, with her new freedom, she was also a step closer towards the inevitable second clash with Preston's father, if both her team and the Guardian Kings can assemble themselves in time to get back her missing friend. But would she be ready? Has she healed only to fail them again?
Almost as quickly as she found herself free, Pás was finding herself nearly broken-in by her lame leg once was, and it scared the hell out of her. Maybe she'd gone soft. She knew what she had to do. She had to go out and do something stupid. Something reckless. Something dangerous. Something to prove that she hasn't lost her nerve.
And that's when a hand reaches out of nowhere, quicker than a snake bite, and grabs K' by the front of his shirt.
That same motorcycle roars by at a hurtling speed, and in that only, single, impossible instant it bullets past him, its rider rips the young man straight off his feet, yanking him violently forward to drape his lanky body over the bike's gas tank. The motor snarls at a deafening volume close to his ears. The heated steel makes a too-warm spot under his abdomen. And, but a foot and a nose away, the road blurs below his eyes.
A helmet stares down at him, blankly, facelessly, its mirrored visor reflecting the world at one hundred kilometers an hour. That helmet soon appears to belong to a long, lean, and curvy body; and, before him, is the driver, dressed in jeans and a tiny red tank top, and bare feet braced against the footrests. It's a lady.
The mystery rider removes one hand from the brake to reach for her helmet, pulling it free with a shake of her long, inky hair. Flinging the bulky object willfully aside to the blurring road, K''s abductor finally reveals her face, meeting him with a grin so riotous it makes most Russian Revolutions look like tea parties.
It's not a lady. It's something much, much worse.
Pás has decided to cure her despair the good old-fashioned way. Abducting hotties by the sound barrier. She beams down at today's catch, flaring him a winning smile full of teeth as her her dark eyes fix down on that handsome, handsome face. As the motorcycle guns forward at a breakneck speed, she chooses to look at him instead of the road, asking conversationally through the whistling, whipping wind, "Hallo! So, do you want to go on date?"
If she wanted to do something stupid... something reckless... something -dangerous-...
...she found the right person for it all. Creating a dangerous situation is just a matter of pissing K' off enough; and that is hardly difficult.
K' doesn't pay the sound of the approaching motorcycle much mind. It's a long, straight road, an empty road, of course there'll be crazy drivers blitzing down it at full speed. Chewing thoughtfully on his nearly-spent cigarette, he simply continues placidly on by the side of the road, loping in a long-legged stride towards the little spot of black that is his own bike off in the distance.
As the bike snarls even closer, he glances up, a mild sense of disquiet tugging at the back of his mind. He frowns to himself. Idly, he starts considering actually turning his head to look behind him, because that sounds a little -too- close for--
VROOM.
The next thing K' registers is the purr of hot steel against his stomach and the sight of the road blurring past before his eyes. He blinks once or twice. Unfortunately, nothing changes about his situation. He frowns intensely at the road as if it had personally affronted him, and abruptly twists around on the wildly-bucking bike. His narrowed, virulent eyes meet Pás's: yellow slits of complete rage set in a snarl.
He looks severely pissed off.
"What the FUCK do you think you're doing--" Miraculously, he hasn't lost his cigarette yet, even through all the snarling and the GETTING ABDUCTED AT A HUNDRED KILOMETERS AN HOUR, "--you crazy fucking--"
Something occurs to K'. He shuts up. His lean body twists around even further in order to gain a better perch on the bike. Moving in a surprising feat of agility, K' reorients on the bike, smashing up against the girl with little regard for whether she'll manage to keep her seat amidst his violent movements. Hey, if she falls off, more room for him. "Watch the god damn road!"
His subsequent attempt to take control of her bike may or may not succeed before Pás does something even more insane.
"Euh, the road? Why do I want to watch that?" the Brazilian motorcycle babe mumbles inquisitively of her kidnapee's shouts. Without warning or any concept of personal space, she leans in close enough to touch noses, propping one elbow against the brake handle as she preoccupies herself with smiling. The motorcycle keeps on going, the world keeps on blurring by, and her long hair whips with the violent winds, but Pás is in her own private Idaho. Her right eye squeezes shut in a happy wink. "You are much sexier. What is your name, pretty eyes? Ai, Cristo above, you have a mouth like a French sofa. Do you have a girlfriend? Shiu, does not matter. I could beat her up anyway. You want to go steady--?"
And then K' moves, swiftly, viciously, damn near kicking her straight off the side of the bike.
Pás is pretty sure she's in love.
Her sleepy smiling Frankensteins into electrified, serrated grinning that looks like her mouth has gone unstitched, with her eyes lighting up in a way that doesn't all seem right. As her abductee tries to take control of her bike, pushing his body violently against hers, she makes no move to fight back. On the contrary, that wily Brazilian girl seems to yield to him, going sticky like velcro and getting their long limbs tangled. Leering forward, she tries to sit herself down right on his lap, both to saddle herself on the bike and to momentarily pin his legs down. Her face gets right into his. "Psiu! I like a man who knows what he wants."
And that's when she leans forward to kiss him roughly.
It's at that instant her hands tighten down on the handles, giving the bike a quick, violent jerk. It turns sharply, kicking up dust as its skidding wheels smoke against the gravelly road. It roars forward anew in an entirely new direction.
"Baby," Pás is saying a moment later in a slithery voice, "I am all about reciprocation... and it's about time that you felt as wet as me."
Her eyes flare open in glee. There's a pair of images refracted across her pupils, tiny mirrored cliff ledges where the road ends and the Southtown River begins furiously below.
With a whoop, she turns the throttle and the bike lunges forward... right off the side of the cliff.
[OOC] K' says, "oh christ"
This is officially the strangest thing that has ever happened to K'. That he can remember, at least.
Pinioned briefly when Pás leans in close, K' freezes like a deer in the headlights when she smiles right into his face. He doesn't even register half of what she's saying, and probably still wouldn't feel any happier about his situation even if he did hear and comprehend the compliments she's paying him. Compliments on his looks -cannot- mitigate in the -least- what is happening to him. This is an outrage. It's absolute nonsense. He won't stand for it.
