Description: FINALLY AFTER MONTHS OF WAITING the TP ends in a decidedly unfair fight! Poor Wellington! He never stood a chance, as the unlikely tag-team of Pacific Resistance and a lone Guardian King dominate the British Duke right back to Englandland! But what of Preston?! (Beware: Preston may cause harm if ingested)
Information found, and troops gathered; military precision is lacking. That's essentially what's transpired. Marisol O'Connell has done the hard yards, investigating through one sleazy bar after another in the elusive search for... sailors.
British sailors, to be precise.
And while stumbling across men who look like the following link has no doubt been an inspiring trip for the young half-Spaniard, she's nevertheless acquired the information she was looking for:
http://tinyurl.com/2tshp2
Such is life. The British are not entirely good looking, after all, like most countries. And sailors, well. They're certainly rough and tough. And often ugly.
But the information is what has proved so very vital in this search for the missing member of Pacific Resistance. All roads lead to Rome, and in this case, to a Roman house by the sea. While beach houses may abound in this area of the beach, this... well, it isn't precisely what one would call a beach house, despite its location.
Architecture with a heavy lean towards the use of the marble dominations, the use of sandstone creating a nice contrast to what would appear to simply be a small manor house. Which is very odd, considering the country it's located in.
Nevertheless, this is where the roads of information have led. A motley crew has assembled, and all that stands before them and their goal is a set of iron gates, thirty odd sailors, and a man who smells of British.
The game is afoot. Two sailors stand guard at the gates.
It wasn't easy, gathering the troops. But, ultimately, things panned out, and here they stand on the beaches of Southtown in front of a Roman-styled house on the sea. Part of Marisol finds it disgustingly appropriate. A guy like Wellington, 'living' in a place like this?
Turning her head to one side, the girl scoffs, arms folding over her chest.
Currently at a distance, the girl and the entourage observe the massive house and the security set up on its perimeter. Thoughtful for the moment, Marisol frowns lightly as she regards the two sailors on post at the gates of the Romanesque manor on the beach. For a moment the half-Spaniard is pensive, considering a possibly clever or covert means of slipping inside to find the elder Wellington.
But then, almost suddenly, the girl stomps a foot into soft sand, pivoting harshly on her sneakered heel as she faces those in her company.
"Alright, since Preston's father chose to approach this entire mess without an inch of dignity, I say we don't either. There's two men there--" A finger jerks over her shoulder, toward the manor gates. "--and there's us. Frankly, I don't care anymore at this point. I say we go up there, punch faces in and get the hell inside. I'm tired of sitting around, biding my time."
Hands fall to her hips, resting there as she crooks them akimbo. Full lips pull into a smirk.
"And if you think it's a bad plan, tough!"
Without hesitating, the girl turns once more, marching boldly toward the manor and its front gates. What is tact?
Really, the only reason Tenma Kiryuu is here is for... Uh... Moral support? Well, that and to add another body to the dogpile to bring down the big bad British guy. But ultimately, this is Marisol's show, he's just along for the ride!
So when they come up to the gate and it's guarded by sailors, Tenma eases the cloth-wrapped bokken on his shoulder a little. When Marisol explains her 'plan', rather challengingly, he snorts, a huff of air stirring dark bangs out of his face.
"Hey, you're the expert on dealin' with sailors 'round here, Red," Tenma says, unable to let a perfectly good opportunity to give Marisol a hard time pass him by, even though they're ostensibly supposed to be working together on this. But since when does 'cooperation' necessarily mean 'playing nice'?
With the red-haired lunatic just deciding to march up to the gate, Tenma shrugs his shoulders and follows. Somebody's got to keep these Pacific Resistance lunatics from getting themselves killed.
"That's the stupidest plan I've ever heard."
And that, in essence, is Luc Schroedinger's two cents.
Lingering towards the back of the group of troublemaking teens, the German offers an irritable passing glance towards the expansive Beach House Manor that sprawls out before them. Lips twist in some form of disgust as he looks over the architecture, head tilting towards the side.
"... This place looks like crap," he finally decides with a nod of his head. Hands shoving deep into his pockets, Luc kicks at the sandy beach with a single foot, beginning to move forward as Marisol makes her bold claim. "So we're just gonna kick everyone's ass? ... che. I can do that." A pause.
"As long as the reject stays the hell out of my way."
And as if to emphasize just who he's talking about, Schroedinger will shove past Tenma, his expression growing increasingly more irate the closer they get to the home.
"Seriously, who lives in a place like this? Stupid Brits." Don't tell him the architecture is Roman or blah blah blah.
It's British in Luc World.
The two guards at the gate, sailors in their white uniforms despite the fact they're on glorified guard duty, seem to be more interested in partaking in their game of cards than anything else. They've setup a table, and are standing on each side of it, cards in hand.
Why they don't have chairs should be obvious. They're guards.
Why they have a table should not be questioned, nor why the mighty Admiral Wellington is allowing them to make use of the table.
"You see them bloody Spice Girls gettin' back together for a bloody world tour?"
"They is, is they?"
"They is."
"I'd do them. Which is to say, I did them."
"You bloody wish."
Guards have a painful life. Long stretches of boredom with brief flashes of excitement that prove to be a false alarm, leading back to boredom again. Their talk is the talk of guards, and their fate is to be the fate of guards.
With the girl walking up the road towards the gates, the guard who catches sight of her -- let us call him Jim -- nudges his friend, gesturing with his pointy chin towards the offending individual. Is that a local behind her? And a German? They don't seem to notice, although they're likely to shortly.
"She ain't no bloody local she is, check the size of them bajumbas on her chest."
"I'd do them. Which is to say--"
"Hello hello hello Miss, what's all this about then?" Jim neatly cuts off his partner in crime, stepping forward for what is bound to be one spectacular fist hitting that big bulbous nose of his. The other, let's call him Bob, may be fought over by the other individuals, unless they both opt to simply let the half-Spaniard do all the work. Cooperation? What's that? R
The sailors are tough, but they are not street fighters; they have no inner chi with which to tap into, no fortitude beyond the norm of a mortal man. They are not young gods in the making. They are simply fodder, a hurdle easily surmounted to allow the vagrants access to the grounds proper -- and the manor-house beyond.
But with something akin to a sixth sense amongst them, more sailors lurk on the grounds, and at the sight of intruders they too will approach.
The kids might even break a sweat on their way up the path. Luc World is well-populated by the British tonight.
"I heard that, Kiryuu!" the girl snaps over her shoulder, shooting the Gedo youth a glare in response. That eye narrows sharply, gray depths mildly irritable as she begins pressing forward. Luc's comment earns him a scoff, head tossing coppery red locks before she herself snorts. "Whatever - you get to punch shit and beat up people. Stop complaining - both of you!"
Secretly the girl hopes the two stay out of one another's hair long enough to punch that old Wellington's face in a few good times. If they can manage that much, maybe there IS hope for this world yet.
But her thoughts drift onto the problem at hand: getting past the guards on duty and into Chateau d'Wellington, or whatever pretentious name he's given his Roman-styled manor on the beach. The greeting from the two card-playing guards - particularly Jim. The redhead says nothing.
Instead, Marisol lets her fists do the talking for her, as she punches Jim straight in the middle of his face.
It'll take some cooperation amongst the gathered three, but eventually they will beat down the front gate guards. Grinning smugly, the redhead turns, regarding the two young men in her entourage with a rub of her neck.
"Alright. Let's get inside. And if anyone - anyone - gets in our way, punch them the hell down. No quarter - none! I don't care anymore. Wellington is gonna pay for the shit he's done. He won't get away with this."
And once inside, the girl makes a point to make as much noise as possible, including knocking over any tables with expensive vases, throwing guards into walls with precious paintings and yelling Wellington senior's name so he can hear that, yes. He has company. Angry company.
Of course, they can get along, if it's for the mutual goal of beating up someone else, right? Right?
...Right?
Tenma glares sidelong at Luc at the 'reject' comment, but before he can say anything the German is pushing past him, which the Gedo swordsman doesn't bother to actually impede. Let the dumb monkey charge off and get himself in trouble if he feels like it! It's no skin off of Tenma's nose.
So too, he seems perfectly willing to let Pacific Resistance do all the work in dispatching the guards, since Luc wanted to push ahead. For the most part, Tenma just follows along with his still-sheathed bokken slung across his shoulders... Though he does join in Marisol's petty vandalism, breaking whatever might escape the grasp of the redhead.
