Description: Adel: *lurks in ambush* Bison: RAAAAR I AM HERE Oswald: *... I wasn't even supposed to be here today.* (Winner: Adelheid)
This was troublesome. Nothing more than a buzz on his cell and a text message. 'Be there. No excuses. Make things interesting.' it said, and the 'or else' was implied. There was no doubt he had incurred wrath from a good few people given his interference with a match from last week, international authourites weren't too happy about a landmark getting heavily defaced, his usual bookie got screwed out of a huge wad of cash due to the fight rules changing, and who knows what else had taken up his scent.
Whereever he went, he couldn't help but feel a bit paranoid. Especially with that message.
Classy suit, a nice hat tugged low on his brow, leaning up against a light post, a thin, king-sized cigarette leaves a trail of lazy haze into the air from between his fingers. It's mainly for show, he's not much a smoker, but sometimes it's a comforting thing - something to occupy the mind.
He twitches a moment as he's brought to reach into his pocket, pulling out the thin, glistening black phone from the jacket. Another message. A flick open... a glance... and an all too sour look to his face. Looks like he's been commissioned or something thereof.
A flick of the fingers sends the ashing thing to the ground, little sparks spraying out as it bounces on the ground, snuffed out under heel. In the heart of Chinatown, it wasn't unusual to see men in suits, gangsters, high lifes now and then - hopefully he wouldn't stick out too much. He had no reason to be quick to take action. The fighters would be here soon enough.
Mike Bison... it's a name that Adelheid is all too familiar with. He's crossed paths with the boxer once or twice before... not that those meetings lasted long. The Bernstein heir was somewhat younger then, but Bison... well, Bison is a force of nature unto himself. It would lead some fighters to question the wisdom of going through with the fight, but not the platinum blonde. No, it even helps him ignore the everpresent... zanyness of the booking officials. A flower shop. What, he's supposed to be girlie and like that? And Bison is the antithesis? Bull in a china shop indeed. Adelheid arrives only slightly early, leaving his motorcycle around the corner this time, and heading into the Vigorous Gardens with barely a glance at the gathered onlookers watching monitors linked to the shop cameras, and those soon to be staring intently through the windows.
Inside... well, it's one of the largest flower gardens in the city, right? Humid, artificially warm, a jungle of naturally-lit splendor. Row upon row of every shade of petal and leaf, growing tall and obscuring sight and passage. .... at least, if one doesn't want to crash right through them like the Hulk. Operating on that premise, at least to begin with, the Bernstein heir simply moves deeper into the oasis in the midst of Southtown... hoping to obscure himself not only from Mike Bison, but from the unknown wildcard that is their Chaos Agent tonight. .... perhaps if they bump into each other at the door.....
Adelheid Bernstein. Yeah, Bison's met him before... heh. Never met this Oswald character, though. Shee. Another fight with another interferer... type... thing. Bison just can't get himself an out and out fight anymore, can he? All these SNF fights and their gimmicks... at least they let him keep his skills sharp. And hey, he's been given full and special license to go bugnuts in this flower shop. Adel might not be girlie--for all Bison's bluster he knows the young kid can mean business...
... but Bison -is- a bull in a china shop. A china shop... of flowers. Or... something like that. Anyway, he's late, it seems--officials tapping their watches, looking around nervously. There's no sign of the big man at all, not a damn peep. Several officials pick up their cellphones...
...and then... *BANG* *BAM* The door to the shop comes flying in--busted off its hinges, literally--wrecking at least half of one row of flowers. And Bison is looming in the entrance, shirtless, wearing just boxing trunks and sneakers, his hands and forearms wrapped in layers of sports tape.
"AWRIGHT!!" he bellows, raucously, slamming fists together. A chance to beat this prissy freakass Bernstein again? Bison's goddamn ready! "LET'S GET THIS SHOW ON THE ROAD YOU <BLEEP>IN' PANSIES!" See, he can even make a flower-related pun!