K' does what he would do in any other situation where he feels his autonomy compromised. He tries to seize control. Twisting sharply around, perhaps even hoping to dislodge the girl via his rough movements (she deserves it) he's mildly disappointed to find that the girl is as agile as he is about keeping her seat-- even more so, judging by how deftly she swings around to worm right into his lap.
He's about to protest this treatment, and gets about as far as "What the f--" before Pás-- nearly prophetic in her judgments of what to do when-- plants a solid kiss on him right in time to shut him up.
Completely stunned, enraged at this intrusion into his space beyond measure, K' snaps visibly: the boy nearly beside himself with incoherent fury at this unsolicited and extended contact. He snarls audibly into her kiss, furious beyond all reason, his left hand raking forwards with full intent to fist in her shirt and remove her from his person-- and the bike-- by force.
He never quite gets there, fortunately for Pás, because it's around that time the girl redirects the motorcycle in a sharp and sudden swerve. K' almost loses his seat, and by the time he's recovered... well, the whole concept of 'staying on the bike' doesn't matter anymore.
After the initial splash, the forlorn sound of wet, whirring wheels continues for some time; the motorcycle has lodged awkwardly in the shallows, upside-down, its wheels still going at it dutifully at a hundred an hour. God only knows where Pás ended up, but K' managed to save himself grave injury by evacuating the vehicle before impact and twisting like a cat in the air.
He drags himself out of the water eventually, soaking wet and looking so pissed off he doesn't even know what to do with himself other than seethe so openly -literal- waves of heat rise right off his shoulders: rippling the air markedly around his right arm. He stumbles to a halt next to the trashed form of the motorcycle, his right hand bracing against the metal as he just slumps and takes a minute to get his breath back.
That girl had better be SMART ENOUGH not to show her face again, because K' is searingly angry enough to rip her apart limb from limb if he gets his hands on her.
Releasing the bike's handlegrips to thrust her arms up in the air, not unlike an exhilerated roller coaster rider, she lets out an animated shriek the moment they hit freefall.
And then that crazy chick just laughs the entire way down.
As the motorcycle plummets into the coarsing waters below, both mismatched riders disengage from it and each other -- and not too far away from K', that reckless girl makes a third splash into the cold waves. She doesn't surface.
As her poor, undeserving abductee pulls himself from the water, the river bank meets him with generous silence. He is all alone on the muddy sand, and all around him is calm and silent, save for the distant sounds of cars moving on the roads above, and the gentle hiss of the river's moving current. He gets his minute to get his breath back. Just one.
Then a blurred figure strikes out of nowhere, trying to snag him around the waist and tackle him flat onto his back.
Soaking wet and grinning up a storm, that girl shows her face and so much more, throwing one long leg over to straddle his chest. Trying to pin his arms under her knees, she rises above the boy's fallen body and gazes down at him from under a sleepy droop of her eyelids, cold, heavy droplets water raining down from every dark angle of her. Water runs from her heavy wing of hair, from her eyelashes, and from that impish grin she angles down on him, and especially from her clothes -- at least until she takes two fistfuls of her red tank top (already ripped into when he had grabbed it himself) and finishes the job, opening the tear and pulling it off her body, revealing the lacy bikini number she has on underneath.
Apparently she was prepared to go swimming.
"You feel warm," Pás remarks lazily as she leans in close, her dark eyes fixed on his face. She smiles crookedly, giving her head a shake to let her hair hang in a wet, wavy wing over her shoulder and letting her lean weight rock forward, off her heels, trying to pin him down more forcefully. Her smile widens, a curious edge to it, and her own hands press down -- their touch so much cooler -- to settle lightly, gently, on K''s chest. She leans in as close as she can, until her breath on his ear is hot enough to rival his fire, to inquire of him, "Is it because of me?"
...Okay, so she isn't smart.
K' gets in one last gasp of air before Pás is upon him, leapt out of nowhere like a cat on a toy. Her momentum and his unpreparedness ensure that her enthusiastic tackle accomplishes all it set out to do: knocked flat on his back in the shallows, K' finds Pás's knees pinioning his arms in an instant. He's frozen there a few moments, staring at her, seemingly uncomprehending of what's happening to him. When he finally registers what's going on, his reaction is predictable for someone whose hatred of unwanted physical contact has been fostered by years of experimentation.
K' loses it. Completely. He goes stark raving enraged enough that he doesn't even register her shirt-ripping antics or her deliberately sultry behavior in the slightest.
It's because of-- And that seems to be about all K' is capable of saying through his fury. The rest of his words catch in his throat, tearing apart until all that comes out is a deep growl. With that, K' seems to decide that showing is better than telling. She wants to know why he feels quite so warm?
K' surges upwards in one indignant rush of movement, a brief flare of flames bursting about his arms and shoulders as he pits his own strength-- and a spurning, scalding reprimand of fire meant to get her hands -off- him-- against Pás in a bid to reverse their positions. He twists sharply until he's standing, stance wide, in the water, his right arm nailing downwards to pin the girl in the shallows. He waits a second or two, expectantly.
Unfortunately, K' soon realizes the water is too shallow for him to effectively drown her; as such, he settles for the next best thing. In a snapping crack of movement, he straightens and slings Pás hard downriver, -away- from him. Stumbling back a few paces in the aftermath, he fetches up against the motorcycle. His hands settle against the body of the bike; they pause there, thoughtfully. Then they tighten. They get a good grip.
The combination of an enraged K' and a hapless, convenient vehicle is deadly. Pás is given only a few moments to recover from being tossed before she gets her erstwhile motorcycle -thrown clear at her- as well.
This startling projectile doesn't come unaccompanied. The announcement of its launch, however, is somewhat wanting in elegance, as K' is incapable of expressing his infuriation and indignance any more articulately than a roared "What the HELL!!" that is three parts pure rage, one part extreme confusion, and one part... a genuine question.