After all, why not?
There's nothing more relaxing than beating the hell out of people. Case in point...
As Marisol dispatches with poor big-nosed Jim, Luc strides up calmly beside her, making a bee-line towards 'Bob.' Allowing no real time for greeting or explanation, the German will grab the man by the front of his shirt, rear back -- and then just HEADBUTT him as hard as possible, smashing thick forehead into a head that, no matter how thick, could never possibly be as dense as Luc's.
*CRACK*
"The guards are shitty, too."
And that's when the fun begins. Punching and kicking of guards, beating the hell out of people -- this is much more Luc's style. As Marisol and Tenma break their surroundings, the occasional EXPLOSION of black-blue chi can be seen from the manor, along with angry, -loud- cries of "I HATE ITALIANS!!!" as apparantly, Luc has it in his head that all of these men are Italian, despite his firm belief that the building is British.
He's angry. He's allowed to make mistakes.
"GRAAAAAAAAAAGH!!"
At the very least, with all his obnoxious yelling and the flare of chi inherent in his every strike, he makes his presence known.
And that's all one could ever ask for.
Through all the vandalism, wanton destruction, and the loud echoes of Marisol's shouted threats, one guard gets his window. He only has a couple seconds to move, to act, and by God if he isn't going to take it. Moving near-silent, his steps masked by the noise, his presence lost momentarily in the fray, he sneaks up behind the marauding redhead, reaching outwards, aiming with surprising speed to--
--punch a hole through a wall with his head. A swung foot cracks in out of nowhere and puts an end to that.
In his place, Pás beams happily. She may be the farthest thing from a lady, but it doesn't mean she can't arrive late like one. She seems to lean on whatever's available, a wall, a busted piece of furniture, a heaped pile of unconscious guards, dressed in torn cut-offs and a loud green-and-yellow midriff top that boldly declares BRASIL. Wearing her hair up and a strange pair of mirrored sunglasses on her face that are probably stolen, she pantomimes a heavy, long-suffering exhale, leans a hand on her hip, and flares a crooked grin towards her friend. "Oi Marisolas. Ai, I am not the very earlys, yea? I was waitings for you to do all the work."
Sailors rise, and sailors fall. Once the trio breach the entrance to the Romanesque manor, the carnage truly seems to begin. In their wake, guards wonder what the bloody hell just happened.
"Bit rude, weren't they?"
"Could've just asked to be let in, they could've."
"Bugger them."
The riff-raff is thrown by Marisol, hefted high and into expensive décor, ruining it with the simple ease that her Barbarian, man-like might is able to exert. Tenma's wooden sword cleaves through the rather ugly set of British sailors as they're encountered one by one, some even attempting to find a weapon with which to retaliate; a mop is brought out, more than once. And before Luc's overbearing ignorance (and anger) the berserker simply breaks those who would oppose him, black-blue chi leaving the sailors the same color. Even if they aren't Italian.
They're not nearly hairy enough. They just have bad teeth.
The late appearance by Pás is a blessing for Marisol, the young Brazilian leaning on the pile of guards to make her quip despite the fight that continues within the building.
"Enough!"
Amidst pitched fighting there within the broad lobby of the manor, a half-dozen sailors lurch to a halt at the barked command of their Admiral. With a variety of weapons in hand, they're like fish in a barrel for the young charges who seek their friend and comrade, easily dispatched unless they too heed the call of Wellington.
Or if they'd like to smash that final vase they're holding high overhead, for instance.
Atop the broad stairs, the Admiral stands. Frowning down at what he sees, a true mess of bodies and expensive taste, he slowly lifts a hand to unbutton his collar. Then he thumbs the next button, then a third.
"You foolish children. What do you hope to achieve here, beyond another set of charges listed on each of your rap sheets? My whelp of a boy is not worth your lives," Wellington begins, shedding his suit jacket. He casts it aside, the garment floating down towards the lobby as he too descends the steps.
"But clearly, since your parents are happy to let you all run amok I shall intercede on their behalf. Prepare yourselves, children.
"Most of you have felt the pain I bring before. That you've come via rickshaw is for the best; your Chink can carry you three to the hospital afterwards." Clearly, he means Tenma is the hired help, the man-powered-carriage. And clearly, racism runs in the family.
His left hand spreads to the side, and a small cylinder is revealed in his grip. With a simple twist it extends, a metal staff at his beck and call. The Wellington's are staff fighters at the core, their style formed through brute strength and endurance.
And from the dark look he gives those present, they're about to feel it. He'll even teach Pás how to spell the name of her country correctly.
COMBATSYS: Wellington has started a fight here on the right meter side.
> //////////////////////////////]
|-------\-------\0 Wellington
COMBATSYS: Luc has joined the fight here on the left meter side.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Luc 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Wellington
COMBATSYS: Marisol has joined the fight here on the left meter side.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Luc 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Wellington
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Pas has joined the fight here on the left meter side.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Luc 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Wellington
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 0/-------/-------|
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Tenma has joined the fight here on the left meter side.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Luc 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Wellington
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 0/-------/-------|
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/-------|
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Tenma 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Wellington focuses on his next action.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Luc 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Wellington
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 0/-------/-------|
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/-------|
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Tenma 0/-------/-------|
And it would seem that by the half-Spaniard girl's command - namely, vandalizing the shit out of the elder Wellington's beachside manor - the fun begins for her entourage. Despite the differences between the German and the Kiryuu boy, and even Marisol, it would appear that it takes a bit of recklessness and violence for them to set aside differences and cooperate. But, the real question is:
How long will it LAST?
"They're not ITALIA- -oh forget it!" the redhead barks at Luc in the fray. Unfortunately for Marisol, it gives the sneaky sailor a chance to try and sneak up behind her. But just before he can get a hold of her, his head is suddenly introduced to the nearest wall. Immediately the girl spins around and sees--
"Pás!"Whether the girl is early or late - it doesn't matter to Marisol. Their ass-kicking anti-Briton cadre just got a whole lot better.
Shooting the Brazilian in a mysterious pair of shades a lopsided grin. Full lips part, as the redheaded half-Spaniard girl begins to reply to her dark-skinned friend's words, when rather suddenly the foyer is filled with the loud bellow of a familiar British Admiral. Marisol's face immediately darkens.
Slowly Marisol turns on her heel, to face the man at the top of the staircase. At her sides, the girl's calloused hands - wrapped in white tape - curl into too-tight fists, gray eyes hooded in anger. She's doing her best to avoid running forward and trying to punch the man in his mouth as he talks. It takes a lot; after all, he not only took her friend and teammate away like some five-year-old child, he broke her arm, hurt her friends...
"You talk way too damn much," the girl spits, tossing her head to the side. Lifting her hands, she pulls her red mane back, a tight ponytail at the back of her head before she sneers. "This time I won't let you get away. I'll break your legs if I have to, but no matter what...you're going to give up your overprotective crusade."
Shifting her weight, the girl assumes a boxer's stance, arms raise. But, briefly, she lifts her hand and extended it forward, her thumb shooting outwards. Immediately she drops it, giving him a thumbs down.
Whether her colleagues for the moment move in to attack, it matters not to Marisol. Immediately after the girl races forward and ascends the staircase, blazing a trail right for the Briton and, should she get close enough, delivers a jab, followed by a harder cross to the man's ...well, whatever she can punch at an angle.
With the arrival of the Brazilian, Tenma can at least relax a little bit; it means there's /someone/ here who wouldn't really enjoy cracking his skull open. And while that's pretty scant comfort at this particular moment, it's at least something. The last time he cooperated with Marisol, it didn't go too well, you know?
But all that pales before the arrival of Wellington himself, who proves exactly from where Preston got all of his charm and manners. But at least Preston can be racist /correctly/.
"Did he just... Call me Chinese?" Tenma wonders of nobody in particular, in a grossly offended tone of voice. No, given the sorts of idiots he has to deal with almost daily, Kiryuu has become largely inured to racist epithets being hurled his way, but at least most people use the right ones. That just... Really pisses the Gedo gang member off. So if anyone was concerned he wouldn't have the drive to see this through, well, so much for that.
The bluish cloth sheath of Tenma's bokken falls to the floor as he bites into the flesh of his thumb, letting dripping blood join the length of cloth on the floor; painting a red stripe down the wooden blade in his own blood, he forges the chi-link. Sweeping the weapon through the air, he activates it, setting that distinctive misty red aura to light.
