Description: A fight in the mall as two youths take to the hard streets and put aside their desire for the latest fashions in favor of their desire to beat the ever-living crap out of each other. Watch as Chef Gordon Ramsey disapproves of their antics, and the mall is paved in blood! (Winner: CHEF RAMSEY. No wait. NOBODY, a thrilling DKO!)
Free reign at the mall? A chance to make use of anything in sight in any creatively destructive way possible? More importantly - unmanned shops sitting around, just WAITING to be pilfered? It sounded too good to be true to one teenaged ne'er-do-well; Ayame arriving early to her fight in hopes of finding she's got a window of opportunity to help herself to as many cash registers as she can crack open before her pesky opponent arrives to harsh her gig.
And as it turns out, at least some of that really WAS too good to be true. All of the proprietors of the shops in the area cordoned off for the fight, perhaps mindful of the klepto reputation of one of the participants, wisely cleaned out their stores of all cash or any account info whatsoever. The store goods themselves have been left, of course, as they are an intentional factor in the fight - and the word is Howard Enterprise's insurance pays out very generously for SNF related damages...
Finding her fifth register broken into bereft of cash, the long haired teen fighter scowls, her expression every bit the picture of a child who wakes up Christmas morning to find the presents got burned up by the tree catching fire, leaving them mounds of coal for their gifts that year. "Well, this sucks," the girl mutters. Dressed in an assortment of red and blacks, the punkish looking theif shoves the useless register off the counter to the floor before stomping back out into the open couryard between shops.
It's like some kind of visit to the Twilight Zone for the reprobate - so many stores left open for her to steal from, yet none of the thrill of actually committing larceny and none of the rewards such as heaping amounts of cash. Her left hand goes to rest at her hip as she glances around, only barely paying attention to the crowd starting to gather around the roped off area that /theoretically/ is going to keep them from wandering into the line of fire when the fight gets rolling. "What a waste of-" she continues only to allow her voice to fade out as youthful brown eyes come to rest on a storefront across the way. 'Jun-kun's Cuttery Boutique.'
"...that's more like it," Ayame muses, cutting across the courtyard, fingers clenching and unclenching eagerly as she visualizes the tantalizing contents of what a store like that might contain. Her investigation is cut short, however, when she goes to pull the door open, only to find that it won't budge. It's locked. "Of all the..." she growls, right hand reaching beneath her left wristguard, drawing out a pair of lock picking tools. Crouching down to one knee, the girl begins to get to work on the door's lock.
One eye closed in concentration, she tunes out the cameras, staff, and crowd all together. After all, this is one break-in she can't be hauled in for!
"Go for it Preston, it's been ages since you've signed up, you should definitely sign up~! It'll get you back in the spotlight!"
The words sound as if they should be coming from the lips of an energetic half-Spaniard girl, and in truth, they originally did. In this case, there's a definite British twang to the phrasing, a too-high attempt by a young man to try and sound like an equally young woman. In short, Preston Alistair Wellington the II is already in a foul mood, and he's mocking the leader of Pacific Resistance for her insistence he sign up for a public spectacle.
The mall. The dreaded mall; that's the problem. If the fight had been set on a lovely boat out in the middle of the ocean -- even if said boat was later set on fire to create a spectacle equal to that given by American Gladiators and their stunning Eliminator -- then he would have no problem with it.
But the mall. This creates a problem for him. Shirtless as always, the Brit stands tall and proud, his muscles as heaving and as bountiful as ever, already glistening thanks to the make-up crew who wants to ensure that the fans get precisely what they want.
"Oooh, Mister Muscles, you no glisten enough~" one of the crew declares, spraying Preston's chest with a bottle of water. His clear hazel gaze dips down. The lad squints.
After pushing her away with a palm to the face, the Brit fails to witness the achievement points he gains thereafter, the fourth wall shattering as a television set -- already filming the pair in anticipation for the fight -- broadcasts an increase in Preston's FighterScore for such heavy handed tactics.
Stretching to his full height, the muscle-bound youth begins stretching as he ambles forward, past the crowd that Ayame has tuned out so well. They cheer, eager for the festivities that are about to begin.
Cracking the fingers on his free hand, he tilts from side to side to ensure his back is fully stretched. That oar of his, a deadly weapon in the hands of one so strong, remains slanted across his shoulders as he enters the cordoned area. A hush falls over the crowd. And then they turn as one, a gap opening in the sea of on-lookers as all eyes fall on Ayame.
"Oi," Preston declares, the oar leaving his shoulder as he slashes the air with his wooden pain-giver. "You ready to do this or what?" From behind, as Ayame lockpicks, he's almost sure he recognizes her. Then again, as far as he's concerned, since arriving in this country he's seen nothing but one flat Asian ass after another.
The lock is a pesky nine-pin, making it among the harder types to pick, but that doesn't threaten to slow down Ayame by much as she leans forward, biting the tip of her tongue between her teeth as she wedges one pin after another into place with the second pick, keeping the needed torque applied with the other, long thin bit. At first glance, the weaponry she put to use in the Contender belt free-for-all is no where to be seen. But that's pretty much how it often is with the girl. Just because she has access to use whatever she wants from the stores doesn't mean she didn't pack her ol' reliables!
Focused on her task, listening to each pin slip into place as she pokes them one by one, she hardly notices the hush of voices that should clue her in to the fact that something important is happening behind her back. "Nnn..." the Asian teen murmurs as she finds the last pin particularly pesky, only to be startled at the sound of a voice speaking up behind her.
Jumping to her feet and spinning around, the skirt-clad girl stares at Preston, her lock picks clenched in her hand, her progress lost as the pins snap back into place once free of the torque. "W-what, I wasn't-!" she stammers at first, only to recover her composure quickly. The glistening, muscle-bound, foreigner isn't a security guard in the slightest, and that oar he's swinging through the air isn't a mere plastic baton.
Her expression shifts from surprise to a bit of a smirk. "Well, well, guess I'm supposed to fight you, huh? You won't have some mummified crazy man distracting me this time," Ayame remarks, pointing at herself confidently with her thumb, "So you're in trouble now." That sounds as good an excuse as any for why he was able to charging arm-pit her in the midst of their last fight together, or so she figures. Ayame fits the look well enough. Petite, looking a bit younger than some might take her for, and above all else, entirely too confident in the face of the likes of Preston.
"Well, I guess I'll have to skip the delicate approach," the girl remarks, kicking out behind her, driving her foot through the glass paned shop door, spiderwebbing the safety glass. "You're speeding up my shopping schedule a little," she continues, turning to the side and slamming into the fractured glass with her shoulder, popping the pane out of the frame. "But I'll make due," she continues, deftly leaping into the small opening in the door frame to land inside the shop, grinning broadly as she sets eyes on the display racks of various knives of all shapes and sizes within.