Fire plumes upwards out of nowhere, its yellowy light illuminating the surprise that crosses the girl's face. She reacts mechanically, reflexively, to the sensation of burning, her weight rocking quickly to her heels and her hands flinching off K''s chest as though it burned -- and it does. Her balance tilts precariously, and not even an instant later, her unnamed victim presses his advantage, turning tables quicker than a gunshot.
Pás has the pride to look shocked when her spine slams down on the river bank, the angles of her body leaving imprints in the malleable sand. She's no stranger to chi, and certainly not to its rarer form of fire -- she wields a softer variation of it, herself. But she doesn't think she's ever seen -- felt chi like this. The sheer intensity of it is... something else.
And that's why, while pinned violently down in a half-foot of water, with doused steam rising from the raw patches branding her dark flesh, Pás can only grin like a girl who's been asked out by the football captain. She seems to have no problem against him angrily pinning her there. No problem whatsoever. On the contrary, the girl flares a mouthful of teeth at him, her eyes widening in an eager way. If she's drowning in anything, surely it's in lust with the poor guy.
But K' is anything if not adaptable; and when death by drowning doesn't seem likely, he pitches her simply away. And the Brazilian doesn't feel like she weights much, thrown like a pillow and skidding across the bank. Kicked-up sand billows a cloud of dust in her wake. And she can only sprawl, spread-eagled through the thick of it, beaming thanks up at the sky that had decided to impart her such a gift. What a man.
Raising her head, she squints an eye half-dizzily, peeking out through the cloud of sand and dust motes that still blur her vision. She can't really see well... but she thinks she can make out a shape. Is that--?
Pás' eyes widen. In a movement so deft one must wonder how it's been practised, she quickly widens her legs, splitting them apart in time for the wheel of her stolen motorcycle to SLAM down, into the muddy earth, where they'd once been. Her face twisting with an abject look of 'SHIT!', she suddenly rolls, twisting herself in time to escape the turned handlebars, and then flattens herself again, missing the back wheel as it comes careening in. Rolling again to her back, she suddenly, quickly, picks up her legs just in time for the collapsing vehicle to miss her splaying toes by inches.
The dust finally settles. Pás peeks over at her unsuccessful fatality. Then, lifting herself to an elbow, she slowly looks back on K'. She stares at him, blankly, for a moment.
Then she just breaks out into the most adoring of grins. Rolling back up to sit on her heels, all that sinewy temptation leaks out of the girl's body, replaced with a fresh-faced adulation. There's stars in her dark eyes.
"Acendedor," she replies to K''s roaring, all of his confused outrage falling on deaf ears. "That was most amazing thing... I did ever see! Ha ha!"
The longer this goes on, the more confused K' gets; and the more confused he gets, the more frustrated he becomes. He doesn't comprehend her beaming grins or her crazy, unhinged joy in the slightest. In his experience, -normal- people don't get happier and happier the more he loses his temper; it's usually quite the opposite, and it's frustrating him that this tactic doesn't seem to be working on this touched-in-the-head Brazilian.
He tries one last shot at intimidating her enough to scare her away. But unfortunately, not only does she fail to get crushed (conveniently solving his problem instantly), the projectile just cements her adoration.
K' just stares, completely dumbfounded, when she shouts her amused approval at him.
Panting heavily, more out of uncontrollable fury than actual exertion, K' just maintains that incredulous stare for a little while longer. Eventually, his rage starts to cool-- assisted, no doubt, by the cold river water in which he's still soaked-- and he starts considering, marginally more rationally, what to do.
He could beat the crap out of Pás, but that would likely just humor her further at this rate. Besides, he'd have to cross the river to do so, and he's not keen on wasting that kind of effort even to teach the girl a lesson... especially when it looks like it'll sting her worse if he just turns his back.
With a disgusted snarl, K' starts backing out of the river and onto dry land, away from Pás. Apparently, he's intent on simply walking off. A show of temper failed, so K' switches immediately to his other method of dealing with people who annoy him. Decidedly ignoring them.
"Don't-- come near me again," he warns venomously, stabbing a gloved hand at her in emphatic indication, even as he tries to just stalk off. Oh. Apparently he'd still like to get in a last word before he leaves.
If he gets the last word, then she gets the last touch.
Half-sprawled there on the riverbank, bright-eyed and puppy-wriggly with enthusiasm, wet mud and sand caked onto her dark skin, the girl watches on as K', with all his mystery and novelty and intrigue... turns around and walks away from her. Her head tilts. Her full, bottom lip pushes out. A forlorn look threatens her face.
As the object of her mentally-unhinged attention decidedly walks away, he is treated to several minutes of fierce, uninterrupted walking, no doubt up the semi-steep slope of the path upwards where the empty roads stretch above. He is treated to a well-deserved silence. It seems his crazed girl-pursuer has, very fortunately, decided to give up.
And then something very cold and wet attaches to his arm.
...Or not.
K''s left arm has grown a hundred-pound, Brazilian tumour, hugging on with a ferocity that makes most garrotes green with envy. Soaking wet like crossing the river once more was all too worth it for him, Pás beams as she hangs onto her prize, affectionately leaning her head to his shoulder, looking prepared to limpet and drag off of him even as he continues onwards. "Psiu, Acendedor, that is impossibles! You are amazing! You go on date with me, yea? Please?! We will have so many funs. More than this! I promise!"
Fuming to himself, still angry enough each hissed breath comes edged with an intemperate, seething growl, K' storms off: setting his back firmly to the forlorn form of Pás with a deliberate coldness. Other men might have been affected by her sad look, swayed to remain-- or at least, to feel a bit badly.
K' on the other hand, doesn't even bother looking back.
Snaring his battered jacket from the shallows as he goes, shrugging the soaked leather on, he checks the inside pocket for his shades and is mildly surprised to discover them intact, for once. The small weight settled against his chest soothes him a little, just by virtue of its wholeness. At least -something- went right about this entire encounter.