"You stupid French sack of shit," Tenma says loudly, showing that two can play at the incorrect racism game. "I can't /wait/ to hear you whine like a bitch once you've gotten curbstomped!" And then, he sweeps his weapon through the air, harmlessly distant from Wellington, but the crescent of roiling blood that he sends flying with the motion solves that problem, careening directly towards the Admiral.
Helpful words regarding the guard's true ethnicity get cast to the side of Luc's mind as the raging German slings out another chi-laced punch. The resulting explosion sends a poor British man flying, body smoking as his abuser lets out a hollar of, "BACK TO VENICE, YOU STUPID BASTARD!"
The irony of the insult is unfortunately lost on Luc.
But his berserking rampage is cut to an end as soon as Wellington appears. Green eyes dart to the big man himself as that large metal staff unfurls, and a wry grip slips past the belligerant boy's lips. -This- is what he's here for. Not the guards. The big ugly Brit himself. Slowly, Luc looks around him. He looks towards Marisol. "... hn." Towards Tenma. "Well this isn't going to be any fun at all..." Towards... Pás?
"... ... when the FUCK did you get here?!"
Suddenly ninja Brazillian's cast out of sight and out of mind, the German refocuses on Wellington as he speaks, green eyes hooding. "Blah, blah blah. Shut up, you dried up old hack. I beat all your lousy Italian guards..."
And from there, Luc pushes off his feet, rushing along side that broiling rush of bloody chi. His fists flare with black-blue fire, green eyes alight with life.
"... AND NOW I'M GONNA KICK THE SHIT OUT OF YOU!"
Which is about when Luc's fists thrust out in tandem, in a dual blow aimed at Wellington's abdomen, complete with an EXPLOSIVE unrush of chi. "GRAAAAAAAAAAGH!!"
After flaring her best friend a sleepy grin, the better-late-than-never Brazilian turns her head to regard the other two boys on the scene. Her grin gentles and cools, and Pás slips Tenma a tiny little wave. But the gesture is soon interrupted when Luc comes barreling in, and, in his usual, diplomatic way, politely entreating her of where the fuck she's been.
Pás, with her eyes still hidden behind sunglasses, tilts her head back to direct Luc a curious look. She purses up her lips momentarily, obviously in thought, before she decides to reply the German the only way she knows how. She reaches out and honks his nose. "Pou! Got your nose!" she announces, bringing her hand back to let her wiggling trapped thumb act out the part of his missing feature.
Then enter Wellington.
At his first remark, the Brazilian's head turns on time as everyone else's, her smiling vanquished as fast as a slap across the face. Her face goes decidedly, almost eerily blank, those mirrored shades hiding however her eyes must look. No doubt the reason why she's wearing them at all. Her back straigtens, body standing free from its lazy leaning. Her hands curl into absent fists.
But, contrary to her allies, and her usual self, Pás is eerily quiet. She is so quiet that her own attack is nearly lost in the resounding chaos of everything else; she decides on moving last, following up the physical blows and explosions of chi, trying to slip in and catch him in the wake of it all, grabbing at Wellington's collar to try to violently, recklessly smash her head against his.
COMBATSYS: Wellington dodges Luc's Fierce Punch.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Luc 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Wellington
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 0/-------/-------|
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/-------|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Tenma 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Pas successfully hits Wellington with Medium Kick.
- Power hit! -
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////////////// ]
Luc 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Wellington
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 0/-------/-------|
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/-------|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Tenma 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Wellington dodges Marisol's Medium Punch.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////////////// ]
Luc 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Wellington
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 0/-------/-------|
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/-------|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Tenma 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Wellington dodges Tenma's Dharmapala.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////////////// ]
Luc 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Wellington
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 0/-------/-------|
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/-------|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Tenma 0/-------/-------|
Certainly, the youths prove just how young they are; they show no patience, rushing on the attack. Both Luc and Marisol run forward, up the stairs as the British Admiral descends towards him. Over their heads, he sees that wooden sword crackle and discharge, a strike of liquid heading his way.
The Japanese boy's act causes a slight furrow in the fine details of Wellington's face to develop; it reminds him so, of the chi variant that his brother uses -- James Wellington, a vagabond, a pirate, a renegade against the family creed, going with the motion of the ocean quite literally in the use of water-like chi -- and his son also, following in the footsteps of the Uncle rather than the Father.
As that crescent of blood travels so too does Wellington's blood boil within his veins, anger coming to the fore as he turns his attention to those on the approach. To him, time seems to slow. The cool length of pole within his hand centers him, calmness becoming paramount as he faces off against what, despite their youth and inexperience, could still be counted as overwhelming odds.
Thus he does the sane thing. As Marisol and Luc lurch forward to let their fists do the talking, the Admiral leaps backwards, gaining height on them all as for a moment he seems to run on the very air he travels through. His legs windmill and he leaps even higher, almost like the brother of an Italian plumber. Perhaps Luc is onto something after all.
Those fists catch nothing. Wellington leaves his initial assailants hanging. The crescent of blood slams harshly into the stairs where he was a moment prior, and it seems that the dark figure, as he stands at the top of the stairs, has neatly evaded all injury.
Enter Pás. The Brazilian slips in, seemingly moving from one point to another without any motion in between, and neatly grips that open collar. Caught by surprise, he turns to regard the young woman -- and is rather neatly impacted for his effort.
Rocked back, the British Admiral takes a moment to right himself, cutting a swath forward with his staff to drive Pás back before she can capitalize. "Impetuous youth!" he roars the words, as his staff continue to stand there in the lobby at attention. Their Admiral is fighting now; they will witness it, and silently cheer him on.
"If you think you'll win him back so easily, be warned! I've gone easy on you all thus far, but no longer!"
The lines almost seem cliché, but the promise of violence from the tall man is very real. He steps forward, glaring as his hand reaches out to grab Pás by the very colorful shirt she weighs; somewhere around that incorrect 'S' on the front. He grabs a solid handful of her, hoisting her clear of her feet, his other hand gracing her ankle. She's in a spot of bother.
Because he throws her right at Marisol and Luc, spinning her end over end thanks to the hand that supports the young Pás, the Admiral backing up along the balcony that overlooks the lobby and Tenma.
COMBATSYS: Wellington successfully hits Marisol with Act of Grace.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////////////// ]
Luc 0/-------/-------|==-----\-------\0 Wellington
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 0/-------/--=====|
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/-------|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Tenma 0/-------/-------|
"I think so," Marisol muses for the moment, to Tenma's question. "I guess that shit runs in the family."
And then, all at once, all hell breaks loose. The four youth make a bold charge for the elder Wellington, bringing with them fists, feet and chi. It's a mess of bodies, but - SOMEHOW - the older man manages to avoid nearly every strike. Nearly, as Pás slips through his defenses and gives him a rocking kick to the head. It draws a sharp, mocking laugh from the girl. Serves the jerk right.
But then he throws Pás like some odd, human chakram, and despite her attempts to catch her friend, the girl fails. Hopefully Luc fares better in whatever endeavor he takes; moments after being struck VERY HARD the girl flies back, hitting a wall with a painful grunt. A split-second later she slides down, hitting the floor on her knees. It takes Marisol a moment, but...she gets back up.
And smirks.
"Shut up and fight you dumb son of a bitch!" the girl bellows loudly, gray eyes wide and furious. "I don't care what you've done - you're still going to lose!"
The girl moves, charging in again, perhaps recklessly. Closing in on the elder Wellington, she attempts to seize him by that loose collar and, with her other hand suddenly erupting in brilliantly yellow chi, slams her palm's heel forward with every intention of rocking the man and sending HIM into the nearest wall.
It would seem that the Admiral is more spry than the kids give him credit for. Tenma grunts faintly as Wellington manages to avoid the bloody crescent - which totally makes a mess of the floor, hope the stairs weren't carpeted! - and then seems poised to make fairly short work of Pacific Resistance. Well, whatever. "Wouldn't be interestin' if it was easy," the Japanese youth mutters to himself, and he dashes forward. And then, he dashes /upward/, focusing energy in his legs to give him the power to spring up onto the railing of the stairs, and then up again to the balcony, the better to be able to get in close against the Admiral.
"Don't worry, we'll send you packin' right back to the bush leagues back in Merry Old with a quickness," Tenma 'reassures' Wellington, lunging in close to try and strike the Brit in the throat with the tip of his bokken. He probably won't get hurt too much by it, but it's more to be a jerk than anything!