Of course it begs the question of whether Preston would risk going in after her, forced to bust the door down himself, or if he'll just wait for the girl to finish her browsing. Either way, Ayame is ready to take advantage of the moment with any inititive she can muster. "I remember you had quite the mouth last time we fought," she remarks idly over her shoulder, fingers tracing along the surface of one curved carving knife, "Should know, the blustering idiot act doesn't work on me. I know what you can do now."
COMBATSYS: Ayame has started a fight here.
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Ayame 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Ayame focuses on her next action.
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Ayame 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Preston has joined the fight here.
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Preston 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Ayame
As the girl leaps in a fluster, the Brit simply stares her down, eyes remaining narrowed as he hears what she has to say immediately thereafter. She wasn't what? He hasn't the foggiest idea of what she's doing, and he doesn't entirely care. As long as this actually is his target, then he's already moving her mentally into another category; meat. And a lad this large, he's bound to be hungry.
The oar, held in the air with the greatest of ease despite its impressive length and weight, is once more delivered unto his broad shoulders. Her smirk is reciprocated, Preston's weathered lips drawing back as he shows off the big book of British smiles. In actuality, his teeth aren't that bad; the perks of being affluent, despite being British.
"Yes, well, whoever you are, the delicate approach sure ain't the one to use on me, luv," the son of a Duke assures her, in full agreement. Did she say they'd fought before? He hasn't the foggiest recollection of that, or so he acts; his words seem to back that up. Watching as she ducks into the opening, the Brit simply glances over at the director of the fight. The announcement goes out, that indeed the brawl can begin at their leisure!
To that end, Preston steps forward, menacing as he heads over to the shop that Ayame has entered. He glances up at the sign. Those eyes of his open briefly, and then squint once more. This is going to end with him getting stabbed a lot, he can sense it already.
"Blustering idiot act?" the tall brute echoes the words, squinting through the gap at Ayame. Without further adieu, the oar clears his shoulder -- and he delivers one, two, three massive strikes of the weapon against the next window pane. Haphazardly, it teeters on the brink of falling. He spends a moment to admire his perfect strikes, but his mouth gets no rest. "Little Asian girl, let me assure you, that was no act; I'm just as blustering and idiotic as you think I'm not. Just like I figure as soon as we're finished here, you're going to dive for the closest bowl of rice and get your fill."
Swinging the oar one final time, he twists it around; the blade of the oar is held away, and it's the butt of the weapon he slams forward into the window pane! It clears the frame like a pool ball hit by the cue, spinning through the air, intent on hitting everything in its wake -- Ayame included! The boy follows right after it, leaping into the store through his OWN entrance; Ayame's be damned!
COMBATSYS: Ayame dodges Preston's Large Thrown Object.
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Preston 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Ayame
"I have a name," Ayame retorts as Preston begins smashing his oar against the larger pane of glass. "But I'm sure that comes to a surprise to dumb gaijen like yourself who thinks we're all the same here." Taking notice of another particularly fancy knife, she traces her finger along its razor sharp edge, eyes narrowing as she inspects the feel with a connoisseur's expertise, deciding she likes what she's found. "And you shouldn't mock rice. While bland, it's rather filling if you're having to eat on a budget," she continues, glancing over her shoulder just in time to see the slam that sends the glass pane hurtling.
She's swift, a blur of red and black as she slips out of the way of the large, punishing projectile. The pane crashes into the knife rack she was inspecting, the safety glass going to pieces, small glass chunks flying everywhere toward the back of the store. But she hasn't the time to watch the mess being made, chosing this opportunity to go after Preston directly now that he's lept into the cutlery shop as well.
"So no delicate approach... I'm glad you like it rough," she grins, legs tensing slightly before she springs for Preston directly, a curved, half-foot long knife blade glinting in what sunlight makes it into the shop through the now open panes, "Me too." If he was expecting stabbings, he's not to be disappointed as Ayame lunges, attempting to slash the Pacific student fiercely across the chest, "It's good you didn't bring a shirt," she remarks mid-swing, stepping forward to spin into a second slash in the opposite direction, attempting to mark him with a very pair of X slashes.
"It'd just get ruined anyway!" She finishes by bringing her right foot up, aiming to plant the thick sole of her brown Doc Martin boot squarely in the Brit's gut. "So maybe you planned better than you give yourself credit for, my blustering idiot."
COMBATSYS: Preston endures Ayame's Medium Strike.
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Preston 0/-------/-----==|-------\-------\0 Ayame
After knocking the window at Ayame, the Brit simply leaps into the fray; it's the best way to do it, after all, since for all the range that his oar provides he's really a physical fighter. Range must be narrowed, and that's exactly what he intends on.
But Ayame, the little Asian does well to greet him. Springing out of no where, she coils and strikes like a viper, metal fangs lashing out at the barrel-like chest that he carries around with him. Rather than twist away from the strike, the Brit simply goes through with his landing; his flesh is sliced into, not once but twice, blood drawn to the surface. A sour grunt escapes the boy as the lacerations prove deeper than he had anticipated.
And to add insult to injury, as Preston lands she follows it up, slamming her boot right into his middle. The boy's arms threaten to pinwheel, but with her so close he can't let that kind of advantage slip from his grasp; he soldiers on, overcoming the sharp pain that courses through his middle in favor of something much more satisfying. Givin' pain.
"Oh, I've got a plan, luv," Preston growls the words out, rearing up like a bear that's just about to maim the ever living hell out of a tourist it found, in order to obtain that sweet, sweet pic-a-nic basket.
It isn't the oar she needs to worry about, but for the moment it might seem that way. He slashes it forward, a rising uppercut of a strike -- but it's aimed to miss, to send Ayame dodging to her left where his free hand waits. Steel-like fingers seek her delicate girl-like neck, as chi manifests in the air behind him. Shards of blue-white energy appear, stabbing forward over the Brit's shoulders to return the favor she gave him, and deliver many a painful laceration!
COMBATSYS: Ayame dodges Preston's Cape Horn Fever.
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Preston 0/-------/-----==|-------\-------\0 Ayame
She never stops moving - the teen fighter snapping her foot back the moment the kick has connected with the much larger fighter's gut. He doesn't seem that phased by the combination, at least compared to prissy girls Ayame is used to cutting on from time to time, but that's to be expected. And the instant her foot touches the floor, she's darting backward out of range, springing into a spin through the air that takes her away from the friendly, 'guiding oar' meant to sweep her into the rest of the attack Preston had primed.