COMBATSYS: M.Bison has started a fight here.
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M.Bison 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: M.Bison gathers his will.
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M.Bison 0/-------/---====|
COMBATSYS: Adelheid has joined the fight here.
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Adelheid 0/-------/-------|====---\-------\0 M.Bison
COMBATSYS: Oswald has joined the fight here.
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Adelheid 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Oswald
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M.Bison 0/-------/---====|
Lots of officials tapping watches, pulling cellphones, looking nervous indeed. And then suddenly, the heartbeat of Southtown suffers a brief, if climatic, heart attack with the cacophonic arrival of the walking-fridge boxer. The picture on the cellphone showed him as big, but... good lord. Reflexes take over as he lifts his head and reaches up to pluck the hat off his head, pale grey eyebrows are lifted in surprise and in a duplicit sense, utter disdain.
Deep down he knew well right there, if he didn't play his cards perfectly, he was /not/ going to get out of this one in one piece. And he's not even seen what this 'Adelheid' character can bring to the match. If there is a god of fate, he is certainly fond of plot twists.
The screams that come from the shop when the door sails into the rickety racks of plants in the front of the store wake up pretty much the entire shop, its neighbours and the center just across the street. Screams of fright and bellows of 'FIGHT FIGHT!' are already starting.
"Damn..." he mutters to himself and rolls a shoulder, keeping to himself still, reaching behind him to his pants, tugging out a pair of gloves from the back pocket, taking his time to slip them on. There was only one target so far but it was big enough for two...
COMBATSYS: Oswald focuses on his next action.
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Adelheid 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Oswald
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M.Bison 0/-------/---====|
Alright. The crashing entrance that Bison makes into the shop is impossible to miss, but Adelheid doesn't acknowledge it immediately. He skirts the back of the greenhouse-turned-warzone instead, keeping low, and weaving behind the rows of flowers and greenery. With Oswald bringing up the rear, it looks like initial contact is going to be between Bernstein and the boxer after all. There's no hesitation in stepping up, however... in fact, the platinum blonde makes his appearance in a way that seems intentionally premeditated and geared towards pissing big Mike off. Adelheid's energy spikes as he breathes a deep breath, and shoves out of his crouch. He crosses between rows of flowers in a blurring instant, looking down at the spot where the raging boxer made the new door, "Bison! CATCH!"
It's not so much a warning as an announcement of what's happened. The moments before the leap saw Adelheid grabbing the nearest plant off the shelf, and all his focus goes into aligning and hurling it with deadly (hilarious) intent. By the time any sound would reach Mike's ears, the whirring, ceramic-potted peace lily would be well on its way, its violently air-displacing force sending bits of dirt flying hither and yon on its breakneck course straight for Mike Bison's broad, big, angry, stupid face.
COMBATSYS: Adelheid successfully hits M.Bison with Thrown Object.
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Adelheid 0/-------/---====|-------\-------\0 Oswald
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M.Bison 0/-------/--=====|
Sure, the entrance gets him noticed. That's what it's -there- for. Bison, however, does not like the potted plant to the face. The angle's a bit off--he wasn't expecting Adelheid to coem at him through the air like that. So he's already surging forward before he can think to defend himself. As a result... he gets a potted plant to the face. It smashes, and the impact kind of hurts... but really it mostly serves to get Bison all the more pissed off.
That is to say, despite the impact, he really doesn't stop coming on at all. Bull in a flower shop indeed. Adelheid's sneaky attack doesn't mean Bison lost track of him; in fact he's somewhat like a hunting dog as well, crouched forward as he charges.
He'll find Adel, no fear--can't hide forever. And once he has him... well, he's going to punch him. DUH. What do you think those big bludegons are -for-? Once Bison's located Adelheid he plunges forward--rows of plants or no--intent on smashing a hard right straight into Adel's chest.
COMBATSYS: Adelheid blocks M.Bison's Dash Straight.
