Description: Shanghai Sports Bar sets the stage for yet another Neo League Fight. The contenders? The insane Frenchwoman Cherise Bouchard versus newcomer Grigori Yakushevic in a dangerously close fight. But in the end, only one can win... (Winner: Cherise)
The Shanghai Sports Bar is no stranger to the fighting world, often hosting events and fights-- official or unofficial-- in their parking lot or occasionally the bar, so long as nothing gets destroyed. The food's good, the atmosphere is welcoming even if the neighborhood is a little sparse or leaves a lot to be desired, and the people there are friendly.
Very friendly, in fact!
For example, the two young college guys that look like they're just old enough to be holding the beers in their hand, chatting it up with the silver-haired girl sitting at the bar. Though the people that know Cherise a little better-- and that amount could be counted on one hand-- would likely know she isn't an antisocial shut-in. Of course, a moment like this would probably be shocking the likes of K' or the many others that she's run into. In other ways, it could be terribly amusing: Little do they know that the amount of thigh hidden by her short cargo skirt has a steady supply of throwing knives, or the bracelets she wears contain enough wire to strangle them and their whole family.
"Oh, oh! That was a pick-up line, was it not?" the girl says in her thick accent, pointing at one of the two young men. "I don't get to hear a lot of those very often, I am usually much too busy strangling people or getting my face smashed into the ground. My friend Mao does that to me sometimes, I should introduce you. You look like the type who would like it!!"
Of course, for as social as she can be, it doesn't mean she can't occasionally say something radically bugfuck -out there-.
Though a relatively new arrival to Southtown by some peoples' standards, Grigori Yakushevic is by no means a stranger to the city's numerous bars. Already he has made himself a familiar face to some of the regulars at a few of his favorite haunts, be it for his rude and belligerent behavior, or the occasional fight or seven that break out when he's around.
Shanghai Sports Bar is one particular haunt.
Fortunately, of all of his favorites, the surly Russian has yet to cause any physical harm or collateral--emphasis on YET. Instead, he prefers it as one of his 'low-key' haunts, a place to drown himself in a few beers and enjoy sports on the fancy teevees. A good place with good beer, not really worth destroying on one of his good days, he figured.
Tonight, the Shanghai Sports Bar plays host to the Neo Leagues, and already the crew members are scattered about setting up various equipment and preparing the bar for the inevitable. While Cherise Bouchard entertains a few lonely and very horny college boys, at the distant end of the bar sits Grigori, hunched over on a stool with a large mug before him. Complimentary, on the Neo League, the bartender said.
Grigori never argues over a free drink.
Downing the last of his beer, the man slowly turns a wrist upwards, eyeing the thick silver Rolex on his meaty wrist. It's getting late--almost too late for his liking. Where is the dumb bitch they said he was supposed to fight? Slowly does the man's neck bulge, as he clenches his teeth behind dry lips.
"Ah, excuse me?" A young woman suddenly appears, dressed in official League attire. But Grigori ignores that; instead he offers a wolf-like smile and leans forward.
"Privet, pretty young thing. Are you lonely? I will keep good company, and my lap is warm," he offers as he pats his thigh. The woman offers an aghast expression as she leans back, jerking a thumb over her shoulder toward Cherise.
"Ew! No! Your opponent is here and we're ready to start, mister Yakushevic. So...please be ready?"
Pale blue eyes drift, following the woman's finger as he's directed to his set opponent. Thoughtful is his expression, as he surveys the woman still chatting it up with morbid delight, likely to the shock and horror of her fans. That's her..? She's so small.
Then again, when you're around someone like Grigori...
Grunting, he rises from the stool, abandoning his beer as he thumps his way across the floor toward the woman. Only when he's in comfortable distance does the ex-Spetznas shoot the woman a smirk, pale blue eyes half-lidded as he checks her out. Especially her chest.
"So, it would seem you are my opponent this evening, yah?" He's still looking at her chest.
"What you say? We get on with the fightings, then loser is on bottom for the night?" A laugh follows swiftly thereafter.
Small, light, and extremely deadly! That's pretty much how she likes it, that strange girl at the other end of the bar. Through the entirety of the Neo-League staff talking to Grigori, she doesn't even look up or afford him the time of day, though once he walks up-- and walks up to -her- in specific-- she stops to look at him. The two college boys discover their quarry is suddenly off-limits, backing up before they choke on the beer they're halfway through drinking.