There's a small huff of breath as she takes flight, but she's otherwise unusually quiet. Mid-spin, her right hand reaches to her waist, a small click announcing the clasp of one of her belts she's just undone. By the time she lands, the belt has been un-spun from around her waist, revealing itself to be a yard and a half long corded whip that Ayame holds out to her side. The end of it drapes over the floor as the strawberry-blonde gazes back at Preston.
The reason for her silence becomes clear, as she's placed the knife she was using in her mouth, teeth biting along the dull side of the blade, not possessing a sheath to stow it in until later. A hint of the foreigner's blood can be seen on the sharp side of the curved blade as she inspects the handywork of her quick assault. "Hn," she grunts back, not really in a position to say anything else as she springs back into action.
The whip is drawn back then cracked out, the leather cords whistling through the air on course of Preston's neck. She may not know he had intended to crush her throat but that doesn't mean she can't unintentionally try to return the favor. She's moving at the same time she lashes out, turning out toward Preston at an angle that aims to take her to his side. If she catches him with that whip, however, she'll cut back in quickly, trying to get in behind the taller student where she'll plant her foot against his lower back with a swift kick and draw back harshly on the whip.
COMBATSYS: Preston fails to interrupt Blackmail from Ayame with Queen's Regulations.
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Preston 0/-------/--=====|==-----\-------\0 Ayame
Now this girl, she's fast! There's another of those sour grunts from Preston as the girl eludes him entirely. People always dodge to one side! This girl's definitely got a spring in her step. And it's really making the massive Brit see red. He decides that he might just have to break her legs before this fight is over.
As the whip unfurls, the Brit simply twirls his oar, waiting for her to bring it into the fray; it's expected, it's anticipated, but the speed at which she strikes proves superior to the sudden movement of Preston himself.
The whip engages his neck in unholy pain-tramony, and the Brit finds his swing off balance; his attempt was plain. Hit her in the head with the oar, and somehow make the rest of the strikes look elegant. Instead, the blade whistles over her head as she makes good on the choke, dashing by him to plant her foot into his back and wrench him well and truly.
His back arches, and his face threatens to turn purple. For once, the racist slurs from Preston Alistair Wellington the II are silenced. But oooh, she's going to get it once he's able to talk again! His meaty fingers grasp at the whip, attempting to dislodge its pinching hold upon his throat as he blindly thrashes with the oar, destroying everything in his wake -- save Ayame, of course!
Displays are scattered as the potentially-reined Preston bucks like a bull, knives knocked every which way, glass shattering. Even the cardboard cut-out of Chef Ramsey, swearing at customers to buy his knives, is obliterated in the tortured Brit's wake!
The minute she cinches in the strangling hold, the small but dangerous girl grins malevolently - or as best she can manage with a somewhat large cutting knife in her teeth. Preston begins to thrash about, trying to pry or bash his way free as Ayame maintains her rather obnoxiously difficult to contend with position behind him, moving with his motions to keep herself positioned at just the most annoying place to reach possible and loving every minute of it.
The shop is in ruins, racks and shelves toppled, spilt, their contents sent skidding over the floor. It's getting to be dangerous just to put one's foot down - one false step and one of them is going to be leaving some bloody footsteps in their wake. It's perhaps mindful of the growing risk that the weapons maven finally relents, releasing her hold on the belt-whip, leaving it to just dangle down the back of Preston's neck.
She leaps backward at the same time, seeking to avoid that swift retribution she's undoubtedly earned by now, landing on the shelf right inside what used to be the front window. Perching there for a moment, she finally reaches up to take the knife out of her mouth, gripping it lightly in her fingers. "Che. Didn't have so much to say then, did you," her voice taunting, her smirk back. "Just like you people - coming over here, waving your big stick around, like that's supposed to impress anyone. Well, maybe you're right - maybe you're more blustering idiot than I thought. Guess you just got lucky last time."
Bringing the curved blade up to her mouth, the girl kisses the side of it before tossing the knife up into a small arc over her head. As it comes back down on the other side of her, Ayame yanks the knife out of the air with her opposite hand and sends it hurtling back toward Preston, threatening to imbed itself directly in his chest. "Something to remember me by just in case you don't got any fight left in you." she explains. As for her? She's leaping backward out of that shop. She's had her fun in there. Time to see what else these useless, cashless shops have to offer...
COMBATSYS: Preston blocks Ayame's Medium Fling.
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Preston 0/-------/---====|==-----\-------\0 Ayame
With Ramsey down, it seems that this Kitchen Nightmare is indeed well and over with. The cutout falls, and seemingly Preston is about to do the same, the fight choked out of him by that unyielding whip and the leverage that the petite Asian is able to extract. Thrash through he will, it seems there's no escape -- until finally Ayame relents, leaving the belt-whip to dangle.
Freed, the Brit immediately thrashes once more, the oar sweeping wide although the lithe girl proves fleeting enough to evade the immediate retaliation. Staring through a growing film of red, he watches as she lands on the shelving unit and proves remarkably flippant.
All it's really doing is painting her all the redder, and he's steadily becoming a bull that will seek to gore the acrobatic weaponsphile. And no, that's not really a word.
"Yeah, yuck it up while you can," Preston sorely states, his free hand reaching up to remove the belt from his neck. He glances down at it, and then up in time to see that knife arcing through the air towards him. With an equally sore grunt, he lifts the oar to deflect the weapon. And he does; it chips off the wooden weapon of pain, only to clip his right shoulder. Another line of scarlet starts to leave his body. Ayame is doing a wonderful job of making him bleed.
"Oh, I've got fight left in me," the Brit quietly states, lifting the oar to paddle it against his open hand. The crowd, expecting a paddling to be imminent, start chanting 'weeaboo' softly to one another as the anticipation builds.
Exiting the shop through the door -- kicking it right off its hinges, as is his preferred way of exiting a shop -- the son of a Duke simply strolls after Ayame, waiting to see what she'll do next. It would seem he's leaving the ball in her court, taking the time to gather his strength back from that debilitating choke she put him in.
"Come on then, squints! Show me that I was just lucky last time," he bellows, seeking to draw her back to him rather than allow her continued escape in the mall. Beyond her, he sees two places of interest; an Ikea store, since he's been wanting to assemble some stylish Swedish furniture, and the food court, since a man of his stature is always somewhat hungry...
COMBATSYS: Preston gains composure.
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Preston 0/-------/----===|==-----\-------\0 Ayame
Preston comes smashing out of the store, the door sent flying clean off its hinges, drawing Ayame's attention back over her shoulder, not having expected him to make his way out so quickly. No big deal. She's going to make him chase her around the mall as she tours the place. Maybe he'll just get so fed up trying to hit her he'll stomp off and she'll leave without nary a bruise. She likes that idea.