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Oswald 0/-------/-------|=====--\-------\0 M.Bison
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Adelheid 0/-------/--=====|
Airborne potted plants, 103rd regiment. There's a brief moment of sympathy that occupies his mind as he cinches the gloves in and starts toward the shop, aiming a bit more toward a side entrance to make quiet entrace among the now fleeing people and very vocal, very angry, very animated shop owner and staff.
A weave, a twist, people flow around him like water 'round a tall stone in a stream and as he approaches, his hand drops low and wraps fingers about the handle of a plastic two-gallon tank of mineral fertilizer water. The rush and sheer speed of the thrown punch gives him pause and the fell tumbles of some of the stands keep him at bay for now. It's time to find another way. Stepping back a bit, into the store rooms, and up a ladder, lugging the tank with him all the way - the roof will be his stomping ground soon enough...
COMBATSYS: Oswald takes no action.
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Oswald 0/-------/-------|=====--\-------\0 M.Bison
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Adelheid 0/-------/--=====|
The peace lily airborne, Adelheid slides down into a crouch, waiting right around the corner at the end of the artificial jungle corridor for the inevitable chase of King Kong. And so it comes, the thundering footfalls of the boxer rocking the plants, shuddering leaves, overturning merchandise... and finally bringing him face to face with his quarry. Of course there's no hesitation in Mike's attack... he doesn't stop to wonder why his prey didn't retreat, and is in fact moving to face him full-on. That's what boxing is about, right?
The meaty fist crashes in, and crossed forearms meet it, shuddering impact sending vibrations up both of the Bernstein heir's stung limbs. He has, however, deflected - and felt - far worse. Even from Bison himself, "Going to take..." Adelheid shoves off the strike, pushing forward with full-on, no-hesitation intensity, "more than THAT!" he has something to prove to Bison, this time, and the young Bernstein all but throws himself into the hopefully off-balance boxer. His black-gloved right hand thrusts forward, splayed fingers seeking to clinch around, and vice painfully onto Mike's very features. Then, should the grip be found, a flex of his arm would accompany an outlashing explosion of silvery chi. Originating from the very palm of his hand, the idea is to release the torrential windshear point-blank into Bison's cranium with ferocity enough to literally blast the massive Shadaloo enforcer away.
COMBATSYS: M.Bison fails to interrupt Scorpion Deathlock from Adelheid with Turn Punch.
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Oswald 0/-------/-------|======-\-------\0 M.Bison
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Adelheid 0/-------/=======|
Gonna take more than that, huh? Well, Bison's got plenty more where that came fr--except, he doesn't. At least, not right now. Bison's already surging forward like a bull, preparing his next attack--when he is rudely interrupted by Adelheid's grip--a grip that turns into a painful lash of wind energy that hurls him away. The big man flies through the air, and lands painfully, a bit slow to get back on his feet--though he certainly does so.
"Ya gotten better since I last saw ya... punk..." snarls Bison, his teeth bared in what might barely look like a grin. He cricks his neck, from side to side, eliciting a series of nasty pops and crackles.
And then he spits Adel's words right back in his face. "But that ain't enough to take ME down... you hear me?!?" Hard not to--he's practically roaring, even with a 'normal' talking voice...
This was perfect. Just too perfect. Oswald was careful not to have his shoes slip too much on the slanted, thatched and ceramic roof of the somewhat 'serre', following the pair from above as they rush through the store's greenery and foliage. Bits and pieces are seen through semi-cleaned skylights - but his vantage doesn't last all too long.
The flare of the chi lights up the hazy sunlit room like a flashbulb going off, flaring up in the grimed windows of the skylights. Flying back, landing hard, which does not make life easy for the long-time-gambler. The ripple across the thin-held window plates fractures and splinters, the sound of the fifty or so panes fragementing in a loud shower of motes of light and wrathful daggers lights up the room just as the chi energy ebbs away, filling the greenhouse with a still falling bladed shower.