Attacking the steep slope back up to the road above with a singleminded, furiously-offended viciousness, K' briefly allows himself to think that everything's over. That she's given up. He's soon proven wrong when his right side abruptly gets about fifty kilograms heavier.
"The f--" K' loses his balance. All his progress is abruptly ripped from him as he gets sent tumbling right back down the slope. He eventually comes to a stop at the base of the hill, dizzied and completely dumbfounded, with Pás beaming atop him. He's flat on his back again. This is really not where he wants to be.
"What-- the fuck--" K', who'd started to calm down, is kicked straight back to the apex of a nice incoherent fury again, "--is -WRONG- with you?! What do you -want-?!" He rages incoherently a minute under Pás, so pissed off he doesn't even know what to do with himself, before he just does the first thing that occurs to him. He tries to get ahold of her and -throw- her off him again; though it may be a bit harder this time, as Pás is wearing considerably less clothing than she was previous. "Haven't you got anything -better- to do?!"
COMBATSYS: K' has started a fight here.
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K' 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Pas has joined the fight here.
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K' 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Pas
COMBATSYS: Pas blocks K''s Quick Throw.
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K' 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Pas
With the contented laziness of a housecat, the Brazilian girl makes herself home on top of K', sprawling over him like a well-endowed throw-rug. Her previous ferocity is now exchanged with a tempered gentleness, and the way she smiles sleepily down at the poor, poor, undeserving boy, even going so far as to reach out to brush some of his unusually-coloured hair from his even-more-unusually-coloured eyes. At his shouted protests, she can only smile indulgently, expectantly, as though they were already an old married couple. "I jes told you, silly," his harasser replies, getting comfortable. "I want a date. You will have a great time, I am promise. Shiu," she adds with a gesturing toss of one hand, her smile going impish as she bites down on her bottom lip, "you having great time now, you jes won't admit it. But that is all OK.
Pás leans in close, her face locked with promise. "I like a challenge, Acendedor."
And he presents one. His hands seize down onto her, her body suddenly, quickly cast off his... but the girl moves quick. She hooks one ankle against his knee, and tries to grab down on his opposite wrist, and letting his momentum carry her, she pulls at the last moment, attempting to plant his body back underneath hers -- where it belongs -- as she rolls back on top.
Grinning as sharply as a pair of scissors, Pás stares predatorily down at K' as she gives genuine thought to his last question. Does she have anything better to do? Considering her honest reponse makes her expression mollify around the edges. "Humm... yea. But I think you are worth it. Maybe. Hit me hard. Make me fall in love!" And, as if to encourage him along the way, that lazy, soft, docile girl with the sleepy eyes suddenly tries to bury her knee into K''s gut.
COMBATSYS: K' blocks Pas' Medium Kick.
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K' 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Pas
K' flinches visibly as Pás touches his hair, brushing the drenched white strands out of his eyes; as she does so, her hand ghosts along his skin, and the boy reacts as if scalded. Sure, the hair in his eyes had been irritating-- but the unsolicited contact is far, far worse. His sole response to her demands for a date-- her whispered admission that she loves a challenge-- is a feral bare of a canine in clear threat. He is going to -hurt- her so badly.
But the girl soon proves that she isn't to be taken lightly. Her demands to be challenged can be backed up with some actual skill. She twists around his attempt to remove her from his person, settling complacently back on his chest, and K' fires off a grim snarl at her honest reply.
"What is with girls wanting me to -hit- them?!" Fucking crazy chicks. Last he checked, getting hurt was not something to be happy over; and he has little intention of letting Pás hurt him. His right hand interposes between her sudden knee and his stomach, catching the strike before it can connect... and then pushing forcefully outwards, trying to unbalance her and force her to rock backwards, opening some space between them. "You really don't -want- me to hit you..."
That low, grim warning is about all he gives Pás before his blocking hand retracts slightly and flips from defensor to aggressor. With a sparking snarl of abrupt heat, a surge of fire swarms to life about it, and it claws hard in a swipe at the girl: forcing the mess of sacred flames directly towards her in a seething ring.
Well, there's Pás's answer as to whether he'll date her.
COMBATSYS: K' successfully hits Pas with Eins Trigger.
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K' 0/-------/-----==|======-\-------\0 Pas
Pás will take that as a yes.
His warning is only met by a short, retaliating laugh, the girl looking anything but cowed to the threat. It is not that she doesn't expect the worst from such a pretty face. It's that she hopes for it. She likes pain. And she needs it, right now, more than ever. She needs it to affirm that there's still something left in her. If she can survive this, then maybe she has some use left for her team. This is the only way she knows how to learn. How to get stronger.
The fact she finds it pleasureable is beside the fact.
Delight fixes over her face when he stops her knee, going as far as to shove her akimbo off his body. And that's when Pás can feel it. She can almost smell it. Then, unfurling before her eyes again, and worse than before, is that burning chi. Hers doesn't even hold a candle -- literally -- to it. And it makes her all the more eager to test how it's going to feel.
And that strange Brazilian girl does something very very unusual: nothing at all. She makes no move to try to escape its strike. She moves no limb to try to stay the fire or protect her face. Smiling secretively, Pás merely holds her ground, her face empty of fear. She holds her ground until that unleashing chi viciously takes it from her, its brutal swipe thrusting her backwards in a skidding stop against the muddy earth. It looks like it hurt. Because it did.
For a long time, she is silent, until the inevitable sounds of her limbs shifting against the gravelly dirt test the silence. The girl pushes herself to one knee, her flesh still smoking, reaching around so she can swat-and-snuff a flame burning at the hip of her pants. Her clothes are already tattered at the edges, her long hair singed, and her dark skin hiding most of the bruality. Giving her head a shake to clear it, she finally looks back up at K'.
She's still smiling. Her voice rides out on a satisfied little sigh. "That... is more like it."
