Description: People do not go to the beach during severe storm watches, unless they're thrillseeking surfers or what have you. It has been established thematically that fighters, established or hopeful or anything in between, probably do not qualify anywhere near the concept of 'normal people,' as seen when two guys from America decide to throw down.
Southtown is under yet another Typhoon watch. With a light but not unmanageable rain already happening, the beach may very well be furthest from the minds of people today on this otherwise fine, if rainy, Sunday. Which is kind of ironic, as it is a Sunday without the sun. The irony used to be really funny when Pacific High's shop teacher, Howard Rust, was a kid. It was the sort of joke they'd put on children's television programs.
He's been out in storms many times in life, especially back home in the US when construction absolutely needed to be done. He needed the money, it was good pay, and he escaped serious injury in nearly all of the closest calls on the job. Despite having a body that yells 'indoors,' much of his earlier years were very much 'outdoors.' The rain is part of it. A good, clean rain, light as it is right now.
The salty air encourages erosion. The sort of thing one probably would not want to brandish a favored metallic object around in, but Ol' Rusty - or to anybody else, just a random length of pipe picked up out of a ditch (spoilers: yes it is) points out towards sea through the hand of its master, a steeled - or rather, rusted - gaze off into the distance of the increasingly violent waves looking to nip at his boots.
Then he starts to spin the pipe around his hand in a number of simplistic rotating sleight-of-hand tricks, which five seconds later sees itself dropping out of his hand and into the moist sand below with a displeased grunt.
Ten years ago... bah, that was a long time ago, it can't have decayed him /that/ much. Can it, even after being fed up with the likes of Igniz thrashing his school?
Zach had initially chosen this day for a jog. His reason were simple enough; despite any statements that he had a job that was not fighting, it /was/ where the majority of his money was coming in from. Recent fights had more than illustrated areas where he could improve. What point in there was having a (considered) monsterous amount of psychic energy to fling around when you were too busy gasping for air to fling anything?
So Zach was jogging when it started to rain. This really encouraged him... to finish the run a bit faster. Dry clothes and a hot shower were waiting at the YFCC. As sneakered shoes stamp down on the boardwalk, green eyes spy another individual using the beach. Zach, interested in what this guy is swinging around, slows to a walk. 'A club. Has to be,' Zach thinks to himself as he watches Rust drop the pipe. Zach winces a bit at the clumsiness, and then is made curious once more when he realizes that it actually /is/ a pipe.
Glen comes to a stop, and watches for a moment.
...and Marisol handily dealing with him, and the midget pervert, and some guy with a mohawk robbing lockers, and random young teenage girls getting the jump on him... yeah, of course you've fallen off since you started going to college... that's why you're out here on a rare moment you have some time to yourself, the teacher thinks as he bends over to pick up the pipe with a crack in his knee sounding over the ambient waves, wind, and rain while the breeze whips about the greatest lie he puts upon himself - the combover that desperately tries to say he hasn't already lost his hair.
Maybe today's a bust, he thinks. He should probably go back to campus and fire up the grill instead for a burger or something, turning on a heel to head back the way he came, resting the pipe on his shoulder when he finds that he's being... watched?
"Hell of a day to be out on the beach, huh," he says in passing with his usual gravelly voice as he starts to walk off.
Zach pushes his uncapped hair, now sopping wet, back over his head as he looks up towards the rain. He laughs a bit at the older man's statement before looking Rust over. He tilts his head to one side slightly.
"Yeah," Zach says, "I suppose it is, but training isn't supposed to stop for the weather, right?" Zach eyes Rust one more time. Odd. Zach thought he at least knew of all of the American fighters residing in Southtown. "New around here, or just passing through?"
"Ahh, just some rain," says Mr. Rust while raising his free hand and lowering it in a dismissive gesture, he continues along the sand at an awful casual pace given the weather and what could be here in time that is usually cause for worry! "I teach over at... at Pacific, right around there," pointing with his hand the way he's going, "shop class, been here for about a year." One of the longest years of his life.
He stops in his tracks about two seconds later. Hey, that guy's face. "Hey. Hey. One second," he turns around to look over the guy again. Kind of short, purplish hair... the cap... oh, wait! His face goes from the passively faint hint of defeat from day to day life to surprise. "Aren't you... Zach Glen?"
Zach nods. Pacific High, huh? It's been a while since he had been there. Maybe he should pay Roy a visit at some point. It's been a while. Zach blinks once at the older man, then grins with a slight amusement. He nods once as he leans forward on one of the walk-way posts, resting on his elbows. "Last I checked," Zach says lightly. "And you are?"
The grin is actually lightly unsettling to Mr. Rust, in a way. Not terribly so. Zach's a prize fighter, maybe he's just really used to random people on the street going 'hey, you're so and so' which is probably kind of rude given he might be going some other way, after all it /is/ raining a bit.