But the tall foreigner throws down the gauntlet, firing off another verbal barb and daring her to show him that he got by on luck the last time they ended up in the arena together. Skidding to a stop, the strawberry-blonde twirls back around, her long hair swinging into place behind her a second behind, brown eyes narrowed, not doing a lot to help with the 'Squints' appellation. "Look. I get your deal. You like to talk a lot of trash, and that's cool. But if you think I have some kind of racial pride that's going to get me all worked up by you focusing on where I happened to be born, you're going to need to come up with a new approach."
She grins, pointing at herself with her thumb, "I don't really care what you think about the Japanese, or the Chinese, or some poor sap living in a mud hut in Africa. Maybe your nanny had some slanty eyes and she touched you in wrong ways and now you've got a chip on your shoulder. Or maybe some dark skinned kid bullied you in Kindergarten. I dunno, I don't care what your issue is. I know it must be a burden to grace us with your presence, having to descend out of whatever mountain of perfection you're from, but I'm just here to smack you around some, collect a paycheck, and then, health willing, go on about my day. So how about you come over here, tough guy, and show me what you can do, and then I'll finish you off, and then you can go catch whatever white power convention you're missing by being here, all right? If you're quick, they might still have some white hoods to hand out."
Of course, she's partially stalling as well, and as she rants, energy begins to build around the girl, taking on the form of red whisps whipping up around her ankles, only to shift hues as they swirl around her body, becoming blue by the time the visible chi manifestation reaches her shoulders. "I'm good and ready for you!" she challenges back, clenching her hands, jaw tightened as she builds up more power, her muscles invigorated, her strength renewed.
COMBATSYS: Ayame gathers her will.
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Preston 0/-------/----===|======-\-------\0 Ayame
As Preston continues his approach, he listens; how can he not, when this delightfully narrow-eyed girl is articulating herself remarkably well for someone from the Pacific Rim? And by the time she's finished, mentioning the hoodies and that she's ready for him, there's a positively devilish grin on his broad expanse of a face.
This girl's giving as good as she gets, and she somewhat reminds him of a younger version of himself, however that works. Thus, he doesn't bother to reply this time around. Preston Alistair Wellington the II, fallen silent? Perhaps so, but he looks downright amused.
Instead it seems that he's just going to prove just how much of a brutal bastard he can be. While chi manifests around the petite Asian, the Brit simply gets as much speed into his stride as he can. Within three long, loping strides, he's at full bellow and much like a bull, it seems he's going to try and gore Ayame in the most disturbing manner he can muster!
His chest heaves. His muscles bounce. He becomes a speeding wall of heavy meat and roping muscle, barreling down on the Asian in what is most certainly a linear strike if ever there was one. It would seem a collision may be imminent, that oar of his held flat at his side.
But that aforementioned manner? It turns out to be his bare foot, dirty and somewhat bloodied from the fight thus far, lifting up to crush the weapon collector square in the sternum and send her flying towards the food court, where all manner of tables, chairs and trays -- along with a variety of well-known food stalls -- reside!
COMBATSYS: Ayame blocks Preston's Light Kick.
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Preston 0/-------/----===|======-\-------\0 Ayame
At last the girl pauses to catch her breath, breathing in deeply, letting the chi surrounding her pass through her skin, imbuing her with strength to fight longer and harder than she would be able to without it. It's a good trick, something she picked up from someone else who had a knack for fine chi control - better than herself even, though she'd never admit to it. "All right," she grins, left hand slipping down to a pouch affixed to one of her remaining belts. "Come and get it."
He's picking up speed, barreling in on her with momentum that defies anything she could do in turn. While she's got a knack for making him bleed, brute force like she's staring at dead on is something else entirely. She's not quite ready to move yet, lest she lose some of the chi she put that effort into building up. It's too late to make a daring step to the side to get out of the way... she's got to take it, in a sense, and just go from there.
Her defense comes at the last possible second - a hydraulic hissing sound announcing a new gadget being deployed as from seemingly no where Ayame produces that six foot long, shiny metal staff she had with her at the arena brawl. Staff meets foot with a meaty impact as the featherweight shifts the polearm into position. Even sparing herself a clean blow against her torso, the girl finds herself driven back off her feet. But rather than fight it, she works with it, allowing the momentum to send her hurtling back toward the food court. Tucking her Doc Martin's clad feet up just enough, she lands with a skid on one of the plastic tables, coming to a stop just before she would have fallen off the other side.
Staff out at her side, the metal weapon ringing a little still from the power behind Preston's kick, Ayame grins back in the Brit's direction. Were it made of weaker stuff, it might be sporting a little dent from that trade of forces. "Yeah, I remember how you hit. I also know what you hate dealing with." Her hands on the staff tighten, a green energy suddenly coursing over it in a thin aura. Density added to the metal weapon, brown eyes glance over the lay of the land all around her.
If he thinks he's going to get an immediate shot to hit the girl, he'll have to come up with another plan, as Ayame leaps off of the table up onto the awning outside of the sushi bar. She's only there for an instant, the material sagging a bit, building tension from her presence, before she leaps again, this time right into a dive for Preston, the energy coursing over her staff flaring a brighter green. It's as if to tease him about calling out her racial traits that Ayame shouts mid-dive, "BANZAI!" - the traditional Japanese cry before a suicidal assault...
Her aim is direct, attempting to jam the staff sideways right into Preston's neck. If it's not being strangled by a belt-whip, it's getting choked by a chi infused staff, at this rate. If she impacts the tall student in the intended manner, she'll tuck into a flip takes her up and over his back, leaving her dangling behind him, her back against his, her feet not even reaching the ground, as she yanks with all the strength her arms can muster to pull the staff tighter against his neck. By now she's picked up on how annoying it is for him when she gets in behind him, and damn if she isn't going to try to take advantage of that. With a growl for breath, the girl tries to lock herself into postion for the long haul, attempting to ride the bull as it were, until it can buck no more.
COMBATSYS: Preston blocks Ayame's Nocturnal Solitude.
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Preston 0/-------/---====|======-\-------\0 Ayame
It seems that Preston is indeed eager to come and get it. And finally, the staff makes its appearance, elongating out just in time to catch the British lad's monstrously large foot. He grins down at her as she resists the full force of impact, still looking as if he were thoroughly amused by the way this tussle is shaping out between them. Still, he forces her back, and as he lowers his foot he spends a moment to eye the staff.
