Description: Alma makes his way to Lost Society, in search of Arika, and information on the new federation she's attempting to start there. His visit is unexpected. Then again, so is Drake being there. What's even more unexpected though is the offer of affiliation with the YFCC, the impromptu model-fight, and the final outcome.
When was the last time he took a vacation?
A small crowd begins to gather.
For Alma Towazu, it has been a long time, to be sure. His commitments have consistently precluded him from seizing on opportunities he would otherwise be wont to pursue. Yet of all the people in the world, particularly those who are administrators on any level, Alma is one of those who least needs a vacation. In part, this is due to his overwhelmingly relaxed and patient nature, that mild manner that he has become so known for during his time in various spotlights, combined with the fierce passion and conviction that lies latent beneath it and is revealed during his fights. But he also has the advantage of a particular kind of integrity; that is to say, he chose his responsibilities knowing that they were what he truly wanted, that they constituted the kind of man he wanted to be and the role he wanted to take in the world. Few people can say that of their jobs. In large part, Alma is lucky-- but he is also strong.
The crowd watches, transfixed, some laughing, some whispering.
To be sure, this means that he has been out of the general spotlight to a large degree, and has been mostly unable to participate in tournaments or fighting leagues, doing his best to at least keep one foot in, if only to maintain a hold on something that remains an important part of his life. Fighting has always been crucial to his identity, to do something that ideally, as he would put it, makes cooperation out of conflict, as it reveals the selves of the combatants through their clash. He applies this philosophy in every contest, fight or no, and it is the consistency of his righteous beliefs -- which in words he expresses subdued but in combat implies forcefully -- that, to both those that agree and disagree with his approach, has made him worthy of respect. Alma has become a symbol, much as his closest friends -- Jiro, Frei, and even Tran -- have become, and that process has made him no less sincere. But he has not forgotten those who he once competed against, even if only rarely, and he keeps tabs on the fighting world; he has to, as nominal head of the Young Fighter's Community Center. Rumors reach his ears that do not others'.
The crowd continues to grow, here upon the dance floor.
Yet it did not take rumors for him to realize, long ago, that one Drake Vyril was not exactly his biggest fan. It was only natural for the crowds to posit model versus model, particularly since their public images appear so vastly different. But, though it was rare for the two of them to meet face to face, Alma came under the impression that it was difficult for Drake to step into the world of tournament fighting without constantly being compared with the fighting models that had come before him, Alma and Benimaru, and particularly Alma himself. At first, Alma had been very intrigued by Drake, as much as he had intuitively disliked Benimaru; the amethyst-eyed man seemed every bit a Yang to Alma's Yin. The model would prove his equal heroism with the Thailand conflict; but then as much as now, Alma would be tied down by his numerous obligations. Consumed by his work and a few other high priorities, such as settling accounts with his closest friends, Alma never saw an opportunity to reach out to Drake.
At least until he got wind of a certain 'Lost Society', and an effort to start up a new federation there by one Arika Fade, a name with which Alma had become familiar through association with Drake, and upon doing a little research appeared to be a fighter in her own right. He became more curious when he heard rumors that she and Drake had abandoned the Neo League in favor of her new idea, but the idea was never widely publicized, and she and Drake returned. Still, it was a concept that interested him.
He'd never been to England.
~ The clubbing scene is even better than the shopping! ~
And that, despite all else that has motivated him to come here, is the only thing Alma is thinking about as he dances up a storm upon the floor, surrounded by the growing throng.
Otherwise moving as though in a trance, an almost placid smile gracing his androgynous features, Alma spins, kicks, shifts onto his hands, twirls, and steps to the beat, his grace and stamina seemingly unending. Already it has been ten minutes, and the early crowd, always filled with those hesitant to be the first to dance, are inspired and entertained by this strange and beautiful young half-Japanese. Those who are not charmed by or disdain his showmanship may find it hard to dislike his startlingly pleasant expression, and perhaps due to it, there is something oddly modest about the flashy youth, as though he is more offering up his efforts rather than seeking the attention of those around him. But the track that is playing finally comes to a stop, and those that do not laughingly applaud or sincerely cheer finish their drinks and, inspired by Alma's courage, begin to dance themselves as the music of Lost Society starts up again.
"Thank you," the soft-spoken fighting model says, smile widening as he bows to the other patrons. "Thank you very much."
How's that for vacationing?
Well, vacation or not, Alma -- as he always does -- has a mission. Despite not having visibly broken a sweat, he moves to the bar to ask for some water, but as soon as he is finished he will begin seeking out the owner of this establishment. Hopefully she is here. The question is just whether or not he has already been recognized.
Vacation? People have time for vacations?
While it's true that there are times when the band has no bookings and the fighting has slowed down a little, someone like Arika can never -really- take a vacation. She likes to be on the go. To keep herself busy and out of trouble.... and sometimes busy and -in- trouble... and sometimes busy and in someone else's trouble.
Someone else like the new manager that was hired to take care of Lost Society for when the band had business elsewhere. Someone else like the new manager who somehow managed to nearly kill herself while unloading some boxes in the back when they all toppled upon her.
Hence the reason the Punk Princess has come back to Lost Society for now.
As busy as the club is at the moment, as loud as the music is throbbing through the speakers, from behind the stage comes a loud eeek, a laugh and the sounds of someone rushing out to the middle of the stage just as the track winds down.
"'ey," calls the diva, lifting a microphone from its stand. "Wot's say we give a 'round of applause to our Dee Jay for the evenin'?" At that, she pauses and allows her deep blue eyes to scan beyond the lights and curtains, waiting for someone? Something? Whatever it is, she's not adding anything else just yet.
Shortly after her announcement and the subsequent applause, Arika's 'club assistance' (bouncer/greasemonkey/wrestler/eyecandy) comes erupting from behind the curtains after her. With no sense of propriety at all, the dark-haired model races up to the diva to loop his arms around her and hoist her off her feet and twirl her in a quick spin before setting her back down.
"You're so gonna love getting me to come back here," he chirps, mood obviously rather high. "Now, what is it you need me to fix? Where's the big mess your manager left?"
Sure, Drake came here for more than just helping Arika with her club, but while he's here, he should make himself useful.
Grinning, leaning back against the bar, Alma applauds himself, sipping the last of his water before slipping his off-hand idly into a side pocket of his snug designer jeans.
~ There she is. ~
What luck! But his intuition is often uncanny, and thus the odd assumption that he would find exactly what and who he was looking for upon arriving here.
Despite his efforts to step aside and the announcement of the club manager, a number of eyes are still on Alma, even as they obligingly applaud themselves. He doesn't want to interrupt anything, of course. But even if he's already attracted undue attention -- so it goes with being yourself when you're Alma Towazu -- this is his opportunity. He strides forward through the crowd, unobtrusively despite his height and managing somehow to avoid brushing into anyway, and nears the edge of the stage.
He doesn't have a plan, per se. But if his intuitions are any guide, it may very well be that he'll also encounter--
Drake bursts onto the stage, obviously heedless of decorum.
And Alma bursts out laughing.
"Ha ha ha ha ha!"
A clear, innocent laugh, not too terribly loud -- particularly not over the music -- but enough that those standing near him in the crowd turn curiously towards him. Shoulders shaking mirthfully, grin wide, hazel eyes sparkling, Alma Towazu looks from Drake to Arika, taking in their auras just as much as their forms. The magnitude of his humor may be mysterious-- but it is nice to see the person he has imagined Drake to be so totally confirmed in this small action. Yang, indeed.
~ She must be quite a woman, with a powerful personality like that running around all the time. ~
His grin softening and eyes becoming thoughtful, Alma reaches up to rub the back of his head with his free hand, simply savoring that he can experience this little moment, already impressed with the two of them. His mission has fallen somewhat into the back of his mind.
It's just a shame he couldn't have visited sooner, or had a more obviously better reason for doing so. But, as always, he has no regrets.
Still...
What sincere people.