COMBATSYS: Wellington successfully hits Luc with Act of Grace.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////////////// ]
Luc 0/-------/--=====|====---\-------\0 Wellington
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 0/-------/--=====|
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/-------|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Tenma 0/-------/-------|
Luc's head whips up the exact moment that his blow fails to connect.
It's just in time, too, to see the bright bold words 'BRASIL' and the BraSilian chest behind them flying at him like a bat out of hell.
"You don't spell BRAZIL with an -S-, you FUCKWI--"
-WHAM-!
Luc is silenced with a face-full of Pás with a brutal and fleshy *THWACK* of impact. The momentum tears Luc off the floor, flinging through the air like a human frisbee swinging end over end until he slams, harshly, into a nearby wall. Slumping down, Luc looks up dazedly--
--Only to find his crazy teammate atop him. A brow twitches.
"... Get the HELL OFF ME AND START FIGHTING SERIOUSLY!"
With this unholy roar, Luc will PUSH Pás right off him and leap -straight- onto his feet. Blood trails down the corner of his lip, his eyes burning with life and anger. "Stupid... goddamn...
"... BRITS!!"
He jumps. Chi ignites behind him to propel him even FASTER, to a point where his muscles strain, his lips peel back in a forced sneer. Black and blue chi wraps around his leg in a spiral as he leads off in a jumping kick, aiming to plant it straight into Wellington's head... and then RELEASE all that energy in a short tidal wave of explosive power. "HRAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!"
Triumphantly, Pás reintroduces herself to Wellington with her head smashing straight into his mug.
The sensation is nothing short of completely and utterly gratifying. She's been wanting to do that for a long, long time.
She steps free, letting go and backing up enough to impart Preston's father a look that remains hidden under her sunglasses, her mouth lit with the ghost of a smile that never quite makes it. Because he's too busy grabbing back. Surprise seizes her face and she lets out a grunt as her ankle is stolen, and a moment later she's let go for the open air. Spinning. Careening toward the faces of her friends.
Pás at least puts some effort into it, trying to twist her body to aim away from them, but her momentum is too violent for even her skill in aerial antics. And though she doesn't weigh all that much, she hits hard. Even when she's not trying.
Smashing into Marisol, ricocheting off the redhead, and skidding and tumbling against the ground, Pás soon comes to a stop on something very soft, yielding, and warm. Something that so generously broke her fall. Her sunglasses hanging askew, one dark eye opens and peeks down.
Luc's eyebrow twitches back up.
Pás hits the floor with a cough. She adjusts her sunglasses wordlessly. Letting go a harsh breath, pulling herself back up, her attention returns stubbornly to Wellington, her mouth turned with an uncharacteristic frown. Where anger possesses the rest of her allies, that silent seriousness only seems fixated on Pás, dead set on haunting her entirely. Her lips twitch at one corner, half a sneer, before she forces herself to get moving.
As the others make their reprisal, she follows up, moving suddenly to one side and kicking up against one wall to get some height. There, she tries to slip through the fray, wanting to capitalize on that cumulative force that seeks to drive Wellington backwards. She tries to get in behind him, attempting to catch him through it, flipping to her hands and trying to hook his neck with her ankles. Her own fiery chi detonates into the mix.
COMBATSYS: Luc successfully hits Wellington with Tyrant Strike.
- Power hit! -
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////////// ]
Luc 0/-------/-======|=====--\-------\0 Wellington
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 0/-------/--=====|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/-------|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Tenma 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Tenma successfully hits Wellington with Weapon Jab.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////////// ]
Luc 0/-------/-======|======-\-------\0 Wellington
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 0/-------/--=====|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/-------|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Tenma 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Wellington blocks Pas' Sanduich de Calabresa.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////// ]
Luc 0/-------/-======|======-\-------\0 Wellington
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 0/-------/--=====|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/------=|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Tenma 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Wellington blocks Marisol's Moon Sling.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////// ]
Luc 0/-------/-======|=======\-------\0 Wellington
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 0/-------/--=====|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/------=|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Tenma 0/-------/-------|
Indeed, this would not be any fun if it were easy for the youths; Wellington proves a challenge. After sending the young Brazilian on a collision course with her peers, the Admiral continues to back away, giving himself a bit of room to fight against his assailants. Briefly, he spends a moment to gather himself, awaiting the next wave of attacks.
They don't disappoint him. The odd joining of Pacific Resistance and Guardian King members surge forward, driving him back. The tardiest member (add a re to the front of that) streaks forward, past the others, driving that wooden sword for the throat. At the same moment, Luc leaps high, the German bringing his feet to bear against the Admiral. A smirk crosses his features. He opts to stand still, which proves somewhat of a mistake.
The chi from Luc's boot explodes, knocking him off balance; the bokken catches him in the throat, stifling any protest. This time his arms windmill as he gathers his balance, just in time to see the girl's striking at him from both sides.
They get to meet his forearms. Blocking both blows simultaneously, he holds them in their positions as a smirk creeps onto his features. "Good, children," Wellington compliments them for reasons all his own. But then he throws them both girls back, their attacks failing to make dividends this round. "But not good enough!"
Twisting that metal staff, he seeks out the hired help this time, flowing through the group of youths with that weapon continuously spinning. Attacks are feigned left and right, moderate strikes at his personage deflected, as he weaves a path right for Tenma.
This child uses a wooden sword; Wellington utilizes range, thrusting the staff forward in a typically linear strike for one who fights with a pole. The staff abruptly segments, chain links appearing as it sizzles with a sudden surge of electric-based chi! But Tenma's problem comes from the stairs behind him, if the Admiral's aim proves true. "Your help should stay with the rickshaw!"
For once in a long time - and possibly the last time - Marisol agrees with the leader of the Guardian Kings. His comment to the Duke earns him a smirk from the redhead, whose taped-up hands clench into fists. He'll regret ever picking any grudge from the likes of Pacific Resistance - and those associated with them, however far and wide their differences may stretch.
Just as Marisol begins to move at the Brit she's cut short, a quick glance spared over her shoulder as she spies the Brazilian girl perched atop Luc. The corners of Marisol's mouth twitch into the makings of a smirk, smoky grays half-lidded as she watches Luc shove poor Pás off. He deserved it - Luc always deserves it. "Are you okay?" the girl asks, to both.
But there is precious little time to mull - all at once the four youths make their move. Marisol's attempts to grab the man are short-lived at best; Luc and Tenma's double attacks land true, but ready the older Wellington for the girls' attacks. Chi explodes against the man's arm, accomplishing little.
Full lips pull back over the girl's teeth, Marisol's expression frustrated as the man insults their efforts. But easily enough the girl shrugs it off, her lips easing into a cocky smirk as she glares at the Briton. "Gloat all you like - it's over!"
Wellington makes his move for Tenma, causing the redhead to snap her attention toward the Gedo boy. "Tenma!" she cries, as the Admiral swings the segmented staff toward him, "Eyes alive!" Is she...helping Tenma?
It's more likely that you think.
COMBATSYS: Marisol assists Tenma.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////// ]
Luc 0/-------/-======|======-\-------\0 Wellington
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 0/-------/--=====|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/------=|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Tenma 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Wellington successfully hits Tenma with Ox-Eye.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////// ]
Luc 0/-------/-======|=======\-------\1 Wellington
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 0/-------/--=====|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/------=|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Tenma 0/-------/---====|
So now it's time for Tenma Kiryuu to find out just what Wellington can do. While a sensible person would probably, like, try to avoid the attack coming his way, or guard against it or something, the tall, slender young man instead moves /into/ it.
This proves to be a mistake.
Unable to compensate for the power of the strike, and the electrical chi that accompanies it, the Gedo swordsman can't create an advantage for himself here... But with Marisol's warning he's at least able to keep himself from getting hurled away. Electricity crackles over his body, dulling his reactions a little, but not enough to keep him from acting, oh no.
"You are seriously," Tenma says, swinging his bokken back behind himself as he lunges at Wellington again, this time lashing out with his left fist in a series of quick punches, aimed more to disrupt the flow of chi through the Admiral's body than really hurt him, while simultaneously trying to harry him backwards. "The biggest retard in the ENTIRE WORLD!" Even worse than Luc, and that's saying something.
