Description: Oh god! Alan and Tran fight again!
[OOC] Ålân R.B. opens log
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "Someone agree with me that the Meaty Glute is a perfect name for a biker bar"
[OOC] Todoh says, "I pass the motion."
Smoke in the air. Big, burly men wearing leather vests, sunglasses, and WWI era kraut helmets, drinking beer and playing pool. It's a night like any other here in the bizzarely named 'Meaty Glute', which is to say it's noisy, raucus, and filled with bikers. Just the way the owner likes it, for reasons which are probably best not mentioned in polite company.
However, all is not well, for tonight there exists an anomoly almost as strange as the name of the bar itself. A dashing, two-hundred percent American anomoly by the name of Dr. Tran! Why is he here, and not anywhere else? There's a very simple reason; he is lying low. Who would possibly think to look for him in a dive like this? Exactly.
And that's why he's nursing a beer in the corner, conspicuously looking inconspicuous. For now. Even though he's not really doing anything, his mere presence is sure to start some trouble before long. Who knows when some towering jerk with more neckfat than brains decides to start trouble? Tran's personally hoping it's sometime after he finishes this mugful.
Igniz has arrived.
[OOC] Dr. Tran says, "Ha ha, you just missed the opening pose!"
[OOC] Dr. Tran says, "LOSER"
[OOC] Igniz proceeds to crush Tran
[OOC] Todoh says, "Igniz fails!"
[OOC] Dr. Tran scene over. :(
[OOC] Igniz says, "Todoh?! thats a defamitory statement!"
[OOC] Igniz sets his lawyers on kill
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "It's true, it's very insulting to call people Todoh"
[OOC] Todoh is immune to trial by court, he keeps cameoing somewhere else in the courtroom.
[OOC] Igniz oh my
Some bikers love drugs. These bikers love drugs so much they're even able to stand the presence of a particularly obnoxious son of a bitch for just long enough to get them. That doesn't mean it goes particularly easily, and the deal currently going on in the second floor of the Meaty Glute - really, more of an attic - has gone badly. A very familiar voice starts to increase steadily in volume.
"You fat son of a bitch, you're not going to get a better deal than this any more than you'll grow a beard that doesn't make you look like a melting Orson Welles! No, go on, try other people, after they're done laughing at you maybe you'll be able to pick yourself up out of the ditch with only a few bullets in your ass." Clomping noises. "You pulled a knife. Do you have bacon for brains? I'll give you one chance to-- these were five hundred dollar pants!"
There is a sound like a brick falling onto a pig from a great height, and a corpulent biker with a patchy beard and broken goggles crashes through the wood ceiling right onto a poker game, electricity trailing from his eyes. He bounces once with an appropriately porcine squeal, rolling over onto his belly while the angered players swarm around him and drag him outside for what can only be a delicious roast.
A few far skinnier men come tearing down the stairs, fleeing from the fighter that is even now jumping down the hole. Electricity crackles around his exposed skin, a slice in the left leg of his pants, the knife having failed to break the skin. Muttering curses, Alan R. B. dusts off his jacket, wiping off the steel rings on his right hand. "Man, do too many turkey sandwiches make you lose your respect or something?" The other bikers that haven't been directly antagonized turn to glare at him, a few others snickering. But generally this is a biker bar and a hole in the ceiling isn't a problem.
[OOC] Dr. Tran says, "a...melting orson welles?"
[OOC] Dr. Tran has always thought he was one of the best melting authors, you know
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "Melting Orson Welles."
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "Implying someone who looks like Orson Welles but even more jowly and saggy"
[OOC] Dr. Tran says, "Or Orson Welles after I have begun to melt him, but before the process is finished."
The first thought that swims through Dr. Tran's slightly beer-addled brain is one of outrage at the quality of the establishment. To think that such filthy goings-on were...well, going on. He knew this place was a hole, but he didn't realize how bad it was! To think. Pig farming, right above the bar!
Oh, oh, wait, right. It's just a man whose mother was probably a pig. That's perfectly alright, then. Understandable, even, because given the way the man looks, the father was probably desperate as hell to find someone who didn't run away screaming at the sight of his face.
Sort of like the disreputable gentleman who Dr. Tran has had the misfortune of running into once or twice previously, except for the source of the problem we can substitute 'ass fugly' with a simple 'personality that no mother in the history of the universe could possibly love, even if she was completely wasted'.