~ I really have been out of the loop. ~
There's another shriek as her feet leave the stage, this followed by something one can only assume is a giggle. As her feet touch down again, the punk princess shoots a look at her captor and sniggers. "Wot the bloody 'ell do you mean Oi'm -gonna- love you?" Arika's brow arches upward, arms slowly coming to cross over her chest as she awaits a reply.
Of course, the music hasn't started back up yet, the DJ just loving the fact that the owner is here making a fool of herself on the stage.
"Oh, -that-. Roight. Well the bar's bein' managed just fine. Nealy's back there doin' somethin'..." Eyes glance in that direction quickly, trying to ensure that her bandmate -is- actually doing something. "Got the back cleaned up a lil' earlier... but you co--"
And though the music begins again, there is the unmistakable sound of laughter coming from not too far away. Eyes immediately shift in the direction of the sound, figuring it's just someone in the audience taking in the antics on stage.
Then she spots who it is.
Her lips press into a thin line, and she lets her gaze drift back to Drake. "We got company, luv," she states, bobbing her head toward Alma.
Drake might have noticed Alma much sooner, or at least sensed something amiss - drastically amiss, all things considered - but with the amount of time that's passed, and with Drake's deep amethyst eyes affixed on Arika. This comes to a halt when she redirects her attention, however, following her gaze to the.. -other-.. model.
Drake's cheerful expression drains from his face. The end result can only be considered a stunned look. Mouth is hung just slightly open, looking very much like he intends to say something.. but nothing actually comes out. His dark gaze shifts questioningly to Arika, as if she could explain it somehow.
It doesn't take aura sense to know something is up.
Fighting model, dancing superstar and righteous pain in the ass Alma Towazu continues to rub the back of his head, slower now, and looking a little more awkward about it. He had a feeling this wouldn't be easy. Maybe he should have brought friends. No, no-- it's better this way.
Well, he should at /least/ be careful about laughing at people.
~ There's always more to learn. ~
Still, Alma's solemn awareness of his outward eccentricity -- a lot of things make more sense when you can see auras too -- will be little aid in explaining that really he was laughing /with/ them, not /at/ them, in, you know, kind of a metaphorical way. Oh, dear. Nevertheless, Alma's courage is unflagging, and glancing over his shoulder momentarily to see that people have in large part gone back to their business -- the business of pleasure -- he steps up onto the stage, albeit standing slightly lower than the hostess herself and her compatriot.
"Miss Fade," he says softly, bowing courteously, his gentle gaze never leaving her own. "It's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. I am Alma Towazu, vice president of the YFCC in Southtown." And rival fighting model to Drake-- but we can set that aside for now, right? "Mr. Vyril," he murmurs, doing his utmost to surpress a smile lest it be misinterpreted, as he turns to bow to Drake as well. "It's been quite some time since our last meeting. I hope you've been well."
Rising, he smiles sedately at the two of them. "It's come to my attention," he continues, "that you, Miss Fade, have been in the process of setting up a federation of your own. Besides my own personal interest in such affairs, my organization has been looking for opportunities to open branches in other nations, and as such I have been taking extra care to keep abreast of the various fighting circuits in activity. A number of them, of course, are not appropriate for young people. But that, of course, is the point of our directing them to other ones." Lest the YFCC only prepare the youth for a life of /underground/ fighting. "But I came to understand that this venture of yours is under certain restrictions, which would provide an interesting challenge and perhaps, I thought, be helpful to those still in training."
His smile widens. Few people are aware that Alma only puts so much effort into his deliberate way of speaking because it was not so long ago that he was afflicted by a terrible stutter, brought about by past circumstances that most know even less about. But even if his sometimes exaggerated formality turns people away, it's difficult to deny the sincerity of his words and in his eyes.
"I was hoping I could speak to you more of this, if your federation is still active or in the process of becoming so--" He glances now between Arika and Drake again. "--and perhaps test its rules myself." There's no better way to see if they're feasible.
"That is if, of course, you are not otherwise occupied."
Oh, Arika can explain it alright. It's a nightclub. A public venue. As such, it's fair game... or should be. There are only a few figures who have photos with the regular bouncers, attempts to keep some of the more vile people from entering -- though she's more than certain if people -really- wanted in, they'd find a way around the bouncers -anyhow-.
With Alma introducing himself so... eloquently... and with titles, Arika scoffs, "Know who y'are, mate, wot Oi'm wonderin' is why you're 'ere." Which he then goes into in quite a bit of detail.
Glancing sidelong at Drake, she stands her ground. A small frown tugging at the corners of her lips, and while she's more than ready to spit out an answer, she's watching her teammate quite curiously to gauge his reaction before saying another word. Towazu he may dislike, but it wouldn't -hurt- to be affiliated with some sort of young fighter's out-reach program to help keep beginner fighters off the streets and in a somewhat safer setting...
But that doesn't necessarily mean they have to form an alliance with the YFCC.
Drake furrows his brow thoughtfully at Alma, but remains otherwise unreadable. His eyes shift to Arika... then back to Alma, and he finally manages to speak. "You're familiar with professional wrestling, right?," is the question posed. "That's pretty much what's going on here." His tone lacks outright malice, and his expression seems to remain on the neutral side.
"Ahh..."
There he goes, rubbing the back of his head again. How very Japanese. How very Alma, in fact, as his gaze turns from Arika to his fellow model, a slightly bemused and apologetic look tinging his typically mild expression.
"...not... exactly."
He's been too busy with REAL FIGHTING.
No, just kidding. In all seriousness, though, it looks like that's one area of combat sports Alma's 'research' hasn't extended into. He doesn't know much about professional wrestling at all.
"I know that energy is not normally used," he says hesitantly, tilting his head down thoughtfully to look at Drake through lowered lashes, "and that the fighters often develop, er, persona of a sort to display to the audiences, that they define themselves as a particular sort of person as distinct from who they are in real life."
In some sense, it's the opposite of Alma's own philosophy, though it would be impolitic to mention so that this juncture. He fights because it reveals who he is; it makes him real, in some sense. To fight to perpetuate a fantasy rather avoids this lofty existential goal. Yet Alma is also a student of Hiten-Ryu -- a student who may have surpassed his teacher -- and for all his overt modesty, he has a very strong sense of drama and dynamism in a fight, and of the emotions of the spectators of a fight. Combat charisma is something he has a healthy respect for.
"Would you be encouraging all of this, or only some aspects?"
Perhaps one should research a venue fully before offering to affiliate one's business with it.
Arika just smirks at the admission, teeth biting harshly against the inner part of her cheek to keep from laughing. When she feels she's got it under control, she simply nods. "Mmm. That's roight. Energy based attacks are frowned upon." They can't control every fight, but there are guidelines in place for a reason. After a brief silence from her, she adds, "None'a that weird mind muckery either." After Thailand, Jinchuu and running into the Demon-woman a few times, psi-usage is not something she's particularly fond of.
The rest of the questions are deferred to Drake, being as though a situation off to the side of the stage catches her attention. "'scuse me," she states, making her way over to quell the argument before it becomes a brawl.
Alma's assumptions draw a small frown from Drake, but he remains quiet for the time being. He'll let Arika define her own fed'.
Only she's not doing that. She's abandoning him.
Sigh!
After a few seconds, the young fighter, lifts his right fist to his lips and politely clears his throat. "That depends pretty heavily on the fed' and the person in question. If you wanna look at personas - or gimmicks - it's to really play up an audience. Or to just have fun. Professional wrestling can be a lot about just that - puttin' on a good show and havin' a great time in the process." Doesn't mean the fighting is fake, per se. But he already mentioned it depends on the fed'.
"As far as encouraging that? I'm no one's manager, really. I don't run this show. That's up to Arika. So far, though, nothin' fake's gone on here, if that's what you're driving at. Full contact, lots of pain, and plenty of entertainment for the people you see around you."
There's a bit of hesitation from Drake at this point. Then finally...
"It's been, what, a year now?"
Alma manages to hide his own small frown, a testament to his composure and respect for those around him if nothing else.