"Oh, what I really hate dealing with is little girls, y'see. I'd make a crack about you belonging in the kitchen, but I can tell my usual M.O. is still just water off a duck's back with you." That grin intensifies, taking on a demeaning edge as he adds in that British accent of his, "Good for you."
Still, he observes as she allows her energy to encompass the weapon, and he has a strong idea on what's coming next. Thus, when push comes to shove and she's diving for him, allowing the metal weapon past his initial defense as she flips over him and seeks to once more put the choke down on the Brit. But once bitten, twice shy; this time as she attempts to make good on the leverage hold, the staff is blocked by the wooden oar he wields. Held up to block the full choke, he simply laughs instead as she dangles behind him, as if he weren't even slightly fazed by her assault.
For a moment he considers banter, but this hardly seems the time; not when he's still potentially exposed with her back there. The last thing he needs is for her to draw a knife and stab him in the kidneys. He wouldn't put it past her.
So in seeking a resolution, a set of large, sausage-like fingers reach back to grab a tight handful of that strawberry-blonde hair and remove the offending girl from his back by tearing her away, ripping hair from the roots if need-be, in order to pitch her back up over his shoulder and into the air from whence she came!
It serves as a two-prong strike though; should the girl be unfortunate enough to be lofted airborne, the Brit seeks to drive his point home quite literally, the blade of the oar stabbed out after her as he attempts to give her a solid strike to the torso, juggling her higher before she comes tumbling back down to earth.
COMBATSYS: Preston successfully hits Ayame with Bunting Tosser.
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Preston 0/-------/--=====|=======\=------\1 Ayame
She ends up in the position she was aiming for - dangling against his back, her arms stretched a little bit up and behind her head just before she'd pull the staff into place tighter and try to choke him out then and there. But when he starts to laugh, she begins to realize that that solid thunk her staff encountered wasn't the sound of metal smacking against the bone of his neck but rather that annoying oar of his getting in the way of her attack.
There's a bit of an erk as she quickly tries to think of how to recalibrate her attack to make the best of this unexpected development. But while she's trying to figure out how best to dislodge herself from his back without having to surrender her staff, he's reaching over his shoulder to get a grip on that long hair she's so proud of it. Once again, Ayame is reminded that such lengthy locks IS a liability, as Preston deals with her much the same way he did last time she was in this position in their previous bout. Leaning her head to the side she tries to avoid his grip, thinking he's trying to just grab her by the top of the head. "Missed-" she begins to retort.
She learns otherwise a split second later as suddenly her hair is yanked up hard, prying her off of his back and up over his shoulder into the air into an uncontrolled spin, left hand keeping a hold on her staff, her right hand flailing wildly. The hair yank provokes a yelp of pain, several long strands left wrapped around Preston's meaty fingers. This roller coaster ride doesn't get any better as he comes in swinging with that oar she's been trying to avoid this entire fight, smashing into her torso and spinning the girl even further out of control into the air. It's times like these that she rues her lack of significant mass with which to avoid getting batted around like a bag of stuffing.
She lands hard a few yards off, trying to take control over the impact only to end up tumbling a few more times, maintaining a hold on her staff only by drawing it up parallel to her body so that she doesn't sprain her wrist trying to keep a grip on it through the rough landing. But it passes and the petite native ends up in a knee-bent crouch a little ways off from Preston. Her eyes are watering a little, much to her irritation, an unbidden reaction to having her hair pulled so. It pisses her off a little, possibly giving him the satisfaction.
Gritting her teeth, Ayame charges back on the offense, seemingly more recklessly this time. No hopping around, no darting from leaping point to leaping point. She's just going to up and CHARGE Preston just like he did toward her moments ago. But when she gets close, that charge becomes far less careless, transforming swiftly into a spinning dance of girl and titanium, the weapon swung toward the side of Preston's right arm, aiming to smack it hard and perhaps slow down his guard.
She spins out of that first strike into a more forward jab toward his gut, then spinning the staff over her head, aiming high toward Preston's head. She finishes by literally tossing the staff at point blank range, attempting to bounce it right off his chest and catch it on the rebound back toward her hands, attempting to overcome his mountain of meat-ness with that rapid flurry of unpredictable, and at points, unorthodox, staff strikes.
COMBATSYS: Preston endures Ayame's Random Strike.
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Preston 0/-------/=======|=======\-------\1 Ayame
It's definitely satisfying for Preston to see the end result of his strike; to send the petite girl for a spin and then add to the damage, finally making solid contact with that oar of his. Yeah, it's most definitely satisfying as she comes crashing down, and he's left there heaving a heavy breath, with strands of her hair left around his fingers. He glances down at them, before casually tossing it all over his shoulder. Naturally since it IS hair, it doesn't get lost so easily. Thus he has to spend a further moment brushing the hair off of his fingers, growling about whatever hair care product it is that girls use in this day and age. It's just annoying.
Glancing up, he sees Ayame is on the return path -- and is bringing that staff in for a high strike by THROWING it at him. "What the..." he mouths the words, before his gaze rapidly narrows. If she wants to play it THAT way, then why not?
The staff bounces off of him, and she follows it up with a series of strikes; the metal staff rains down on him, one strike after another, and while it definitely hurts -- his body threatens to stagger towards the end of her flurry -- it seems that Preston is slowly inching closer, closer, closer...
Sacrificing his physical well-being for the opportunity to reach out and touch someone. Isn't that what life is meant to be all about? Bearing through the pain as only someone of his size and stature can, he issues a roar of sheer rage as his meaty hand reaches out towards Ayame.
Suddenly, his oar sweeps in from the side, seeking to tap her sideways -- right towards a nearby kiosk, one of many that run along the main thoroughfare of the mall around the food court. If successful in drawing her closer, he seeks to capitalize by leaping at her, grabbing her by the back of the neck as he raises her up and then seeks to slam her down face-first into the produce that this particular kiosk has to offer. Repeatedly.
And just what does the kiosk sell? It's a local commodity, for the busy Japanese man who does not have time to repel down the face of a waterfall like the Karate Kid and Mister Miyagi did, offering bonsai trees at rock-bottom prices! "Eat your fuckin' greens, they're good for you!" Preston adds, finally finding his voice once more as he takes up a handful of miniature tree and forces it at her face!
COMBATSYS: Ayame counters Random Strike from Preston with Harvest's Reaper.
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Preston 1/----===/=======|======-\-------\0 Ayame
Knocked back some ways by his toss and oar strike, Ayame has closed the distance back with that staff based assault of hers. She had been expecting that perhaps he would swing back for her with a clash of wood and metal, or perhaps would just bunker down behind his giant oar to weather out her speedy attacks.
