Description: In a bid to destroy the reigning champion of the Contender's Belt, Marisol O'Connell sets out to fight Tenma Kiryuu in a curious match that pits them in a well-dressed debate. Will the two fighters actually debate, or will their rivalry prevent them from keeping to the premise? There can be only one..!! (Winner: Marisol)
What sort of person would be crazy enough to actually WANT to cross-promote a topical debate show with an all-out professional fighting program, anyway? It seems like a weird mix. Still, apparently both sides saw dollar signs at the prospect, and everyone knows that the Saturday Night Fight organisers love putting fighters in weird situations... So here they are.
On the set of 'Hardball'.
The camera crews are, of course, collaborating by using the studio's existing cameras; still, SNF staff members lurk in the background, overseeing things and making sure it all meets their exacting standards of places to have people beat each other up in. Not to mention the combined efforts of the Saturday Night Fight AND MSNBC wardrobe departments, wanting to make sure that the two teenaged gladiators set to do battle with both words and whatever other means they might choose to employ look like they belong on a respectable television program.
So it has come to pass that Tenma Kiryuu... Is in a suit, for what is probably the second time in his life, ever. It's a pretty nice one, too, black slacks and blazer with a black tie, and a dark blue dress shirt that closely matches the colour of his eyes. Of course, the effect is /somewhat/ spoiled by the expected presence of his bokken, the slightly curved length of carved wood resting against his shoulder, his right hand casually holding the handle.
It makes him look a /little/ bit like a gangster, especially with his longish hair.
Also present, resting over his other shoulder, is the Contender's Belt, which the Guardian King has taken to carrying about with himself. He carefully buffs the gleaming title belt with his left hand, making sure there's not the slightest smudge or speck of dirt on the thing. It is, after all, the whole point of this match... Isn't it?
She didn't care where it was. She didn't care what the premise was. She only cared about one thing:
Kicking Tenma Kiryuu, current title holder of the Contender's Belt, off his pedestal.
It had been a fluke, the first win, Marisol decided. But when he maintained that streak, managing to defeat a second fighter who dared to take the title from him, she knew it had to be put to an end. He had to be shown that it was, indeed, a fluke. He was getting lucky, that's all.
And so, like her rival, the half-Spaniard Marisol O'Connell finds herself on the set of MSNBC's 'Hardball,' waiting impatiently in the dressing room as the last-minute preparations are made to get the set accommodated for the designated fight-slash-debate to be. The premise was simple: each side argues for or against a topic.
Arguing. Marisol could do that. But replacing military troops with trained fighters?
Who comes up with this stuff?
With Tenma the first to arrive properly - suit and all - Marisol ambles out second. Clad in a woman's black blazer, white blouse and skirt with matching heels, the half-Spaniard girl's hair is pulled up into a professional bun, her face adorned in fancy, professional make-up. She certainly feels awkard, but that is behind her. The only thing she thinks about is that cursed rival of hers, as she ambles out in her heels.
"Tonight, on Hardball--" The announcer begins.
"TENMA KIRYUU!" He's promptly cut off, as Marisol jabs a finger toward him. "That belt belongs to anyone else BUT you. You may think you're all powerful and mighty, but today? Today I'm going to wipe the floor with your arrogance and steal that belt from you!"
"Uhh--" The announcer is clearly confused. "We d-discuss why fighters should be considered for military a-action in times of n-need. I--"
Arrogantly the girl scoffs, a sharp laugh cutting the man off again as she tosses her head. "Tenma, you can go first. I'd like to see how you argue your way out of this one--assuming you CAN."
"Ah?" wonders Tenma in a sort of nonverbal way, tilting his head back as he regards this loud woman who's pointing at him and shouting. It's certainly a familiar voice, but the personage it's emanating from seems... Completely different than how he remembers. Tenma can't quite put his finger on it, though. She looks almost... Maybe a little... Classy?
How terrifying.
The Gedo gang member gives another look to the belt, hitching it up on his shoulder a little. "Man, Red, you sound kinda jealous. Mad 'cause I won this fair an' square, but you never had anything your sugar daddy bought for you?" Yeah, Tenma doesn't seem too interested in the debate either, now that his apparent archnemesis has made the scene. "By the way," he notes, handing off the belt to an SNF official, who holds it up to clearly demonstrate that it IS the belt - old combative sport tradition - but Tenma's attention remains fixed on Marisol. "You're lookin' pretty nice there." Is that... A compliment?! From Tenma Kiryuu?!