"Che!" Luc grates as he pushes off Wellington's face in the wake of his hellacious explosion, falling towards the ground in a crouch and a sneer. Chi crackles around Luc's body in excess from both his rage and remnants from his last blow. He stands, wiping blood from his lip and spitting off to the side.
"All you dumbasses talk too much."
Immersing himself in the fight, Schroedinger stops his own dialogue there; the German just takes in the battle with green eyes, watching as the eldest Wellington strikes out with that segmented staff and -- predictably, of course -- Tenma is pegged by the assault. "Worthless," Luc mutters under his breath before black-blue fire flares around his hands.
"DO I HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING MY GODDAMN SELF?!"
Swinging one fist upwards, Luc lets out a singularly LOUD bellow before he thrusts his burning fist straight -down-. The impact with the earth diffuses all that chi... until it manifests again in a series of violent explosions across the ground, geysers of black-blue chi erupting in a straight line that blazes a clear path... straight for Preston's Negative Nancy of a dad.
"What the hell is a BRIT even doing in ROME?! STUPID ASS!! GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!"
Through the thick of it, Pás replies Marisol's question with a brisk thumbs-up. All good on her front.
Otherwise the Brazilian girl says nothing. She's all business. Her eyes may be hidden behind a certain pair of stolen shades, but the rest of her face is hard and grim, cut into with a rare kind of severity, all her effort keeping her from sneering. The Duke's comments are starting to get on her nerves.
Flipping back to her feet, she takes a quick, skidding step to pull out of the way of the subsequent attacks, her hidden eyes intent as she watches the movement of her other allies. They're just as important to watch as Wellington, because in a fight like this, timing is of the essence.
Timing like... the instant before Luc's chi makes its explosive impact, Pás whistles sharply, noisily at Wellington's shoulder, trying to get his attention. Then, as the German unleashes his chi with its reliable momentum, she tries to intercept the Briton out of it, twisting her body suddenly, sharply, to try to crack a roundhouse against his throat.
COMBATSYS: Tenma successfully hits Wellington with Flow Breaker.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////// ]
Luc 0/-------/--=====|=======\=------\1 Wellington
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 0/-------/--=====|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/------=|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Tenma 0/-------/---====|
COMBATSYS: Wellington dodges Pas' Strong Kick.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////// ]
Luc 0/-------/--=====|=======\=------\1 Wellington
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 0/-------/--=====|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/------=|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Tenma 0/-------/---====|
COMBATSYS: Wellington endures Luc's Aufruhr Gemetzel.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////// ]
Luc 0/-------/-======|=======\==-----\1 Wellington
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 0/-------/--=====|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/------=|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Tenma 0/-------/---====|
After the staff strikes Tenma, the owner pulls back with his wrist; the weapon returns to its more solid state, and he bounces it off the floor once, gathering momentum as he swings it back into both hands.
But like bees around a hive, they press the attack yet again. Barely given a chance to catch his breath, Wellington watches as the person he just knocked away charges right back into the thick of things. And with utter disdain, he simply seeks to move aside from that striking fist, figuring that the strikes themselves -- if they hit, which they do -- are powered by someone he deems to be unworthy of his attention. Thus, he's taken somewhat by surprise when he feels his inner workings disrupted by the precision strikes of Tenma. He ignores the brief need to visit the men's room as a result.
The whistle catches his attention, jerking his hazel gaze in the direction of the Brazilian. That foot comes whistling for his neck, and he leans backwards and away from the strike, a grunt of exertion escaping his lips as he bends his older body in ways he only could have twenty years prior. Well before his sperm caused that disobedient child to suckle on his wife's breast.
But while he's bending, he sees Luc coming for him; or rather, the discharge of chi, as geyser after geyser rips through the floorboards and carpet. Realizing that in his current predicament he cannot escape, the Admiral instead goes with the flow. The geyser of energy erupts into him, but it propels him forward.
The fighting has changed; it's fast now, frenetic. He has no time to banter with these children. Towards Pás is where he charges, supple leather shoes thundering hard against the broken floor as he recoils away from the explosion of energy and instead seeks to cut into her instead, a shoulder block of a charge.
Thus, the dilemma. If Pás is caught cleanly, she can expect to be taken clear through the banister that runs the second floor landing, and it's a long enough drop to the battered lobby -- particularly with the weight of Wellington atop her -- for the impact to take her breath away better than any Top Gun ever could.
Out of the fray for the moment, gray eyes merely observe, as poor Tenma becomes Wellington's next victim. Impact looks painful, causing the girl to lightly wince in response before she turns her attention off of the Gedo swordsman and back onto her two teammates. Another series of attacks are made, including Tenma's which are, for the most part, successful.
But something isn't right. Well, it doesn't feel right. Despite the roaring chi that Luc sends sailing at the elder Brit, the man doesn't get pushed back; quite the contrary, as he's suddenly barreling forward, using its force to drive at the Brazilian girl. The dumb bastard is going to shove her off the staircase, she figures.
Biting her lip, Marisol decides it's time to get back into the mess. She moves after the man, taking a cue from Pás like before. Rather than whistle, though, the half-Spaniard lets out a loud, "HEY!" as she comes up behind and, whether she has his attention or not, attempts a straight punch with her right, a cross punch across his face with the left. And should either connect she twists her body, both fists aimed for his sternum, the blow coupled with a burst of dandelion-yellow chi to rock the man back and, hopefully, away from Pás.
If she's lucky.
This is, as Tenma already stated, not about a fair fight. If Wellington can put up a good fight against all four of the younger fighters, then it's all the better that they showed up in force; but this is about just beating the guy down, isn't it?
Speaking of beating Wellington down, it seems like Tenma's helping to create some more progress on that front, though the Admiral seems hardly dismayed by the strikes he's taking... Instead using the momentum to propel himself at Pás. "Ah hell," Tenma mutters, because it's pretty clear that whatever Wellington has in mind, it won't be pleasant.
So, Tenma finds himself attacking alongside Marisol.
While the redhead attacks from behind, Tenma comes in at about a right angle from the leader of his rival team, and he times his attacks to match Marisol's as best he can; slashing with his chi-emanating bokken repeatedly, hoping to apply a little teamwork here.
Not that Tenma and Marisol's teamwork has historically been all that great.
Lifting up onto his feet, Luc takes a good, long look at his handiwork -- which has amounted to giving Wellington a speed boost towards demolishing his teammate. He pauses, stares at the charging Wellington, and scratches his head.
"... Ah well." Pås can handle herself.
He thinks.
Regardless, Luc soon turns his focus back to Wellington, looking as Tenma and Marisol move in tandem. He narrows his eyes, focusing on the fight, and Wellington's own state. This isn't fun. This is just a beat down. Maybe it would have been more fun if -that- guy weren't here.
"Stupid hobo," Luc mutters. He frowns, a very deep, very unpleasant frown. And just as Marisol and Tenma launch off their attacks...
Luc thrusts forward.
Moving at breakneck speeds, Luc slings back his right hand. And somewhere along this path, he gets an idea. A most terribly, awfully wicked idea. Like a flash of inspiration, he suddenly twists, slings his arm forward...
... and accidentally brings a chi-charged fist bearing towards the back of Tenma's head.
He can't help it if his aim veers off track a little, after all.
"DIE, BRITISH JERK OFF!!" He didn't mean to. Really.
He just got in the way.
COMBATSYS: Pas fails to counter Bitter End from Wellington with Branded Mule.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////// ]
Luc 0/-------/-======|=======\====---\1 Wellington
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 0/-------/---====|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/=======|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Tenma 0/-------/---====|
Despite the Briton having proven successful in battering every single one of her teammates, and not to mention her own self; despite Wellington's demonstrated skill in handling four opponents at the same time; despite him further proving how fast he is by just leaning clear of her own sharp kick... Pás decides to do something extremely reckless. Something extremely stupid.
Nothing at all.
As Wellington all but kickstarts into a charge towards her, barreling his weight at fulltilt, the Brazilian girl pauses in momentary consideration before she just... straightens her back and holds her ground, that latent sneer beginning to take form across her mouth. She seems inclined to humour him. And as the Duke charges closer, his approaching form reflected off her mirrored shades, Pás simply waits with an embittered patience.
She tries to move the second of impact, one hand trying to reach out and snatch the man's shoulder, but she misses by bare centimetres, her hand letting go when he crashes into her bodily. As expected, her own spine cleaves through the banister, its splinters raining down alongside the two falling bodies that plummet to the floor below.