Pushing himself off the bar, Tran stares at Alan for a moment after his rather dramatic showcase on the scene, and then slides off his stool and calls out. "Who'd respect you? God, just hearing you talk is enough to drive a man homicidal." The other bikers, already alert, start to perk up. A hole in the ceiling isn't a problem, but it IS an excuse. It's not a great one, but how good does it have to be for a bunch of violent degenerates?
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "Someone should app the fat guy as an OC"
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "I think Todoh is the man for the job"
[OOC] Todoh says, "Hm~"
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "fat ugly biker, best concept ever"
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "let's pop it to chet he'll be all over it"
COMBATSYS: Alan has started a fight here.
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Alan 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Tran has joined the fight here.
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Tran 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Alan
Alan's reaction is immediate and violent. "You're still wearing that God-- damn-- lab coat!" Electricity pours off of him as he pivots, scattering playing cards away from him, flicking across the distance between himself and Tran. A chair is in his way - the chair is sent spiraling into the wall. There was a man in it, and that man is now tossed onto his table, spilling his beer everywhere. He growls after Alan as he stops blurring right in front of Tran, sneering over his shades at the other man.
"How many times do I have to tell you, that's not something you wear in public! You're embarrasing me, man!" His left fist comes flying right at Tran's jaw, an arc of tiny crackles in its wake.
COMBATSYS: Alan successfully hits Tran with Hook Punch.
-* CRITICAL HIT! *-
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Tran 0/-------/---====|-------\-------\0 Alan
[OOC] Dr. Tran says, "well"
[OOC] Dr. Tran says, "that's ominous"
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "hahahahaha"
[OOC] Igniz says, "hook punch is a normal, is it"
[OOC] Igniz says, "i had no idea"
[OOC] Dr. Tran says, "also moderately painful"
[OOC] Igniz counts the number of accurate bars you were knocked down
[OOC] Igniz loses count after he reaches one bazillion
"It creates an IMAGE, you pri-" BAM. Maybe it's the alchohol, dulling his senses, maybe it's the fact that he was about to go on an indignant rant about how his coat is stylish and function and creates an easily identifiable image and if you can't see that then you're lower than low,, but then Tran gets clubbed clean in the jaw by Alan's fist. The force sends him sailing backward, knocking him not just on, but through a table. Also a biker who was sitting there. The other bikers seem pretty pissed off, and since it's natural to assume that a tiny little shrimp like Tran was knocked the fuggout by a punch like that, turn their attention to the only standing source of the problem.
Then Tran stands, nay, CLAWS his way up from the wreckage, and the look on his face is enough to convince the bikers to maybe keep their distance for a minute. Or maybe it's the table leg he's holding, with a sizeable amount of actual table still attached. "Like I give a shit, asshole!"
And then Tran rushes right back at Alan, pretty much looking to take his head clean off his shoulders with his makeshift club.
COMBATSYS: Alan dodges Tran's Random Weapon.
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Tran 0/-------/---====|-------\-------\0 Alan
[OOC] Dr. Tran says, "i am shcoked"
[OOC] Dr. Tran says, "look at me"
[OOC] Dr. Tran says, "this is my shocked face"
Alan doesn't just dodge the table leg, he does it before Tran even gets to him, jumping forward and ducking under to his right, inside the range of the swinging table. He drives his hand toward it to try and knock it right out of his hand before darting back out. "Yeah, yeah, image, whatever. I guess some of us can't rely on just being better, huh?"
The boxer gives a few jabs in the air, then leans back, arms dropping to his sides. "What's the point of making yourself an image when the image is that of an uncoordinated loser?" His short blonde hair begins to ruffle as he relaxes, letting the chi that runs through his body naturally surge around him. Shockwaves travel through the ground, causing gathering men to back away, crackling even over his clothes. A particularly hardy biker with big leather pads on his shoulders comes charging while Alan appears defenseless... only to be warded away when a bolt of lightning just jumps off of his body to dance and play amongst the metal studs in his forehead. Yikes!
COMBATSYS: Alan gathers his will.
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Tran 0/-------/---====|====---\-------\0 Alan
Alan has reconnected.
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "internet"
Tables just aren't made like they used to be. When Alan goes diving by and smacks it, instead of being knocked out of Tran's hand, it just snaps in half like a toothpick. Evidently, Tran's grip is fueled by anger. Still, it's not enough table left to be worth hanging on to. "You'd know." Tran tosses it to the side contemptuously, conveniently nailing a guy who was trying to sneak up him. Chump.
