Description: Having left Adelheid in charge of 'R' for a few months during his recovery, Rugal decides it's time to take charge once again. In the process, a cross examination of his son's activities as of late is necessary. And of course the best way to see where the boy is in his progress is with an evaluation 'spar' to accompany the questions...
The road to recovery after the battle aboard the Suiryuu was a long one. Months of lurking on the floating fortress passed before Rugal began to appear on public once more, testing his strength to make sure it had returned. A couple Neo League matches and a handicapped SNF just to make sure everything was working fine. And then it was back to lurking aboard the old ship.
A couple of months have passed since then. Adelheid was given charge of running 'R' during Rugal's recovery, but once he was back in good health, the veteran fighter seemed uneager to take the reigns back. Perhaps he was enjoying a vacation from world conquest just a /little/ too much. But the time has come to take control once more. If Adelheid is the Prince of War, than Rugal is the Tyrant thereof. And to be that requires getting back into the position of ultimate power within the cartel.
And as so happens when positions change hands, a postmortem will be necessary to review Adelheid's time in charge of operations. But that isn't the only review that is overdue. It's time to see how far the boy has come in becoming the fighting monster Rugal intends for him to be.
An evaluation, this time of just one as opposed to the interesting melee he had arranged between himself, his son, and the scion of the Kirishima. But times change, prospects wither or become unappealing, and ties are severed. Kurow, left to his school level empire, has been forgotten. Which means the elder Bernstein's eye is back on his son - Adelheid /will/ be the one he molds into a younger version of himself. It just might take some... corrections.
The summons is issued, as has been the tradition throughout all of Adelheid's growing life. The place to meet is in the training hall they last battled in, which is all the indicator the young man needs as to what to be prepared for. No idle chatter takes place beneath the portraits of the Bernstein ancestors. He will be expected to prove his progress in the best way possible. Facing his father once again.
There early, Rugal has shed his jacket and pressed shirts, leaving only a muscle short worn along with his dard red dress slacks. It would be hard to believe that half a year ago he was almost killed, restricted to a life sustaining chair to recover, for now he appears to be the picture of strength. Bare, muscled arms power crushing punches as Rugal pulverizes a sturdy punching bag mounted from pole attached to the wall, and it is that sound that will greet Adelheid first.
Was it really months? That long?!? Glorious months. Freedom, peace, nothing to do but make sure someone was assigned to change his insane father's bedpan. Ahem. To all appearances, barring a few little Casino explosions and lost little girls, 'R' is running pretty damn smoothly. The bottom line is down just slightly from Adelheid's unwillingness to sell bombs to just anyone, but by and large the sub-lieutenants and distributors and soldiers are doing what they've always done, as if Rugal were still in charge. The men he wanted gone? They've vanished. So has equipment, here and there, but all of that is pretty damn well hidden. Adelheid has been intimately involved with R's book-keeping and procedures for some time, and forging orders while stowing away equipment and filling his father's coffers in turn with money and diamonds and similar currency skimmed silently and slightly off the top of many operations through shrewd negotiations and minor alterations in the agreements is all too easy when done so patiently, and with complete autonomy.
Not that Adel is fool enough to believe that Rugal is going to take a turn for the worse, that he won't recover, and retake the throne, and go over every little decision his heir made in careful detail. It's expected, it wouldn't be Rugal if he didn't. What may not be expected is the detail within the Prince of War's own counter-feint. Looking over the records, surveying the deals, the flow of goods, the warlords 'R' supplies.... it's very, very easy to conclude that Adelheid was simply not as forceful or final with negotiations as the organization might be with the elder Bernstein at the helm. Accomplished, profitable, adaptable.... but unpolished. The paper trail /seems/ untarnished, to most anyone it would look like an honest record of a youth learning the ropes, rather than a designated heir playing Chess with a man who doesn't take Check lightly.
Then there are the times Adelheid has been forced to act. Those, he knows he cannot hide. Rugal will find out, and at best, his father will have questions. Angry questions. Failure is not to be tolerated, and for it to be judged a lack of discretion is the best case scenario. That's assuming he's been as subtle as he's sought to be with his other feints, to boot. Still, the window of vulnerability is something he's learned from studying 'R' itself to understand, and the facilities and contacts he's afforded is necessary at this phase. Not to mention, each and every shift has been geared towards orchestrating his own will on global politics. He can't stop every tyrant, but when one controls the supply lines, one can make shrewd decisions, undermine the right (or wrong, as the case may be) people, and at the end of the day, still turn one hell of a profit. Sadly, arms will likely /always/ be in high demand.
Despite all this, and the hammer that may well be waiting over his head, the Bernstein heir remains fearless. It isn't the coached, placid stoicism undertoned by anger and fear that normally fills him when he approaches his father's training chamber. No, this is something closer to exhileration. The anger is there, if anything it has built... but with it has the platinum blonde's will, his sense of purpose. Let him face the worst case, let his father /try/ to stop him now. Let him face the best, let him show Rugal what he's accomplished, how strong he's becoming. Strong enough? .... it's irrelevant. He doesn't need to stand alone, only push onward a little further.
The youthful prodigy approaches the sanctum with paced, rhythmic footfalls, similarly already dressed for whatever exercise Rugal has in mind. He wears a simple, skintight shirt of darkest green, nearly midnight, coupled with black fatigues a half-shade darker, and heavy combat boots. The only other ornamentation are a pair of bracers covering his forearms, running over his knuckles into half-glove coverage. Silver etching adorns these, a newer addition to the militaristic attire. Rugal's fists are the first clue to his moo
Rugal's fists are the first clue to his mood, and Adelheid listens intently to the rhythm of it. The force behind it. Emotion is driven into each strike, but the boy king sees it for what it is. Or at least, what he thinks it to be. He reads it as uncertainty. Consideration. His father is planning, but unsure. And why not? Much has been lost, much has been threatened, and while Adel is certainly not the center of much of it, Rugal has never been one to focus his ire or doubt.
This is to be a test, of that the Bernstein heir is certain. Perhaps a test of far more than his mettle. There is no hesitation, no break in his even step as he strides into the room, and approaches his exercising father. He stands poised, formal attention bringing his feet together and his hands behind his back, clasping there. His crimson eyes level on Rugal, and he waits, his breath coming in steady, deep falls. No sullen child glares nails each time Rugal turns his back, no doubtful boy resents what he knows is coming.
This is who Rugal Bernstein is. This is why Adelheid Bernstein is who he has become. This.... is the brutal balance of the world, the consequence of exercising strength beyond one's wisdom.