Things start to tumble, that wall wasn't so sturdy anymore and there are many shelves attached and buckling... Even Oswald can't stay steady too well as the roof shakes along with... and the clatter and tumble of iron from the cans of earth and pots from the shelves start to replace the sound of the broken glass. Along with the falling debris, down comes the gallons-full jug of liquid - hopefully the fall of everything else will keep his presence masked for a bit longer... No guarantees, right?
COMBATSYS: Adelheid parries Oswald's Large Thrown Object!
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Oswald 0/-------/-------|======-\-------\0 M.Bison
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Adelheid 1/-------/=======|
The serenity of the commercial garden, threatened to this point, finally explodes into absolute chaos as a faulty pane of glass and the shockwaves of energy and landing Bison send what seems like half the ceiling crashing down. .... along with mineral fertilizer. The jug is telling, as is that tingling sense of a talented fighter plying his trade, but Adelheid hardly has the time to pause and locate the interloper just now. Or at least, he doesn't take the moment. Even as Bison launches back to the ground, the Bernstein heir is sprinting after him.
Fancy action-movie slow-mo would show the platinum blonde glancing upwards, and fluidly pushing off forward into a low, sliding weave. He pushes off and sprints back in at the boxer, crossing the distance imposed between them in an instant. A shower of splintering glass is no obstacle, though it might be with just a shade less focused determination. The debris that clatter down from the roof only get in the way if he lets them, and the Bernstein heir doesn't miss a beat. Sliding right a half-step, a backhand slams away not only one of the makeshift blades, but much of the shrapnel around it, the air seeming to distort in the wake of his abrupt movement: a blur of three succinct deflections and sudden changes in direction, and then he's in Bison's face again.
Probably about the time Mike drags himself up, Adelheid's already on him again, both hands grabbing for the front of his shirt. His intent is to haul the massive mountainous meatmasher up, swing him about, and with one more uncanny, internal exertion of chi, all but /blast off/ with the mighty boxer suspended before him. Should he travel Air Bernstein? The trip will take Bison back-first through one, two, three rows of plants in a violent explosion of tearing flora and hurtling dirt, before he would be released into (or through) the fourth.
COMBATSYS: M.Bison endures Adelheid's God Press EX.
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Oswald 0/-------/-------|=======\=------\1 M.Bison
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Adelheid 1/-----==/=======|
Hnh. Bison ain't impressed with the fancy moves. In fact, he's got a sneer of disdain crossing his lips--even as Adelheid charges forward and is in his face again. "You think you got somethin', punk? BRING IT!" The words are -barely- out of his mouth before Adelheid is grabbing. Sure, he picks Bison up. Sure he rushes him through four tiers of plant life. But Bison, he's capable of some pretty action-movie shit, too.
The cameras get a fine closeup of Bison's face, grimacing as he's yanked off his feet and hurtled forward--only to be released into darkness. It's quite dramatic, actually, that perfect movement of stillness; the calm before the storm. It's so quiet one can hear the flowers growing... and then an ear-splittingly loud roar -bursts- through that space. And right behind that roar is Bison, charging forward, his entire body thrusting forward into a singular movement, a blurring motion of big man as he blasts straight through the furrow that Adelheid created, his right fist cocked back. And when he reaches Adelheid he swings--well, it's not really a -swing-.
It's more of a straight-on piston, a punch of such concentrated power and potential that the air itself seems to be tearing around the flat, hard, striking surface of his fist. And that fist is aimed directly for Adelheid's face.
Tiles fall from where his heels were anchored as the two warriors collide and fly through row after row of racks and stands, pots, plants and leaves and even small trees. Another little slip and Oswald calls his little ceiling-bug game quits, hopping down from the slippery roof and into the glass strewn floor below.
Wait, Bison was already back up? The whites of his teeth can be seen through the sneer on the middle-aged man's face, hand coming up to push the crimson specs up just a bit higher upon his nose. "Cheh..." He huffs a breath out and steps aside through the dust laden light now, foot coming up to place heel upon one of the now dislodged rolling-shelves that are strewn about the floor, giving one a hard shove with a thrust-kick.