"The point is...arggh! The point is shut the fuck up!" Tran charges forward, going full-bore at Alan, electric hijinx or no, and then stops just short. Mostly. One leg goes flying upward, almost vertically, above Tran's head. "You piece of shit!" And then Tran brings it crashing straight down toward Alan's forehead, not just looking to kick him, but to drive his smarmy face into the ground. Where Tran can kick him lots more. Forever. Or at least until he, y'know. Moves, or something.
COMBATSYS: Alan blocks Tran's Dr. Tran Goes For Broke.
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Tran 0/-------/---====|=====--\-------\0 Alan
Alan R. B. waits for the last moment, his grin steadily widening until... there! There's a blur, and his hands are there, pressed together above his head, taking Tran's big kick with a thump, and all the faster ones that presumably follow. He slides back along the ground all the way to the wall, where one booted foot comes up to brace himself. "Now I know when I think of all the possible images that a lab coat brings me, 'swearing and futilely unable to make a comeback' sure doesn't bring to mind. Can't you even be consistent?"
The boxer pushes off of the wall, then, rolling his shoulders, loosening up. He takes a deep breath, briefly worried that he isn't going to be able to manage this as he'd like - he's never used that ever-increasing speed of his quite like this. "But I'll give you another chance. Ahe-hem. Hey, Tran, you sure don't know how to dress! I bet you can't even go walk by a fashion magazine without feeling a soul-deep sense of failure!" Halfway through his latest sass, Alan starts running forward, head down, dropping his guard to just barrel forward. Lightning swirls around his fists, brighter and brighter, and then he starts to slide, his boots knocking debris out of his way. His fists come up...
...and /move,/ punching at amazing speed, hitting every angle at once. The lingering electricity makes it look like a hundred fists at once are flying right at Tran. It's a little bit crazy! "Barrage!!"
Alan has dropped a connection.
[OOC] Dr. Tran says, "You know what's probably a terrible idea?"
COMBATSYS: Tran fails to interrupt Voltaic Barrage from Alan with Dr. Tran Bites the Bullet.
- Power fail! -
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Tran 0/-------/=======|====---\-------\0 Alan
[OOC] Dr. Tran says, "that."
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "this is a little disgusting"
[OOC] Dr. Tran says, "Yeah...yeah."
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "but hey remember how much you completely ruined me every other alan/tran fight?!"
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "eat that, you reflecting son of a whore!"
[OOC] Dr. Tran says, "You mean, like...the one?"
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "two"
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "we had two"
[OOC] Dr. Tran says, "When was the second one?"
[OOC] Dr. Tran doesn't remember it.
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "That was the train fight"
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "Where you used no reflects"
[OOC] Dr. Tran drawin' a blank.
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "We were on a train! I think you hit me with a seat."
[OOC] Dr. Tran says, "I got nothin'."
"You see a camera, jackass? Anybody worth a shit? Not these fat, ugly dumbasses, and not you!" Finishing up with his kicking spree, Doc Tran stays in place for a moment, panting with exertion. Also anger. Some nebulous mix of the two. He probably stays there for too long any case, because Alan's coming at him again, all sassy with his lightning and his fists, and at that point Tran is too full of rage to even think of getting out of the way.
Advancing a careful step or two forward, Tran turns away from Alan at the last second, letting the first few punches land against his ribs, waiting for them to subside so he can turn around again and maybe hopefully shut Alan up for a second.
It doesn't quite work out like that, simply because there are SO MANY PUNCHES. The opening Tran looks for never comes, the sheer weight of the myriad punches knocks him back, off-balance, until the last one straight up knocks him on his ass again. There's not even a table to break his fall this time.
Tran's voice lilts up, hazy and weak. "God...damn..."
Alan keeps punching for a little while after Tran goes flying back, though most of it is just the afterimages only fading one by one. His arms do, however, keep shaking. "...and a good thing too. Congratulations, you're officially a guinea pig." The boxer swings his hands up, electricity crackling off of them, and he once again assumes his stance. "Man, what the hell happened to you? You got something on your mind? Is this /all/ you can bring to the table?"
Slowly (for him, which is still pretty quickly), Alan starts to circle around toward Tran. The bikers have, for the time being, returned to audience, because they don't feel like screwing with someone who can fight at a thousand punches a minute, or someone who can get /hit/ like that and keep going. "Shit, if I knew you'd brought your D game, I wouldn't even've bothered." He steps in, tauntingly throwing a punch at Tran's body, keeping his distance for now.