When an empire gets to be as bloated as 'R' it becomes easier to make the subtle shifts Adelheid has accomplished. Coupled with his genius ingenuity and the trust of many of the people who have started answering to him rather than his father, and quite preferred the shift in tactics... everything seems to have come together without a flaw for the youth. But he's contending with one of the best. A man driven by lust for power and protected by a healthy amount of paranoia. There are in his ranks those loyal to him, if out of fear or hopes of eventuall reward remains to be determined. He has heard pieces that give him cause to investigate further. But it's not what he's found, but what he hasn't found, that has affected him the most.
Truth be told, the organization has profited well under Adelheid's touch. Apathy brought on by far too many years secluded on the aging carrier hadn't done 'R' any favors in recent years. The war against the Ryouhara was an expensive monkey sink to boot. While but a dent in the coffers, the lack of victory threw certain alliances into jeopardy and some operations became compromised as turncoats lost their nerve under the fear of the cartel collapsing. But the prince of 'R' managed to bring that back under control. If a portion of the increase was siphoned off for his own purposes, it would be hard to know. From Rugal's perspective, his absense was handled with /near/ perfection. There are, however... a few details to discuss.
A tall, proud representative of German blood, Rugal Bernstein is an imposing site even to those who don't know what he is capable of. And Adelheid knows exactly what he is capable of. He will sense it though, a certain tension in the air brought on by more than simply the raw power the older fighter is pouring into the victimized punching bag. A step back leads into a sweeping haymaker, the force of which shatters the chains holding the back in place, sending it hurlting through the air and sliding to a stop only once it has reached the wall, coming to a rest beneath the large oil painting of a Bernstein of two generations ago. Rugal steps forward, picking up a white towel from off a rack at his side before rolling it up onto his shoulders and turning to face his son.
The first inspection is visual, a sweeping analysis of the boy from head to toe, before Rugal's gaze comes to rest directly on his face, his single human eye staring intensely at his son's. He has his mother's eyes, as does his sister. Red. A color associated with mystique, and at times, evil. In some cultures red eyes are regarded as a sign of powerful influence, a touch of divinity. A touch of himself, Rugal ponders silently as he studies his designated heir silently.
He can't help but feel pride at what he sees. The boy did well, by all accounts. But there /were/ mistakes made. Mistakes that need to be explained. Running an empire is not unlike engaging in a fight amongst titans. The slightest slipup can spell catastrophe as decades of hard work and preparation crumble in an instant, spiraling out of control beyond recovery. Whether Adelheid's errors amount to that degree remains to be seen.
The inspection thus far has been conducted in complete silence, the blond tyrant finally turning to the side and striding to the center of the room. His dress shoe clad footfalls echo throughout the chamber of steel as the man takes his potion and pivots toward Adelheid. His expression stern, his mouth a faint scowl. The towel gets whipped off his shoulders and flung to the side before he raises one arm and beckons to the lad to face him. Let the review begin.
Bloated is one word. Corrupt. Heavy. A tumorous blight floating the ocean, spreading its violent taint to whatever shore draws the singular eye of its malevolent maestro. In an organization like this, in a life like Adelheid has led, there is only one operative rule, if one is to survive against the grain: Trust no one. For every card played, two more remain in his hands. For every errant mercenary subverted to his own ends, five more remain treated with nothing but brusque efficiency. Likely several shades kinder than his father might manage, but Adelheid can certainly muster his own degree of intimidating fortitude. .... something Marise will no doubt attest to, when and if she recovers. There's a vague irony in the fact that the operation that cost Rugal so much, in both wealth and very nearly well-being, is the same one that finally cemented his erstwhile heir's course, and provided the young Bernstein with both contacts and means necessary to achieving what he desires to achieve.
Everything Ryouhara took from Rugal, Adelheid intends to share... and amplify. The secrets hidden from the Lord of War remain to be had, not by force or battle, but through accord. All the secrets of the Suiryuu, and many which may soon trump it. The symmetry is something that pleases the lithe prodigy to no end, and while neither father nor son would be foolish enough to place their trust fully in the nefarious ninja, there is power in understanding. Power in such symmetry. Power in seizing what he wants, not for his own sake. Not through force, not through folly. Power in action, will, and defiance. That spark in both Seishirou and the youth he took prisoner at the end of Jinchuu that refuses to yield whatever pressure is applied. That temper than only becomes more resilient regardless of attempts to bend it, shape it, force a straight edge. It is a rare alloy, among a world population that sways at the merest hint of fear, and oohs and ahhhs at every show of power.
But it is a blade that cuts true. Adelheid stands firm, unflinching, not so much as blinking. Not impassive, not even cautiously reverent. No, the younger blonde is resolute, and utterly unconcerned with his father's judgement. The Prince of War is already certain he has succeeded, whatever becomes of him now, and in that there is also power. Rugal remains silent, and Adelheid does not object, does not break that faux peace. The tyrant studies his progeny, and the distorted, too-beautiful reflection stares right back, analyzing just as intently, crimson gaze burning with an icy heat, a calculating passion. Intellect that carries the rage in his blood, and bends that too to his own purpose.
Rugal beckons him forward, and Adel moves. There is no momentary restraint, no consideration, no caution. The collected young warrior's inner power surges, and he all but launches himself from stance, to sprint, to assault. His booted feet barely touch the ground, he charges Rugal full-on. His right boot touches down, his body weight shifts, an almost impossible show of dexterity and celerity as he throws himself ever so slightly to the side, and then forward, seeming to lose no momentum in the process. He launches himself up, whipping an arm around as he seeks to hurtle /by/ Rugal.... and literally ply his might to drag his father suddenly off his footing. It is a long shot, but he doesn't care. The air he displaces blasts through his hair, and should all go according to plan, as he touches down, and forcefully yanks his 'teacher' forward, the thrusting, whiplike motion of his arm will culminate in a brilliant torrent of silvery chi, meant to shotgun point-blank into Rugal's face.
.... meant to start the fight by putting Rugal on his knees.
COMBATSYS: Adelheid has started a fight here.
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Adelheid 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Rugal has joined the fight here.
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Adelheid 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Rugal
COMBATSYS: Rugal blocks Adelheid's Scorpion Deathlock.
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Adelheid 0/-------/------=|=------\-------\0 Rugal
Legacies are made over a lifetime and destroyed in the blink of an eye. It is a lesson Rugal has observed other wouldbe world powers learn the hard way. It is a lesson Adelheid, himself, may someday have to learn should his path take him where he believes it. Diligence, caution... eventually they will fail. It's even worse when blinded by reckless ambitions and unsatiable pursuits of power. Such was the catastrophe at sea against the Suiryuu. The tyrant extended his hand just a little too far that time. Just like reaching out to grasp hold of the seal that held Orochi at bay, a mortal man aspiring to godhood.
A brief moment of contact, a life altered ever since. But he never doubted that he would recover from what happened at Jinchuu. Just like his body, with its almost inhuman propensity to recover from the worst, the 'R' Organization seems to linger on, corrupting and twisting the politics in the world to Rugal's taste.