Bison was tough, there is no doubt on that. Tough or so, a body can only take so much punishment before it gives, and if anything Bison wasn't much to muster his weight in subtlety, but he certainly was worth entertainment value. The gambler wanted to see more. The rack skitters along the tile floor, bumping pot and canisters all over as it hauls over to the blond-haired-heir.
COMBATSYS: Oswald successfully hits Adelheid with Thrown Object.
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Oswald 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 M.Bison
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Adelheid 1/----===/=======|
COMBATSYS: Adelheid endures M.Bison's Gigaton Blow.
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Oswald 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 M.Bison
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Adelheid 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|
So focused is Adelheid on putting his opponent through the rows of pretty flowers that the continued assault of the operative known as Oswald is momentarily forgotten... at least until the rattling skitter of shelving crashes through the nearby display and into his legs. Staggered, the platinum blonde steps forward once, twice... and then the mountainous boxer erupts back from the rubble, sending still more bits of petal and pot hither and yon as that ultimate punch is delivered. And connects. WHAM. For a moment it feels, perhaps even looks like Adelheid's face is going to lose its skin. He reels back, he twists with the impact... but it's voluntary motion. His jaw grits, his determination sets... his head rings.... he spins about through the air, backwards, away from Bison. One shoulder connects, as planned, if not as gracefully as intended, with the nearest standing shelf.... and half the plants are dislodged violently in a crashing avalanche of brilliant reds and yellows. Adel? Adel drops to a crouch, his head still reeling back. He screams.
Not a thing of pain, not a thing of fear, a gutteral, primal kiai of ferocious fighting fury, both his arms sweeping forward, flexing, his entire body thrown behind the singular motion.
And the ground before him surges, roils, burns with the rampant, coursing edges of a hurricane of brilliant silver edges, a man-high tidal wave of greyish windshear. Adelheid tenses, the blast intensifies, a railing cleaver of gale intensity levelled full bore on Bison, every lingering bit of power coursing forth from the Bernstein heir into his own ultimate strike. One meant to take out not only Bison... but perhaps that side of the store as well.
COMBATSYS: Adelheid successfully hits M.Bison with Crown Prince.
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Oswald 0/-------/-------|=======\-------\0 M.Bison
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Adelheid 0/-------/--=====|
Oh, it blows out the entire wall, almost--and Bison with it. Call it sick, call it masochistic, but Bison wanted to see just how hard that would hit. And his answer was given--pretty damn hard. The cameras get another nice zoom-in as the roofing over that area creaks... and the Bison starts walking back out. He's battered and bruised but his strong spirit is still defiant.
"I thought I told you," he snarls, as he turns to his right... grabbing a big wooden picnic table, flexing his arms, and lifting it up, dirt and potted plants splashing down his front, the rust-red painted table creaking in and of itself...
"THAT YOU NEEDED BETTER THAN THAT!!" Spittle flies as the big man roars, cranking his upper torso around and just winging that table for Adelheid and/or his general position. Primal kiai? Bison looks like something primal right now, a mass of blood, bone, and muscle, his dark, small eyes like burning coals...
What a smug little grin on his face as the rack smacks into his legs and, for lack of better knowledge on his part, allows the pugilist to start beating away on the face of the the crop-cut haired man, arms coming up to cross in front of hi...m...
The arms uncross quickly as the ripples and tears of energy flare out and overtake the physics for a moment, as the explosion of violent wind-borne fury whips about and sends the boxer sailing into the rubble again only to see him get up and and welcome more punishment. There's a growing part of Oswald that fears he's perhaps out of his league here - but an obligation was an obligation. And he took every job he accepts, no matter how convoluted, to heart.