His left hand lifts to his mouth, and he bites into his thumb, no doubt giving the wardrobe department a conniption as blood runs down his hand, before he paints a red stripe along the blade of his bokken. "Guess that explains why you were in the makeup room so long, ha ha!"
Nope, not a compliment at all. Tenma sweeps his bokken through the air, setting it alight with that smoky red aura of blood and chi, as he regards his challenger. "Anyway, I'd like to preface my argument by notin' that my opponent is a shemale," the Kiryuu heir says, going immediately for the buttons he knows are most likely to rile Marisol up. "An' as for usin' fighters as soldiers, well, that's pretty stupid. Have you ever seen somebody on the circuit take orders right? Too stubborn an' independent. Right, Red?" Tenma wonders of Marisol, with a wide, wolfish grin.
And so it begins, a face-off between Gedo's infamous Tenma, and the equally-infamous Marisol.
Shooting the Guardian Kings' leader a glare the moment he lay eyes on the redhead, Marisol looks less-than thrilled to be in the same vicinity as Tenma. And who can blame her, really? He's a loud-mouthed jerk with nothing nice to say. Also, he's obviously poor since he goes to Gedo, and he's also the leader of her team's rivals. So when he offers her a seeming compliment, she knows better.
And moments after, he proves her correct, earning him a loud scoff from the half-Spaniard girl.
"And you look like something they drug in from the Salvation Army, Kiryuu. Honestly, no matter how hard you try to dress it up, trash is trash. Even that belt, that you won by sheer fluke, doesn't do you any justice. So I'm gonna take it off your hands now." A smirk edges its way over her lips--at least until Tenma opens his side of the argument. Then she frowns, and frowns hard.
"I'd like to preface MY argument," the redhead quickly counters, "By stating that Tenma Kiryuu is a shrimpy loser who has only made it this far off of luck and sympathy from other fighters." Gray eyes narrow hard at the long-haired youth, her expression cold as she goes briefly silent. Then, with another scoff, the girl shrugs her shoulders and tilts her head to the side, eyes shut as she continues, "At least fighters are more capable and apt to deal with harsh situations. The fighting circuit is by no means an accurate judge of fighters' characters. Thailand had its share of many fighters engaging the enemy and participating in battle, so I really doubt they're stubborn and 'independent' when it comes down to it, given the circumstance." Pause.
"That's just YOU, Tenma."
"Yeah, and what 'bout the sort of fighters who would sign up for that kinda thing?" Tenma wonders, tapping his bokken against his shoulder; somehow it doesn't seem to affect /him/, that energy aura, not even leaving a drop of blood on the shoulder of his suit jacket. "Psychos that like t' hurt people, powerful enough t' beat up a tank or whatever on their own? What happens when they get into a civilian population, if they don't care if they're fightin' folks as can fight back? Even a solider is just some guy wit a gun or whatever, normal people could stand up to 'em."
Strangely, that's actually a kind of well thought out argument, and Tenma doesn't even shout or anything as he says it. Is this Bizarro World or something?
But Tenma's stance widens slightly as he talks, a subtle shift of posture and weight, unnoticeable to most - except, of course, for a trained fighter. "An' speakin' of trash, are you even wearin' underwear there, or are you goin' commando as per usual, Red?" Tenma asks, easily loud enough to be picked up by the cameras.
It's funny, because are ad hominem attacks like that really that unusual on a debate show like this?
But Tenma doesn't just wait around after speaking, oh no. Suddenly, his swordarm swings downwards, the bokken blurring as it sweeps through the air in front of him, almost straight down. It's too far away to strike Marisol, of course; but a red afterimage follows in the wake of the blade, and from that springs forth a crescent of roiling blood, tearing through the air directly at Marisol!
COMBATSYS: Tenma has started a fight here.
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Tenma 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Marisol has joined the fight here.
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Marisol 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Tenma
COMBATSYS: Tenma successfully hits Marisol with Dharmapala.