And Cherise is looking right back up at him, even if his eyes are elsewhere.
"Ha ha ha ha ha! Oh, you."
Scooting off the barstool and swatting her skirt straight in an unconscious manner, the slight French girl really now gets to see the difference in their heights and builds-- even with the chunk heels of her tall boots, it doesn't make a dent in the difference between them. ... Well, at least they both have a bit of gray hair, ha ha ha.
One arm folds under her chest, her other thumb hooked under her chin, playing into a thoughtful pose. Perhaps she should've worn her black dress, that would at least keep him from staring down her blouse. Then again, it could play into a tactical advantage if he's as hormonal as he seems to be!
But glossed lips play into a sly smile.
"I am not sure," she says thoughtfully. "Win or lose, you do not look sturdy enough to handle me for a whole night."
And then she starts walking off toward their designated 'fight zone,' the grin lingering while her fingers weave and her arms stretch over her head.
The college goons go ignored; Grigori has far more engaging feminine assets to focus on, and makes no attempts to hide that he's...well, appreciating them. Even her laughter goes relatively unnoticed, as a hand absently rises to his face and slides idly over his sharp jaw. Slowly and most surely a smirk grows over his thin dry lips.
Only when Cherise moves off the barstool does the man have the decency to let his gaze lift and settle on her face properly, pale blues meeting her own. And then...oh. OH.
She obliges his perverted sense of humor.
A laugh breaks from the man's lips, his head shaking idly to and fro as that hand once on his jaw lifts and slides back over his scalp. "Oh, do not worry, détka. I am rugged and can go all night. You will see. I just hope you can keep up." His hands fall immediately after, sliding casually into the pockets of his jeans, a huge smirk plastered over Grigori's face.
He thinks he likes her already.
Unexpectedly she begins to move off, toward the designated area set aside for the fighters. But he does not follow immediately; no, the Russian just leans his head to one side...far, in fact, as he watches her walk away. If he's lucky, maybe he can see some--
From behind the woman from before coughs. Glancing over a broad shoulder, the former Spetznas gives her a helpless look before his eyes snap shut and he shrugs. Mumbling to himself in his native tongue, the man follows Cherise to the 'arena' in the bar.
Only when he enters does the man take one side, assuming a neutral posture as his smirk returns.
"Détka, I will let you have first move. Show me you can keep up with me and, well...you might be a very lucky lady tonight."
To emphasize the point, he lifts a hand and casually gestures toward himself.
Some...
Throwing knives?
Alas, no, even without the interference of the Neo-League official, Cherise's skirt is long enough to cover the subject, but damn short enough to be interesting. And once she reaches her end of the so-called 'arena' in which they fight, she casts a glance toward the door with furrowed eyebrows. The last time she was here, it was more of a parking lot brawl. What prompted the indoor fight, this time?
The thought is rolled around in her head only as long as it takes for her to look back to Grigori, the thin Frenchwoman's arms folding under her chest and her head cocking back with amusement. "Oh, how rare it is for me to meet such a gentleman in this city." Lightly bringing her arm up, her hand snaps back down to her side in a harsh gesture-- and a thin, hard-to-see line of wire swirls around in the air and falls settled at her side. Her body lowers, her weight settling in on her left knee. Pushing off hard, she breaks into a hard four-step sprint and lunge, twisting horizontally in the air and whirling about with the ceiling of the sports bar taken into consideration. Her right arm lashes out, sending her wire out toward the taller man's feet and hooking into the wood with a distinct *spak!* noise. Pulling -hard- on the wire, she rockets ahead at a bit of an angle, using the horizontal spin and the pull on the wire to fuel a hard axe kick right to the top of the Russian man's head... and curiously, with enough strength behind it to suggest that the tone of her legs isn't something that could just be achieved for twenty minutes a day, three times a week on a stair climber.
"A gift!!"
COMBATSYS: Cherise has started a fight here.
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Cherise 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Grigori has joined the fight here.
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Cherise 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Grigori
COMBATSYS: Grigori blocks Cherise's Stiletto Axe.
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Cherise 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Grigori
Grigori? A gentleman?
He really does like this lady.