Decidedly, she reaches up, signalling seriousness in this fight by finding the two bleached white braids that mix with the heavy mass of her dark hair. In a practised motion, the girl uses them to twist her damp hair back into a high ponytail, freeing both her eyes now to watch him. And that they do, almost unblinkingly, as she takes a moment to flex her shoulders and roll her neck from side to side. Tenma was right; she spent far too long doing nothing, feeling sorry for herself. It's time to do something.
Grinning sharply, Pás suddenly thrusts forward again, snapping out one hand to try to grab K' by one leather lapel and pull him close. With a laugh, she tries to kiss him harshly once more, following up her twisted affection with a fierce headbutt.
COMBATSYS: K' endures Pas' Zidane's Revenge.
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K' 0/-------/----===|======-\-------\0 Pas
Unfortunately, K' seems oblivious to just -how- much Pás likes pain. He figures her taunting words are just your typical brash fighters' talk, the sort of trash talk that dismisses painful blows and invites further agony with confident bravado. You'd think that after knowing Cherise, he'd be a little more careful about fucking up girls who -ask- to be fucked up, but... he's pretty stubborn, and he likes to solve problems in his own way. And his own way involves hitting them until they stop moving or leave.
K' just waits in silence as Pás takes a moment to recover from his searing blast of fire. His eyes half-lid in a deceptive sort of calm as she ties her hair back. For a moment, he's tempted to try to leave again-- but if there's one thing he now knows about the girl opposite him, it's that she won't let him leave until one or both of them are knocked out on the ground.
And he doesn't intend to be the one laid out.
When she darts forward, K' abruptly steps clear into what he thinks is her oncoming assault. She seizes his lapel and drags him close, and all he does is tighten his muscles to take her attack and retaliate instantly with one in kind. What he -wasn't- counting on was the fact that her first blow isn't... quite an attack in the conventional sense of the word, and when he finds himself yanked into a kiss his yellow eyes flare wide instantly in mingled surprise and anger.
The one good thing about the kiss is that it tenses K''s entire body. He's prepared to soak her blow when it comes, his stance widening infinitesimally to brace him as he holds his ground and lets her founder the brunt of her headbutt on his chest. A dismissive scoff later, he whips into retaliatory motion, cracking a sudden sharp kick up at her in an attempt to smash her far away from him and KEEP HER FROM KISSING HIM ANY MORE.
COMBATSYS: Pas fails to counter Medium Kick from K' with Branded Mule.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////// ]
K' 0/-------/---====|=======\=------\1 Pas
With wide eyes and an inky grin smudged messily along her jaw, winking as if to thank him for her stolen kiss, her one hand lets K' go as she begins to read the slow change in his body language. He goes on the attack, and strafing slowly along, Pás is watching every moment of it. When he moves, so does she, and not on the defensive. Be it a lack of fear or mental stability, she responds with his visible shift of weight by going suddenly flexible, balanced by one leg as she lets her entire body swing low to the ground as that other swung leg arcs high into the air like someone commiting to the split wide standing. Twisting forward, she gives a spirited attempt to try to dismiss his strike, her plan no doubt to feed off that momentum and make it her own -- but he's just a breath quicker than she is.
K''s foot meets her solidly, knocking the breath out of her with a half-bleated little 'whuff,' as Pás finds herself propelled back down to the muddy earth. She coughs a little, but grins anew, wet sand sticking to one side of her face. With a theatrical sigh, she lets herself playfully heap against the ground, ever so inclined to make a king-sized mattress out of the Southtown riverbank. "Psiu, cutie. If you want me on my back, you jes need to say so. Having fun yet?"
K' is quick to see Pás preparing to dismiss his attack with a sharp reprisal, but precariously balanced as he is in his aggressive attack, he can't do much about it. Already committed to his own strike, he can't retract now, and as such he just opts to speed up his kick in hopes he can connect before Pás completes her deft motion. He's successful, for now... but from the way Pás reacts to that landed blow, he somehow doesn't feel all that victorious. Even if he can hit her physically, he still can't get her to shut up. And that playful tongue of hers is what's -really- pissing him off about this encounter.
Recoiling instantly back to a guarded stance, K' stares a few moments at Pás's sprawled form, his eyes for the most part blank. He might be just as much a boy as any normal teenaged male, and he might occasionally experience the same sorts of feelings which his fellows have the misfortune of dealing with a very regular basis: but given his past and the surrounding circumstances of his current situation... there really isn't anything in his yellow eyes right now other than a sort of distant, abject horror. Especially when she keeps going on and on with her innuendo. This kind of thing is NOT what he wants to be dealing with right now... especially when it's not on his terms.
"No," is his emphatic, flat response. He retreats a few steps from Pás's reclined form, as if she might jump up and bite him at any moment (she probably would) and again... a suspicious heat begins to smoke along his shoulders, rippling the air about his arm. A curl of flame blossoms to life about his wrist, fire dancing in a hypnotic pattern about his right hand and snaking up his forearm. A sudden smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth as the fire spreads along his shoulders, K' attempting to reclaim some semblance of control over the situation via posturing confidence. "But I've got ideas about how to make it more 'fun.'" Oh K', you psychopath.
COMBATSYS: K' gathers his will.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////// ]
K' 1/-------/=======|=======\=------\1 Pas
Moving so smoothly to suggest her heritage might be half-water, Pás pulls herself to her feet, giving her body a half-hearted shake to clean it of the sticky, gritty river sand. Widening her stance, the peripherals of her movements suggesting she's far from letting her guard down, the Brazilian still cocks her head so she can eye K' sidelong, coy. "No? Is that the no that means no, or is it the no that means yes? Ha ha, Acendedor, I am beliefs that you are a very bad boy, hidden deeps inside. And speakings of the hiddens..."
She does something that's long overdue. In a similarily too-practised-move-that-shouldn't-be, the girl pulls off her half-scorched, tattered jeans, letting them fall from her hips to be carelessly stepped out of. Wearing matching bottoms to her bikini top, she sighs windily, happily, enjoying her new freedom with a luxurious stretch. Now she can give her legs their proper mobility, even if she'll refuse to ever admit that as her reason to undress.