In Rugal's eyes, Adelheid is the result of years of forging the perfect copy of himself. Ruthless, cold, proud, unafraid of even the monster that is his father... he will do him proud. Still, there are matters to discuss. The evaluation, the battle begins, and the intended heir charges his father, clearly unintimidated by the menace he represents. If he wants to fight him, battle against everything Rugal stands for, this exercise may serve as a glimpse into the inevitable war ahead. A portend of things to come.
"It seems Metro city has a new hero." comes the remark, spoken in that instant Adelheid launches his offense. And he leaves it at that. The tyrant's right arm comes up, intersecting the clotheslining attempt to catch him off guard, twisting down, hand getting just a firm enough grip to keep Adelheid from taking him off his feet. The chi collides against his hand, but it is as if fought by by an invisible force, barely managing to gain contact with Rugal's fingerless glove-covered hand. Hm. He's gotten stronger. The force brought to bear, Rugal need only feel it for a moment to compare it to what the boy could do before. But the man stands unbowed, leaving only his words to break silence otherwise occupied by the sound of the two powerful fighters in motion.
His other hand comes up, reaching over his arm to go for a grip on Adelheid's opposite wrist. And should that hold be secured, the man untwists his arms - the result would be deftly flipping the smaller statured fighter upside down... before Rugal would simply lift him up over his head and /hurtle/ him toward a nearby wall.
COMBATSYS: Rugal successfully hits Adelheid with Medium Throw.
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Adelheid 0/-------/---====|=------\-------\0 Rugal
Legacies. It's such a convoluted thing, legacy. In the end, one reaps what they sow, at least that's the old theory. Sometimes it seems to take a long time, sometimes... it's utterly invisible. With all the injustice in the world, all the skewed heroes and power-mad warlords, sometimes it's hard to pick the balance out of the mayhem, nature out of the mad. But in an odd, not at all intended sense, Adelheid is indeed Rugal's legacy. Perhaps one of the few with the knowledge and lack of innocence necessary to battle it. His seventeenth birthday looms, and already he wields more power than many twice his age, than veterans with decades of combat experience. And yet the application of it, well. It's not going to please Rugal, now is it? He's still not a killer, and as fearless and defiant as he is, he is not ruthless. No, Adelheid shows signs of sportsmanship, compassion, even mercy. It's never dissipated, and whatever he's forced to do, he's always found a way to turn it to his own.... or at least, endure without losing himself, where so many others would have.
Still, it's impossible not to miss a step, ever so slightly, when Rugal brings /that/ up. The Prince of War expected the Casino, expected Elfa, expected protests of various sorts. But not that. It doesn't show on his face, but he is caught red handed, at least in the literal, course of the fight sense. His wrists are grabbed, and while he kicks away, he is not quite quick enough to wrench free or avoid the anticaptory grip. He flies free, wild locks of platinum brushing over his face for the instants before he slams into the reinforced wall. It's a dull, sickening sound of bones and muscle impacting metal, and then Adelheid slides abruptly down it.... and into a three-point crouch, "Hah." He breathes, the look on his face something new, something he's never done before in these bouts.
The Prince of War punctuates the momentary breathless chuckle with a slow, subtle smile, his crimson eyes burning all the brighter as he turns them suddenly back up to his father, "Cockroaches have that effect. Always lingering in shadow, out of sight." He pushes back to his feet, "But they can never resist spreading out, invading. Greedy. They grab too much, they overextend." He charges forward, sliding low, his feet scissoring in an attempt to abruptly drive Rugal's legs out from under him, \"And who can resist stomping on vermin?!??"
COMBATSYS: Rugal dodges Adelheid's Medium Throw.
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Adelheid 0/-------/---====|=------\-------\0 Rugal
Failure to avoid getting caught up in the larger man's grapple and throw doesn't change Rugal's view of his son's ability. He had him the moment the boy charged, after all, so the outcome was as to be expected. It's okay... He's getting stronger. But there's a line Rugal has to be wary of. Someday Adelheid will become a genuine threat. And if he hasn't been properly prepared for that time, things will get... unpleasant. It is an eventuality Rugal has often pondered in the shadows of his study. What to do if his boy catches up and proves to be less... controllable than he intended? Never had a potential threat dumbfounded the man to such a degree. None of his normal solutions to problems seemed exactly right. He still had some time though. Or so he believed. A few years yet, at least...
It is a moment of irony with which the two Bernsteins discuss two completely different incidents. Rugal's brief hint of what he knew was intended to bring out something, provoke information about what his son has been up to. Actions that, when scrutinized, seemed nonsensical, as if he was pursuing some kind of vendetta that made no sense. For... Rugal spoke of Adelheid's appearance at the casino. A plant in the ranks of Blackjack placed him there at the time of the 'new door' created by a German light armored vehicle.
And the boy's response skirts just carefully around the details as to leave the older Bernstein not quite wise to the incident /he/ is referring to. Cockroaches, yes, yes... the Blackjack mercenary organization was an interesting phenomenon, pried out of the seedy streets of Southtown by one woman's sheer force of will. They had hindered Rugal once, but then became a sort of unexpected asset during the Suiryuu invasion. Their treachery may not have secured the victory Rugal had expected, but...
"They did rise to power rather quickly," the taller man responds. From street rats to wealth casino executives in the space of months. Yes... mingling in the affairs of giants certainly did do them well. "But they still might have proven useful." he continues, stepping out of the way of the incoming slide with a deliberate amount of control, not over-correcting in the slightest.
"If they were becoming an annoyance, there are more subtle ways..." he states, his torso twisting, his feet correcting quickly, as the man aims to bring his fist crashing down toward Adelheid as he slides by, aiming to catch him before he has time to correct for the missed opportunity. "...to topple vermin than driving a tank into their hive..."
COMBATSYS: Adelheid parries Rugal's Fierce Punch!
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Adelheid 0/-------/--=====|=------\-------\0 Rugal
It's an eventuality that hasn't escaped Adelheid. It's something the unusual youth has been aware of for several years now. It's what's kept him on this haunted ship for so long. That - and his sister. Where others would have been driven off long ago with similar attitudes towards Rugal's tactics and methods, a certain part of Adelheid embraces the training. Embraces the opportunity. The man who does not deserve the title of 'father' is teaching him to be able to take him down, to defend himself, to pursue his own aims independently of R's. That irony as well is not lost on the Prince of War, and indeed, it may be part of what spurs his smile. That, and the sheer visceral intensity of the fight. .... of course, Rugal is kind enough to clarify the misinterpretation. Really, as careful as Adelheid is been, he has to be moreso when his defiant covert activities start to /overlap/ each other. Sometimes it pays to be a vague smartass. He even got away with dissing Rugal to his face.