Landing with a brutal crack of her bones against the ground, it's Pás who ultimately cushions Wellington's fall, taking the man's weight with a choked-out cough, no doubt earning herself a hand of broken ribs and bruised organs. But she's still conscious. Staring through a broken lens of her sunglasses is one of Pás' flared eyes, the ambery colour of her iris toxic with fury. Glaring up at Wellington and breathing raggedly, for now she can't move, can't fight further, but there's one thing the Brazilian girl tries.
One bloody, fumbling hand reaches out to try to snag Wellington by his ankle... her attempt to corral him long enough for the next wave of attacks.
COMBATSYS: Tenma successfully hits Wellington with Deep Strike.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////// ]
Luc 0/-------/-======|=======\======-\1 Wellington
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 0/-------/---====|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/=======|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Tenma 0/-------/--=====|
COMBATSYS: Marisol successfully hits Wellington with El Matador.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////// ]
Luc 0/-------/-======|=======\=======\1 Wellington
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 0/-------/--=====|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/=======|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Tenma 0/-------/--=====|
DesPITE what ends up happening with the delightful Brazilian, there's definitely something to be sad for having a really bad impact landing. Prior to that though, Wellington fails to move fast enough. While typically he's well and truly able to simply materialize from one location to another to the naked eye, right now he's moving sluggishly; fighting four people is rough, after all.
The wooden sword and its dangerous discharge hack into the back of the Admiral, ripping into the dark shirt he wears, drawing blood from beneath. And meanwhile, Marisol seems to be happily donkey-punching the Duke.
It's all well and good, but their efforts fall short. He collides with Pás rather forcefully, taking her right through the banister and for the long ride down. The crunch is sickening, and it's a rather groggy Wellington who shambles back to his feet, staff still in hand, sucking in breath to ensure he remains upright for just a little longer.
The corners of his eyes crinkle, fine wrinkles appearing as the strain of this fight begins catching up with him. Not yet, he warns his body, threatening to send it to the corner with the dunce cap. Not yet, he adds; just give him a moment longer.
"So you want the boy back?" Wellington questions those on the second level of the lobby, looking up towards them. "He means that much to each and every one of you, that you'd go to such lengths? You've risked your careers, your very lives... for a boy you all barely know?
"To say you're all voting with your hearts is an understatement. Your rickshaw boy clearly votes with another part of his anatomy," the Duke comments, almost flippantly. He spares a glance down at Pás. "Perhaps one of you girls has too severe an attachment as well," he adds softly, thoughtful in his musings.
"So be it. Keep the boy. I'll expect him home for his mother's birthday."
With that, he issues a sharp whistle. His sailors start for the door, running hard, some even diving through broken windows in their very sudden desire to escape the lobby. Staff in hand, the Duke leaps into action, segmenting it before he cleaves the weapon clear THROUGH the pillars of fine marble that support the upstairs landing. It lurches as one is blown apart in a spray of chunks. And after the second, it tips and falls.
The Duke proves just how much of a bastard he is, as he brings the rug out from under those upstairs -- and brings the debris falling down for Pás to deal with as well!
Oh Wellington, you're such a card. He leaps well clear as the beachside manor-house undergoes a sea change.
COMBATSYS: Marisol interrupts Master at Arms from Wellington with Snap Wind.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///// ]
Luc 0/-------/-======|====---\-------\0 Wellington
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 0/-------/=======|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/=======|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Tenma 0/-------/--=====|
Unfortunately for Marisol (and perhaps Tenma), she just wasn't fast enough. The punch lands soundly, two blows before she concludes the strikes with a double-fisted punch, a burst of chi to rock the elder Brit. But still, still the man charges and knocks the Brazilian girl off, the two landing on the floor with a sick thud. The girl immediately rushes to the edge of the second floor staircase, leaning over a non-broken section as she cries "Pás! Pás! Are you okay?!"
Pff, the boys are fine, she presumes.
When Wellington senior speaks, though, the redhead immediately snaps her smoky gaze his direction. Her features darken slightly, eyes slowly but surely hooding. "That's the point," the girl replies coldly. "But you just couldn't get it through your thick, British skull!" Inhaling a sharp breath, the girl tenses her legs before she leaps down, landing on the foyer floor with a grunt and a deep crouch.
But just when things seem to be at an impasse with the elder man...he secedes in his endeavor.
That's it? It's over, just like that?
Not quite. A sharp, ear-splitting whistle causes the girl to wince visibly, before she snaps her attentions right back onto the man. Who cares if Wellington's 'men' are running with their tails tucked between their legs? Marisol isn't done with the old man - not yet. Even as his staff raises and he otherwise chooses to rip the house out from beneath them by bringing it down, the girl just offers a scowl.
"No way," Marisol growls beneath her breath. "It's not over THAT easily!"
And so, as the house itself begins to fall, the girl pushes THROUGH the falling debris, making a straight charge right for Preston Alistair Wellington the I. Her steps falter as she runs, as chunks of marble and various debris rains down, right after the man as he leaps out of the house. Reaching the edge, the girl plants her feet and leaps out after him, closing in on him with a guttural yell.
And then, bam. The girl smacks the older man across the face with a stunning straight punch right to his face, before her body twists and ducks low. Chambering her hand, the girl binds her fist tightly before she swings with a fierce upwards arc, an uppercut delivered to Wellington senior's jaw.
Take that, Britishland.
COMBATSYS: Tenma endures Wellington's Master at Arms.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///// ]
Luc 0/-------/-======|====---\-------\0 Wellington
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 0/-------/=======|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/=======|
[ \\\\\\\\ <
Tenma 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|
COMBATSYS: Tenma fails to interrupt Jab Punch from Luc with The Sealing Sword.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///// ]
Luc 0/-------/-======|====---\-------\0 Wellington
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 0/-------/=======|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/=======|
[ \\\\\\ <
Tenma 0/-------/--=====|
This is an inauspicious moment for Tenma Kiryuu. He's trapped, sandwiched you might say, between two attacks; one of them clearly of tremendous and overwhelming power, and the other one is Luc being a douche. He doesn't believe for a second that the German is in fact trying to hit him 'by accident', but he doesn't really have much time to process it either, owing to his current situation... So he does the sensible thing.
He stands there and gets caught in the whole 'falling balcony' debacle, using the shift in momentum owing to gravity to suddenly whirl around at Luc, the glow around his bokken intensifying suddenly...
But it doesn't seem to be in the cards this time, the whole situation proving to be a bit too difficult to manage as he gets punched in the head and then is involved in an impressive collision with the floor. And possibly the rest of the house.
For the record, he really hates Luc.
COMBATSYS: Luc endures Wellington's Master at Arms.
[ \\\\\\\\\ < > ///// ]
Luc 1/=======/=======|====---\-------\0 Wellington
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 0/-------/=======|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/=======|
[ \\\\\\ <
Tenma 0/-------/--=====|
WHAMMO! KAPOW! BLAM! Luc looks a little TOO satisfied as his fist connects with Tenma, even as what might as well be THE ENTIRE WORLD crumbles around him.
"Whoops," he offers.
"My bad. Jackass."
But there is the fact that the upstairs begins to collapse in all around them in an absolute explosion of raw strength. And what does Luc do? "... Hah. Hahahahaha. HAHAHAHAHA!! LET'S SEE WHAT YOU'VE GOT, YOU OLD BAG OF SHIT!"
He leaps RIGHT into the rubble.
Essentially disregarding just about everything else around him, Luc Schroedinger lunges with single-minded purpose through the air. He's not trying to prove a point, or get revenge on Wellington. He just wants a good fight. And, as rubble explodes around him, as he literally HEADBUTTS through chunks of pillars with a face bloodied and grinning--
--he's found exactly what he wants.
"-NOT FUCKING GOOD ENOUGH!"
The words are roared as Luc EXPLODES out of the rubble and debris straight towards Wellington, right fist glowing with vibrantly violent purple energy. Marisol should know what's to come next. "MARISOL! GET OUT OF MY WAY!" And that's the only warning she gets before Luc lands with a shattering SLAM of his right fist into the bracked and ruined earth. It's something that Wellington has experienced before; the violet lines of energy that expand in a cross section and BURST into massive walls of black, blue and purple chi and begin to rotate at increasingly fast speeds, threatening to sweep up both Wellington and Marisol in its wake. Marisol will forgive him; he's delivering righteous justice, after all.
Even if he really just wants to put Wellington in a world of pain for the sheer fun of it.