COMBATSYS: Alan successfully hits Tran with Jab Punch.
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Tran 1/------=/=======|====---\-------\0 Alan
[OOC] Dr. Tran says, "Everything I create."
[OOC] Dr. Tran says, "EVERYTHING I CREATE."
It's slow going for Dr. Tran as he makes his way back up to his feet. God damn but that hurt. Groaning, he notes, "If I'd known you were gonna be here, I wouldn't've even bothered, either." This was supposed to just be a little bit of recreational biker-stomping! Not a god-damn get shitbeaten festival. I mean, seriously, what were the odds that a fighter of any decent caliber at all would show up in this god-forsaken hellhole?
Still, Tran has to deal. Unfortunately, he's not dealing well, as Alan darts in and lands a quick punch on him before he can manage to steady himself, shake the wooziness off. Even afterward, Tran's head isn't clearing so fast. He could swear the bar is underwater, for a minute. "...shit..."
The doctor stumbles back a step, shaking his head. "Nothing's happened, I don't know what you're talking about, everything's fine." He says it, but, well, look at him. "Just...shit." Grabbing a nearby chair, Tran pulls it closer, and then just sits down on it, grabbing someone's miraculously undisturbed beer. He doesn't care whose. Then he starts drinking. Drastic times truly call for drastic measures.
COMBATSYS: Dr. Tran drops his guard to recover.
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Tran 1/------=/=======|====---\-------\0 Alan
[OOC] Dr. Tran calls a beer-break
Alan watches Tran go and sit down. Just sit the hell down. There's no money on this fight, which changes things. Alan subconciously views Tran as a MIGHTY RIVAL as well, which prevents even him from just beating him down while he's woozy and distracted. In fact, when the man who once laid ownership to that beer stands with a growl and flicks out a switchblade, Alan takes one step over and drives a palm into his face, a crack of thunder knocking him away into a friend, which only causes another fight. "Bull!" is his only response.
COMBATSYS: Alan takes no action.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////////////// ]
Tran 1/------=/=======|====---\-------\0 Alan
Decapre has disconnected.
A hand clad in a black handguard common of modern fighters these days reaches for the thin air that was once full of glass that was full of beer that's full of water and carbon and alcohol. It slams down upon a round, mint-condition coaster of a photorealistic portrait of former Japanese Prime Minister Yoshiro Mori, clasping it as though it were a thing of scorn. The shadows part to reveal Ryuhaku Todoh all but bringing his blood pressure to atomic levels with a grimace. His hand trembles with untold rage, this insult the last straw in a long line of many obscure and perhaps even fictional slights on his person.
"HOW DARE YOU GET IN THE WAY OF MY NEFARIOUS PLAN TO STAIN TAKUMA'S MINT CONDITION DRINK COASTER OF FORMER JAPANESE PRIME MINISTER YOSHIRO MORI BY REMOVING THAT MUG I SO CUNNINGLY PLACED UPON IT SO THAT IT WOULD BE FOREVER STAINED AND RUINED!!"
Throwing himself out of his chair, he points in either of the two's direction accusingly with perhaps the angriest pointing finger one may ever know. "You've made yourself an enemy this day! You'll live to regret this! You'll rue this moment!! I will have my revenge!"
Then he just strolls out the door casually, the unmolested coaster held precariously between two fingers in a way that they can get a good look at the symbol of their grave offense.
...?
Ah. That's a bit better. As he briefly enjoys his beer, Tran pokes at his shoulder, tenatively. Evidently satisfied with the result, he stands up, a faint smile on his face. "That's the stuff." Then he breaks the bottle over some chump's head. Not because he was acting aggressive or anything, just because he was kinda nearby-ish.
Rolling his neck, Tran finally turns his attention back onto Alan. Suprisingly...decent of him? Waiting up on Tran, that is. Decent's probably not the word, but we'll go with that for now. "So what? You my best friend now? You wanna have a little slumber party and we can stay up all night giggling and talking about what boys we like and how many doors there are?"
"Jerk." There's a lot less anger in it, now. It's kind of off-handed, delivered alongside a light, testing punch to the center of Alan's chest.
COMBATSYS: Tran successfully hits Alan with Quick Punch.