He slides in low, and his father shifts aside. It doesn't diminish Adelheid's half-smirk, "Subtler ways." Adelheid agrees, having long since decided not to even /try/ to hide this particular action from Rugal. Sooner, rather than later, he will discover the details, and too much falsehood will only condemn the younger Bernstein, "But none quite so /satisfying/!!" Rugal's fist slams down, and already Adelheid rolls, a single turn, blazing fast. Feet kick out, and he comes up in a crouch at the same moment that potent strike cracks home into the Noah's resilient deck. Half-gloved palms graze momentarily, lightly, over the larger Bernstein's thick arm, and in that instant, Adelheid shoves to his feet. Rugal strikes low, and suddenly, his heir rises up, unscathed, invigorated, with precision and grace that stands in stark contrast to the Warlord's thundering interpretation of the familial style, "Those haphazard fools were playing 'War' and tampering in things that would have led them to sell /anyone/ involved with them out to buy one more deck of cards." Simple games, simple minds. Traitors of that sort earn no credit in Adel's book. Hypocritical? Perhaps, but as mentioned.... he's playing Chess. And even as he rises, too smoothly, speaks, too surely, he launches forward.... too quickly.
All his weight, all his strength is thrown behind it. Can't beat his father? Maybe not, but he can sure as hell try. He can sure as hell look the beast in the eye, and laugh... both hands whip in for the Lord of War's neck, his shirt, "If you can't see that...." Adelheid's lithely corded arms may not compare to Rugal's but he has strength aplenty in his deceptively slender frame. His anger burns, his chi flares, and an invisible shockwave bursts about his feet, as he fires forward with force aplenty to carry Rugal right off the ground, should his grip be found. Right off the ground, and whipped around at the fore of a makeshift, two-man trainwreck square into the opposite wall, "You're not even paying /attention/!!!"
Again, the words are straightforward, matter of fact. And laced with double-talk. Still, Adel expects the logic will be difficult for Rugal to argue.... and whatever secrets he holds about Blackjack's motivations and activities will be tantalizing, and perhaps even distracting, to his powermad progenitor.
COMBATSYS: Rugal interrupts God Press EX from Adelheid with Genocide Cutter EX.
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Adelheid 1/----===/=======|=====--\-------\0 Rugal
Rugal's fist smashes into the floor. Even though the room is made with several layers of reinforced, thick steel, a small dent will forever remain behind as a reminder of that missed strike, Adelheid's dexterity taking him out of the way of a very punishing attack. It gives the boy the chance he needs, his arm running over Rugal's arm, staying in close, able to 'feel' what move Rugal may make next without having to keep an eye on him.
The crimelord is still rising, however, to get back to standing, when caught up in one of his own techniques. A throw like no other, combining the muscle strength of the entire body and adding to that an incredible force of chi to drive the two fighters forward over the ground into the nearest solid object. God Press - Mastered by a man who would become a god and passed onto his son, feared by many, Adelheid's execution of it is a perfect reflection of that flawless synergy of physical power and energy control. Smaller in stature, but the gap in skill and precision chi control between the two is... narrowing.
Hefted off the ground by his own son, the two fly into a crash course for the wall with crushing speed. But while the youth seems to get his way at first, driving the man who has slowly been teaching him how to defeat him over the years toward the wall, Rugal's experience with dealing with his own technique comes into play at the last moment. Twisting his torso to the side, his left arm slams backward, palm out, padding the impact against the steel bulkhead, reducing the damage but not preventing it entirely.
The retaliation comes blindingly fast, the monsterous veteran's feet slaming down hard against the floor for an instant; just long enough to let him power into another fine family tradition. "Genocide-" His right leg arcs up, sharp, blade thin red chi trailing behind his foot as he tears into his son's chest before Adelheid can even hope to back away. The move he has perfected above all others in his repertoire, combining incredible physical power with deadly sharp, piercing chi in a risky but deadly combination of rising kicks. The second kick comes next, a wider sweep from his left, arcing the two fighters up into the air as Rugal follows his own momentum. "CUTTER!" his deep voice proclaims.
Even here, where there is none other than his son to hear the technique's name, he insists on declaring it. Reflecting his limitless ambition, the truth that he would not even allow a genocide of countless millions to get between him and his goals... He desires no one to forget the frightful move. He wishes for all to know it's name, whether performed by himself or the son he now batters with one final overhead kick to drive Adelheid back down toward the floor.
Rugal's feet land a moment later, the man rising back up to standing slowly, his inhuman eye flaring red, a reflection of the intensity of the fight, the way it makes his blood boil, the heat of battle between family. The chi he had commanded a moment now is no longer seen, but that doesn't mean its effects would not still be felt. Its presence. A quiet growl, the main straightening up back to his full height. "I hadn't concerned myself with the affairs of mice." comes his reply. "If you deemed them a problem, I should have been informed." And that seems to be the extent of his thoughts on the matter, his voice terse.
"Speaking of lab mammals, I had a woman that was to be delivered from that very faction. A NESTs project... You were supposed to oversee that delivery. What happened?"
Not only does Rugal fail to take the bait.... he turns the course of both taunt and assault against his son rather impressively indeed. It's an attack Adelheid knows all too well, his version of it feared in its own right, but there is no time to react, no time to rethink his course, as his offensive momentum is turned rather suddenly and inexorably against him. The reaving edge of chi and foot colide hard up his body, and what was meant to be a staggering slam for Rugal turns into a fight-turning blow landed against the younger Bernstein. Adelheid is suddenly launched away, nearly rebounding off the low ceiling of the chamber before quite simply /crashing/ to the deck. He rolls over himself, and like the punching bag before, does not stop until he reaches the wall... far away from his intended location after the assault. The drop is nearly as painful as the impact itself, and Adel is slower to rise this time. Slower, but still not precisely /slow/.
A palm presses to the deck, and he spits blood and spittle to the floor with a gasped breath. ... that hasn't gotten much easier to weather, at all. That, or his father is actually getting stronger as well. It's a disturbing idea, but does little to sway his conviction. It just raises the bar that much higher, "I deemed them a personal problem." Adelheid answers, his deepening baritone remaining even, as smooth as it can be, though he still fights for breath as he draws a knee up under himself, and begins to rise to his feet, "And the clumsyness with which they acted a threat. Did you not tell me to act in your stead? To make decisions and command 'R' as if I were its leader? Would I not be disobeying that order to report to you, and ask you to make the decision /for/ me?" The question seems to build back some measure of resolve, and by the time he punctuates it by brushing a hand down the front of his shirt, now torn in a ragged line up the chest, revealing reddened skin, he's back on his feet. Breath coming more easily.