There's far too much noise with the screaming of Bison and the battle altogether to hear the soft creak of the leather in his gloves as Oswald narrows his eyes and centers himself. Taking a slow, deep breath and taking his time to approach as the retaliation from the brute was incoming. This fight was not as tactical as he'd of liked, but he will have to make do. Cards in one hand, other palming a support strut as he keeps distance for now, waiting...
COMBATSYS: Oswald focuses on his next action.
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Oswald 0/-------/--=====|=======\-------\0 M.Bison
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Adelheid 0/-------/--=====|
COMBATSYS: M.Bison successfully hits Adelheid with Large Thrown Object.
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Oswald 0/-------/--=====|=======\-------\1 M.Bison
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Adelheid 1/-------/=======|
Oswald's calculating approach brings a glance from Adelheid, back towards the direction the operative comes from. But the card-shuffling is the least of his worries right now, as he pushes back to his feet in the wake of that massive release of wind chi. Turning back to face Bison, the hurtling table is observed, the Bernstein heir's crimson eyes narrowing. Muscles tense, and he zigs..... when he should have zagged. After all the careful footwork, he's nailed by the careening furniture. It figures, given who his adversary is. Managing to position his shoulder perfectly to take the crashing picnic table's whirling impact, Adelheid is spun to the ground, crashing over the remnants of plantlife that now litter the area, the surroundings quite adequately blown apart by now.
Broken glass crackles as he falls to his knees, cut numerous places in the process of pushing back to his feet, "More... huh..." he breathes, half-murmuring defiantly as he kicks out with one heavy booted foot, another eruption of brilliantly luminescent silver chi ripping the very air, sending a glittering shower of tiny bits of glass outwards as it races towards Bison. It may not be as massive as a moment before, but with any luck... it doesn't need to be. The kick-launched wave of power flares angrily, coursing a short path through the rubble, blasting a trench through the crashed shelves on its path towards Bison's legs.
COMBATSYS: Adelheid successfully hits M.Bison with Reppukyaku.
- Power hit! -
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Oswald 0/-------/--=====|=======\===----\1 M.Bison
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Adelheid 1/-------/=======|
Bison's already charging forward. He doesn't even have the time to -think- about Adel doing something with that wind chi of his. Even if he did... he's so single-minded, -so- focused on Adelheid... that he barely notices that high kick. That blast of wind chi blows into him--it almost assuredly is enough to knock him out. But such is the stubbornness of Bison--the kind of thing that makes him feared even as a loser...
... for one... he's a bad loser... and secondly... sometimes he just gets it into his head that someone needs to be crushed. Smashed beyond their wildest dreams. That's his goal now. He lost a step--at least--on the Reppukyaku. But he's still moving forward.
He'll reach Adelheid's position, somehow--and then he'll have a massive right uppercut--a smash uppercut, not completely vertical but cranked around and up at a nearly forty-five degree angle. A singleton crushing blow, the kind that is his specialty.
And then he'll topple, like a tree.
COMBATSYS: M.Bison can no longer fight.
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Oswald 0/-------/--=====|
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Adelheid 1/-------/=======|
COMBATSYS: Adelheid dodges M.Bison's Ultimate Wild Smash.
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Oswald 0/-------/--=====|
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Adelheid 1/-------/=======|
Blood streams from Adelheid's mouth and nose. A giant bruise rises at the side of his almost-split lip. Yet another blast of brilliant chi crashes over Bison, and still the boxer barrels forward, overcoming all the obstacles in his path to crash in on Adelheid once more. Those watching the fight might expect the last-ditch assault to end the battered Bernstein as well, but his alertness is with him despite his haggard state. Lithe muscles shift, and the young prodigy throws himself sidelong away from Mike's final charge, the uppercut reaving nothing but air. It does that impressively, however, and likely does an admirable job of helping the mighty boxer to the former-shop's floor.
He draws a deep breath in, releases it, steadies another as he turns to face Oswald, looking back over the spectacle of their rampage, the young fighter's dark eyes falling on the operative almost instinctively. There aren't really any more questions answered, now that the fight is gone. And so Adelheid offers calmly, recovering his voice, "You were wise to stay on the periphery. His vision is based on movement."