A frighteningly amused smirk cuts over the man's face in response to the Frenchwoman, as she humors the Russian with her comment. He says nothing in response; instead, Grigori just observes the silver-haired woman as she drops her arm with a swift snap. Barely visible are the threads, but the man pays no mind to it. Instead, those pale blue eyes slowly drift back up, fixed on Cherise's face.
"I haven't gots all day," he chides as his head absently tips to the side.
Fortunately, Cherise is not a woman who disappoints. With a lunge she breaks off for the other fighter, with every intention of leaping up high above him. His smile grows even wider, as he calls out in the fray, "Are you sure it is wise to leap like that, détka?? I can see..."
He doesn't finish. Quite suddenly she's coming down at him at an angle, thanks to the thin, barely-visible wire lodged behind him, with a fierce kick aimed for his head. But he doesn't move. Instead, he merely lifts his arms up overhead and crosses them, taking the bulk of her strike on his forearms.
"Is that ALL!?" Grigori suddenly bellows, as he shrugs his arms to disarm the woman. Stepping forward, the former soldier lifts an arm up and attempts to deliver a fierce knife-hand at the side of her neck, before drawing his arm back across his chest. Crooking it, he intends to drive his elbow right into Cherise's face and stun her before lifting a heavy boot and driving its heel into her stomach with enough force to potentially ground her.
"NOT IMPRESSED!"
COMBATSYS: Grigori successfully hits Cherise with Cimejes.
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Cherise 0/-------/-----==|=------\-------\0 Grigori
On contact, Cherise's eyes narrow-- at least now she knows better. She should've anticipated this much, even. The flaw to such a kick is the position it leaves her in if blocked, stuck in the air and needing to rely on some quick action in order to keep her from being wholly beaten like a rag doll before she hits the ground. Unfortunately, Grigori proves to be a little much for her-- though she clearly reaches out to block the strike at the side of her neck, but the overpowering force is a bit much.
Slammed next with the stunning blow to the face, the heel to the gut sends Cherise sprawling down to the ground, though her arm is there to catch her weight, fingers fanned out and elbow ready to soak the force of the drop-- redirect it, even, into a tightly-wound roll into a crouch. Her right hand is what moves first, again, her palm lifting and fingers dragging across the floor. The wood splits and splinters at first, her hand whipping straight up as she rises from her crouch, blades of silver erupting from the tips of her fingers in an arc that follows the motion of her arm. Screaming towards Grigori, the paper-thin silver energy tries hard to rip into his body and actually cause physical damage-- to rip and rend at him in that swift moment, to draw blood-- on top of the pins-and-needles tingle it tries to drive into his nerves!
"Ha ha ha ha ha~!"
COMBATSYS: Grigori endures Cherise's Argent Claw.
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Cherise 0/-------/----===|===----\-------\0 Grigori
There's a sort of twisted grin on Grigori's face, as he delights in watching this tiny, much smaller woman go falling to the ground after being booted in the gut. He doesn't laugh though; instead the man just lowers his foot back down with a heavy 'thud,' pale blue eyes hooding drastically as he observes the silver-haired woman. What does she have planned, he wonders. And the way her nails dig into the floor...
Almost suddenly the woman moves her hand, glint of silver energy shooting forward, right for the man's chest. The soldier...does not move. Grigori doesn't even budge as the silver threads dig into his chest and draw blood, causing his shoulders to jerk sharply and eyes to widen considerably. This energy...he knows it. Intimately so.
It's the shit that scares him.
Despite the awful pain in his body, no thanks to Cherise, Grigori rips forth a loud, bellowing roar, a hand moving upwards and attempting to seize the threads. He'll do what he must to simply rip them free from his body while stomping forward, with every intention of seizing Cherise by her collar and LIFTING her from her feet. Only then will the man then lunge forward and drop low, to slam her back-first into the hard floor.
"Bitch! What was that!?"
COMBATSYS: Cherise dodges Grigori's Quick Throw.
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Cherise 0/-------/----===|===----\-------\0 Grigori
After the blades of energy are thrown from her fingers, Cherise is already on the move, already looking to throw in a second attack on her continuing offensive. Looking to close the gap, she makes light, swift manuvers-- ducking left, dashing a bit to the right-- even as her projectiles bite and tear into him. The silver blades even scatter when he grabs at them, the energy used to shape and cast them forwards spent.