~ 'Weird mind muckery', eh? ~
But he lets it go, obviously, and listens attentively to Drake's explanation. He would have tried to learn more about it, honestly, but his only source of information was from the club-goers who had overheard their talking of it. With little advertising that he had seen, given how remote his own base of operations was from their own, there was not much chance of him learning more without approaching them himself. She is right to be a little suspicious, though; this is something of an excuse, or at least a justification, for seeing Drake again.
Alma prefers to be justified.
"I see."
He grins, though, at Drake's mention of full contact. "No, no, that's not what I meant," he says, raising his palms as though to ward off Drake's suspicions. "I was just wondering if those who participate are expected to cultivate an alternate personality as well. I wouldn't imply you were anything but serious here." He's being honest, and hopefully he'll be able to express that, even to someone with whom he did not exactly part with on the best of terms.
He pauses, waiting for Drake to continue.
"Has it been?"
The response isn't an empty one. Alma actually looks wistful as he regards his fellow model, glancing away for a moment to consider the time that has passed. It has been full, definitely. So many opportunities missed, perhaps-- but such is the cost of choosing a path, and there is no other choice in life, so far as Alma is concerned. "I regret we haven't been able to meet since," is what he says instead, smiling softly as his gaze returns again to Drake, the wistful look in his eyes not entirely gone. "But it seems like you've been quite busy-- as I have." His smile widens. "I haven't been able to spend as much time on training in the martial arts as before... or on modeling." Two of the few things they have in common. Yet his smile soon softens again. "But the path I've taken is something I definitely have no regrets about."
He does not seem proud so much as grateful.
"I hope the same goes for you, Drake."
What an odd young man.
Close enough that she can still hear the exchange, Arika decides to deal with the situation as swiftly as possible. Unfortunately the two men have another idea, and as a beer bottle is smashed against the edge of the stage, she steps in. 'course this should be work for the bouncer, but as he's at the other side of the club for a moment, she's definitely going to break up the burgeoning brawl.
"ey, 'ey! That's quite enough of -that-," she says, snapping a hand out to grab the wrist of the man that's threatening the other with the broken glass. He keeps trying to press toward her with it as well, but whenever he makes the attempt, she gives his wrist a sharp twist. "Strict rule in me club, boys. You wanna foight, you get yer ass in the ring. Otherwise, you get to deal with Bernie."
Almost on cue, a monstrously huge looking man comes over, grabs the two ruffians by the collars and hoists them up so he can haul them out of there.
Hopping back up onto the stage, the diva sits on the end of it, leaning back a little on her elbows. "Eh. We don't enforce the kayfabe 'ere. If we get a foighter that wants to attempt it, Oi ain't got a problem 'elpin'em out, but Oi ain't the type to force someone to be who they ain't." It would be rather difficult to be that type and be with Drake, wouldn't it?
"Well," Drake begins to extrapolate, "Look at me. The people by and large know me as Domino, which is just fine. That name is synonymous with the one my parents' gave me. I don't bring anything short of myself to the ring. But other people prefer to pick up personalities'n stuff for the sake of showmanship or fun. It's up to them, really. Or their manager." Drake's 'gimmick' just happened to coincide with who he truly is, and how he naturally conducts himself.
Streamlined arms then fold over his chest loosely, amethyst eyes studying Alma intently, as if seeking something that isn't quite coming to bear. "Been training. Been fighting. So far this season, I've had more fights than anyone in the Neo League. Not that it's been exactly kind to me. Just means I have to try harder. And most of my modeling has been going on in Hawaii." Though the information is forthcoming, the tone he uses is neutral - almost wary.
"So.. why? Why is it you wanted to see me?"
His gaze shifts aside to Arika, and his arms untangle to settle around her shoulders easily if for no other reason than to have her nearby. "This would be the girl to talk to about the rules'n regulations," he adds quickly, subverting the previous subject.
Why?
What should he say?
Should he say that he doesn't need a particular reason, that what truly justifies him is merely his unwavering determination to /be himself/, and to see life purely as a set of opportunities to do so? Should he tell of why he feels so strongly and why he feels this way, how close he came to life losing all of its meaning entirely not so many years ago? Should he explain how his understanding and his Psycho Power work in tandem in this regard, how with every aura he senses he is reminded of how closely tied up his identity is with every other being, how thus every thing he does for another he does also for himself? Every act Alma engages in is a form of self-fulfillment. To reach out to Drake is to both reach out to the part of himself within Drake and to transgress the boundaries that separate them, to through the risk he takes and the trust he expresses in doing so, make the world they share all the more meaningful. They have a connection, and they are also distant-- and it is that sort of relationship that prevents the world from becoming meaningless, from becoming trivial, which Alma refuses to believe that it is, which he fights against with every ounce of his being.
No, this is precisely why Alma prefers to be justified, and why he loves to fight; because explaining this is just so difficult, even for him and all his efforts toward clarity of speech. This is not the context for such a speech, and if his attunement to the world and Hiten-Ryu have taught him anything, it's that context is very important. He can't say these sorts of things. Not to Drake. Not like this. It wouldn't make any sense.
"I've always been interested in you."
Alma's presence relies entirely on his sincerity, and even when he is not being entirely honest -- as, given the bizarre sorts of things he would say were he being honest, is actually fairly often -- he cannot straight-out lie unless he has a very good justification indeed. So he tells the truth.
Just not all of it.
"D, don't take that the wrong way," he adds quickly, raising his hands again and laughing; he definitely sounded way too solemn and serious there, given where his mind was going, but his embarrassment makes him seem a little more human. "I just mean... well, we make an intriguing pair, don't you think? Our roles have been similar, but-- we're so different." He grins. "It's rather exciting, I think. Whenever I see you, I think of what a mysterious place the world is, that the two of us could arise at the same time."
Yeah, okay, Alma, that's still pretty weird.
"But I feel like I know you pretty well already," he continues easily, still grinning. "You're absolutely right; you certainly don't disguise your personality in public. It's not hard to see that. Nevertheless," he adds, "I am curious as to the progress you've made."
And, after all, yin is drawn to yang.
Alma doesn't need to be a psychic to detect that Arika probably isn't excited about spelling out the rules to him, so instead he turns his amiable grin to her. "Well," he says, "instead of telling me..." He glances out at the crowd. "Why don't one of you show me?"
He glances back, still grinning.
"Unless it would be too much trouble, of course."
An eyebrow quirks upward.
The statement, coupled with the immediate defensive response, and the embarrassment leave the punk princess to wonder a little. Hard not to, given the situation, right? Once more, she's got to bite the inside of her cheek. Hard. This time hard enough to draw blood. Arika is doing her utmost not to laugh or make a snarky remark, but when he mentions 'intriguing pair' she's actually forced to clap a hand to her mouth to keep quiet. Oh sure, there is a chance he means it in the most innocent of ways -- they're both models, both fighters -- but it's enough to make her think back to a few old friends who spoke in much the same way, and thus, this particular reaction.
Whatever amusement there is disappears. A hard set given to her eyes, which narrow upon Alma. "Me? Why the bloody 'ell would you wanna foight -me-?" Deep blues continue to narrow until they become thin slits which glare at the man warily. He's got a bit of that mind-muckery, doesn't he? While she glares, her mind goes over fights she's seen in the past, and things she's heard.
"WHAT?," Drake asks, eyes widened.
Alma's attempt at better explaining himself and soothing over any faux pas he might've made simply serves to make matters all the more strange and blurry for Drake. So even though he said to not take it the wrong way, Drake feels it somehow mandatory to make something clear. "A-Alma.. just so we're clear.. I'm into womenfolk." To emphasize this, the arm around Arika's shoulders tugs, yanking the diva in at his side. His head tilts, giving him an awkward sort of 'get the drift?' look.
His gaze then flickers to Arika briefly. He offers a casual, "Relax, babe," and tilts his head over to affectionately nudge her temple with his forehead.
When his eyes return to Alma, Drake's gaze is a little more placid. "The ring's not out, but if you're wantin' to put on a show, fine. Stage'll do. Here's the gist - winner comes out if the other person taps out, goes unconscious, or gets pinned for three seconds. Shoulders gotta be pushin' on the ground for a pin to count." Beat. "If you're wantin' to try out wrestling."