COMBATSYS: Adelheid takes no action.
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Oswald 0/-------/--=====|
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Adelheid 1/-------/=======|
"Hrmn." the growl is low and near silent, eyes narrowing behind the gold framed specs. This was not good. Odds were stacked hard, underdog going high, even with Oswald's intervention, overall this felt one sided. Adelheid certainly put on a wild show of pure energy while Bison put on a show of pure rage.
The problem was, Oswald had no idea how much Adelheid had left.
"Cheh." He stands a little more upright when the dust settles from the aftermath, "...the hell was all that now?" The hand that isn't busy keeping the spread of cards in hold reaches up to press thumb against his nose and flicking it, giving a light spit upon the ground. "Failte cursed this time." He mixes the olde tongue into it a bit as he keeps his eyes on first the vanquished, and then the victor.
"Nothing personal, you see." He offers a semi-apologetic nod of his head, "'s a job. I wanted the audience to enjoy." The thumb and fingers reach down to stroke at his chin. Experienced or not, there was a visible tension in him, if Adelheid did have a good amount of his strength left, even if his body is battered; it could be that he outclasses Oswald in many forms. This was a calculated risk - but it didn't feel right to simply retreat.
"You two were dancing so nicely, no need for me to butt in too obviously, you know." It's not meant in a condescending way, a slight smile as the hat is taken from behind him where it was clipped to belt, giving it a lift before he sets it on his head. "Good fight, Meister Adelheid. Shall I take my leave?"
COMBATSYS: Oswald takes no action.
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Oswald 0/-------/--=====|
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Adelheid 1/-------/=======|
Rage vs. energy. Fury squared off against a focused will... and a considerable talent. Fire and ice. All too often, Adelheid finds this to be the case. But when it comes to collected, focused masters of their strength: few can claim to have climbed so high, so young. Defeating Bison may be a longshot, but most everything about the 'R' heir is. Whatever Oswald's uncertainties, Adelheid is similarly not certain of the operative's limitations. Only that he is rather sore, barely on his feet, and hardly knows this mystery man. There's no grudge, and Adel is hardly a particularly malicious sort. Lineage or no.
"Of course. That was your charged role, after all." The cool tenor is polite, matter of fact. Quiet, as he regains his bearings, and makes his way towards the new exit to the shop. Best to be gone when Bison starts getting up, "Well played. Until next time." A respect Bison is not offered. Adel doesn't comment towards the fallen boxer. A wipe of his glove, clearing drying blood from his face, and a glaring glance from crimson eyes says it all:
You had that coming.
COMBATSYS: Adelheid has left the fight here.
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Oswald 0/-------/--=====|
COMBATSYS: Oswald has ended the fight here.
Well, that was a welcome result. New suit untouched, shoes barely scuffed, and he didn't get his glasses smashed into his face by a huge brute. This certainly came off better than the Greece incident.
"You stupid!" The shopkeeper is screaming that and a number of foreign obsceneties to Oswald as he lifts one foot high and carefully begins stepping over the fallen shelves and toppled pots toward the front of the shop again. There's a moment where he pauses to put the cards away and tap his hat snug upon his head. If the cameras were still rolling, the last thing they'd see is the white haired man stopping in his tracks to spy a single untopped vase left in the shop, a pale blue thing - rather plain really - with a pair of exotic looking things listfully held within.
A roll of bills is pulled from jacket, a few of the green notes slapped upon what's left of the shelf before he picks up the vase and half-tucks it under an arm.
"Who's your janitor anyway?" He turns his head a bit and quips as he walks out of the widely open portal to the crowd gathered about the downtown street, adding insult to collateral damage as the hard heels of the shoes crack one of the coloured glass bits upon the door laying on the ground "...gotta clean up... this place looks terrible."
Log created on 20:24:56 02/22/2008 by Adelheid, and last modified on 16:32:57 02/26/2008.