Her legs shift, taking a wide, bow-legged stance-- and Cherise squats low and leans hard to the side, narrowly avoiding the grab to the shirt. Reaching lower, her wrist loops around the air and pulls hard, the weight that was earlier embedded into the floor pulling free with a slight pop and shaken loose. Keeping all of this in a single, smooth, fluid motion, Cherise leans forward hard and reaches out to simply grab Grigori's leg and -pull- upward, trying to just drag the man right off his feet and drop him to the ground.
"Does this mean I will be sleeping alone tonight?!"
COMBATSYS: Grigori blocks Cherise's Quick Throw.
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Cherise 0/-------/----===|====---\-------\0 Grigori
Just as the man's hand very nearly makes purchase on the Frenchwoman's collar...she moves, weaving deftly aside, outright avoiding what could very nearly be a painful confrontation with the floor. Again. It draws a most curious expression from the Russian man, a mix of anger and confusion as his blue eyes turn onto his empty hand.
A moment later he scowls fiercely. Blue eyes whip to the side, glaring at the woman as she releases her wires and lets them return to her bracelets. A moment later she's still down near the floor trying to grab the man by his leg and drop him on his ass. Grigori grunts in response and lets his leg raise by her hand...but when he falls, well.
The man braces himself against the floor, landing with a low growl as he cushions the blow. Those eyes still remain on the woman, as she asks him if she'll be sleeping alone tonight. A split-second later the angry look fades, in favor of a broad, too confident smirk and a laugh.
"Ah, détka, I will not disappoint you. You can come home with me, if that is what you'd really like. Just try not to break, da?"
But before she can properly respond his leg is lifting, with every intention of driving his boot's heel right into her face.
COMBATSYS: Cherise parries Grigori's Light Kick!
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Cherise 0/-------/---====|====---\-------\0 Grigori
Holding onto Grigori's leg at this point is something that could play more into his favor than her own, the dialogue aside. Letting go, it gives him enough wiggle room to fire off another kick at her, as well as let loose with the suggestive dialogue that will no doubt have to be dubbed out of any televised plays of this fight. His bootheel meets sudden resistance-- or more aptly, the lack thereof. With her left hand held bolt straight, the girl ducks slightly toward the side and meets the leg with the back of her presented hand, pushing the attack to the side with a fluid, gentle push while she reaches down at Grigori and grabs him by the wrist, cartwheeling over his body and moving to his other side.
"Ha ha ha ha ha ha~!"
Wire leads back from her hand to his wrist, suddenly finding the strength to start -pulling- the Russian toward her, springing in to bring her left fist ahead and strike-- down, ahead, whichever the case may be should he manage to get up in the interm. Before her fist makes contact, a stunning burst of silver energy explodes from her fist, containing enough force to launch men across the ground and deal them a whole lot of pain.
Of course, not every man she's fought is built like a battleship.
COMBATSYS: Cherise successfully hits Grigori with Argent Striker EX.
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Cherise 0/-------/---====|=======\-------\0 Grigori
When Grigori's leg shoots out, he honestly expected something to hit it. What he didn't expect was, however, the back of this tiny French woman's hand. So, expectedly, as she redirects his offending boot to the side and grabs his wrist, there's a pretty awful look of anger on his face. How the hell is some tiny little bitch beating him?
As she laughs and leaps over his bulky frame, the former soldier just scowls. Again, there's an odd stinging sensation as those silvery wires make purchase on his meaty wrist. In a futile gesture he attempts to swipe the wires free, and soon finds himself staggering clumsily toward the woman. A moment later?
Pain in the form of a silvery orb exploding in his face.
Grigori flies through the air, but makes little distance. Instead his heavy frame hits the ground with a loud THUD, shoulder popping as he clumsily collides. A string of colorful curses in his native tongue swiftly follow.
But he isn't stopped. Slowly the man pulls himself back up to his feet, pale blue eyes fixed on the tiny woman as she stands there. "Quick and feisty, aren't you détka? I think I like you a lot. But--" Rolling his shoulders, his eyes narrow as a genuinely cocky smirk crawls its way over his sharp features.
"Pretty bursts of stupid energy...is not enough." He gestures at himself once more.
COMBATSYS: Grigori focuses on his next action.
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Cherise 0/-------/---====|=======\-------\0 Grigori
She isn't going to lie-- she's having more fun fighting this guy than any other opponent she's had short of the likes of K' or Shihong. The grin is wide on her face, her leering, off-kilter smile in full force. Her eyes are slightly widened, her pupils are even dialated a little bit. It's a rush to the psychic assassin-- one that she can't compare much to.