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Marisol 0/-------/----===|=------\-------\0 Tenma
And, perhaps equally-surprising, Marisol doesn't cut Tenma off mid-sentence.
Instead, the redhead listens, despite the glare that lingers on her face. He argues a good point, and slowly the young Pacific woman nods her head, eyes drawing shut as she considers his argument. He finishes his initial rebuttal, and it draws a sigh from the girl. Slowly she tips her head, a hand cupped thoughtfully to her chin. But just as she formulates her own rebuttal--
Tenma goes off and ruins things. Again.
Like a firecracker the girl's face ignites with rage, gray eyes wide even as the bokken swings through the air, a swath of red cutting toward her. Attempting to swat at the energy, the girl underestimates and, as result, staggers back, gasping loudly before she growls under her breath. How dare he..?
"I don't care about this debate!!" she bellows, staggering forward and cutting a hand through empty air. At her side, it curls into a fist, callous knuckles white as she pinches her nails into her palms. "RIGHT NOW, the only thing I am concerned with is kicking you in the fuckin' teeth, Kiryuu. So I sure as hell hope you're ready, 'cause I am not gonna wait for you..!!"
To prove her point, the redhead breaks off in a sprint, attempting to clock Tenma across the face with a one-two combo to disorient the bokken-wielding fighter. "GRAAGH!"
COMBATSYS: Tenma blocks Marisol's Medium Punch.
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Marisol 0/-------/----===|==-----\-------\0 Tenma
That's a good question, you know. How dare he? Well, Tenma sure seems to dare a lot, doesn't he?
"You shouldn't get so pissed off, Red," Tenma says, even as Marisol bears down on him at a sprint. "You're gonna get all blotchy an' wrinkly." See, he's just concerned about Marisol's well-being! He knows how important a young woman's appearace is in this modern, superficial world! Of course, with Marisol charging headlong like a bull - uh, if bulls could pull off a top speed sprint in a suit skirt and heels, which is pretty unlikely - Tenma does have to actually do some walking of the proverbial walk, since we all know he has the talking the talk down pat.
So it happens that each of Marisol's fists lashes out and strikes, rather than Tenma's face, the hard wood of his bokken instead, each block sending a jarring impact down Tenma's arms. But it's better than the alternative!
"Now how are you supposedta convince anybody of anything like that, just goin' all HULK SMASH? C'mon, Red!" Tenma laughs, swinging his bokken in an upwards, sweeping slash, right across Marisol's torso. Hey, on the upside, at least she's got some good padding in the chest region.
COMBATSYS: Marisol endures Tenma's Light Strike.
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Marisol 0/-------/-======|===----\-------\0 Tenma
"SHUT UP, KIRYUU!!" is Marisol's only real response, as she charges after the bokken-wielding fighter with every intention of sticking two fists into his face. To her absolute dismay, however, the redhead's fists only collide with the weapon, the length of wood jarred and leaving some mark on the youth. But it just isn't good enough for the half-Spaniard; as result, she scoffs loudly.
"I don't care about your opinion. I only care about one thing--wiping that arrogant smirk off your face and knocking that belt out of your grubby poverty-stricken hands! A loser like you doesn't deserve a title like that, anyway!!" Stepping back a half-step, the girl braces her body for the inevitable, should he counterattack.
And counterattack Tenma does. The bokken swings upwards as he laughs, leaving a blood-stained gash and fraying the blazer as it leaves its mark. But the redhead doesn't relent--instead, Marisol keeps close proximity for one reason: to execute a straight punch, followed by an uppercut. And should either land, the girl whips her leg around, the back of her high heel shoe aimed for the side of Tenma's skull.
"Can't you do something OTHER than swing that overcompensating piece of wood?!"
COMBATSYS: Tenma interrupts Iron Whip from Marisol with Initial Breaker.
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Marisol 1/------=/=======|=======\-------\0 Tenma
When Marisol chooses to not give up even an inch as she's struck by his upwards swinging bokken, Tenma's dark blue eyes widen a little. Yeah... Something bad is coming, he can tell that much. He should probably have been able to guess just what it is, too, as she goes for a potentially very painful punch. But even as Marisol starts to act, Tenma is moving as well, pulling his bokken down and back, holding his sword arm behind himself, slanting the weapon parallel to the ground, point towards Marisol and braced by his free hand, as he faces down her charge.