"Always beneath your notice, these mice. Yet it does not seem to stop them swarming, nesting, constructing things that blow up in one's face." It's a pointed reminder of just -why- he was in the situation he was in. The tournament aboard the Suiryuu was full of such insignificants - a veritable army that toppled Rugal in ways that others had repeatedly failed to do. Taken down by a man even Adelheid is sure he could best in single combat. Against the odds, in defiance of the situation, and his own pain, the glimmer returns to Adelheid's dark red eyes. No, he will not be cowed, regardless of how superior this man still is in application of their style. His eyes are intent, his attention unerring - every moment that agony does not force it elsewhere, he watches Rugal. Every motion, every intricacy. Committing it to memory, much as he has done with many of the world's foremost fighters. He can /beat/ this man... he just has to push... a little... harder....
"Again you dismiss mice, and it nearly costs us all. I'm sure you've seen the footage. The /girl/ attacked. She nearly toppled -me-. A blast took her overboard, from there.... we could find no body." Most of the story, and indeed, staged nicely for the Noah's security systems, "The next time you accept intriguing captives, perhaps you should check, and warn others, if they possess as much Psycho Power as you do chi." A new term, and a card Adel lays down with smooth aplomb. He's been learning, and he's unearthed things that interest him, and he can only hope... interest Rugal, "The girl was as much a timebomb as the Suiryuu herself. Your penchant for live grenades /notwithstanding/..... Unless you think you could have somehow controlled the essence of chaos..."
Adelheid now moves forward, a single step. He may not defeat Rugal, in fact he can sense what's coming down the pipe, but he has demonstrations left to give.... his feints have been played, and just now, he'll give his father what he wants. A tumult of raw power. A conjuration the ease and streng
strength of which few can match, fewer still of Adelheid's age and relative experience. A sweep of his arm accompanies the step, and the deck surges before him with a wave of pure, silver-grey windshear blasting forth for Rugal, a massive example of just how far the Bernstein heir has come, "You should be /thankful/ she's no longer aboard!!!"
The wave is nearly as tall as Adelheid, a familiar, roiling mass of rampant energy, shredding edges of chaotic wind rushing around one another on their blasting course across the chamber, back towards where Rugal landed. He's been offered no quarter, and his exam is hardly finished. No, he has fight left, and then some... fight beyond this day, but for the moment, this will have to do!
COMBATSYS: Rugal blocks Adelheid's Kaiser Wave.
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Adelheid 1/----===/=======|=======\-------\0 Rugal
The months of recovery have been good for Rugal. Techniques have gotten more deadly, the hours spent with intense personal training without the distractions of an empire to run have left him feeling more invigorated than ever before. Approaching his fifties, he isn't sure if he has ever felt stronger in his life. That power is fueled by the intensity his own progeny brings to this battle, seeing all his hard work, his expectations paying off with the well honed machine Adelheid has become in combat. The boy demonstrates awareness, determination, and importantly, power. Just as a Bernstein should.
As Adelheid speaks Rugal begins to walk forward. He may be proud of the boy, but he's getting a bit out of line. Has forgotten his place. The months of being the man in charge seems to have gotten to his head. He speaks of dealing with the personal problem that was Blackjack and Rugal seems to take the explanation in stride. The battle will not be paused for that minor defense, it seems, as the man shows no intent to slow down.
It is when the Bernstein heir begins to speak of Elfa that Rugal actually comes to a stop, no longer advancing against him. The videos did show what transpired, of course, but what wasn't so clear was the power in the girl - that power Adelheid felt and defended himself in the end. Power capable of destroying minds, rendering consciousnesses torn asunder. Psycho Power. She did come from a Shadaloo lab. What does it mean? What was the experiment? Was it successful? He's curious, not even the flare of temper at the youth's... excessive boldness. He's crossed a line now, and while it is beginning to annoy the tyrant, he's also holding information that could be vital. That he's become familiar with that different energy certain fighters have mastered in recent months suggests he's done more than even Rugal suspected. "Don't you seek to lecture me about risks! I brought this cartel to this position through taking chances. Those who are too nervous about grasping the unknown tend to rot away behind castle walls and wane into obscurity. This is something you had better learn!" He raises his hand, pointing at Adelheid, while remaining still, perfectly aware of the power Adelheid has begun to generate.
And it is that power that he is interested in. What can his son do now? How far has he /really/ come? It seems the Prince of War is about to show him. His human eye narrows, not from confusion but... surprise. Of course he recognizes the technique. Created by the noble of Strolheim and copied by himself. He has never quite managed to execute the technique with the blinding speed Krauser is, nor does it crush /quite/ as hard... But it's close. And right now his son is mimicking that legendary technique. He really /has/ been busy.
The build up is significant. Such techniques often require that. It gives the monsterous man time to defend himself, however, his arms coming up his inner energies shifting to combat the incoming projectile of immense proportions. The Kaiser Wave shrieks through the air, impacting the taller man, the collision obsurred by the bright flash of chi in the otherwise dim quarters. And in that moment, something happens that Rugal had not expected. Both of his feet slide back. Just a little. A small amount of ground lost to the power Adelheid drove his way.
The energy splashes out to the sides of the man before fading away, and Rugal lowers his arms, his eye focused intensely on Adelheid. It may have been a small amount of progress in the big picture, to push his father back just a little, but in terms of measuring the young man's progress, it is significant. "Heh." comes the grunt as the cacophony of power has died down.
"A little better." His hands tighten then relax, before he pounds his fist into his palm, striking with such force that the very air in the way is compressed outward as visible vapor for an instant. "Well then. There was a title match last week. I expected you to be in it. Instead some teacher from some insignificant school was declared victor." He shakes his head, frowning with faint disapproval. "Bernsteins have always been title holders. It may just seem like pomp and circumstance to you, but it is a measure of your true potential, to seize recognition when it presents itself."
Which is why, of course, he will be taking the chance of a public appearance this upcoming weekend. Why he will be participating in /Howard's/ public spectical. The man lowers his hands, slipping back into his relaxed ready posture, seemingly having changed his mind about advancing on his son and content to hold back for a moment and study him further. With how far he's come... it's important to know the true extent.
COMBATSYS: Rugal focuses on his next action.
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Adelheid 1/----===/=======|======-\-------\0 Rugal
The elder Bernstein training and honing himself while on his little sabbatical wasn't part of the plan, but the entire basis for both intent and Adelheid's remarkable capabilities revolves around adaptation. That his father weathers the tremendous blast of chi rather well is not a shock... that the young warrior's words are beginning to get to Rugal are just the opposite. No, the battle itself could be going better for the Prince of War, but he'll chalk it up to a learning experience. More and more, he's becoming aware of exactly what Rugal Bernstein is capable of. The 'R' tyrant's power still dwarfs his own, a lifetime of seizing and utilizing strength in any form he could find it carrying him beyond even the efforts of a youth as talented as Adelheid. The prodigy is, after all, operating purely under his own power - and limited by ethical codes he's never noticed his father to share. While some would call it the most chaotic aspect to dealing with Rugal - Adel would estimate just the opposite. His father's megalomania and arrogance makes him predictable.