Pretty bursts, stupid energy. It's all the same, so long as it gets the job done, be it a knife or a blade or a wire or an explosive or an energy charge. Twisting her hands around a little, the girl starts to reel her wires back in, pinching a length between thumb and forefinger. In an idle, wholly amused way, Cherise starts to spin it in circles, twist it into waves, snap it straight. All of it done with the skill of a lifelong practitioner, despite all her youth and apparent lack of experience.
Her hand lowers to her thigh, her fingers teasing the hem of her skirt while she reaches underneath with a grin. And while she's occupied by that wire-- occupied trying to keep it in check while she does this, Cherise's arm whips upward in a lightning swift arc, a throwing knife hurled at Grigori's thigh.
"I have many many more tricks hidden away~!"
COMBATSYS: Grigori endures Cherise's Thrown Object.
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Cherise 0/-------/---====|=======\-------\0 Grigori
Likely, the feeling is mutual for Grigori...but damned if he doesn't find himself gradually annoyed and aggravated by her tricks and schemes. She keeps eluding him when he so desperately wants to put his fist and boot into her face, or wherever else he can manage. Especially when this little waif of a woman can sling that goddamned energy.
He stands, waiting patiently as he observes the woman. On his lips lingers an odd, almost creepy and detached sort of grin, white teeth peeking through dry lips as he stands there. He just observes her, as she winds the wires back up and snaps them back into place with little thought. Interesting...but boring, he decides. It isn't violent enough for his tastes.
But when Cherise's hand moves to her thigh...well, Grigori becomes suddenly far more interested. He watches with baited breath, nostrils flaring as he exhales loudly. The grin on his lips remains delightfully eerie, but grows as her skirt's hem is teased. "Oh, are you bored now, détka? We can call it over, the fight, and go back to my place," he suggests.
Boots thud loudly on the ground, as the ex-Spetznas begins to walk forward. Keeping his eye on her, he approaches without worry- -even as her arm whips into action and produces a knife that sails viciously through the air and meets its mark in his thigh.
He doesn't stop walking. He grunts lightly, but keeps moving like some wretched golem, barely batting a lash as he drops an arm and grabs the knife, ripping it free before simply casting it aside.
"Ah, don't do that. You don't want me to be sore later, do yous?" he asks, closing in slowly...before he suddenly bursts forward and lashes out with both arms, attempting to seize the woman in a vicious embrace and lift her up, squeezing her painfully against his chest with a cold laugh.
COMBATSYS: Cherise dodges Grigori's Quick Throw.
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Cherise 0/-------/---====|=======\-------\0 Grigori
Does she want him to be sore later? Well, she wouldn't care either way-- it's all in good fun, and maybe, just maybe, a little more. Plus, hurting people isn't exactly the sort of thing she gets off on, it's -getting- hurt. The thing of it is, this girl would rather her opponents work extra hard in order to get their hands on her...
So she's being rather evasive.
His hands lash out to grab her, the big arms and the thick hands that'll only manage to catch air as she springs up into the air, knees lifted to her chin.
Slipping through his fingers, so to speak.
Looking to scissor both knees around the sides of Grigori's head, Cherise looks back over her shoulder, down at the Russian, and grins. "The pain makes it feel better."
And throwing her weight forward as hard as she can, Cherise tries to pull Grigori to the ground, if not land on a handstand and use every ounce of muscle she can muster up to arc him through the air and slam him into the ground.
COMBATSYS: Grigori counters Strong Throw from Cherise with Marchosias.
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Cherise 1/------=/=======|-------\-------\0 Grigori
She's being too damn evasive for Grigori's liking.
When large arms swing in, to close together against his chest, the woman is airborne, leaping high with her legs coiled tightly. Pale blue eyes slowly sweep up, peering with a less-than pleasant look on his face as the girl outright avoids him. He curses again, more unintelligible Russian quietly escaping his lips, as the girl begins do descend.
Those legs lock, and for a brief moment her comment is met with a cold smirk.