Oh, dear.
Alma, flushing slightly, averts his eyes and reaches up to rub his chin, studiously avoiding both of their gazes. "Yes, Drake, I know," he says, unable to avoid sounding a little weary as he does so. And, maybe because even Alma gets tired of insinuations -- and of making a fool of himself -- he adds, with just a hint of the deadpan wry humor he has used to such effect against Benimaru, "You make that abundantly clear."
Almost as though you have... something to prove.
When he looks back to Arika, however, his smile is gone, and although he does not regard her continued suspicion with any obvious frustration, his tone is more serious and less amiable than before. "Considering the venue," he says quietly, "I would be restricted from using any of my techniques that make use of the power that has acquried such a... mixed reputation." He looks carefully between the two of them, no trace of his previous embarrassment remaining. "I've heard of your prowess, Miss Fade," he continues, his tone gentler again. "And I've never had the opportunity to challenge you. I merely thought that coming to you would be best. Please forgive me if I have offended you. It was not intentional."
But Alma does not exactly look apologetic, even if it's true he has no desire to offend anyone. It's quite possible he's a little offended himself, though he is taking great pains not to show it, particularly since he is a guest here. If anyone should feel resentment toward Alma because of his particular abilities, it should be Drake, which is why Alma has made no mention of them; it would be at best terribly insulting to say outright something like 'Perhaps this is a good excuse for me to handicap myself so we can have a fairer rematch without being obvious about it', which is another reason why, in an effort toward subtlety, he extended the invitation to both of them. But, indeed, that's not the point. Alma will fight in any condition, and those more amenable to his opponents are often the more interesting; he is able to learn more about them that way. And learning about them is precisely what he wants to do, for both himself and for his organization.
Still, Alma didn't ask for these powers; they were thrust upon him. To, in spite of all the open efforts he has made to be of service with what strengths he possesses, be associated with those who inspire such fear and loathing...
He doesn't need to be able to read minds to be able to sense prejudice. And even if that is not exactly what Arika is evincing, given that she has more experience with it than the average person, to Alma, it seems close.
Hopefully his tone will make some of that clear, even as his words do not.
But when he turns to Drake again, he's smiling. "I'll try anything," he replies, eyes starting to sparkle again at the prospect. Oh, man, please don't take /that/ the wrong way too. Being ambiguously gay is a hard lot. "I'm sure I can pick up the rules as I go, so long as one of the two of you doesn't mind keeping an eye on me. It would be best, I think, if I experienced it first-hand."
"So, then..."
He glances again between the two of them, smiling mildly.
"Which of you would it be best I challenge?"
"Heh."
Relax, she's told. Considering how incredibly poorly her last run in with one of Drake's rivals turned out for her, that's a little difficult for the punk princess to do. The small bit of affection does, however, bolster her to be a little nicer and much less snarky than she might otherwise be. With that in mind, she takes a deep breath, allows her eyes to fall closed and instead just clenches her hands into fists so tight that the knuckles turn white. Better to do that than to verbally attack a guest in her establishment, right? Especially since he's not done anything wrong.
"Bollocks." Frown. "Oi bloody well ain't offended, but that sure as -'ell- don't mean Oi've got to loik wotever abilities or techniques you possess." If he takes offense to that, it's really not her concern. Before her run-in with Mature, she could very well have put up with the Psycho Powers of people she ran into. Might have actually found it a challenge. Now though, she's wary as Hell in regards to them, and who can blame her?
Exhaling a heavy woosh of air, she frowns a little and turns to Drake, "You wanna foight'em or 'ad Oi best run and change?"
It's a bit convenient that Drake doesn't have telepathy, lest Alma's train of thought send what appears to be a much cooler disposition towards him into all-out rage. Instead, all Alma gets is a shrug. "If you came here to try out this area, those are the rules." It seems perfectly logical to him. He then glances to Arika and shakes his head. "Neh, he wants to see how I've done, so whatever. May as well announce it and make some money off of it."
Drake releases Arika's shoulders, and he slinks back a few steps to get some room. His shoulders begin rolling slowly, limbering himself up. "You can play ref' though, Arika."
Alma's smile widens.
"Thanks, Drake."
He won't contest Arika's remarks. As far as he's concerned, words won't help much at this point; they only had to get him this far, that is, far enough to challenge one of them. If there is any venue in which he can prove himself to be a sincere and resolute individual, worthy of trust and respect, this is it. If he doesn't use his Soul Power, he can't possibly inspire bad feelings regardless of the outcome. For Alma, and his unusual way of looking at the world, this is an ideal situation: a chance to prove himself. And, as he always believes, martial strength is only the medium for proving something more important.
His individuality.
Drake may have been forced to live in his shadow. But Alma is just as unsatisfied with being That Other Fighting Model. And he's certainly not satisfied with being One Of Those Mind-Muckers. No, while he can't be defined apart from his capabilities or his circumstances, he is more than them. It is something we all must prove from time to time-- and the moments in which Alma can challenge the identity that has been pushed upon him, the moments where he can forge himself and be tempered by the tumult of the world's judgment-- those are the moments he thrives upon.
"Let's do it."
It has been far, far too long.
Stepping away from the two of them, taking his place upon the stage, Alma looks out again at the crowd, smile as mild as ever but eyes sharper now as his body prepares itself for the coming battle, waiting for Arika to make the announcement.
For the record, Alma should be happy that all she managed to do was call him a mind-mucker. Arika's opinion of those who use Psycho Power is a lot worse than that. She -was- attempting to be rather... politic about it.
Once the decision is made (and she thankfully doesn't have to rush to the office to change out of her clubwear), the punk princess signals the DJ to crank the volume down while she reaches for the microphone. Tapping it a few times, she waits until she hears the thuck-thuck-thuck sound, and nods.
"Seems we've got a special treat for you tonoight, folks! Our very own Domino is about to take center stage and show y'all wot Atlantis Wrestling is all about!" The way she announces it pretty much ensures that Drake gets an exuberant applause -- he -is- somewhat a fighting icon here.
With the music stopping completely at her announcement, the crowd starts to cheer, all turning toward the stage now. As she continues to speak to the club-goers, she starts to move the mic stand and any other expensive items out of the way so that she can give the two men room. "Y'should all know our rules by now. This 'ere is wrestlin', plain and simple. We ain't pullin' punches or simply putting on a mock foight, this 'ere is the real deal. Winner by knock-out, submission or a three-count pin."
All important items now securely (hopefully) stashed away, she sets herself off to the side. The only one she's got all the vitals on is Drake, so why not announce him first. Granted, neither is in a corner so she can't pull the usual announcer thing. "From Providence, Rhode Island, weighing in at a 'undred-fifty-six pounds... the one... the only... DOMINO!" No pyrotechnics or anything flashy, since the ring isn't set up at the moment. A bright spotlight shines down on Drake though, while another shines to the curtain behind him, showing a very obvious checkerboard pattern.
"And straight from the YFCC in Southtown, weighing in at uhh...." Arika shoots a glance at Alma, estimating how much he must weigh. Based on his height... "... about a 'undred and ninety pounds... ALMA TOWAZU..."
When they move into position, the DJ is sent to press a button that will cause the bell backstage to ding, signalling the beginning of the fight.
COMBATSYS: Drake has started a fight here.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Drake 0/-------/-------|
"Just get ready," Drake says carelessly.
The model then turns to the adoring crowd once he's been called, hands lifting to wave. No, this is certainly not what he typically wrestles or fights in, but hey. He's not gonna spend all the time getting dressed up when there isn't even a ring present. So he simply plays up the crowd while they cheer...
...Right up until the bell rings.
Domino (as the crowd by and large knows him) suddenly surges forth, aiming to grapple with Alma immediately. His left arm attempts to hook under his legs, while the right arm goes to hook over his chest. If caught, Domino hoists the taller boy into a cradled position, then drops to a knee to smash Alma's back across the other knee. Following this hit, his right hand sets to Alma's chin, left hand set to his right leg. Both hands push down heavily, forcing his spine into a bridging backbreaker submission hold.