Instead, her left eye winks over at her scowly opponent, her indulgent smiling going razored at the edges. Pás loves it when she can get under someone's skin. In more ways than the usual, even.
Then, K''s consistent unamusement suddenly parts ways for a mirroring smirk of his own, and the Brazilian fighter is made witness to that fire of his as it plays along his arm. She follows it with her eyes, not even caring to hide her obvious interest, attracted to the burning light like most moths. When his lofty promise ensconces that seething power, she can't help but bite her bottom lip, her own excitement getting the best of her. Her eyes lifting to lock with K''s, her expression drunk on sheer, virulent joy, and grinning like a Cheshire cat, Pás replies K' silkily, "...is that a dare?"
It sounds like a dare.
Pás likes dares.
With little warning, she ignites into movement, for the first time giving true display of her fighting style. The girl kicks up and is almost immediately aerial, crossing the duney bank to try to intercept K' with a crushing roundhouse kick straight at the ribs. Yet, whether or not that initial strike connects, she proves she's quick on her feet and that they're far from finished. Her kicking leg whips downwards, and as soon as her weight is set, her other foot wings upwards to make a second strike, followed by a third, and a fourth, and more, as she crosses leg over leg, trying to weave attacks in intricate knots. Finally, the last in her series takes a distinct twist, and her lean body cartwheels acrobatically, released back into the air and inverting itself head-over-spinning heels. She whirls sharply, both legs swinging past to crack her feet at his head.
COMBATSYS: K' endures Pas' Dama Branco.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////// ]
K' 1/----===/=======|=------\-------\0 Pas
K''s eyes half-lid as Pás rips off her pants, no reaction evinced other than that look that clearly screams "something is terribly wrong with you." His gaze flickers upwards in a roll of the eyes, as if he might find some reserves of patience on the inside of his lids. Grumpily, he opts to ignore her question-- to ignore, in fact, the vast majority of what she's saying, focusing instead on the most meaningless part of her little monologue.
"What the hell's that you're calling me?" He knows that talky people won't shut up if you ignore them... but if you respond to the most inconsequential parts of what they say, they get to wear out their urge to talk, and you get to completely ignore their response without ill consequence.
He watches her as she watches his stolen fire, a flicker of bitterness in his eyes as he takes in her childlike joy and wonderment as seeing the flames burn steadily along his skin. Whatever more perverse excitement she might feel about -tasting- that power she evinces, he fails to perceive. A spasm of ill humor murders the brief amusement from his face. His right hand shuts, a quelling motion that snuffs the flames in a heartbeat.
A dare?
...fuck. It kind of was a dare. He shouldn't have made it, he always, -always- gets fucked up -somehow- when dares come into the picture--
--and this time isn't going to be much different. Pás bursts into sudden movement, lunging faster than she's done all this fight. K''s yellow eyes follow her whirling assault, narrowing to take in her every last move. She cracks a harsh kick at his chest and he steps -into- the blow, a quiet, noncommittal grunt given as dismissive acknowledgement of the force behind the strike. He weathers her remaining blows, tightening muscle to reduce damage and accepting the impact of her quick-moving heels with a surprising resilience.
Sure, it hurts like hell. But he's been built to weather this kind of pain, to endure it in such a way it doesn't break him. Why? Because it's inevitable that one will sometimes have to take a hit in order to open the opportunity for one of one's own.
The last sharp blow whips across his face, K' doing little to stop it. The force of it snaps his head to one side, a splash of blood sent to the ground-- but abruptly, with a muted, derisive chuckle, K' recovers far faster than he should be able to. Whirling back around-- his smirking mouth painted in bloody red-- he sends one hand biting towards Pás's torso in a blistering reprisal. It stops a shred away from the girl's dark skin, open and harmless-looking: and then it slams shut into a fist and drills forwards, K' driving force behind the blow from a bracing of his entire body.
He has to admit he is actually sort of enjoying the fight by now. But he would insist that he only enjoys it because he is getting a chance to -punch this crazy girl in the face for doing what she did- to him. K' really loves his vengeance.
COMBATSYS: K' successfully hits Pas with One Inch.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////// ]
K' 1/---====/=======|======-\-------\0 Pas
And he gets it.
That crazy Brazilian chick takes the hit straight to her pretty little face, stumbling backward, absorbing shock that could flatten and concuss average men. Her head jerks to one side with a wing of her wet hair, the damp waves of her heavy ponytail briefly concealing her for the moments she takes to shake back her senses. Shaking her head away, she lifts her head to reveal that her mad grinning hasn't gone anywhere, her vanity holding no candle to her apparent love of violence.
Pás' face is already darkening on one side, her mouth bloody, her eyebrow split, and her heavily-lidded left eye starting to blacken. Mirroring his previous action, she spits out her own mouthful of blood to the ground, watching him all the while.
And, finally, she replies him, her half-rasped voice conversational, "And why should I tell you? Shiu, that is a boring way." Her bruised face lights up. "You should have torturing it out of me. Nice and slow, yea? Ha ha ha ha!"
Through her raucous laughter, she leaps back into the fray, her sheer persistence for getting brutalized something that isn't easily satisfied. The girl whips forward and kicks up off one leg, letting herself go back into the air where she so rightfully belongs. She immediately twists, her torso parallel to the ground as she makes a full mid-air turn, propelling up her second leg in a full, wicked arc to try to hammer her heel down at K''s head.
COMBATSYS: K' dodges Pas' Change-Up Kick.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////// ]
K' 1/---====/=======|======-\-------\0 Pas
"Don't tempt me," is his low reply as he retracts his striking hand, letting it uncoil from its piercing fist in a languid flex of long fingers. That same, sneering smirk still patterns redly across his face, seeming to suggest that he's just matching her playfulness with a joke; but the look in his eyes is serious enough to cast doubt on that. "Any more than you already have, anyway..."