All this happens in the space of a heartbeat, Tenma's motions practiced and sure. Well, mostly sure.
It doesn't escape Tenma's memory, however arrogant he might be, that he's never really /beaten/ Marisol. Sure, he's forced draws against the redhead, but he's never truly defeated her in a fight. The idea that he /cannot/ beat her doesn't even occur to him of course, but the Gedo swordsman has a healthy respect for the Pacific girl's abilities. Just not that he'd say so.
Instead, Tenma lunges into Marisol's charge, getting hit full in the face by her fist, accepting the painful strike to land one of his own, twisting in his lunge to stab with his chi-emanating bokken, right at Marisol's chest, hard enough to drive her backwards even as that high heel glances against the side of his head.
"Can't you do anything other than whine like a spoiled little bitch?!"
This was certainly unexpected...
Just as the redhead whips her leg around and intends on beaning the Gedo fighter in the cranium after delivering two precise punches, his sudden intervention with the bokken comes as a shock, impact jarring the young woman and earning him a loud yelp as the redhead staggers away, wide-eyed and aching. How the hell..?
Immediately her surprised features give way to a glare, lips pulled back over pearly whites. Is this really what she anticipated? No, not really. She expected to mop the floor with the likes of Tenma. So then, has her fight with her teammate ruined her? Or has she fallen behind everyone? Likely, she's losing her edge.
Her confidence privately wanes, gray eyes averting from the youth as she clutches the blood gash across her chest. "Shut the hell up, Kiryuu," the girl murmurs, barely audible over the commotion of the crew and Hardball cast, watching with disbelief as the two fighters push on. "I don't want to hear your opinions anymore. They mean nothing. Nothing!!"
Refusing to back down yet, the girl lunges forward and, with one fluid motion, intends on cleaning Kiryuu's clock with a nasty left hook to the side of his face.
COMBATSYS: Tenma blocks Marisol's Hook Punch.
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Marisol 1/------=/=======|======-\-------\0 Tenma
The thing of it is, Tenma wasn't expecting things to go like this, either; he's used to Marisol's physical power and exuberance being rather overwhelming, not that he's having an /easy/ time of dealing with them right now... Once again, Marisol is lunging forward to strike, and once again Tenma manages to get his guard in the way in time; he is, perhaps, making less mistakes than he has in the past against Marisol. He's also, it's possible, fighting more conservatively than he usually does against her. Keeping his gambles rarer. Once again, though, Marisol's fist impacts with Tenma's bokken, sending a twinge through his palms, but...
"C'mon, Red, are you even tryin'?" Tenma wonders, dubiously. "Maybe the heels are throwin' you off balance or somethin', why don't ya sit down--" at this, he suddely sweeps one leg forward, aiming to hook it behind Marisol's and then twist to yank her right off of her feet! "--AN' TAKE 'EM OFF!!"
COMBATSYS: Tenma successfully hits Marisol with Quick Throw.
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Marisol 1/----===/=======|======-\-------\0 Tenma
Whatever her problem, it would seem that Marisol is clearly having trouble keeping up with Tenma. Despite her attempts, the Gedo fighter keeps his guard about him, staving off the punch to his face and absorbing it through the wooden weapon his keeps in hand. It immediately draws a scowl on the girl's face, her expression awful as she glares daggers at the other fighter.
How can this really be? Is she really trying? Of course she is! But...
Before she can properly respond, Marisol finds her legs swept out from beneath her, the heels she's shoved into betraying her. She falls backwards, tumbling across the stage clumsily before she stops against the front of the commentator desk, wincing as the back of her head impacts with the wooden desk. It hurt, yes. But she refuses to admit to it. She needs to HURT him.
The redhead doesn't move--not immediately, at least. Instead she groans lightly and pushes herself forward, slowly trying to ease herself off the desk's front and get back onto her feet. Angry and embarrassed now, the half-Spaniard girl can't even bring herself to look at the likes of Tenma--or anyone. Instead, she glares angrily at her fists, as they curl into impossibly-tight fists in front of her.
COMBATSYS: Marisol gains composure.