"I seek to explain my rationale, and my actions, in a way that may satisfy you." Adelheid clarifies, failing to mirror the outward ire exposed now in the elder fighter, "There is also something to be said in /knowing/ what one is grasping for!!" Never has the young Bernstein been one to turn away from a challenge, even with stakes such as exist in this little, extraordinarily violent game of twenty questions. Booted feet pace steadily, and the heir paces about his father, flanking with predatory grace, looking for an opening that may well not exist. No matter.
"I believe if you review my fights, public and private, you will find there has been no shortage of challenging myself, and finding impressive opponents and techniques from which to hone my own skills. If you wish me to hold a title, it can be taken at my leisure. You are correct - I don't care one iota about the publicity, or the 'proof' of skill such represents. To my eyes it is useless fanfare, posturing.... needing someone else to assess and reinforce skill for oneself. Is there not power in being underestimated? Being -out- of the spotlight? Being an enigma? Hold a title belt, and all the fools who see it as a defining pedestal suddenly start paying attention. As you say, it is currently held by a school teacher. Is my time better held defending and trumping such a position, or engaging those who interest me for reasons other than how good someone televising fights says they are?"
Somewhere in the smoothly spoken, unpracticed but unhesitating diatribe, Adelheid humors his father's invitation. His pacing assessment ends, and in a flash, the prodigious youth crosses the distance between himself and his father. He launches into the air, feet leaving the ground in a tremendous gusting shockwave as he leads elbow-first at Rugal, a departure from his tactics up till now, and indeed... many of his choices in battles before. The rushing strike is aligned squarely with his father's /throat/, a burst of strength meant to forestall the inevitable answer Rugal is preparing, and lead smoothly into a hammering, swinging uppercut to the massive Bernstein's formidable ribcage. A swing of his foot would finish off the combo, intent on exploding the ground at Rugal's feet with a ragged, shearing edge of wind-chi, the dark silvery mass ripping forth in a cruelly edged tumult.
COMBATSYS: Adelheid successfully hits Rugal with Grosse Stob.
- Power hit! -
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Adelheid 1/----===/=======|=======\=------\1 Rugal
Brewing anger is met with calm composure, sharp rebukes with reasoned explanations. Rugal accuses him of crossing lines, but Adelheid holds his own, providing responses that leave little room for being picked apart even by the older fighter prone to leaping to conclusions given enough clues to work with. "Hn..." comes the deep sound of the man giving him a moment's contemplation. The young man's proven track record in seeking out challenges is admireable. Not being present among the tier of fighters he should have contended with might be let slide in light of his other bouts...
"There is power in being out of the spotlight if what you are intending to do with your skills bears keeping hidden," Bernstein the elder replies with a soft chuckle. Most of his own fights have been on his own terms, out of sight of the public, only venturing forward when the draw is big enough to merit his attention. "Very well, let's see what your personal pursuits have done for your skills..." There is a hint of challenge to his tone, though already he has noticed the progress. That his son is now capable of demonstrating the Kaiser Wave of Krauser's fame is already evidence of that.
Without waiting for that challenge, the Prince of War is already seizing the opportunity to strike his father, closing the distance swiftly. Of the veteran fighter seeks to defend himself, it isn't apparent in his motions, as he seems ready to give the youth a clean hit by which to be evaluated. Let's see what he can really do... The shockwave of energy is a warning that what is coming is far from a simple strike, the elbow impacting the tyrant's throat solidly, preventing immediate retaliation the likes of which Rugal had demonstrated earlier.
But it isn't the elbow strike that catches the tall German by surprise, but rather the fluidity with which it leads into the rest of the attacks. The uppercut to his ribs, and finally the kick to finish it all, a blast of chi drawn in the wake of the impact that strikes him in the stomach. The young prodigy's mastery over energy is made manifest by the power of the explosion of wind-chi as he is at last given the satisfaction of a clean combination of strikes against his formidable father. The blastwave from the impact drives Rugal's back to the wall, his arms coming up to cover his chest after it's far too late, smoke rising up from the points of impact, his muscle shirt torn in places over his chest by the sharp chi driven by his son.
One hand lowering to press against the wall, the man right's himself back to standing completely straight, his brow furrowed, his single human eye narrowed. Can it be? Has his son finally progressed to the point that he can deliver attacks that he can't read easily ahead of time? Is that how far he's come? The tyrant's other hand comes up, arching out behind himself, white, brilliant, raw chi coursing down his arm just before he swings it forward in an underhanded motion.
His reply to Adelheid's strike comes in the form of a bullet of pristine white, broiling chi that the man sends ripping across the chamber's floor, a flash of blindingly bright light in the otherwise dim interrior. Lacking his son's taste in wind-chi, the incoming Reppuken threatens to simply smash into the boy and drive him back, trading one chi blast for another, a game of 'catch' between father and son.
COMBATSYS: Adelheid blocks Rugal's Reppuken.
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Adelheid 1/---====/=======|=======\===----\1 Rugal
Indeed, for all the chaos and unpredictable danger posed by the elder Bernstein, his son has picked apart his rage, his ambition, to its very base parts. What does Rugal want? How will he go about getting it? What mindset greets confusion, frustration, defeat, and triumph? They are questions that have been considered a long time without answers, and the more he realizes about his father, the more questions it raises. There is no easy end drawn by the conclusions. To what lengths must he go? To what lengths will -Rugal- go? Is there anything within him that sees his son as anything except an insurance policy, expecting the family line to proclaim his legacy long after his (unwanted and constantly fought-against) death? ... just how much further does Adelheid have to go before he himself is a threat to Rugal, and how much strength will he need to ensure that it lasts longer than one further meeting? None of the concerns that arise from deepening understanding of the Lord of War's motives and nature are particularly comforting, reaffirming ones... but it does not matter.
The die has been cast, the path has been chosen, and there is no longer fear of where it will lead as his footfalls proceed down the path. It is almost exhilarating, the fear still present, the unknown still looming on the horizon... but this beast of muscle and terror before him has lost so much of his power. He seems almost desperate, now. Potent, but more frightened than the boy has ever been. Clinging to, grasping for straws that might augment his immense mortal strength, clamoring to achieve immortality in whatever fashion, at whatever cost. It had never before occurred to Adelheid just how much his father's greed and anger were born of fear. The tyrant is blasted back, in similar fashion to the earlier kick that shredded his own shirt, and left the angry red wound on his chest. Adelheid's adaptable combo doesn't have the same sort of mauling, maiming force behind it.... but he is truly only a step behind, now. A small and ever-shrinking step.