"This is how things should be. You with your legs around me, yah, détka? But if you like pain,"
The man takes in a deep breath swiftly, white teeth bared as he lets a low growl escape his lips. Reaching up he PRIES the woman's legs off and shoves, to disarm her mid-attack. In that fateful moment, however, Grigori's hand shoots out, a large, meaty paw clutching forcefully to her shoulder, the other snapping out like a vise at her throat. For a moment the man's pale blue eyes go wide, his grip iron-tight and unrelenting. He just might choke her to death right there.
But he relents a bit, as his large body does something rather...odd. Swinging his legs UP he wraps them around her chest and drops all of his weight to the ground, hitting his back with a loud thud. At the same time he takes the woman with, legs moving to drive her skull forward and right into the floor to stun and disorient the woman as he untangles himself.
Rising up, the man offers a bitter smirk down at the silver-haired woman as a foot reels back and drives the toes of his expensive Italian boots right into her ribs.
"I gladly give."
The thoughts that run through Cherise's mind move at lightning speed, trying to get a good grasp of what's going on all at once, what happened, what has happened, what will happen! Sputtering a bit as he reaches up to grab her, shove her off, and then try to -strangle- her before her feet can touch the ground, Cherise's eyes go wide and her hands grab at his wrist, legs kicking in the air and...
Ow.
It all happens so fast, spun in the air and driven headfirst into the floor of the sports bar, the impact sending a spike of hot pain running from her compressed neck to her tailbone. Cherise goes completely limp when she strikes the ground, giving Grigori little resistance in trying to untangle himself and scurry away from the girl's small frame.
Sitting upright, the grin remains plastered on her face and her eyes widen -more-. "I am going to have to remember how to do that one."
Standing up, Cherise seems to be clearly disoriented, one arm listing back to keep her balance against the thin air while her legs try to find steady ground, her ankles rolling around a bit in those expensive boots. Rolling back her head, she stares at the tall Russian over the tip of her nose while things come into complete focus-- and she realigns herself to get ready for his next assault.
"That is the way to make me feel good. Yes... ha ha ha ha ha."
COMBATSYS: Cherise focuses on her next action.
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Cherise 1/------=/=======|-------\-------\0 Grigori
As the woman sits up afterwards, the Russian's dry lips slowly pull from a bitter smirk into a pleased one, eyes half-lidded as he observes her. Cherise's remark earns her a swift laugh from the man, shoulders shaking before he merely leans his shoulders back, hands slipping into his pockets.
"Is good trick, yah," he explains, tilting his head absently to the side. "But is not for sale."
Eventually she stands, after a brief battle with her balance and senses, ready for more punishment. The man just lets his eyes hood all the more, the corners of his lips twitching into a wolfish smirk as he watches the woman closely. "You're not looking so well there," he observes.
Dropping his shoulders, his hands slip from his pockets before he charges forward. His right hand clenches tightly, as the former-Spetznas marches after Cherise, slowly rising from his side. Only when he's close enough does the man swing his fist out and forward, to punch the woman in the middle of her poor face with a loud bellow.
COMBATSYS: Cherise blocks Grigori's Quick Punch.
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Cherise 1/------=/=======|-------\-------\0 Grigori
"Haha. Ha ha ha ha ha ha~!"
Cherise's left arm hooks up in the air, her hand waving the Russian man in. "I am not so weak and frail as to break on a hit like that. Harder-- so much harder, I have been hit. But..."
Both hands swing up into the air, one braced behind the other while her head turns away-- only padding the blow into hitting her jaw for less than it was intended, leaving her hands stinging and her fingers tightening up. Going airborne for only seconds, she rides the impact back a foot or so before landing dead on her feet and lowering her hands with a quirk of her eyebrows. "That was close."
Stepping in close, Cherise's next attack may come as a bit of a surprise-- the direct nature of it, the brutal and systematic style. Movements like this, even with her fighting style, come only with an intimate knowledge of vital weak points of the human body, blows with hands that feel like an iron weight or the blade of a knife. She strikes at his throat with a direct thrust of her fingers, her thumb hooking low as if to 'knife' it into his solar plexus. She springs into the air, scissoring both legs to box him in the ears... but with the toe of her right boot and the heel of the left.
Of course, the most vital is while she drops from that scissor-- a final, exacting dropkick aimed to strike Grigori right in his little comrade as hard as possible.
COMBATSYS: Grigori blocks Cherise's Vital Striker.