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Marisol 1/------=/=======|======-\-------\0 Tenma
Unseen by Marisol since she's busy glaring at her fists like /they're/ the reason the fight isn't going her way, Tenma's face loses its arrogant look for just a moment, a more solemn expression, one of vague disquiet, replacing it instead. "Hmm," the tall Japanese youth murmurs thoughtfully, tapping his bokken against his shoulder and slipping his other hand into the pocket of his black slacks, before he lets out a resigned sigh, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders in one go.
"Hey... Marisol," Tenma says, using the redhead's actual name instead of some demeaning nickname, for once. Actually, this might be an absolute first. "There somethin' buggin' you or what?" He might actually sound legitimately /concerned/ for the leader of the Pacific Resistance... But then, he might just be patronizing her as well. What IS for certain is that he's watching her, carefully, trying to anticipate what she's going to do next.
Because he bets it will probably hurt a lot.
COMBATSYS: Tenma focuses on his next action.
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Marisol 1/------=/=======|======-\-------\0 Tenma
For once, neither fighter attacks the other. If anything, both fighters remain on the passive, Marisol taking a moment to catch her breath, while Tenma does anything but act like his usual self. There come no insults, no remarks about her undergarments or insults toward the half-Spaniard girl. For once, he doesn't call her that annoying nickname he loves to use.
And he seems concerned?
Shaking her head once, the girl's shoulders tense, eyes pinching shut as she continues to look away from the other fighter. She came here to humiliate the likes of Kiryuu, and yet, all her efforts are clearly in vain. She can't even do that! What the heck is wrong with her..?
Opening a single gray eye, the redhead glances sidelong, toward her white-knuckled fist. Fingers break away from her palms, her eyes carefully observing her hand before she merely exhales, a light scoff delivered before she turns her head away. Is something wrong? Of course there is!
"Nothing is wrong," she replies, surprisingly deadpan and cool.
"Nothing at all." Lifting her head, she delivers a sweet smile...before she tears off like a shot, intending to slam a fist clean into poor Tenma's awaiting stomach. If successful, the redhead follows up by grabbing him by the face and introducing it to her knee before shoving him back, to swing a leg up and deliver a kick cleanly to the underneath of Tenma's jaw.
"JUST FINE AND GODDAMNED DANDY!!"
Marisol is such a terrible liar.
COMBATSYS: Tenma endures Marisol's Chain Reaction.
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Marisol 1/----===/=======|=======\==-----\1 Tenma
The sweet smile, faked or not, looks genuine enough. At least, genuine enough to send a shiver of utmost wrongness down Tenma's spine. Ugh. Creepy!
Then, suddenly, Marisol is upon him, and there's not a whole lot of time for Tenma to do anything... It is, then, time to take a risk. Gamble for all the donuts. So he gets punched right in the gut, then meeting Marisol's bare knee with his face, before getting kicked right in the jaw, the motion on Marisol's part probably answering any lingering doubts about the status of her undergarments.
Tenma's proverbial block is very nearly knocked right off, and from the impact of the last blow he drops towards the ground in a low kneeling crouch, catching himself by embedding his bokken in the floor.
This might be a warning sign; the part where Tenma lets out a faint, but audible 'heh' is another good one.
Cracks spiderweb across the floor from the impact point of the bokken, widening to emit gouts of blood, which this close to Marisol barely have time to coalesce into the familiar draconic forms before they start to converge on the redhead. Any studio equipment on the way is also subject to the ensuing havoc, as Tenma unleashes his power on the poor, unsuspecting set of 'Hardball', with Christ Matthews!
"GO TO HELL, RED!!"
COMBATSYS: Tenma successfully hits Marisol with Hell of Blood.
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Marisol 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|==-----\-------\0 Tenma
As creepy as it may be to Tenma, Marisol is more concerned with delivering a nasty set of blows to Tenma's face, as opposed to leading him on with lies or delaying the fight further. Her blood boils--she's angry and vengeful and wants to hurt him badly. But she can't even do that. It's like her fight with Preston all over again. Has she lost it, really?