The young Bernstein steps back once as the blast rocks home, and a subtle smile creeps back onto his face. Rugal is silent now, and Adel is certain it is not for the stinging pain in his throat. It is one of the simple, unnerving conclusions that came to the Prince of War: his father expects him to succeed him, not to surpass him. Every trace of Adelheid's skill is self-driven, every ounce of power he has from within his own being. He has never shown signs of envying the power of others, only of aspiring to whatever they can show him. Even Rugal. The years of training have driven the boy further, inspired him to new heights, yet never molded the perfect tool that the elder Bernstein's harsh methodology intended, "Indeed. That, and selecting the /proper/ spotlight, I would say are key." Adelheid intones, his calm, rich voice regaining a measure of its evenness as he recovers his breath, and bearings, "Besides, why would I care so strongly about the Warrior's Belt, when I could simply aim for the Master's?" He inquires, quite out of left field, one platinum brow arching quizzically towards his father.
Once again, the words are straightforward, calm, matter-of-fact, and rational... and entirely not. Why be comfortable in his own position, Rugal, when he sees that yours is within his grip? When he sees that the power within himself can bring him not only within striking distance of the infamous legend that is his warlord father, but within that of any other mighty warrior the world over? Why /settle/ for where he's pointed, and what he's told to do? .... besides the agony Rugal and such warriors can still inflict on him at their whim, of course. But that is how he has always improved, that is how he has always learned. There is no fear of pain.
The Prince of War drops, his arms cross, and he makes no motion to even -start- to get out of the way of the familiar technique. His smile broadens, and pain lights across his being as his own centered chi plows into that cr
cruel-edged lance with a shove of his flexing arms, the energy blasting all around him, off to every side, but failing to penetrate. Failing to have a meaningful, perhaps fight-stopping impact, "I am improving every day, father. I am ready to face the future, and I am quite aware of my present. You tell me I should reach beyond myself - I say what is within me will carry me farther than anything I could steal from a lab."
COMBATSYS: Adelheid focuses on his next action.
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Adelheid 1/---====/=======|=======\===----\1 Rugal
All these years, Rugal thought he was crafting the perfect replacement. If... /if/ his quest for immortality... if his self-proscribed calling to conquer death not just for himself but for another as well... if that should fail, there would always be his son. A plan crafted in the madness wrought by long, lonely nights, he had never doubted his decision to raise his progeny in such a way. Brutal, harsh, unforgiving, he tried to manipulate Adelheid every step of the way.
As it turns out, all these years, he has crafted his perfect enemy. A young man of sharp mind, incredible power and potential, all the learning one could want in the ways of running an empire, all the experience and insights one could hope for in learning how to fight anyone, anywhere, no matter how powerful they may seem. An error in judgement, perhaps; a mistake he has yet to perceive in the midst of being consumed by his other pursuits. The boy is already taken the fork, travelled far further down the path than his father can possibly know yet.
But seeing him here now... collected, controlled not by threats or angry shouts but rather a sharp mind that is able to negotiate the deadly paths of dialogue with an aggressive father as Rugal... seeing him now, Rugal begins to wonder. Fear so often consumed by other pursuits broils to the surface, for a fleeting moment, as he watches Adelheid's response. The top tier is mentioned, the title reserved for the true monsters and legends of the world to contend over. And Adelheid speaks as if it were possibly within his grasp. And maybe... just maybe it /is/. That's what has the tyrant silent, that thought that what he believed was years away yet may be about to arrive.
The younger Bernstein contends with the famed Reppuken with his own energy, forcing the worst of the technique off to the sides rather than directly into him. A few years ago, a Reppuken from his father would have easily bowled him over. But not now. Those times are gone. "So... you are..." comes the quiet growl of acknowledgement to his assertion that he is improving every day; that he is ready for what the future might break. Months have passed since his last evaluation of the boy, but he seems to have progressed so much further than such a limited amount of time should suggest. What IS his potential?
This evaluation is completed, in Rugal's mind. He's seen all he wants to see for now, heard all he cares to hear, observed enough to give his constant paranoia even more ammunition than it had before. But he won't call an end to this exchange until he's convinced he is able to put a stop to the boy's ability to fight... He /MUST/ know that to be the case, even now.
Thus it is that Adelheid gets introduced to one of the techniques Rugal has been developing over the last months. The warning of what is to come is brief, a flare of ghostly, pale green chi around the master of the Black Noah's open hands... and then the veteran fighter reveals the speed he can truly force his body to move. Transcending prior speeds limits ever demonstrated by him before, he nearly blinks forward over the distance between him and his son, both hands reaching to seize the youth by the neck and slide several feet with Adelheid held aloft before coming to a stop.
And then it would happen, an outpouring of incredible chi, a green plume of conflagration exploding up around the two Bernsteins, concealing them both from sight for a moment, before he would finally let the youth go, exepecting to have decisively concluded this exchange between generations for now, as the pillar of fire dies down around the both of them.
COMBATSYS: Rugal successfully hits Adelheid with Rugal Execution.
- Power hit! -
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Adelheid 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|=------\-------\0 Rugal
Rugal's legendary paranoia. Few really see it, fewer still understand it. Adelheid has been intimately acquainted for his entire life. In a sense, all his training, his position of prominence within 'R', everything Rugal intends him to be is a product of this, that rampant fear of failure, of dying unfulfilled. Why not, though? It's already nearly happened once, even if the defeat of the elder Bernstein after touching Orochi power is not known to Adel in detail, it very nearly happened again before these last months his father has spent sequestered in training. Questions are answered, concerns dismissed, and Adelheid has done plenty of hinting at both real and false motivations and layers beyond them. Rugal will find out more, would already know more if he weren't quite so volatile. But that's all part of the fun.
There are answers to the next tier of questions he expects his father to come up with, and despite all their differences, the aspects of the prodigy that run along parallel to Rugal may well be some of the most dangerous. Danger has many sources, and more facets, however - the newly created technique is a surprise. It is more akin to something he might do, than what he would expect from Rugal, and in the face of the sudden offensive motion plans are thrown hastily aside, and once again the prodigal Bernstein decides, perhaps rather stubbornly, to seek instead to weather the offensive. That... could have gone better.
Choked, jerked upwards, breath not coming... Adelheid's crimson eyes squint through the pain, and then the plume of energy /erupts/ all around him. He loses sight of Rugal then, and his head rings. Pain resounds through every fiber of his being. Blackness licks at the edges of his vision. Yes, Rugal still has the capacity to end the battle favorably - still has the advantage in strength to where he can put down the upstart with impressive savagery. But it was a close call, despite appearances - closer than he might expect, even now. It isn't the manner in which the Bernstein heir would seek to see the conflict's end, but improvisation is the name of the game, the penultimate goal of the family style. The young warrior is burned, his wounds feeling all the greater now, his limbs barely responding to his call, but what Rugal expects to drop as dead weight is instead a very alert, if barely conscious Prince of War.