His eyes follow her progress into the air, and as her kick comes scything down he sidesteps the blow: moving only far enough that her attack carves air a mere breath from his shoulder. Swiveling sharply around to her side as her heel cuts into the ground rather than his face, he stays in close just long enough to add, sotto-voce, "Besides. I'm not too good with 'nice and slow.'"
The words have barely died in the air before he's gone; opening space between himself and Pás in a sudden, blurred lunge of speed. Skidding to a stop some distance away, he seems to consider a moment. And then he reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket. "Catch," his voice prompts casually, giving away a hint of some projectile to come.
A sudden flick of his wrist, and the small black object he's extracted abruptly streaks an angry beeline for Pás' face: an innocuous pair of shades, thrown fast enough to sting should they be allowed to connect. And as the shades arrow upwards-- no doubt a ruse to draw the girl's line of sight with them-- K' steps from a dead standstill into a lunge fast enough it barely even registers as a blur in conventional sight, crushing the distance between himself and Pás in an instant. He reappears moments away from a collision with Pás, aiming a powerful blow at her torso in order to stun her, and if he can connect that first strike he'll go into overdrive for at least eight seconds, sinking into a vicious assault not unlike the ravaging of an angry cat. Chaining a series of violent, ripping attacks into her frame in a punishing refrain, he concludes in a sudden, concussive burst of flames.
COMBATSYS: K' successfully hits Pas with Chain Drive.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ]
K' 0/-------/-------|>>>>>>>\>>>>>>>\2 Pas
Her lashing foot meets only the brisk, cool air, but that doesn't sober the Brazilian's crooked smiling; she was hoping he'd prove himself as quick as he is beautiful. She doesn't seem to mind her inability to get a clean hit on K'. He's already far proven himself as someone beyond her calibre, and tonight is not a test of how hard she can make it hurt. Pás isn't concerned about giving it as much as she is taking it. If she can withstand this sort of agony, then maybe she has a chance, and she may prove some use to her friends. This fight is no more than a learning experience for her, to see if she can let pain slide off of her like unwanted article of clothing.
And Pás is really good at undressing.
Landing quickly to her feet, her instincts warning her not to let her eyes off K', she turns, following those quick strides of his as they take the boy into safe distance. Breathing hard through her exertion, Pás still aims him an amused look, winking at him with her right eye because the left one is already begun swelling shut. Leaning a hand on her hip, she clucks her tongue soundly to his remark. "Aiiii, I am sadness. Will I ever find a pretty one who likes to take his time?"
Apparently not. Because, within the same heartbeat, K''s already demonstrated his legendary speed. 'Catch,' he imparts generously, and she perks with immediate interest, her face locking up with a curious lock. And then her generous abductee gives her a present.
Fast as a quickdraw on high noon, he whips his sunglasses straight at her. And Pás? She just grins. And with that callous disregard of hers, she suddenly lunges forward, happily exchanging the frying pan for the fire, eager as a kitten chasing a laser light, reaching one deft hand forward to catch his thrown glasses clean out of midair--
And his first strike catches her on bullseye. She crumples. But he's far from finished. The girl absorbs every single attack the boy has to impart, knocked every so way as she's brutalized, her blood painting the Southtown riverbank under K''s fierce, intricate artistry. When it finally ends, she's anointed by his chi in a burning blast, the sheer power underlying the searing fire knocking her backwards and sending her skidding along the sand.
Pás doesn't move. She doesn't want to. But that's not what matters. She may hurt so much that she couldn't even dream to move, couldn't even to consider wanting to, but the fact remains... she still can.
Her eyes open. Her fingers move. She knows she can. She's going to get back up, because doing something is better than nothing.
Hissing sharply, her half-heaped body pulls itself up, her deep curves and dusky skin an endless highway of blood and burns, and with a slight sigh, she spits up a second mouthful of blood to the dirt. But the strange girl refuses herself to remain there, forcing herself back to her shaky legs, working tirelessly against her pain until she's back up on her feet. Yet she remains hunched, bowed-over with her hands braced against her knees, her long, disheveled hair hiding her face.
A long, finalizing exhale later, she straightens up, reaching briskly to move it aside and show K' her face. Pás watches him invitingly, her expression wearing a smile and his sunglasses. Their mirrored lenses reflect the sparks that ignite from her flexing hands.
They slowly close into fists at her sides at the same time her smile widens, mutating into a vicious grin.
With a sharp laugh, she throws herself forward, drunk on both her pain and the perseverence to push through it. Leaving bloody footprints in her wake, she crosses the riverbank on furious, running strides, coiling off one leg and kicking up into the air, trying to meet K' with a brutal foot swung at his jaw. Chi flints from her foot in a hot blast of fiery embers. Through her kick, the girl is already twisting like a cat, but not one that intends to land on its feet. She catches herself with her hands, gone suddenly inverted, turning in time to immediately try to follow up with her second, lashing foot, and it, too, detonates with those same bright, brilliant sparks. And, upside-down, the girl steps forward, walking hand over hand as she begins to turn, inviting a turning kick after kick, the attacks building in ferocity as she builds momentum.
Within moments, she hits crescendo, letting herself fly on a reckless one-armed handspin, opening her legs, pointing her heels, and whipping sharp, hot strikes on a continuous torrent.
COMBATSYS: Pas can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
K' 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: K' fails to interrupt Catherine Wheel EX from Pas with Quick Throw.
- Power fail! -
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
K' 0/-------/-----==|
Retracting out of his violent blast of fire like a cobra cocking itself to strike again, K' lets his tensed, clawed hands uncurl; a brief, indifferent glance spared Pás' blood painted thickly across his knuckles. He does little to get rid of it, letting it run off his hands as they lower lazily back to his side; they idle there, erstwhile weapons hung back up on a rack while still wet from use.