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Tran 1/------=/=======|======-\-------\0 Alan
Alan was going to say something to Tran, but he can't. Why can't he? He can't because he's staring directly at Todoh, his sunglasses slipping down his nose, mouth hanging very slightly ajar. Isn't that the one guy...
Tran's fist comes flying in at him, connecting with his chest. The boxer stumbles back a few steps, but doesn't even register it, narrowing his eyes at Todoh and closing his mouth with a click.
"Huh."
COMBATSYS: Alan takes no action.
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Tran 1/------=/=======|======-\-------\0 Alan
Dr. Tran stops dead in his tracks. His fist hits Alan, sure, but to be honest, he's not even really paying attention. Mostly on account of how...that guy...
How long has he even BEEN there? And...and the...Tran opens and closes his mouth a couple of time, just looking for words. Any words. He doesn't have any. Finally, his shoulders slump, and he gets a resigned look in his eye. "I...I guess that's a sign for me to get on the wagon."
COMBATSYS: Tran takes no action.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////////// ]
Tran 1/------=/=======|======-\-------\0 Alan
[OOC] Dr. Tran can only explain this as an alchohol-fueled hallucination. :|
[OOC] Todoh says, "You will pay."
[OOC] Dr. Tran says, "I already have, Todoh. I already have."
"I haven't even started drinking," Alan responds, "and I'm considering cutting myself off."
Then the background music starts back up, and Alan R. B. twists in a poorly timed reaction to the punch that happened several moments ago, pulling his right hand back. "Anyway, no, hell no!" Doors...? "It's called protecting future investments. How the hell am I going to make a mint on a high billing fight if you go and get yourself killed in some shit you can't handle?"
Electricity crackles around the blonde's right hand, swirling into a golf ball-sized orb between his thumb and middle finger. He brings it down, snapping his fingers. "Strike!" A bolt of lightning jumps across the distance between the two fighters - immediately followed by another. "Twice!"
COMBATSYS: Alan successfully hits Tran with Lightning Strikes Twice.
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Tran 1/---====/=======|=======\-------\1 Alan
[OOC] Dr. Tran says, "Everything I create, Alan."
[OOC] Dr. Tran says, "EVERYTHING I CREATE."
[OOC] Dr. Tran says, "Man, have I made a reaction yet?"
[OOC] Igniz says, "actually, I fell asleep for an hour and i just woke up"
[OOC] Igniz says, "and I can honestly say no"
[OOC] Igniz says, "It's okay though."
[OOC] Igniz says, "because i had reces for breakfest"
That really is just a hell of a thing to get over. It's so...random? Is that what it is? It's so confusing that Dr. Tran can't even tell if it is or not. It is a complete mystery. This really isn't the time to be considering it, either, what with the lightning screaming toward Tran and all that. He raises an arm to try to do something, anything about it, but to be honest, it's just too late. And, you know, once you let the first one in, there's not much you can do about the second.
Driven backward a pace or two by the lightning, the front of his shirt pretty much totally cashed out at this point. Blackened and tattered, revealing a swaddled layer of mmmmmostly blood-free bandages underneath. Tran snorts derisively. "I'm touched by the concern, really!" No, no, not really. "But like hell I'm telling you anything!" Bending forward slightly, a grin that's pretty much entirely bluff on his face, the doctor extends his arm. "You're still welcome to try to force it out of me, though."
COMBATSYS: Tran focuses on his next action.
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Tran 1/---====/=======|=======\-------\1 Alan
A sexy, sexy eyebrow twitches upward as his attack reveals bandages. "Oh, I see, someone handed you your ass and you're all despondent over it. I didn't think you'd be the kind of bitch to dwell on the past!" He's already put Todoh behind him, to think about later. Now, he is back to fighting, pulling up his hands and moving back in to Tran, darting from side to side.
"Maybe it's not worth keeping you from getting killed after all," he sneers. "Can't even lose one fight without drinking yourself to a stupor!" Alan punctuates those words by driving his fist at the bandages cruelly, twisting his hand on hypothetical impact.
[OOC] Ålân R.B. had Bulgarian company
[OOC] Dr. Tran says, "waffles!?"
COMBATSYS: Tran fails to reflect Light Punch from Alan with Operation - Dr. Tran.