His legs bend, and he lands in a steady crouch. Rugal is overextended. It may not be enough to decide the course of the battle, even if he succeeds: but the point is valid, nonetheless. His legs bend beneath him, Adelheid's arms extend to the side, and then he does the unthinkable.....
The power summoned by his father is dwarfed. Perhaps more than once over. Splayed fingers fill with roiling energy, pulsating silver-blue and bursting forth with alarming alacrity, even at such a late moment, when he can barely find his breath. He will. not. fail. No matter what Rugal accomplishes today, it has only reinforced his resolve. His father towers before him, and both hands slam forward, crashing together with his palms outwards, and he demonstrates just /how/ fully the Kaiser Wave has been adopted. This pulse is not astounding for the ease with which it's brought forth, but rather for the sheer, singular fury of the blast that exponentially expands, erupting forth and blasting the short distance between father and son. The blast is as tall as Rugal, taller than Adelheid, a vaguely spherical wave of ragged-edged windshear that burns like a sun forged of moonfire, a silvery-blue conflaguration of shearing, brutal wind.
The edge of energy may not be enough to drop Rugal, but regardless it is sure to compound the questions he has in his mind - and in tandem, satisfy the demands he places on his son. In nearly every apparent sense, Adel has excelled. Beyond expectations, and largely of his own volition. There is one thing that is certain, that no onlooker, nor Rugal himself could ever miss: whatever his feelings over the years of abuse and criminal operations, whatever his intents for the future, whatever hurdles still in his path, and distance to cover to match a fighter like Rugal.....
.... the young warrior is a Bernstein, through and through.
COMBATSYS: Rugal fails to reflect Crown Prince from Adelheid with Dark Barrier.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\ <
Rugal 0/-------/-======|
Off the ship, or in front of those he considers the tools of his empire, he never shows it. That deeply rooted cancer of his soul, that fear that drives him to lash out at any perceived threats, real otherwise. But here in this dark training chamber, deep in the heart of the Black Noah, in a battle against his own kin, that side becomes more visible than ever before. The light haired youth is in his grasp, the strangely hued chi flaring up around the two yet seeming to leave its master unphased. He holds it long enough to do the job, by his estimation, before letting go, expecting the proud prince to have nothing left to give after that finishing technique of his father's - an execution, meant to deny any opponent the chance to fight back...
But the boy's feet land on the floor firmly, Adelheid staying standing inspite all expectations. Already the tyrant had begun to let down his guard, already having drawn his conclusions. Yes... his concern about his son's progress were premature. He still has the prodigy well in hand, still has him perfectly controlled... Such is the reassurances he gives himself, asuaging worries on the spot.
But that changes the instant he senses it. The build up. The churing, overwhelming power Adelheid calls upon, drawing upon unfathomable potential honed to a razor's edge by intense training and a mind capable of driving it all. The distance between the two of them is so very narrow, but one would see it if they had the capacity to see within the microseconds - Rugal's extention of his right hand, palm forward, fingers splayed. The sound of energy being ripped out of the world into a discus of chi meant to defend him from his son's ultimate unleashing of chi...
But it is only for an instant before it is lost in the massive storm of energy that pours over and around the infamous Dark Barrier, crashing through the boy's father's defenses, colliding against the elder Bernstein with raging force sufficent to send the tyrant sliding back, arms blasted out at his sides, leaving him open to the full fury of the prince's blast. The cacophany of sound fades, the energy slowly returning to the world from which it was borrowed, and Rugal slumps, dropping to one knee for a moment, his hand pressed against the chamber's steel floor.
He pauses in that position for a long moment. The thoughts going through his mind far too many to speculate at, as the man finally rises slowly, rising up to his full height. His form fitting shirt has been obliterated, hanging ragged from his shoulders, his jaw clenched, his two different eyes staring back at Adelheid silently. Visible beneath the torn rags of the muscle shirt he had worn into this examination, are four long, ghastly scars across his chest. Permanent reminders of a fight that happened when Adelheid was not yet even ten years old. Four parallel scars, created by four clawed fingers digging into his chest... /his/ fingers, as he fought to break himself of being dominated by a power he should have never touched.
Slowly the monster's hand comes up to rest over the battle wounds of almost a decade's past, exhaling a long, wearied sigh. This was to have been an examination... an interrogation of his boy, but in the end it served as an evaluation for the youth to view his father as well. "Good," comes the grunt after he has caught his breath a moment, the final remark to be made regarding his assessment. "Dismissed." Slowly he turns his back to the boy, striding over to the wall, his right hand extending, pressing against it to prop himself up a little as he leans against it. Time is running out, he muses... if the prodigy is out of control, then a decision must be made before long as to what to do with him. Perhaps... the Bernstein legacy is to end with him afterall. It may very well be the most fitting end he can imagine.
The unusual scars are hard to miss... and crimson eyes take them in too calmly, as his father is exploded away by the massive silver blast, a strike that might even impress Krauser, particularly from one Adelheid's age. He'll turn seventeen soon, but it's unlikely anyone on the massive ship will really notice or care, aside from his sister. Wise of Rugal to shield her from most of these moments, from exactly what 'training' her twin really looks like. When it comes to being effected and influenced by the attitudes of their father... Rain is the better student. But then, she lacks what Rugal is really interested in. The Dark Barrier is a technique Adelheid knows well, and while it was difficult to pick out in the maelstrom, the exact turn of events is not lost on him.
In fact, it is further confirmed by the response Rugal offers. Holding that card to his chest a little longer would have been wiser, perhaps, but not nearly so gratifying. His father would be more at-ease, unconcerned, but all the risk in the world is worth it for that momentary look of utter shock and barely-hidden confusion and overthinking that can be read on the warlord's features. Adelheid falls to one knee after the blast, himself, taking several long moments to recover his bearings as Rugal rights himself. A single word, and then another. Still nearly speechless, and stunned enough to forget all the details he's missing, for the moment. Adel was prepared to tell him more, explain the intricacies of many of his questionable operations, to some extent at least... but his father doesn't even ask.
No, without the illusions that his father cares for more than himself, or sees Adelheid as more than 'Plan B', the reactions and choices of the elder man take on such a different tone, simultaneously more malevolent, and less threatening. Worst case scenario: Rugal settles on immediate action, and strangles him in his sleep tonight. But the Prince of War doubts it.... fear rarely leads to decisive action, and even if he /were/ killed.... Adel is confident that Rugal will never find what he truly seeks, not before someone succeeds at what he fears most.
As the elder Bernstein turns his back, the young platinum blonde turns away as well, pushing back to his feet and taking the offered - or ordered - leave without question or comment. He will be no one's legacy, and one way or another, his own will endure. Despite the glaring welts and cuts on his body, the bruises rising on his chest under his shredded shirt..... the young man smiles calmly, inwardly, as he walks out.
Log created on 22:22:08 04/16/2008 by Rugal, and last modified on 12:07:38 04/23/2008.