"GRAAAAAAAAAAGH!!"
Those walls rotate, faster and faster into a storm of chi, before simply EXPLODING -- seeing fit to launch whoever is caught within on a hellish ride through the skies as the storm dissipates around a crouching, winded Schroedinger.
"... take -that-. Who builds a... mansion... on a beach, anyway... guh." And from there, Luc will spend his time coughing up blood as he collapses on his side.
"... owwww..."
COMBATSYS: Pas blocks Wellington's Master at Arms.
[ \\\\\\\\\ < > ///// ]
Luc 0/-------/----===|====---\-------\0 Wellington
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 0/-------/=======|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 1/---====/=======|
[ \\\\\\ <
Tenma 0/-------/--=====|
Pás spends the next few moments in a foggy, pain-soaked cloud of hurt. Once she's free of Wellington's pressing weight, the girl rolls over, letting go of a wet cough, and getting reintroduced to the taste of blood. But her anger is as demanding as it is rare, and she doesn't spend long without it. Angrily ripping off those broken sunglasses, giving her head an orienting shake, she looks up in time... to see the entire second level fall.
The Brazilian doesn't look too impressed. "Ah ffff--" she starts to slur, her voice soon cut off by the raining rubble. Quickly, she rolls away in time to escape fallen foundation, the heavy, splintering wood smashing down where her body had once been. Pás has only one heartbeat to huff imploringly at her hair's luck, before her face turns back up... and gets quickly shielded by both her arms as debris pelts down. It torrents down, quickly and wholly burying the girl under pounds and layers of rubble.
There is a long measure of silence. And then, finally, the mess shifts and stirs, busted and broken bits of the landing painstakingly shoved aside. Like a burial corpse broken free from its coffin, having had enough of the dirt and silence, Pás erupts back to life. Covered in splintered wood and dust from broken marble, but otherwise mostly unhurt, she forces herself furiously to her feet, wading free from the mess in time... to turn and block her eyes reflexively against the brilliant, yet all-too-familiar detonation of Luc's chi. A moment later, she turns back. Her eyes hood.
And, moments later, careening through the wake of Luc's attack, Pás is moving with everything she's got, jumping high to try to intercept Wellington straight out of wherever that explosion may have put him. "Not so fast, gringo; is only right... we get to say good-bye--" she spits out through her swung aerial roundhouse, landing in time to try to impart kick after turned kick on the Briton as she crosses leg over leg, weaving intricate knots of attacks as she goes. At the last moment, her body suddenly twists like a corkscrew, inverting to one hand as she suddenly tries to plant both feet straight at the man, her intended good-bye in the form of putting him right through the nearest wall.
COMBATSYS: Wellington dodges Pas' Dama Branco.
[ \\\\\\\\\ < > ///// ]
Luc 0/-------/----===|====---\-------\0 Wellington
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 0/-------/=======|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/----===|
[ \\\\\\ <
Tenma 0/-------/--=====|
COMBATSYS: Luc successfully hits Wellington with Demiurge Trigger.
[ \\\\\\\\\ < > ]
Luc 0/-------/----===|=======\-------\0 Wellington
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 0/-------/=======|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/----===|
[ \\\\\\ <
Tenma 0/-------/--=====|
There's a funny thing about being a sailor by trade; you're somewhat used to men hitting on you. Having an uppity girl and boy both decide that they're going to simply plow through the debris of a falling house and chase him down for further injury however...
... Well, Wellington's only seen that once before.
Safety was not guaranteed.
As the Duke of Rutford leaps away, thinking he'll at least escape further embarrassment thanks to these young whelps, he's given a rather rude surprise when from the falling debris snaps the half-Spaniard, chasing him down even as he windmills his way towards the pier that runs out from the beach. His gaze narrows; she's got the speed on him, he can tell. All he can really do is turn a stiff upper lip as her fist collides with the side of his face, knocking him further along.
But the call of Luc, warning his teammate, just proves to the Admiral how uncoordinated -- how truly lucky -- this ragtag group of misfits have been to actually vanquish him this day. There has been no teamwork; if anything, it's been precisely the opposite. There has been little cohesion in their movements. They have simply battered at a brick wall, and proven lucky enough to knock it down in four different places.
The windmill of energy that the German releases, there's really no way for Wellington to evade it, not as his trajectory is changed thanks to the fist of Marisol. Gritting his teeth, he can do nothing but ride out the storm as it culminates, the chi explosion sizzling in its execution and deafening in its wake. The partially unbuttoned shirt of the Duke is blown clean off.
What may have been a final insult fails to be, likely thanks to the fact that Wellington, in that moment, is indeed shirtless. It is a stunning sight. Perhaps that is why Pás fails to connect with her final strike.
Rather than retaliate, the Duke lands heavily on the soft sands of the beach. His manor-house slumps over, half demolished thanks to the heavy fighting that has taken place so swiftly between the five combatants.
On this day, good has triumphed over oppression.
Even if they did do it half-assedly.
Pulling himself to his feet, Wellington spares one final glance towards the combatants -- Marisol especially, that meddling girl -- and privately hopes their rickshaw breaks and they all have to walk back to town. That'll teach that hired Asian.
He disappears in a shimmering movement of motion.
Moments later, the top of a submarine disappears from the end of the pier, submerging into the depths of the Japan Sea. All that's really left is to discover just where Preston Alistair Wellington the II has been stowed away.
Fingers crossed it wasn't on that submarine.
COMBATSYS: Wellington has left the fight here.
[ \\\\\\\\\ <
Luc 0/-------/----===|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Marisol 0/-------/=======|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/----===|
[ \\\\\\ <
Tenma 0/-------/--=====|
COMBATSYS: Luc successfully hits Marisol with Demiurge Trigger.
[ \\\\\\\\\ <
Luc 0/-------/----===|
[ \\\\\\\ <
Marisol 1/--=====/=======|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/----===|
[ \\\\\\ <
Tenma 0/-------/--=====|
As Marisol closes in and makes her strike, a cold smirk swiftly cuts across her full lips. Half-lidded gray eyes look upon the elder man with morbid delight - he deserves this, after all. He did much, much worse to her and her friends. "It's OVER," she commands.
"Check-fucking-mate."
But it's short lived. Behind the half-Spaniard, a distance, familiar and grating voice barks to her.
Get out of MY way?
Just as Marisol's uppercut bites into Wellington's face, the girl's eye shoots over her shoulder. That's when she sees it coming, that familiar black and violet energy at Luc's command. From the sand, walls of pure energy shoot up and come at shockingly fast speeds. She AND the uppity, overly protective British are in the line of fire.
"Oh Luc," the girl murmurs, a lopsided smirk crossing her lips. "Fuck yo--"
The explosion cuts the girl's voice off, as she's brutalized by the young, angry girl-hating German's attack. Pain, a too familiar pain, wracks her body, causing enormous amounts of grief and agony to surge through her, from head to toe as the explosion devours her whole. Only after the chi subsides does Marisol's body hit the sand, a less-graceful endeavor than the Duke's. A meaty thud, a puff of soft white sand explodes from beneath the girl, who issues a weak gasp in response.
Gritting her teeth, Marisol pulls herself off the ground, those eyes not once leaving the older Wellington. As he glares down at her, the girl offers a wolfish smirk. He so deserved EVERYTHING he got today.
Including his now-demolished manor. Well, partially-demolished.
And then, in the blink of an eye, the elder Brit is gone, as a submarine vanishes beneath the glassy surface of the sea. Sobering up, the girl barks out a yell of "STOP! You cowardly fuck!" But it's all in vain; he's gone. Did they win?
Turning to face the others, the girl offers a weak grin. "Thanks, guys. You too, Tenma." For once, Marisol is being cordial. It's kind of scary. "I couldn't do it alone." Pausing momentarily, the girl rubs her singed chest and sides, grunting in annoyance before her eyes drift to the half-ruined manor.
"Ugh...maybe we should check what's left?" she wonders aloud, to the other three. "Or you guys can go home. I'll stay here, though."
And whether anyone stays or goes, well. Marisol wanders slowly back to the manor, favoring her right side as she ambles along. Part of her just presumes Luc and Tenma will start beating each other senseless.
COMBATSYS: Marisol has left the fight here.