But the Englishman opts to do neither, instead trying to tear his way through her attack to get a direct grip on the persistant girl. She hadn't set up to account for this. In fact, it catches her quite a bit off guard. But she's still hurting from the last moment Preston got a hold on her and the last thing she wants is another serving of that. For now, she'll never know how he wanted to slam her face first into some poor guy's bonsai trees.
That's because as he forces himself through the attacks, getting dangerously closer, she gives him a compelling reason to feed that rage of his. Brown eyes focus at first on his hand reaching out for her, but she catches the oar swipe just in time. The defensive nature of her staff plays a key component of what happens next, as almost too fast to be perceived, she twists that titanium pole up into the path of his oar, pressing up on it from below such that it swings harmlessly over her head rather than colliding with her side. "Careful where you swing that."
It's moments just like this that Ayame is a master of capitalizing on, as she swiftly moves to prove, the length of her staff flaring to life with a red, flickering chi that courses over its surface, looking like liquid fire but lacking the heat thereof. Having flanked Preston in the act of fending off his attack, she digs into his side by pulling up the low end of her staff into a sweeping, crescent twirl. "Someone might-" The energy at the tip of the weapon trails out behind the motion, blurring, becoming more like the sharp edge of a scythe made of raw chi.
Most opponents would be knocked clean off their feet at the first hit, but not Preston, and she knows to account for that, coming in with a second hit, just like the first; the pole bashing, the chi slashing. The upward momentum of the attack is enough to take the small girl into the air where she hefts the staff up over her head, holding it like an executioner would the fateful ax, before she at least brings it crashing right back down for the top of Preston's head. "-get hurt!"
Having dished out one of her most punishing techniques, Ayame lands on the ground in a half crouch, releasing a gasp from the effort involved with trying to contend with the relentless Preston. The energy that poured over her staff diminishes, congealing some, fine red drops of seemingly liquid chi dripping off the bottom end of the staff, looking for an instant almost like blood before they vanishes prior to reaching the ground.
Indeed, it would seem that Ayame is a master of evading the burly Brit; she counter-attacks rather expertly, deflecting the crucial oar strike that would have resulted in her feeding on delicious plant-life. Instead, Preston finds himself on the receiving end of not one, but two horrific strikes of that chi-laden staff. The first draws out a heavy grunt of pain from the mountain of muscle, but indeed he is not knocked off his feet. The second earns her another grunt. A mountain is hard to move, but can certainly be crumpled with enough time and force.
That's precisely what the petite Asian seeks to apply, leaping to the air to crack the staff down onto the top of his head. His skull threatens to crack, but he's made of sturdy stuff indeed. Regardless, Ayame has once again broken the skin of the burly Brit. Only his thick skull saves him from severe injury; instead the wound begins to bleed, snakes of scarlet descending down all sides of the practically-bald head of Preston.
The son of a Duke is suddenly feeling very groggy, and he sways on his feet, eyes momentarily staring in two directions at the same time. "Fuck..." he curses, before he huffs a heavy breath, regaining his focus. Feeling as if he's been played with this entire time by Ayame, he most certainly happens to be seeing red right now.
And dead in his sights is the crouching Asian, panting from her exertions.
A heavy snort leaves the nose of the Brit, and he drags one of his bare feet back across the mall's floor. Like a bull in full bellow, it seems he's finally going to gore his victim. Loping forward, that's precisely his intent. Someone needs to be hurt, right now.
Closing the distance in two swift strides, he slams his shiny, blood-covered forehead down towards Ayame, aiming to impale her with his proverbial horns with a thundering strike to the clavicle -- if not simply cave her chest right in with the force of his massive melon.
Should Ayame be unfortunate enough to encounter the thick skull of a burly Brit, it may well be the least of her problems. After goring his victim, this raging bull seeks to discard the body from his proverbial horns, doing so with a massive uppercut of his arm as every muscle heaves, his biceps an unyielding surface to follow through after his gigantic ham-sized fist!
COMBATSYS: Preston successfully hits Ayame with Bull of Barney.
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Preston 0/-------/-----==|=======\====---\1 Ayame
Aprile ..?
It was bound to happen eventually - Preston was bound to get his chance to finally tear into the long haired nuisance and at last that opportunity presents itself. Of course she watches, rising slowly out of her crouch, her weapon losing its red hue gradually. His foot draws back and Ayame knows what's coming. Another charge, perhaps even more aggressive and reckless than any of his previous ones. It's just a matter of waiting for it and getting out of the way...
Seemed simple enough in theory, but execution is something else, as when the lunge comes and Ayame tries to backstep and twist to the side, she isn't quick enough to avoid the bull this time, caught in the front of her shoulder by the bald head of the bellowing Brit. Whereas before she was ruing her lack of mass, right now she's lucky for it, as she ends up knocked clean off her feet just before her clavicle would've snapped from the impact. That's of limited solace, however, as she gets powered along by the charge several more yards before the second strike comes.
The uppercut more than easily takes the girl off her feet, her jaw struck, her body sailing through the air in a not so graceful arc... until she comes crashing down into the bonsai peddling kiosk Preston had in mind to smash her into only moments before. Landing hard, knocking trays of dirt filled planters to the ground, small trees scattering in every direction. "Ugh..." groans the pained girl as she lies on her back for a moment, wondering if she might be able to get away with feigning unconsciousness and be done with the fight all together.
But something tells her that Preston isn't going to be satisfied with one brutal, solid hit like that, and she had best expect that even if she just lies there, he'll have a mind to take another shot anyway. Sitting up and shaking her head, a bonsai tree falls from off the top of her head into her lap, provoking a bleary eyed eyebrow twitch. Her left hand still gripping her staff, her right hand rubs at her shoulder, smearing some of the blood left at the point of contact with the top of Preston's injured head.
"Lucky hit..." the slightly dazed Asian teen snaps back, hand reaching up to use a non-toppled table to pull herself back to her feet. "Time to return the favor though," she hisses, taking one unsteady step forward before bracing herself with the table. It passes in a moment, the girl twisting her staff around to point the low end of it toward Preston.
A small explosion of smoke announces the large net of wire-thin cabling that launches out toward the muscular student. It's big enough to entrap a man his size and then some, threatening to entangle and slow him down, perhaps even cutting skin if he struggles against the thin cabling holding the net together.
And right behind that net is Ayame herself, sprinting forward. Her staff is in her left hand, and in her right hand is a three foot long cable with a knife tied to the end of it. Should she actually manage to trap this British Bull, it is with a flurry of staff bashes and flinging knife slashes that he will be assaulted as the street rogue turned fighter spins around him, taking every shot she can get, any undefended part targetted, aiming to debilitate and finish the rugged Pacific student before he gets it in his head to dish out any more misery in her direction!