COMBATSYS: Alma has joined the fight here.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Alma 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Drake
COMBATSYS: Alma blocks Drake's Star Breaker.
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Alma 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Drake
"Ha ha ha."
Chuckling good-naturedly, Alma turns his grin out toward the audience, an unusual enthusiasm revealing itself within eyes that have thus far been so calm and composed. His righteous passion will soon reveal itself as the determination of a warrior, but at the moment it seems more like a child-like joy, as he gazes out at the crowd and lifts one hand in a modest little salute, slipping the other again into his pocket, acquired the poised and quiet elegance as befits a model of his stature and demeanor.
He's not the favored combatant here, but, maybe because of his appearance, maybe because some people recognize him, or maybe because of how he was dancing earlier, he feels more curiosity than hostility from the excited audience. Good, good. Then this truly is--
*Ding!*
--an opportunity.
"Hnn!"
Alma quickly and gracefully spins to plant his feet down firmly, and manages to brace himself against Drake's sudden assault; he is half-hoisted, but rotates with the movement and shoves away at the same time, managing a rather spectacular display of acrobatics as he flips through the air and recovers his footing almost immediately. But he does not attack right away, instead gazing upon Drake very carefully, his expression unreadable.
For someone who relies on a very rhythmic style, he does not seem to move much, only swaying ever so slightly; and he seems to constantly be varying that rhythm up, even as he fails to move decisively, as though playing with a beat only he can hear. Combined with his sudden inscrutibility, his fluid movement is mysterious, and even a bit unsettling.
Yet when he attacks, he does so quickly and fiercely, eyes glinting as the lights above reflect in their depths. Spinning into a series of palm strikes and sweeping kicks as he lunges toward Drake, he refrains from summoning up anything other than pure physical strength-- yet a natural halo begins to form around him as he sinks himself into a fighting trance, and he begins to leave after-images behind him in a pale blue, obscuring and confusing which of his strikes are feints and which are the true attacks.
"Hmmn!"
Grunting quietly but otherwise silent, Alma attempts to both awe the audience and batter Drake with his elaborate dance-like combination attack, the faintest scent of rain following him as he goes...
COMBATSYS: Alma successfully hits Drake with Autumn Rain.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////////// ]
Alma 0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0 Drake
And things are underway. Arika watches Drake prepare that move that she's come to loathe in the short time he's been utilizing it, her brow furrowing as Alma makes a successful escape. Teeth nip onto her lower lip, but she just skirts around the fighters a little, ensuring no one is breaking the rules. Her eyes do narrow when she notices the halo form around Alma, and she slides her feet forward to see if he's using any of that mental muckery.
To be on the safe side, she calls out, "'ey! None'a that!" Natural or not, rules are rules. "You keep doin' that and Oi'll 'ave to disqualify you for cheatin'." Much different if that sort of (for lack of a better word) energy is going to spring up every time he makes a retaliation, than if someone was just acting the heel and using it to peeve off their opponent.
The sudden, confusing counter-attack takes Domino off guard, hammering him back a few steps with a grunt. He presses his assault, however, even as Arika fusses like a good little referee. They're always hassling the fighters in this sort've thing. But for right now, Domino is zeroed in on his opponent - such is his gimmick and philosophy in fighting.
The moment distance is closed yet again, he makes an attempt to grab Alma in a forward headlock under his left arm. Sustaining that hold, Domino hops up off his feet and falls back, aiming to drive the top of Alma's head against the stage behind him. Wrestling enthusiasts should identify this move as the classic DDT!
COMBATSYS: Alma interrupts Medium Throw from Drake with Heavy Kick.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////// ]
Alma 0/-------/--=====|=======\-------\0 Drake
Alma is also too focused on Drake to respond to Arika's criticism; to disregard his opponent at this juncture would be an insult. More than that, he knows his timing must be perfect; he remains unfamiliar with grappling, it not being a part of his style, and remembers well his opponent's speed and dexterity.
So when Drake closes in again, Alma reacts immediately, not allowing the wrestler to close in and instead interrupting him with by twisting into a lightning-fast and powerful back kick, one arm folded behind his back in an artful stance as his leg blurs up from the ground and smashes into Drake's abdomen.
So far, Alma's instincts are serving him very well, and he manages to refrain from any 'halo' this time, perhaps an acknowledgement of Arika's comments. But his gaze is still very intent and careful. He appears content to await Drake's next assault; unless Drake has gotten a bit cautious himself.
"Grappling," he murmurs to himself, "grappling."
Is this something he might employ too, though not part of his style?
There's always something to learn in a fight.
The kick thumps into Drake's abdominals, getting a loud, pained grunt from him. He staggers back, one arm looped around his midsection, eyes widened.. then narrowed in irritation. He's putting on one Hell of a bad show for himself, here. And though Domino is reputed for his pleasant demeanor and friendly attitude outside of fights, this is certainly starting to open old wounds again.
Domino pushes his body into motion again, but instead of going for another lock-up, Domino takes to the air. His body twists over and his right boot thrusts out at Alma's head in an aerial spinning sidekick.
COMBATSYS: Alma blocks Drake's Light Kick.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////// ]
Alma 0/-------/--=====|=======\-------\1 Drake
And now for something completely different.
Slapping Drake's kick to the side, Alma spins around in an effort to get behind the wrestler as soon as he lands. How effective he will be at ambushing Domino is anyone's guess-- but his efforts here are to take the fight onto the wrestler's turf, and that is exactly what he is going to do.
"Okay!"
Sounding almost good-humored about it all despite the seriousness of his tone and expression, the more feminine of the two lunges forward and attempts to embrace Drake from behind, wrapping his arms around the amethyst-eyed fighter's waist. Fangirls, eat your heart out. And yeah, it looks like some people are gearing up to take photos on their cellphones.
"Hrrahh!"
And if he can get a good grip on Drake, Alma will lean backward, compensating for lack of wrestling training through sheer flexibility as he attempts to do, well, something he's seen on TV -- okay, he's been hit with them before, too.
A suplex.
Leaning back all the way, body arcing like a cat's, Alma will try to slam Drake's head upon the stage behind him before breaking the hold and rolling away.
COMBATSYS: Drake fails to counter Strong Throw from Alma with Blackout.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////// ]
Alma 0/-------/-======|=======\==-----\1 Drake
Landing a little off skew, Domino fully intends on turning things around. The arms get around his waist, and Domino has every intention to suddenly show off his wrestling finesse. Only.. it comes much quicker, and Alma has a Hell of a tighter grip than he expected.
Suddenly bridged back, Domino hits his head and shoulders behind Alma with a sharp yelp. Domino bounces off his shoulders from the impact and lands on his knees, looking dazed. And dramatic as ever when wrestling, the young supermodel drops to the stage on his front, laying sprawled.
This just doesn't seem to be his match.
Being as it seems Alma has listened to her request, and no further auras of energy seem to be springing up from around him, Arika has backed off a little. As she watches the fight progress, her right eye twitches. Slipping out of ref mode, she calls out, "C'mon, Domino! You can recover from this! GET UP!"
Even as she calls this, she moves over to check and make sure he's not been knocked out. The punk princess doesn't actually get close enough to check his pulse or anything of the sort, but she's keeping an eye on him just in case.
"Hmph!"
Spinning on his heels, Alma twists around to face the audience as Domino dramatically collapses, and he smiles over his shoulder, heavy-lidded eyes giving a certain mysterious charm to the beautiful youth. "It just goes to show," he murmurs, voice resounding despite his low tone, "true passion cannot be denied."
Some of the young ladies squeal at his signature phrase, but most of them -- as well as most of the men -- are discontented, and many of them begin to shout to Domino, urging him to rise again. This may be a battle between faces in real life, but this is Domino's home turf, and Alma's strange attitude lends him toward the enigmatic.
His smile is not arrogant, but for that all the more suspicious.