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Tran 1/-======/=======|=======\-------\1 Alan
[OOC] Dr. Tran says, "god"
[OOC] Dr. Tran says, "EVERYTHING I CREATE, ALAN"
[OOC] Dr. Tran says, "everything"
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "at least it wasn't like"
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "your max"
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "that would have been shameful"
"I'm not dwelling on shit, he tried to kill me! I'm injured, you shit! Don't you have a chicken!?" Approaching a state that can be described as 'flustered', Dr. Tran begins to really get steamed. See, it's funny, because...nevermind.
A tendril of chi pours out of his coat's sleeve, and when Alan comes in a-punching, Dr. Tran is ready! Except, you know, he's really not. "And I can't WIN one fight without dri-" Pow. Alan just makes talking and fighting at the same time look so easy, but Tran keeps forgetting the boxer is a pro at it. How is a simple doctor supposed to keep up? Sent reeling again, gasping from the pain of having a fist driven into his injury, and yes, the fist does go in a little, Tran awkwardly flings himself away, gasping for air again, trying to recover himself sufficiently to at least by able to /think/ again. Christ but that hurt.
"Aha! Attempted murder! Because that isn't about a third of all fights in this world. Man, who'd try to murder /you/?" Alan probably has a little blood staining the rings on his right fist now, but it'll go away shortly, wicked off in a punch. You should see him when he's training alone, he does that thing where he punches forward and the camera slows down and his sweat glitters in front of his fist, revealing the True Fighting Spirit he doesn't actually have.
The boxer sways back again, arms going limp as electricity once again starts to surge through him. "You really strike me more as the type people just ignore because they can't do anything. Well, except, you know... you really can't, and it's not at all a mistake. You must have one paranoid enemy somewhere." Still relaxed, Alan pulls his hands forward, slowly cracking his knuckles, feeling ridiculously confident.
COMBATSYS: Alan gathers his will.
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Tran 1/-======/=======|=======\====---\1 Alan
"I don't know! I never met the guy in my life, and he changed his mind at the last minute!" Honestly, Tran isn't sure which is more irritating. The attempt itself, or the last-minute abortion. And then Alan's there, all getting sassy again with his...with his sass. Coupled with everything else, it's slightly completely infuriating. "God, don't you ever shut up! People in glass houses can't find their closet! GRAAGH!"
With that last, animalistic shout, Tran stomps his foot and suddenly he's wreathed in steam. It's everywhere, a thick cloud of it hovering around him. Then he charges, and it follows, clinging to his back, at the same time quickly working its way down his arms. It shifts, swirling about and coalescing into twin balls, completely obscuring Tran's fists in white. "Just can it!!" The doctor lunges in, going low, and then pushes upward with all his might, throwing what amounts to a super double uppercut toward Alan with everything he's got at this point.
If the bastard doesn't watch out, there might be another hole in the ceiling.
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "oooohhhhhhhhhwhhhoooaaaaa"
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "OOOOOOHHHHHHHWWHHHOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAA"
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "TOOOOOORRRYEEEAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH"
COMBATSYS: Alan fails to interrupt Here Comes Dr. Tran! from Tran with Overcharge.
- Power fail! -
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Tran 0/-------/-----==|=======\==-----\1 Alan
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "behold the power of dm/fate"
[OOC] Dr. Tran hahahaha
[OOC] Dr. Tran says, "Remind me, that was...that WAS a super, right?"
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "yes"
[OOC] Dr. Tran ok, just wanted to make sure since you have about the same amount as you had before and all.
[OOC] Dr. Tran says, "Haha, dang, that's harsh, though, you crazy bastard."
Vega has arrived.
ODROP::OSUCC::Vega heads to the Pacific Ocean.
[OOC] Todoh says, "Man, how much was that, I don't even know."
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "71"
[OOC] Todoh says, "That's ownage."
[OOC] Dr. Tran says, "Power fail, charging vulnerability, on a smashed PL10 MAX."
[OOC] Todoh says, "tran smahs!!1"
[OOC] Dr. Tran says, "TRAN ANGRY"
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "If it was a throw"
[OOC] Dr. Tran says, "TRAN SMASH"
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "I would be pieces"
[OOC] Igniz leaves you forever
ODROP::Igniz goes somewhere else.
Alan R. B., his sneer widening into a predatory grin, meets Tran's charge. "Now why the hell would I do that?!" Still relaxed, he pulls his right hand back, the electricity surging through his body whirling into it. Yellow lightning explodes around it, obscuring it much like Tran's own fists, bolts snapping out everywhere harrassing everyone around. "OVERCHARGE!!"