COMBATSYS: Preston just-defends Ayame's Entrapment!
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Preston 0/-------/-----==|=------\-------\0 Ayame
Sure, he might be bleeding and he might have a tremendous headache, but headbutting Ayame and then sending her sailing, why, it almost makes Preston Alistair Wellington the II feel better about the way he's performed in this fight. Watching her fly -- with his arm still posed in that uppercut, muscles still bulging -- he watches with a broad grin as she crashes down into the bonsai stand. "Now that's good roughage," he quips, finally reclining from his pose of triumph.
Cracking his neck to one side, he watches wearily as the girl recovers and regains her feet. "Sorry to break it to you," he seeks to cut her off, turning savage in his moment of potential victory -- or simply sheer savagery. "But it ain't luck, luv. Like I told you at the start... I've got a plan."
But how do you plan for what follows afterwards? Knowing that she intends to return the favor and inflict further pain on his battered, bruised and bleeding body, the burly Brit backs up in anticipation. The burst of smoke heralds the sudden onset of the net, but it doesn't go as Ayame would hop for. The net slams forward, but the sudden rise of his oar stops it short from wrapping around him.
Instead, the net impacts on the blade of the oar, twisting around its long, three-yard length to coil itself around his arm as well. Hardly perturbed by this and the significant weight it adds, he accepts the burden and waits for the rest of the strike. The leading throw of the knife also fails to eventuate into the combo that Ayame had hoped for. Oddly enough, Preston was once known for his ability to evade the enemy much as the Asian is now. And that's what he does, proving remarkably deft as the blade flings through the air for his torso.
Twisting his shoulder back, his free hand snags the handle of the knife, and there's a short yet booming laugh from deep in the barrel-sized chest of the Pacific Resistance strongman.
Unfortunately for Ayame, the promise that knife typically holds for her is twisted to Preston's advantage. Tugging it and the attached cable, he seeks to drive her off-balance for just the moment it takes for him to twist that net-laden oar around and drive the butt of it up under her chin in a devastating, potentially crippling blow! Well, if Ayame weren't a world-class fighter and were a mere man, that is. For someone of her caliber, it's just going to hurt like a bitch!
COMBATSYS: Preston successfully hits Ayame with Weapon Jab.
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Preston 0/-------/-----==|===----\-------\0 Ayame
She spies him defending against the net, and that's the first clue to her that her plan to get revenge for the powerful headbutting uppercut combo isn't really going to work out as intended. Committed to seeing it through all the same, the girl spins in, aiming to bash, stab, slash, and otherwise inflict any kind of injury possible on the much larger student. But Preston's timing is flawless, avoiding and fending off every one of the dozens of attempts to injure him.
Of course, the only way to solve that is to pick up the speed, Ayame decides, swinging even faster, exhausting herself in the attempt, only finally coming to a stop when Preston gets a grip on that cable-affixed knife and gives it a tug. With it wrapped around her wrist to avoid losing it, Ayame finds herself yanked off balance, defenses wide open, and her chin struck cleanly from beneath by the end of the oar.
The blow sends her staggering backward, knocked up onto her toes from the impact before catching herself just shy of falling. She takes a couple steps further back to fully regain control over her balance, her right hand coming up to rest at her chin, her left hand still gripping her staff - the knife from a moment before just lying uselessly on the ground.
Brown eyes flash as she wipes the back of her hand across her mouth, streaking away a thin trail of blood from a bleeding lip. Maybe she miscalculated, she begins to acknowledge. Maybe he really did just lead her along, letting her run herself ragged trying to wear him down to no avail. Moments ago she just wanted to feign her way out of the fight and get it overwith. But right now, the red and black clad girl wants a shot at revenge, hand tightening on her staff as she takes two last steps backward and plants herself, feet spread out a little, breaths coming in haggard gasps.
Lowering her right hand to her staff, she holds the weapon defensively in front of her at an angle, glaring at Preston from behind it, as if the titanium polearm was going to keep her safe. He's seen it from her before, that surge of energy building up around her, visible chi whipping at loose bits of clothing and tousling her hair. Jaw clenched, she's mercifully silent for a change, sparing Preston any remarks for a brief moment as she attempts to rebuild sufficient strength with which to contend with him.
COMBATSYS: Ayame gathers her will.
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Preston 0/-------/-----==|=======\-------\0 Ayame
The problem right now is that the red haze that had taken Preston is starting to dissipate. His bull-like rage has been satisfied by the thundering crash of his headbutt in a proverbial gore moments prior. His actions thereafter have seemed much calmer and measured, calculating even; hardly what one may suspect from one as lumbering and bellowing as he typically seems to be.
Watching as she gathers herself after the precision strike, the Brit simply ends up grinning through a face covered in streaks of sweat and blood. He looks like he's been through the wringer; Ayame should indeed feel proud, even as she gathers herself with the intent on seeking revenge.
But a mountain of flesh can prove to be just as patient as the real thing. Instead of stepping within range, the son of a Duke stays back, waiting her out. He goes so far as to casually lean against the oar, never letting his clear hazel gaze drift from her as he opts to fill the silence she lets build.
"What do you think, luv?" he questions her, his grin becoming toothy as he sways the oar slightly in his grip, the blade wavering in front of his face. Both hands encircle the shaft, and he seems entirely at his ease despite the distressing amount of crimson his body is painted with. "Think I've really been plotting this entire thing out, or am I just fuckin' with your head some more? You don't rise to the usual racist barbs. Like I said; good for you. You're above that. My little mental games usually knock people right off their edge and into my hands."
His broad shoulders lift into a shrug. "Then again, seems you're endin' up there anyway, huh? End of the day, guess it don't matter much at all whether I'm gettin' under your skin or into your head. Judgin' by the way your tiny chest is heavin', you're probably about as close to bein' done as I am. So gather up whatever courage you've got left in your pint-sized form and come at me!"
Sweeping the oar up off the floor, he spins it in a flourish before him, hinting as he sometimes does that he's in possession of more finesse with the weapon than most realize. It ends tucked behind one arm, the blade fanned out to one side, the young man clearly expecting Ayame to take up the offer.
COMBATSYS: Preston focuses on his next action.
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Preston 0/-------/-----==|=======\-------\0 Ayame
The proverbial showdown at the end, Ayame backing off, building up a second wind with the charge of chi swirling around her legs and over her shoulders. Her breaths aren't coming easy, but as the seconds pass, she finds she's got a bit more strength to keep going. A bit more umph to show this foreigner up. She can't deny his stamina, and his skill in pinch moment is hard to castigate given what he's demonstrated thus far...