'Booo! Domino! Get up!!'
"Don't strain yourself," he adds gently.
Is he... playing the heel?
COMBATSYS: Alma focuses on his next action.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////// ]
Alma 0/-------/-======|=======\==-----\1 Drake
After a few seconds of the audience's encouragement, notably along with Arika's, Domino begins to push himself onto his hands and knees again. His gaze lifts to set on Alma, and he growls. No, not in a kinky way. In a frustrated, annoyed way. His left fist THUMPs against the stage, and he's suddenly pushing off again, lunging for the taller male.
Right back to grappling, it seems, as Domino is hooking his right arm for Alma's left leg. His left arm hooks around Alma's neck. With this connection established, Domino's body torques over, attempting to flip Alma over and slam him down heavily against the stage on his back, along with Domino's abdominals landing across Alma's stomach in a powerslam.
Of course, this would naturally set them in pin position, complete with Alma's leg hooked up.
COMBATSYS: Alma dodges Drake's Solar Eclipse.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////// ]
Alma 0/-------/-======|=======\==-----\1 Drake
"Urrrahh--"
Alma waits until the very last moment before he appears to notice Domino's assault; fingers brush against his hair, but no contact with his neck is made, as he rolls neatly away from the wrestler's lunge, only to end up in a poised crouch. But it is precisely this position that he was waiting to assume, for it is then that Alma's eyes flash suddenly and he looks up with a grave expression, a light that he cannot contain shining in his eyes.
"Hyaaahh!"
He throws himself into his counter-attack with all his might, exploding forth from the stage with one fist thrusting forward to catch Domino in a stunning blow to the abdomen. If he can manage this, he will unleash a rain of blows to the head and abdomen with his fists, elbows, and knees, seeming to enter a fuller form of the trance he appeared to enter in the beginning. Absorbed completely in whatever spiritual awakening has occasioned the fluid grace and fierce strength of this series of strikes, Alma does not notice that the halo of his aura is again beginning to manifest itself; so engaged in the battle against his rival model, it is no longer something he can contain.
The strikes themselves, of course, are purely physical in nature, and there will be no assaults upon Drake's spiritual self. But the glow may be suspicious...
And, if the combination hits home successfully, the final blow, a downward hooking punch, may very well slam the wrestler down into the ground for good.
COMBATSYS: Drake blocks Alma's Stream of Consciousness.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////// ]
Alma 0/-------/-----==|=======\====---\1 Drake
Well he -had- been listening to her. Arika spies the energy aura encompassing Alma once again, her eyes narrowing at him suspiciously. Knuckles can be heard cracking as she clenches her hands into tight little fists. This is why it's a bad idea for Arika to referee matches.
"TOWAZU... LAST WARNIN'! OI SEE ANY 'INT OF THOSE TECHNIQUES AGAIN, OI'M PULLIN' YOU OUTTA THERE..." Clenched fists settle to her hips, and while she keeps her eyes narrowed on Alma she does manage to steal a glance at Drake to see what effect that had on him besides the flurry of physical blows.
The failure to powerslam Alma and really effectively drive any sort of hit home has gotten on Domino's nerves. This is even worse than when they weren't fighting under any constraints! Alma's next assault fails to land effectively, however. He's been showing off his martial arts expertise this entire time, so it's time he witnesses a taste of Domino's.
The initial strike is deflected with a sweeping low middle block with his left hand. He other shots all meet with forearms, deflected aside, or the dark-haired model turns aside to take the blow on the bicep. The series of hits ache, for certain, but nothing like what it was likely intended for. So he doesn't look too much worse for wear. Exhausted more, definitely. But not any more visibly beaten.
Instead of pressing his assault, he lets Arika chew Alma out for a moment. Though the moment her voice relents, Alma has a pair of fierce, grasping hands to contend with, aiming to clamp down solidly onto his shoulders...
COMBATSYS: Drake successfully hits Alma with Total Eclipse.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////// ]
Alma 0/-------/=======|=------\-------\0 Drake
With a pair of shoulders captured, Domino begins one of the most fanservicey moves ever for the female audience. He suddenly yanks Alma forward at a bent position, locking his neck between his legs. His arms then relocate around Alma's midsection, and he hoists the blond into an upside-down position - prepped for a piledriver.
But does a piledriver come?
Oh, no.
Alma is subjugated to the first phase of the Total Eclipse, being a demonstration of raw strength - the professional wrestling side of the coin that is Domino-Style Wrestling. His streamlined arms flex, pumping inwards to crush and mutilate Alma's poor innards. The arms flex and tighten further and further until they've cinched down as tight as they can.. and that's where they lock to sustain that amount of pain.
Then begins the second phase - the demonstration of finesse. With Alma locked in tight and secured, Domino leaps high into the air in a series of climbing flips. When he reaches the pinnacle of his jump with Alma - i.e., the ceiling - the speed of the flips have increased to the point of bluring both bodies from clear vision. The descent only pulls in more momentum.. right up until it comes to a shattering end on the stage. Their built-up momentum, the elevation of the jump, their combined bodyweights... it all comes smashing down atop Alma's head at the completion of the piledriver.
Fortunately for Domino, there's a pinning maneuver that can be made from that position. His legs quickly go to hook over Alma's arms, his arms remaining around his abdomen, hoping to hold him down in that upside-down position for the three-count.
Is it the sheer effort that went into summoning up the strength and spirit needed for that fierce combination attack that Domino managed to parry? Or is it Arika's demanding shouts? Perhaps it is both, for it is with a bemused weariness that Alma, for the first time, takes his attention off of his opponent and looks toward the referee, blinking. "But Miss Fade," he manages a little weakly, "that's not something I can help--"
In the end, excuses and reasons why don't matter; what matters is the result, and that is that Domino is able to grasp him firmly, and Alma cannot escape. He can only grunt before the wrestler begins to, er, manhandle him in the beginnings of a wild and terrific combination grapple, and little is heard from him for the most of it. It is the beginning portion, as the wrestler seems to go for a piledriver, that elicits the biggest reaction from the captured fighter.
"Er... Mr. Domino..."
It's a good thing no one can see Alma blushing from there.
But having his head between Drake's legs soon becomes the least of Alma's concerns. The attack culminates with his head smashed fiercely upon the ground, and momentarily stunned, the audience's enthusiasm is renewed by the possibility of a pin.
Who knows how far Arika will be able to count in time. She will definitely get to one; if she starts soon enough, she should be able to get to two. But Alma is not quite down and out yet, even if the phenomenon of pinning is not quite something he is used to. Bucking powerfully in an effort to break free, Alma lifts his shoulders off the ground and, though still somewhat dazed, lashes around with his legs, rotating to loosen Domino's grip.
"Hrrahh!"
As he rolls away from the hold, one quick kick aims to snake in and catch the wrestler on the side of the head, intended to stun him for a moment while Alma himself recovers from the assault.
The crowd in the club is going absolutely WILD when Drake pulls off the Total Eclipse. It's showy, it's fanservicey and it's exactly the type of specialized wrestling technique that they love seeing come out of the Atlantis Wrestling people.
But while the crowd cheers, shouts and whistles, Arika is swooping in like a good little ref, and preparing for the pin-count. Dropping to her stomach so she can level her eyes with Alma's shoulder, she raises her right hand up and SMACKS it against the stage in a resounding whap.
"ONE!"
WHAP.
"TWO!"
Her hand raises again, nearly whapping against the stage a final time, only she spots the shoulders popping up. Exhaling a sigh, she pushes herself back up to her feet, shaking her head at the clubgoers. No pin here, fight's still on.
COMBATSYS: Drake dodges Alma's Light Kick.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////// ]
Alma 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Drake
Domino fully intends to keep Alma plastered down for the count.. only he pulls free. This elicits a small curse from under his breath, and he reels into a backroll just in time to avoid the kick. He ends this movement on his boots, and he turns sharply to face one of the 'crumbling' towers flanking the stage. Domino rushes up to the pillar and plants one boot against its surface, quickly vaulting himself up to the tower's top.