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Cherise 1/-----==/=======|=------\-------\0 Grigori
Her laughter is met with some of Grigori's own, eyes widening and pupils dilating as he just cackles in response. Even as she blocks the incoming strike with the palm of her hand, and even as she speaks to him, the soldier just laughs louder, staring down at Cherise like a madman.
And even when Cherise steps in close to strike him in the throat, Grigori just laughs maniacally, intercepting her incoming hand, as fingers just barely lodge into his throat. The laughter subsides only briefly, interrupted by an odd, throaty 'hrrk' sound, before he simply swipes her hand aside harmlessly. When she leaps up, the man just lifts both arms and intercepts her legs, preventing her from deafening him briefly with her heels. His 'little comrade' is spared as he hops back and out of harm's way.
"HA HA HA HA!! NICE PRETTY TRICK!" the man bellows loudly, as he lunges forward with a fist clenched. He closes in on Cherise, attempting to punch her VERY HARD in the sternum. And should he strike her and stun her, the former Spetznas will snare her shoulder and pull back hard, to slam her face into his shoulder. His hand will snake up thereafter, looping tightly around her throat in a headlock at his side, twisting his body before he leaps up and falls down, to drive her face-first into the ground.
"NOT GOOD ENOUGH!"
COMBATSYS: Grigori successfully hits Cherise with Sitri.
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Cherise 1/-======/=======|==-----\-------\0 Grigori
Blocked-- blocked-- and evaded!!
Cherise's jaw tightens as she lands, legs thrown up and hands setting behind her head. Set to kip up to her feet on impact with the ground, Cherise steels herself while the huge brute of a man comes running in-- and slams his fist square into the middle of her chest, swearing for a moment her sternum just touched her spine. Her face slams into his shoulder and stuns her with face against bone and muscle-- and then driven into the ground face-first with enough force to make her stop and see stars.
She also stays face-down on the floor.
Is it over?
Cherise's thin frame has yet to move, respond. There's a few twitches, enough to show that she's at least still alive in some capacity or another. But then her hands reach out-- grabbing the floor, palms flat, and her fingertips pressing hard into the ground.
"Urrrrrrruuuhh..."
Her fingers drag back as her palms lift off the floor, squealing on the waxed hardwood.
Lines of silver explode all through the fighting "arena" of the bar, the force clearly not the weapons she keeps in her bracelets. It scatters here, there, shooting in straight and direct lines almost as if she were trying to create a hectic and dangerous web to restrain him. If wires touch, they stick-- even if it's along the length and not an end. And if Grigori finds himself pinned within this great web, a burst of silver energy shoots in from all sides, riding the psychic energy and intending to stun him long enough for ...
COMBATSYS: Cherise successfully hits Grigori with Argent Finale.
[ \\\\\\\\ < > //// ]
Cherise 0/-------/----===|=======\-------\1 Grigori
Slowly, surely, Cherise Bouchard's bloodied face lifts off the ground. The toothy smile is one of tight-lipped amusement, the look in her eyes back to the full force insanity that she's famous for.
Walking toward Grigori with those eyes, like a sharp, smart animal that's finally broken out of the cage, Cherise's right arm reels back hard. Lines of silver energy explode from the tips of her fingers, the 'wires' thick and blurring into a form that seems almost like curtains of force.
Lashing forwards, she rips into Grigori with a single strike, spiking him into the air and leaping up after him. Even in the confines of the bar and the roof present, she still manages to continue the furious assault-- swipe after swipe, twisting and turning in the air, ripping the fuzzy blades of energy around and hacking into him both with the energy and on a more physical level-- leaving cuts, scrapes, and bloody gashes.
Twisting around one more time, Cherise turns horizontally and lets loose with one more hard swipe from top to bottom and spikes him into the ground with an axe kick. Cherise lands in a crouch, breathing hard and heavily with her back turned to the tall Russian.
"Better?"
He could only HOPE she would stay down, but to his dismay, the woman begins to twitch and rise up from her feet. It draws a fierce scowl over the man's dry lips, crystal-blue eyes narrowed sharply as she lifts herself from the ground like the living dead. "Hey, you crazy bitch," the man calls, giving the Frenchwoman an odd look as he tips her head back and to the side.
"Is best if you stay..."