But did he plan it all? As he speaks, she's quiet, jaw clenched, perspiration running along her hairline and rolling down her cheeks. "A plan, heh." Brown eyes narrow on the Brit, studying his condition, trying to get a feel for what he can still do at this point, if anything. "I don't know if I buy any of that. I think... you got a lucky hit, and now you're capitalizing on it. I don't think you planned to get slashed and smacked and bashed. That just happened in spite your efforts to the contrary. But you win your fights even if you charge into stuff like that, because at the end of the day, you're hella tough." She hehs, shaking her head a little at the allowance. She can't deny the obvious fact. She's thrown relentless attacks against him, and he looks like a bucket of cow's blood just to hurled in his face, but he's still hanging in there. "This sport has a lot of solutions to it, be it brawn, damn ruggedness, reflexes, or genius. You got some of those, I'm not ready to give you credit for all of 'em just yet."
The collection of chi fades, some of it seeming to be absorbed into her skin, the rest of it collapsing down around her feet and vanishing. "I'm not done yet," the girl smirks, reaching up to her neck with her right hand, her left hand still holding that staff of hers. A clasp is opened, a chain tugged, and in the next instant she's got a trio of chained weights that she's spinning over her head.
And then she's on the offense, once again, charging Presten just like last time. The bolas are sent hurtling ahead of time, aiming to wrap around his neck and distract his guard as he contends with the whirling weights. Her staff is of special interest, however, as she draws in closer a six inch long spear-like blade extends from it. And it is with this blade that she tries to assault Preston once again, attempting to slash arms, sides, legs, alternating slashes with bashes as she deftly twirls the staff in her hands, all together trying to wittle the Pacific student down just like she's attempted the entire match.
"Just fall down already!"
COMBATSYS: Ayame successfully hits Preston with Manslaughter.
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Preston 0/-------/-======|-------\-------\0 Ayame
There's a slight nod, perhaps of appreciation, as Ayame pays him some respect with regards to his toughness. Without a doubt, it seems that the Wellington way of fighting -- the Ancient Maritime Arts -- relies on that sheer brawn in conjunction with a blend of moves, both physical and of an elemental chi-tastic nature. That's also not a word, but likely to be within eighteen months.
Regardless, the girl does precisely what Preston had hoped -- she leaps into the fray, the bolas working wonders to ensnare the brute and ensure he cannot muster his defenses in time. She comes in fast, the elongated blade from the staff doing a wonderful job of robbing the Brit of even more blood. It drops from him seemingly by the bucket-load, a wet splash that threatens to stain the floor of the mall forever more; the insurance company will indeed be called on to repair this place, after the number the two combatants have done.
Between the slashing and the bashing, Preston looks like he's seen better days. When finally it seems like the girl is going to succeed, as the strongman's knees waver, threatening to buckle, he suddenly musters his energy for what may well be one final strike.
With a wordless roar, exhaustion making it somewhat hoarse yet still embodied with rage and pain, the Brit strikes back. That oar of his whistles through the air, the blade flat as it slices for the petite Asian, aiming to knock her senseless -- to give him an opening by merely clipping her in the side of the head.
Should the opening reveal itself, Preston's deft, meaty fingers spin the oar around, stabbing it forward in a thrust for Ayame's middle -- before he sweeps the weapon down to collect her feet, ideally so that she instead will be the one to fall!
COMBATSYS: Preston successfully hits Ayame with Queen's Regulations.
[ \\\\\\\\ < > / ]
Preston 0/-------/-======|====---\-------\0 Ayame
She's exhausting herself trying to wear him down, striking, stabbing, and at last it seems she might meet with the success she's sought as Preston wobbles. She's not taking a chance though. She has a little left in her. One last bit to finish him off with. Drawing the staff back, the blade retracts, the entire length of the polearm igniting in that thin shell of green aura she had manifest before. She's going to give him one final chi-laced smash to put him down, to remove all doubt...
But he's got another swing left in him, the whistle of the oar heard too late for her to react in time, the weapon cracking the girl on the side of the head, sending Ayame into a stumble to the side. Jamming her staff against the ground for support, she manages to stay upright, turning her face back toward Preston, ignoring the blood trickling down her temple. But just standing isn't enough to contend with the attack that comes next, jabbing her in the stomach, knocking the breath out of the girl, her eyes widening, her mouth agape in silent gasp.
Her hands tighten their grip on her staff, her mouth curling into a semblence of a bloody grin, "Touche..." she murmurs. And as he swings for her feet, Ayame swings for his head, aiming to deliver one last bash, the earthly green aura on the oversized pipe's surface lending even more weight to the swing than she can normally muster. Her feet are taken out from under her at the same time and hit or miss, she releases the staff then, collapsing to the concrete floor of the outdoor mall.
Landing on her side and catching herself with her hands, the long haired street rogue starts to push herself up, convinced that she need but last a few seconds longer. But with the onset of a tremble, the last of her strength gives out and she drops to the floor, sprawled out on her side.
COMBATSYS: Ayame can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\ <
Preston 0/-------/-======|
COMBATSYS: Ayame successfully hits Preston with Requiem For Fallen Blossoms.
[ \\\ <
Preston 1/------=/=======|
And thus it seems the fight is destined to end with neither taking away a win over the other -- just with a tremendous number of bruises, contusions, bumps and lacerations, at least for Preston. As he takes her feet out from under her, Ayame makes good on her swan dive, the staff impacting with his head to send him reeling.
Even as she feels, it seems the mighty timber that is Preston is teetering. "Urgh..." he groans the word out, before simply falling down onto his ass, a pool of his own blood the only cushion he has to stop his fateful fall.
He releases his grip on the oar as he leans back onto both hands, heaving several deep breathes. It seems that he isn't destined to get back up, and neither is she for that matter. It took the entire fight, but the petite Asian has managed to take up David's shoes and at least get this Goliath to sit down and take notice.
Glancing over at Ayame, Preston simply grunts his approval. "Still don't really like you... but good fight," he acknowledges, a stark contrast to the disappointment he would have felt a year ago when he first entered the fighting circuit. Of course, whether she's conscious enough to recognize what he just said proves another matter entirely.
With a quiet sigh, Preston lets his body fall backwards, the pool of blood growing slightly larger. For all the viewers at home, the scene becomes but a corner of the screen as the commentators begin discussing the intense fight that took place between the combatants. Medics rush out to tend to both fighters as it's clear that this Saturday Night Fight was destined to be a double knock-out, a thrilling fight with a fitting ending!
Log created on 21:54:07 06/06/2008 by Preston, and last modified on 13:13:42 06/17/2008.