There stands the model, right fist thrusting into the air in a salute to the cheering audience. He flashes a bright, but tired smile to them all whilest preening. Then? He attempts a somewhat desperate finisher on Alma. Domino leaps from his perch into a double backflip, body curving through the air in a double backflip. After the second rotation, his arms and legs spread out, pulling the toned, sleek musculature of his torso taut for impact against Alma's torso, hoping to bring him down with his personal high-flying moonsault.
And hey, hopefully this will drive Alma onto his back with Domino atop him for a default pinfall!
COMBATSYS: Drake successfully hits Alma with Darkside Slam.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////// ]
Alma 0/-------/----===|===----\-------\0 Drake
A heroic comeback indeed.
Alma's attempt at a kick not only misses but actually serves to unbalance the fighter further, and as he remains quite dazed from Drake's fearsome and flashy attack before, he is easy prey for the aerial attack that follows. Now the audience is quite stirred up indeed; everyone is on the edge of their seats. There's been no manipulation here, no showmanship above genuine fighting; everything about this has been real. Yet the battle has swung from a great advantage on the part of the stranger to an upset on the part of the home team, and the changing momentum has swept up the crowd in its week. Whoever they are rooted for, everyone is engaged.
Somehow, through the haze of the stunning strikes that Domino has been unleashed, Alma feels somehow already satisfied. Even if he fails to put himself forward as an individual worthy of respect in his own right -- it's a shame about his inability to completely contain outward expressions of his energy, even harmless ones -- he is content to think that his style has fulfilled its purpose.
Senses returning, he hears the count of the pin, and realizes he is on the ground.
But-- not /that/ content.
"Haaahhh--!"
Not so much as to give up!
With iron resolve, Alma dramatically recovers a split-second before the three-count, almost as though he had planned it as such. Teeth grit and eyes clearing, with a surge of strength the taller boy staggers to his feet and, in fact, attempts to lift Domino with him, to shove the wrestler back onto his feet as well.
"Hohh!"
Fists blur, and Alma aims to force his opponent back with a quick peppering of blows to the face and chest, the faint scent of rain returning. It's close, now, too close for comfort. But nothing compels him to reach for the power that burns within him. In fact, to be completely honest, and hard to believe as it is, Alma's forgotten about that capacity of his. The limitations of his techniques no longer faze him; he has slipped into the context completely. Having subconsciously adapted to the contest he is a part of, there is not the slightest inclination in him to draw upon his Soul Power in any overt way.
"It's not over, Domino..."
That would be no victory at all.
Getting lost in the cheers of the crowd and her own silent cheers for Domino, the punk princess very nearly misses the moonsault. When it lands successfully, she can't help but let out a loud, "YES!"
It's then that Arika remembers she's supposed to remain the impartial ref-type, so she clears her throat and drops down for a second pinfall count.
"OOOOOONNNNE!"
WHAP.
"TWOOOOOOOO!"
WHAP.
"THR--"
Once more Alma manages to break free before the third count can be given or completed. Balling her hand up into a fist, the diva smacks it against the stage in frustration before springing back up to her feet. Poor showing for a referee, she knows, but she's allowed to have her own favorite, isn't she?
COMBATSYS: Drake blocks Alma's Spring Shower.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////// ]
Alma 0/-------/---====|====---\-------\0 Drake
Domino lets out a frustrated roar when Alma breaks free of this pin, and he's drawn back up to his boots. Rather than slouch in his defense, his arms lift to protect himself. His.. face is obviously more favored than his chest in this defense, but still. The hits pepper against forearms, and Domino grits his teeth against them.
Following the last strike, Domino attempts to grab the offending arm. One arm loops at the forearm as Domino moves in towards Alma's back, other arm pushing against his shoulder to attempt forcing him onto the stage on his front. If successful, that captured limb is held out straight - albeit wrenched backwards, Domino's weight pressing in against Alma's back in an arm lock.
COMBATSYS: Alma blocks Drake's Fast Throw.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////// ]
Alma 0/-------/--=====|====---\-------\0 Drake
"Hrrghh--"
Alma is on the brink, but it will take more than that. Domino moves very quickly, but perhaps sacrifices power for speed in this case, and even though he gets a grip on Alma's arm the other model is able to shift his footing and bring his strength to bear to prevent the wrench from occuring.
"Hrahh!"
But Alma does not break away this time, as he so often has, perhaps acknowledging the wrestler's superiority in the realm of grappling. No, this is a wrestling match, as the recent pinnings have been attesting too, and this time, Alma plunges into that world himself. Instead of breaking away, Alma attempts to reverse the attempt at a hold by grasping onto Domino's own arm and pulling him forcefully forward, twisting his hip and aiming to toss his opponent to the ground. If he is successful, he will follow by driving his knee into the small of Domino's back and twisting his arms behind his back, putting all his remaining energy into keeping Domino's shoulders down.
It's not the most graceful technique. It's certainly not as stylish as the ones the wrestler has been attempting himself.
But, even on the brink of defeat, Alma is playing by the rules.
And maybe that counts for something.
COMBATSYS: Drake dodges Alma's Quick Throw.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////// ]
Alma 0/-------/--=====|====---\-------\0 Drake
Domino attempts to force the submission hold, but it simply doesn't work out for him so much. But then Alma is trying to work things over to his own advantage. The twist and flip occurs, and Domino is off his feet. His finesse in this field shows, however, as he takes control of the situation and lands neatly on his boots. The momentum of the toss is ridden out, seeing Domino break away quickly to turn around and face Alma again.
Frame heaves slowly from the exertion of this match, showing clear signs of wearing down. Domino remains silent, though. Such is his custom when fighting. He's wont to let his combat do the talking for him. And that seems to be how this match will carry itself out to its conclusion.
Domino moves in again, and true to professional wrestling, he aims a backwards chop with his right hand to strike across Alma's chest, followed by a quick elbow strike from his left arm aimed for Alma's cheek.
COMBATSYS: Alma fails to interrupt Quick Punch from Drake with Spring Shower.
- Power fail! -
[ \\\\\\\\\ < > //////// ]
Alma 0/-------/-======|====---\-------\0 Drake
"Hmm!"
Alma can't help but be a bit impressed at Domino's adroit evasion. He, too, is wearing down. Upon the wrestler stepping forward and aiming to finish him, Alma attempts to seize advantage of a perceived opening; but his timing is off, and his technique is nowhere near as polished as it was at the beginning of the fight, when he was at his peak. The chop and elbow impact solidly, and Alma staggers back, struck with unexpected force--
"...heh..."
--but he does not fall.
Recovering, he maintains his stance despite an onset of dizziness, and though his bright eyes have clouded somewhat and he too, like Domino, remains silent, he offers his opponent a weary grin, still swaying slightly to a rhythm only he can sense.
What will come of this stand-off?
Domino had hoped Alma would be down from that.. but apparently not. Those deep amethysts of his simply narrow in determination, and he stalks forth to try and press the assault. It comes in the form of a grapple again, with Domino attempting to catch Alma's head under his left arm in a forward headlock. He then simply drapes Alma's left arm behind his neck to take away his balance. If locked on successfully, Domino's right hand sets to his hip to hoist him upside-down in the air, suspending the blond for a couple seconds...
...Before unceremoniously dropping back in a vertical suplex, hoping to smash Alma's back against the stage soundly.
COMBATSYS: Alma dodges Drake's Medium Throw.
[ \\\\\\\\\ < > //////// ]
Alma 0/-------/-======|====---\-------\0 Drake
Alma's resolve remains unyielding, and it is only that formidable willpower that keeps the psychic model on both his feet and his toes. The taller blond weaves away from the attempted headlock, but rather than retreat, he attempts to seize the initiative as best he can, and prevent his nimble opponent from escaping.
"Hmn!"
Spinning fluidly into a crouch, Alma lashes out with a fierce sweep kick even as Domino is recovering from the movement of his missed attack-- and unless he can react quickly, the strike may mean that it is /he/ who will be dumped to the ground.