He would like to say 'down,' but when lines of silver erupt around the bar...well. He's at a loss for words. Cold, harsh features seize in an expression of disbelief as the webs of Psycho Power latch onto him. That familiar grief courses through is body and down his spine, a power too familiar to the former Spetznas as he's caught in Cherise's grasp and at her mercy. A split-second later he's airborne.
Over and over and over again he is cut and slashed into, as the crazy French bitch relentlessly slices him with her energy and nails. It seems endless, as the man is otherwise lingering in midair, and pale blue eyes begin to grow dim. Consciousness is fading fast for the former Spetznas...and it makes him angry. Beaten by a tiny little bitch?
Improbable.
When her axe kick strikes, it sends the man falling to the ground hard like a human meat missile. The floor groans as he impacts, wood denting and splintering lightly around his body. For a moment, the man does not move. He doesn't even appear to be breathing. Did Cherise murder him?
"F-f...fu...nrgh..." Incoherent words escape the man's lips as he slowly peels himself from the ground, large hands planting hard into the ground at either side of his head. Rising slowly, those pale blue eyes glare at the Frenchwoman with sheer anger as his fingers begin to curl into the floor. Around his body an odd, translucent blue haze rises, like heat on the horizon on a scorching Nevada day.
Launching himself forward with one last burst of energy, the Russian closes in on Cherise with every intention of lashing out with one arm to grab her wrist, as the other winds around her neck. Pulling fiercely, he intends to again lace his legs around her waist and drag her down, while twisting her arm in tandem. He'll slam her down HARD and give her arm a savage twist as his legs slip from her waist to her shoulder. And should he maintain a good grip, well...he'll wrench it even harder, with enough force to rip it out of the socket of a lesser man. Or woman.
But whether it hits or misses...Grigori is out of commission, as that odd haze around him snuffs out of existence.
COMBATSYS: Grigori can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\ <
Cherise 0/-------/----===|
COMBATSYS: Cherise dodges Grigori's Belial.
[ \\\\\\\\ <
Cherise 0/-------/----===|
Improbable... but not impossible.
Cherise turns around slowly while he grunts and growls, while he makes it his job to summon up the strength within to get back up for one more attack-- one more brutal, painful attack. When Grigori makes his move, there's a moment where the color in her eyes changes sharply-- the bright blue irises of her eyes constricting to the pupils, as if to reveal the color of silver that takes it's place.
Cherise's torso twists hard to the left, the large and meaty hand of the Russian mercenary just barely missing her body, let alone her arm. His legs, the rest of the technique to come, Cherise throws her arms out to the sides and her body hooks into a backflip-- one with enough power, speed, and grace to completely throw her halfway across the fighting arena and landing on the balls of her feet. Lowering one heel and lowering her arms to her sides, the silver's retreated from her eyes while her hand drags across her mouth, under her nose, to clear the blood away.
"I win."
COMBATSYS: Cherise takes no action.
[ \\\\\\\\ <
Cherise 0/-------/----===|
When the proverbial dust clears, it would appear that Cherise is the winner.
And it does not settle well with the former Spetznas. It's evident as the man shakes off the grogginess in his head, hands planting firmly on the ground as he again pull himself to his feet. Shaky and staggering, the man is barely capable of holding himself up, as the woman before him clears her mouth and nose of blood. But...be it sheer will or simply swift recovery, the man stabilizes and lets his pale blue eyes fix on the woman.
"Feh. Mýrma!" he offers unpleasantly, offering a curse to the woman that likely falls upon deaf ears. Bleeding, his silk shirt is cut and tattered, the white muscle shirt beneath shades of brown and deep crimson as his wounds bleed. But the man just ignores them--for now, at least.
"Next time, I am going to rip you in half," he promises, as he walks forward towards her, lips pulling slowly into a savage smile. "I will break every bone in your body. I will rip every muscle you have. I will make you cry and scream until you cannot handle anymore. Then?"
The man snorts, looking down at the woman as his hands ease into his pockets.
"I will be happy. And I will win. This?" He gestures. "Was fluke."
A dark expression eases over the man's face, as blue eyes narrow upon Cherise's blue-eyed gaze. He lingers, looming over her as his hand rises from a pocket, reaching out toward her neck...
But rather than grab her, he puts his hand upon her shoulder and begins to walk past.
"Ha ha, sleep well détka. I'll be seeing you again soon."
Log created on 00:05:27 03/17/2008 by Grigori, and last modified on 23:55:06 03/17/2008.