[ \\\\\\\\\ <
Luc 0/-------/----===|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/----===|
[ \\\\\\ <
Tenma 0/-------/--=====|
"Well, that guy sure was pleasant," Tenma says sarcastically, picking himself out of the rubble. It's not even a question of whether they won or not; Wellington took a powder, and that's good enough. Hopefully, as a result of this the members of Pacific Resistance who previously got on the wrong side of Wellington have gotten their, uh, groove back.
The last thing Tenma needs are his rivals going all emo again.
"I hope his boat hits an iceberg and sinks," the Guardian King adds, dusting himself off and shouldering his bokken, the energy aura around which fades entirely with a sound like a slowly exhaled breath... Because now he has to deal with something far worse than any fight, and that's Marisol O'Connell being a civil human being. "Yeah well, I didn't want t' have to deal with any more a' your sad sack bullshit," Tenma replies with his own characteristic good cheer, letting out a sharp, annoyed breath before he... Follows Marisol?!
Tenma agreed to help, so he's going to follow through. That's just the way it is!
COMBATSYS: Tenma has left the fight here.
[ \\\\\\\\\ <
Luc 0/-------/----===|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/----===|
The energy dissipates. By the time Luc is done getting over delayed-reaction pain, though, Wellington is already gone. Green eyes look upwards just in time to see Wellington make good his escape. Luc doesn't particularly care; he got a satisfying fight, he got to punch Tenma in the head, AND he got to blow up the stuck-up, wordy Brit.
It's been a good day.
Slowly, Schroedinger drags himself back onto his feet. He looks towards Marisol, who seems to have been caught up in the wake of his attack. He squints in a way that usually heralds the beginning of a biting insult. He frowns distinctly, and shoves hands into his pockets before turning to the side and spitting.
"... Sorry about that."
No insults, just an apology. The German looks towards Tenma as he speaks, lips pulling back in an irritated sneer. Marisol makes her intentions known, and Schroedinger... doesn't move. Instead, he looks out towards the ocean, waving off the girl.
"Fuck that, like I'm going to stand around acting chummy with the hobo anymore than I have to. Do whatever you wanna do -- I'm staying here."
And that's about it. As Tenma and Marisol venture forth, Luc will just stare out into the ocean and wait. Certainly thinking deep thoughts.
"... man, I wonder why those Italians had British accents..."
Deep thoughts indeed.
COMBATSYS: Luc has left the fight here.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Pas 0/-------/----===|
Her last, strained attack cutting through thin air, the Brazilian lands cleanly to her feet, one hand pressed against her bruised side. Wiping blood off her bottom lip and breathing raggedly, her glaring eyes follow Wellington's timely escape. She doesn't feel as gratified as she should, but the fact remains that they won and he lost. Marisol has gotten her revenge and Pás has been returned her delicate sense of security. Preston will be back where he belongs and things should be back to normal.
Pás already is the moment she turns away, forgetting immediately about Wellington and dismissing the rest with her sleepy smiling. The agitated hostility ghosts out of her body, and exhaling deeply, the girl affects a deep, re-energizing stretch. Giving her legs a shake and coughing against the residual dust from the destruction, she steps carefully free out of the rubble, absently wiping away smears of blood and bits of broken splinters from her wavy hair.
She finally looks back when Marisol speaks, grinning crookedly, replying the girl with a wink and a two-fingered salute off her temple. She starts to move after the girl in her loyal, customary way... that is until she notices the sheer impossibility of Tenma joining Marisol on her search. A strange look crosses Pás' face, soon enough joined by a wondering grin. Are those two... actually getting along?
Maybe it'd be for the best to stand back and force them to cooperate.
However, neither is Pás willing to leave the decimated manor; a couple moments later, Luc's shoulders gain a new friend, the Brazilian girl hooking an arm happily around him as she decides to keep the German company. "Psiu. You did good, Cavalo," she tells him amiably, her voice oddly, unmistakeably genuine. "I will think about you nakeds tonight." Though never for long.
COMBATSYS: Pas has ended the fight here.
Thus it seems that all that's left, with the strategic withdrawal of Wellington and his band of merry men, is to locate the heir to the Dukedom of Rutford, Preston II.
While the boys don't start fighting, there is the remains of the manor to search which isn't precisely that hard. Getting upstairs now that the stairs are gone is a problem, but easily surmounted; this team have tackled odds through numbers, after all, and sheer tenacity has been their motto. No Italians are going to stop them, not when they set their mind to something.
The manor may be broken, destined to be demolished and replaced by another beach house for young couples to partake in matters carnal within, but the search doesn't take extraordinarily long; Marisol may complete it herself, but she has Tenma to help.
And ultimately the two will open a door to a small room with no windows, where Preston Alistair Wellington the II sits, bound to a chair, wearing what appears to be absolutely nothing. It's a good thing he has very large, muscular thighs. A sack full of potatoes rests near the chair, and the boy looks battered and bruised, although at least there's no dried blood to be had on him. There may or may not be any bottom to that chair.
A television is on across from him, and there's a half-eaten sandwich on a tray beside him. Captivity hasn't been so bad for the boy. He fails to look surprised when he sees who his rescuers are, although a brow lifts amidst a black eye at the boy who follows after the redhead.
"Fuckin' ran into his fists, didn't you?" Preston never changes.
To Marisol's surprise, a few things happen.
First of all, Luc doesn't yell at her. Instead, the angry German offers an apology, for having all but blown the half-Spaniard girl into pieces with his attack. At first the girl offers him a stunned expression, her gray eyes wide with disbelief. Did she hear him right? Did he actually..?
The girl scoffs lightly, turning her back to Luc with a light smirk.
"I know you can hit HARDER than that," she chides lightly. Apology accepted.
The other surprise is, of course, her only real companion in the mission of 'dig through the half-ruined manor mess' being Tenma. Initially, when the Gedo boy starts following her, as the Brazilian girl and Luc linger behind, the girl seems aghast, his words crossing her ears before she lightly scowls. Sad sack? "Tch!" is Marisol's only response, a hand lifting up as she dismisses it easily.
"I owe you." The girl pauses. "An ass-beating. A right proper ass-beating."
And so Marisol and Tenma go, to leave behind Pás and Luc to bond in hugging bliss on the shores of the beach. It takes a bit of digging and perusing, but ultimately both young fighters find the door they were looking for. The girl does not hesitate; instead of opening it in a civilized manner, the half-Spaniard KICKS the door in, a sneakered foot extended as she gazes inside. Gray eyes survey. Then--
There he is!
...
Not dressed.
Immediately the girl's face flushes, a very pale color washing over otherwise honey-colored features. A split-second later the girl turns her face away, a hand swiftly rising up to obscure what of her vision could possibly wander and catch sight of the Duke's son. Tortured or ...whatever, Marisol has her limits.
She says nothing, even as he chides her. Instead, the girl looks to Tenma and, still looking quite pale, asks quietly, for his ears only:
"Could...could you undo his bindings?" A hand lifts, pointing at his sword.
"You're the one with a weapon, after all." Even if it's wooden.
"Yeah, you owe me a lot of things you can't accomplish," Tenma replies to Marisol, in an undertone. Sure, they're getting along great! Anyway, he's perfectly inclined to help Marisol dig through the rubble in order to find Preston, wherever the hell he might be... So there's digging, and moving of pieces of building and probably broken furniture, and a lot of muttering about what kind of a complete douchenozzle Wellington sr. is, and generally the sort of stuff you'd expect. Still, Tenma doesn't complain about actually /helping/, because he did offer... But once he follows the redhead into the room where Preston's been held captive, he starts to regret it. Also regretting that he has the ability to see.
When Marisol then asks /him/ to free Preston from the chair to which he's bound, Tenma simply looks at the girl with a flat expression and says: "No way in hell."
As what is likely to become an argument between the two rescuers develop, Preston simply sits there. The boy, a little less tanned than usual thanks to days of imprisonment, sighs to himself as they both shrink away from the task of releasing him. Let them argue. Let them try to force one another to come in there and undo the bonds that bind the burly Brit to the bottomless chair.
Without further adieu, he simply stands up, his bonds falling to the ground as he lets a hand descend to his very itchy undercarriage. "Fuckin' hell, I'd be there forever if I hadn't already undone the ropes," he explains, getting his fingers in good and hard to work at that itch.
Anybody going to faint or bring up their lunch? He doesn't seem to notice. Instead he has a simple question for his rescuers;
"Say, you got my oar?"
Log created on 20:51:08 02/22/2008 by Wellington, and last modified on 02:38:21 03/01/2008.