Either way, it's a close one... and a game of split-seconds.
COMBATSYS: Drake counters Light Kick from Alma with Solar Eclipse.
[ \\\\\\ < > /////// ]
Alma 1/-------/=======|=====--\-------\0 Drake
Headlock failed, Domino starts to stumble forward off balance. It truly looks like Alma is about to bring him back down to the stage with a sweep kick. Except Domino's pure, adrenaline-pumped reflexes kick in, and he reacts without thinking. His body dips low in a flash, arm lashing out to intercept the gliding leg. Simultaneous to this, his other arm hooks behind Alma's neck. The moment secure contact is made, Domino redirects the momentum from his kick with a quick rise and torque of his body, using it to fuel a powerslam.
Thus, Alma is slammed against his back on the stage, and Domino's sleek six-packed abs come slamming down across Alma's midsection. Much like it was intended before, Domino simply pulls up on the already hooked leg to hopefully cinch on a pin...!
Now that's a good trick.
Once again, Alma finds himself pinned.
Normally, the third time is the charm. The audience is going wild.
But Alma has a few tricks of his own...
"UrrrrrRRAAHHH!"
There's no time to even get to one.
Tearing free with a wild and totally unprecedented burst of strength, Alma Towazu staggers to his feet once more, seemingly numb to the pain of breaking free again. With bewildering determination, he shakes off Domino's pin.
"Now--!"
Is Domino stunned by this shocking turn of events? For his sake, hopefully not, because as quickly as he can Alma will snatch the wrestler by the neck with his left hand, hoist him up, and pepper his face with a series of punches. And if he can manage this, perhaps stunning Domino in return, he will throw the wrestler down... and attempt a simple leg pin of his own.
He may not be quick enough, in the end...
But he sure is relentless.
Certain that Domino has the win now, the diva drops to the stage, raises her hand. "O-" Oh, wait. Alma's up... again. Arika just narrows her eyes at him, and while she can't say for sure he's cheating, something definitely seems a bit off to her.
COMBATSYS: Drake dodges Alma's Spring Shower.
[ \\\\\\ < > /////// ]
Alma 0/-------/-----==|=====--\-------\0 Drake
Panting, -so- ready for the match to end in his favor, Domino raises his free hand to the audience with a strained smile, garnering anticipation for the three-count. Only his world is thoroughly rocked when Alma just gets right back out of it before even one count can be made. "N-no way..," he mutters, eyes widened.
That's really all Domino has time to do in reaction to this. When he's on his feet again, punches immediately rocket out at him. Domino's defensive measure? Jump the Hell back. No need for the fancy stuff - just clear the way to let them whiff completely. But as soon as they're over, Domino dashes back in and turns around, facing his back to Alma. His left hand shoots up to hook around behind Alma's neck, and he suddenly drops down, torquing forward to hopefully flip Alma over and land him flat on his back again in a snapmare.
COMBATSYS: Drake successfully hits Alma with Fast Throw.
[ \\\\ < > /////// ]
Alma 0/-------/----===|=====--\-------\0 Drake
Ah... it's just too much.
For all his experience, Alma hasn't dealt enough with grappling, and not enough with such nimble adversaries. Lacking the precision of his psychic attacks, he can't get a grip on the wrestler, and he's just not quick enough to evade the follow-up strike. Raw resolve cannot carry him any farther than this.
"...nnghh..."
Yet he manages to get to his knees, one last time.
"...heh heh..."
With a final burst of all the speed he has remaining, Alma will attempt to get it one last stunning blow to Domino's temple, blurring forward as best he can, before collapsing to his knees again.
He's grinning.
"...what an... interesting style... of fighting..."
Alma slumps forward.
"...quite a..."
And does not stir.
"...challenge."
COMBATSYS: Alma can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\ <
Drake 0/-------/-======|
COMBATSYS: Alma successfully hits Drake with Quick Punch.
[ \\\\\ <
Drake 1/-------/=======|
Domino is simply unable to recover in time for him to raise back up to his full height and prepare for yet another attack. He didn't even expect it. So when the hit comes, all Domino can do is give the most pathetic of sad puppy eyes. The sort that just knows it can't escape what's coming, heartbroken, sad... then nothing but stars. Domino's head jerks back, and his body just drops to the stage.
After a few seconds, he rolls over onto his side, both hands set to his head with a groan of pain and anguish.
COMBATSYS: Drake takes no action.
COMBATSYS: Drake can no longer fight.
Blink.
Wait, what?
Arika just watches Alma get up -again-, watches him send the hit to Drake's temple, watches him fall. Then she turns to Domino to see if he's going to manage to withstand the blow, but his body hits the stage.
The punk princess is not a ref. She's got no clue what the correct term for something like this is. A frown causes her brow to crease a little, and with no one to pin she heads back to where she left the microphone.
"A WASHOUT," she says. Then makes a face. "White wash?" Pause. "A bloody Dee-Kay-OH." Grumble.
The crowd looks stunned for a few minutes, not certain whether to cheer or hiss or boo. They finally start to make noise, and it seems to be a mix of all three though a lot of it is just confused murmuring.
During this confusion, Arika wanders back to the two men laying upon the stage. As she passes Alma, her foot quickly launches out toward his ribs. "Cheater," she hisses, so positive that he was up to something that was against the rules. She'll scan through security footage later, and talk to Drake about it, but she just really doesn't trust those mind muckers.
Once she drifts past Alma, she drops to her knees by Drake, reaching a hand out for his head to see if he needs medical attention. Oh, someone does come up on the stage to check on Alma as well, but the diva is completely focuses on her teammate.
"...Drake..."
Alma smiles weakly, tilting his head toward his collapsed adversary as the draw match is announced. He doesn't yet have the strength to prop himself up at all, but at least it doesn't look like he's about to fall unconscious.
"...you've really... gotten strong."
His smile widens softly into a grin.
"I'm... glad."
For a moment, he pauses, and his grin fades a little; his eyes soften, and he regards the wrestler quietly.
"...you know... I wanted to tell you... that..."
*whump*
'Cheater!'
Alma coughs softly as the kick meets his ribs.
"...oww..." he mumbles, before his eyes flutter closed.
Now, was that /really/ necessary?
Drake groans again in response to Arika, hands lowering. He doesn't look hurt beyond pride. "Dammit.. how did he..?" His eyes squeeze shut, head turning aside. When the eyes open again, he's looking at Alma. "Well.. that's how the fed' works.." He winces a little as the throbbing pain in his head persists. "..As if the handicap even seems t'bother you," he muses dryly.
After a few more seconds, Drake pushes himself weakly onto his elbows. "Sorry for the lame finish, baby," he says to Arika. "Could'a swore I had this. Let you and your clubbies down."
"No clue," she murmurs in response to the first question. Drake doesn't seem to be extremely hurt. Wincing, looking in a bit of pain, could likely just need to lay down and relax a bit. Arika motions for Bernie to come over and watch Alma. Not that the other fighter is in trouble, but if some of the regulars decide he was cheating, there's no telling what they'll try to do to him once she disappears to see if Drake needs assistance getting to the back office to rest.
"Wot? Let us down?" Arika shakes her head. "Not a chance, luv. You did great. Amazing even." She then motions backstage and says, "Go on with ya then..."
Drake is just barely on his elbows, and she's motioning to him to stand and wander away? C'mon! Drake gives her a pitiful look, then slumps onto the stage again. "I.. so had him.. I know I did.." After a pause, he pulls himself to roll over, then draws up to his full height finally. On wobbly legs, he begins heading into the back room as she's requested. And thus, Drake disappears behind the curtains.
It's not long before Arika is behind him, grabbing his arm to loop it over her shoulder, making sure he doesn't loose balance and hurt himself backstage. Her reason for lagging behind? A bottle of water and some Tylenol. That, and giving Bernie instructions to get Alma safely out of the club when he wants to leave. And thus, Arika too disappears behind the curtains as the DJ cranks the music on once again.
Log created on 16:24:07 08/02/2008 by Arika, and last modified on 17:03:58 08/05/2008.