He waits. He's really unloaded on her, the full brunt of his bad temper brought to bear in every one of his strikes. He's curious whether she'll get up-- not many people could, after that-- but soon enough, Pás proves her will superior to the complaints of a broken body. She forces herself upright, her smile still printed invitingly on her face past the curve of her fallen hair. K' turns a grim stare on her, and...
...finds himself narrowing his eyes at his own shades, which now traitorously occupy Pás' face. His temper comes flooding back hotly, and because of that... he decides to be a huge fucking asshole in dealing with what'll presumably be her final attempt to cleanly hurt him.
A derisive chuckle pushes out of the back of his throat as Pás determinedly picks herself up and throws herself right back at him again. She just doesn't know when to give up, does she? On top of that, she's still spirited enough to mock him with his own shades planted-- slightly crookedly-- on her face. Well, that's fine. It's her funeral. Another decisive hit should teach her her place, should put her down and out. She won't stand back up again after he's done with her.
In retrospect, K' would come to wonder if he should perhaps have stopped playing around with her a little bit earlier. (Of course, it doesn't occur to him that this could also be a lesson in 'why it doesn't pay to be a dick.')
He steps into her first blurring kick with complete authority, a harsh 'tcheh!' sharp with dismissiveness his sole reaction to that first strike. He pushes forwards immediately afterwards, killing what little gap remains, his right hand firing towards the girl's throat with full intent to catch her in a stranglehold, stop her momentum, and fling her away from him-- except at the last moment, the girl inverts. His target worms out of reach. And with a sudden, short hiss that might have turned into a "--fuck," if it had had enough time to evolve into an actual word, K' does about the only thing he can do.
He braces.
Păs rapes
K' help
And as she spins on the spot, balanced with a single arm, those burning kicks machinegun on without mercy, her lean body transforming into a veritable spinning firecracker of pain and bright light.
Finally, through the fire and dust of her last explosion, Pás -- suddenly upright -- reaches out to steal herself a handful of K''s leather lapels and reel him in, so she can pull his body against hers, wrap a leg around his hip, grab his ass in her free hand, and kiss the hell out of him. Her lips crush against the boy's a third, unsolicited time, this one tasting sharply of blood -- from both of them.
The kiss breaks just as violently as it was forced onto him, and Pás leans back, just the barest of inches, to face K' as she presses their bodies close. Only his face get mirrored back at him by his stolen sunglasses, but it's without mention that she's staring him right in the eye, watching him as, through the blood, through the burns, and through the bruising, she puts on the most shit-eating of grins.
"Don't mind if I keep these, Acendedor?" she inquires sweetly, insinuating his stolen sunglasses. She wears them well. "I hope we have this date again. Did anyone tell you that you're so sexy when you're angry, honey-child. Ha ha ha haaaaa!"
Without warning, she gives K' his delicious freedom, letting go an instant before she strikes. Her hands peel away, and one heartbeat later, she's leaping upwards and drawing up and in both her long legs, her feet crackling with her sinister chi. She thrusts out both feet in a delicious finale to that attack, attempting to dropkick the boy straight in the stomach. Sparks net and arc from the soles of her feet, defibrillating outwards the second they make impact. Her fiery chi detonates outwards in a forceful blast, aiming to try to send him straight back into the river. Even the best fish get sometimes thrown back.
To tell the truth, K' can deal with the blazing pain of Pás' imbued kicks way better than he can deal with what she follows them with. With a scoff of pure contempt, he weathers her storm of blows with a strength and fortitude far beyond what his lean frame would suggest. But his sneering disparagement soon gets cut off when Pás plops a final parting gift into his arms: her entire pliant body. Her unasked-for proximity shatters his dismissive coldness in an instant, old and deep-seated traumas causing K' to spasm back from her sudden contact as if burned. A brief moment of shocked incredulity greets Pás' eager eyes, before that dark expression inches from hers transmutes from surprise to an unadulterated killing rage.
K' was -about- to protest her body against his and the leg that winds shut about his hip, but whatever he was about to say gets lost in her mouth when she steals her third kiss-- and what feels like half his ass. Maddened, incoherent with offended fury, K' bares teeth into her kiss, prepared to snap at her and split her lip clear in half if she doesn't back off fast enough. Mercifully for what's left of her mouth, she does.
When she reels back to survey her handiwork, it's to behold a seething, frustrated anger that-- for all K' is famed for his temper-- is still very rare to see on his face in -this- degree of sheer intensity. Mind if she keeps them? "It doesn't matter," he starts, a hint of a smirk twitching almost convulsively at his fixed snarl. "I am going," he promises warningly, his voice straining past bared teeth, "to get them back."
And he might have started describing (or worse, acting upon) the exact method by which he was going to crush her into a bloody paste and pick his stolen shades out of her rent remains... except she chooses that point to-- wisely-- get well clear of him and run for it. K' ends up back in the shallows of the river in a rush of sparking chi and a flare of displaced water, and-- too furious to even move for the space of a few instants-- he just lies there and -fumes- for the few precious seconds it takes for Pás to make good on her escape.
He is, perhaps, ruminating on all the ways he is going to -kill her-.
When he finally flips to an unsteady mantle on all fours in the water-- literally bristling with a hot array of fire he's prepared to bring to bear on her-- it's only to realize that she's gone. Naturally, this leaves him... mildly unfulfilled. "..." he says, quite articulately, his shoulders hunching and his frame bowing even lower in a deceptively defeated posture; and then, without warning, he rears back and slams a fist into the riverbed hard enough to bruise his knuckles, releasing his built-up fire in a rush of heat that vaporizes much of the water surrounding him. Were he Shenwoo, he'd have cut loose with a roaring howl of rage and possibly punched himself in the face. But he isn't, so he only really lets himself exhale a long, protracted breath that's half a tension-releasing sigh, and half a deeply unsatisfied growl.
He intends, for better or worse, to make good on his promise; for keeping promises and exacting vengeance are two things which one can always count on K' to do.
COMBATSYS: K' has ended the fight here.
Log created on 20:47:35 02/06/2008 by K', and last modified on 22:39:49 02/11/2008.