The thoughts haunt her like a bad memory, serving as a suitable distraction as she executes the blows. While it jars the Gedo swordsman, it does not serve its purposely utterly; if anything, the half-Spaniard girl is left prone, which in turn leaves her open for the sudden swath of red that cuts across the set, dragons of blood-chi racing at her. They strike their mark, launching the girl back and away from Tenma, slamming the girl into the distant wall with a heavy, audible thud. A wet thud.
As the proverbial dust settles, however, the redhead isn't down and out. Instead, half-pinned to the wall in her imprint, she slowly peels herself forward, prying her body off the wall like wet tape to fall to her feet, staggering like a drunk. Her movements are erratic, her balance awry as she moves forward--toward Tenma, breathing heavily. Around the girl, an odd yellow haze forms, as she takes every step closer toward him.
But her feet stop; the haze, however, does not. It grows, in fact, as gray eyes fix on Tenma.
And then she lets out a low growl.
"N-no, YOU go to hell, Kiryuu," she states, her words frighteningly subdued, but wavering.
Pushing off her heel, the redhead lunges for Tenma, with every intention of opening a can of pain on him with three chi-laced hooks, followed by an uppercut. And should they properly land, the girl ceases briefly, to snare him by the collar and headbutt him savagely, before shoving back and dropping low, to deliver one last, painful uppercut to his jaw!
COMBATSYS: Marisol successfully hits Tenma with Cloud Nine.
- Power hit! -
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Marisol 0/-------/---====|=======\-------\1 Tenma
Or maybe Marisol is just sending out invitations to a pity party!
When he sees her coming at him again, Tenma tries to block the initial strikes, but he just can't get his defenses up in the way of the enraged girl. In fact, they crumble pretty thoroughly under Marisol's furious assault, leaving him to get battered quite soundly by the redhead, the last uppercut driving him back with a startled expression on his face.
Dammit, not this again, Tenma thinks to himself; why can't he ever get a decisive victory against Marisol, no matter how good he starts off? It's always a loss, or at best...
A growl of Tenma's own escapes the Guardian King, as he stumbles to recover himself, and once more drives his bokken into the floor, setting more cracks in the poor set, as more raging bloody dragons erupt forth at Marisol, trying to engulf the girl entirely and take her out. Like hell he's just going to lie down and let her have the win...!!
COMBATSYS: Tenma can no longer fight.
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Marisol 0/-------/---====|
COMBATSYS: Marisol dodges Tenma's Hell of Blood.
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Marisol 0/-------/---====|
And then there were fists.
Pity party or no, Marisol finally lands her mark, blow after excruciating blow delivered onto the Kiryuu scion, to pommel the youth senseless. Angry and bitter at her inability to just utterly dominate this fight. Onlookers have since scattered, giving the two bitter rivals their much-needed room to punch and stab one another senseless. Like hell they'll get caught in that. It's probably for the best.
Driven back from the half-Spaniard girl's final uppercut, the redhead just maintains that cold, fierce expression on her face, gray eyes hooded as she observes the Gedo swordsman carefully. He dominated the fight, putting the girl against the ropes. And at the last minute, somehow...she managed to level the fight.
That means nothing, however. Still--still does the redhead wonder. Is she really losing her edge?
She turns, beginning to walk away from the Guardian King...until a growl catches her ear. Blinking once, the half-Spaniard peers over her shoulder as the swordsman recovers, the stage wreathed in veins of red once more as he focuses his dangerous chi. How..?
Taking a deep breath in, the half-Spaniard holds her ground until the very last, leaping and tumbling out of harm's way, as the blood dragons slam again into the wall in their efforts to take the girl out of the fight as well. But for now...she's somehow safe.
Somehow.
Eyeing the Guardian King carefully as he leans on his bokken, the girl struggles for breath, content on merely gazing at Tenma. He's definitely better. Stronger. Faster. He certainly gave the half-Spaniard a run for her money today. But what does it mean..?
"So, okay. No fluke," she offers.
Marisol says nothing thereafter. Win or lose, the bloodied, bruised and aching redhead just turns her back to the other fighter and everyone gathered, silently making her way off stage toward backstage.
There's a bitter taste in her mouth, and she doesn't like it one bit...
COMBATSYS: Marisol has ended the fight here.
Log created on 18:29:41 08/15/2008 by Marisol, and last modified on 22:26:09 08/26/2008.