The agent leaps at the doctor, hand swinging up and down, intent on meeting Tran halfway and powering through his own attack. This hand of his crackles with a--- futile power! His fist meets Tran's, and the electricity blasts away behind him an instant before he takes the hits right on the chin. His sunglasses fly directly upward, atomizing on the ceiling. "SWEET FUCK ME--" Alan goes flying for the door, which slams open as the fat man from earlier returns, chin quivering in fury, a shotgun held in his sausagey hands. Alan careens right through the weapon, breaking it into pieces as he goes right through into the corpulent belly behind.
~bloooooooong~
Alan's back is covered in sweat as he sinks into the lard ocean, rebounding off to finally crash into the wood floor, blood running from a few cracked teeth in his mouth. Mr. Pudge goes tottering back, bellowing and coughing in pain, before falling on his back and vomiting his dinner of meatloaf and fried chicken skin onto his own face.
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "I think I should call everyone's attention to the fact that it is fried chicken /skin/"
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "There was no chicken eaten"
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "he ate all the skin"
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "/extra crispy/"
[OOC] Todoh says, "Noted and repulsed!"
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "Excellent"
"THAT'S WHY, DICKHOLE!" God damn if that isn't the most satisfying moment of Tran's night right there. After that torrent of abuse, verbal and so very very physical, just punching the crap out of Alan...it feels good. Especially the part where he gets absorbed into Admiral Porcine. Remember: it's not a true victory unless your opponent is beaten AND humiliated!
'Course, even though Alan's down, it's pretty plain to see that he's not out, and Tran's torch of vengeance yet burns. It burns so hot. "HYAH!" This wordless shout as his battlecry, Dr. Tran hold one hand flat out to the side, steam gathering around it, and then slashes it in a horizantal line across his body. A thin, translucent blade of chi follows, shooting forward toward the downed Alan. "ON YOUR FEET!"
COMBATSYS: Tran successfully hits Alan with American Hero Cutter.
[ \\\\\\\\\ < > / ]
Tran 0/-------/-----==|=======\=====--\1 Alan
Alan is actually kind of used to getting completely messed up by one hard hit. His frame was never given to soaking blows, so he learned to get out of the way, and take people down before they could do anything to him. Plus... it's not like there's money on this fight. He groans in pain as he pops up one one hand, but he's still got a smirk. "...think I'll stay down here." He swings his legs around, thrusting up and away from the blade...
No! No, he does not. Just as he was getting away, the cutter moves faster than he was expecting, electricity crackling around his legs as the chi hits his shin, slicing the already-damaged jeans further, breaking the skin and spraying blood. The boxer is sent against the wall again.
Slowly, he pushes himself back to a seated position, his hand groping around under his vest. A thin black cigarette with gold leaf filter comes out, and he lights it with a flick of his thumb. "Now maybe if you had done that to whatever jackhole came after you..." Pfooofff... "you wouldn't be hiding in a bar covered in bandages."
COMBATSYS: Alan takes no action.
[ \\\\\\\\\ <
Tran 0/-------/-----==|
COMBATSYS: Alan can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\\ <
Tran 0/-------/-----==|
Dr. Tran knows that honestly, this fight really isn't anything. It didn't mean anything to start with, and it wasn't anything special in execution - sure, it ended nice, but the path it took to get there...ugh. Exhaling slowly, the last wisps of steam rise from Tran, quickly becoming lost amid the smoke, dust, and general atmosphere of chaos that pervade the bar now that things are over and done with.
"You think I didn't try? I was practically down before I even got started." Sort of like this fight, in fact, were it not for Alan's suprising moment of mercy. Clutching his head (it aches, along with the rest of him), Tran heads to the door, pausing to give Chubs McGee a disdainful kick in what one can only assume to be ribs, concealed by that heavy layer of fat though they may be. "I'm out of here." Tran hesitates, and looks at Alan again, struggling for words.
"Nrrrg...'till next time." It takes a surprising amount of effort not to end that with some kind of curse on Alan's name. Regardless, there will be a next time. Tran's sure that it's only a matter of time. Until then...well, Tran's probably infected in a dozen goddamn places from this dive. Goddamn but it's going to sting like the dickens.
COMBATSYS: Tran has ended the fight here.
[OOC] Ålân R.B. says, "hraaaaaaagh"
Log created on 18:36:45 03/31/2008 by Alan, and last modified on 23:27:55 03/31/2008.