"Me? My name's Howard." Transposing Ol' Rusty to his left hand and pointing it down towards the ground, he extends his right hand to Zach for a handshake. "Howard Rust. It's, it's nice to meet you." The comma there is holding back a cough that's been aggravating him for a while.
If Zach takes it, it's a nice, firm handshake. A plain, vanilla handshake. He's offering it as the two both hail from the same country, and that is how men of America greet!
Zach's just a smiley guy, even when he isn't sure how to handle something like this, so he takes it with whatever grace he can muster. Even with the distinct combination of stature and hair color, not too many people stop Glen for an atugraph. Zach reaches out and takes the hand. Zach's grip is also firm, but likely swallowed in Rust's larger hand. "Nice to meet you too," Zach answers honestly enough.
After the manly hand-shaking is done, Zach flexes his hand a bit, looking Rust over again. "Pretty good grip, there," Zach says.
"Yeah? Uh... hope I didn't shake you too hard," he might not be among the leagues of the greatest fighters of mankind but Howard Rust is not a slight man! It's not stated mockingly, after all, this is Zach Glen - who is fairly famous for short fights decided by a handful of decisive blows, if the two fought Zach would probably bowl him over, unless the Rust man himself is further along in ability than he believes himself to be.
Withdrawing the hand after the manly American shake, he clears his throat a bit and pats his chest with his free fist. "If you're headed somewhere, won't keep you out here much longer. Rain's going to get worse. When my elbow here gets sore," he flexes his right elbow to specify, which creaks an unnaturally arthritic creak given he's not even forty yet, "that means there's some rough weather coming." That or you could listen to the weathermen who have been talking about typhoons to watch out for from the last few months!
Zach still grins, though a bit more softly. "Nah," Zach says, waving off what could have been taken as an insult. "Just thinking that you'd probably throw one heck of a punch if you wanted to. I've heard that grip strength is needed for the really solid punches."
Zach pushes himself upright from his leaning, muscles nice and warmed up from the jog, but not overly hot thanks to the rain and brief respite. "Wanna give it a go? See if I'm right?"
Funny Zach says that, as Howard doesn't actually consider himself much of a punching person in the absolute literal sense, but it says a lot when a very prominent prize fighter thinks he could throw a really good one. But right before he could really comment about it, having decided to scratch the back of his neck while thinking of what to say to that, the invitation comes soon after.
"You want to go?" He sounds unsure at first. Afternoon's good and free for the first time in a while, practice is getting him nowhere... class may or may not be in tomorrow depending on the weather (even though he'll be called upon to make sure things will hold up okay so that potential boon is moot)... and you want to do this, don't you, Howard.
He's stuck in the mundane and almost all but resigned to it, but there's still that spark in him left that speaks out to him saying 'yes, yes, you want to do this, c'mon, are you even thinking no, what the hell man, what are you, you still have the pipe in your hand so that means you still want it so do it.'
"Sure." He speaks up again because this first one's a mumble. "Sure. It's... it's, it's an honor." It really is, as almost reluctant as the tone may sound. Zach is established! So was Marisol and Marisol trounced him pretty good, but this is just another guy who had his heart on fighting one way or the other, just like himself. Something free of the student/teacher and adult/child baggage or the ensuing threat of some malcontent trying to harm the school or its students. The exact sort of thing he's always wanted to do!
Transposing Ol' Rusty back to his right hand and pointing it down towards the ground, he puts his right foot forward and lowers his head a little. His game face, if he even has one nowadays, is hard to discern from whatever he was wearing for an expression moments before, but this is probably about as good as it gets on short notice. "Ready. Ready when you are."
COMBATSYS: Zach has started a fight here.
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Zach 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Rust has joined the fight here.
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Zach 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Rust
Zach slides his feet apart and takes up a familiar, somewhat foot-bouncy looking stance as he eyes Rust carefully for a moment. 'That pipe is a problem,' Zach thinks as he shuffle steps a bit. He considers for another moment, and decides that his best bet is to get inside Rust's range quickly. Hopefully it will be more difficult to bring that pipe to use.
That move would be a good starter, then. Purple psycho-power splashes forth around his fist as Zach /lunges/ towards Rust with such force that he leaves his feet and sails towards the larger man with a cry of "BURN KNUCKLE!"
COMBATSYS: Rust blocks Zach's Zero Stance.
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Zach 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Rust
The teacher has a different problem upon evaluating how he's going to try and measure up against Zach's gameplan - the sand. Some approaches he might already be trying to run through his head in the small allotment of time given between the shouted attack name may not work simply because the ground below him isn't solid and steady enough.
Zach getting inside Rust's range may be to the latter's advantage, although the awful familiar attack cry escapes him as opposed to the sudden flash of purple energy and the quickly approaching former Contender's Belt holder gets him to take a defensive posture immediately. Which, to Zach's surprise, may not involve the pipe! It's a simple flex of his left arm as he leans a little into the blow, catching it in the upper arm.
Catching it in a place that hurts less is one thing. It doesn't make it hurt /that/ much less, eliciting a low groan of exertion as he gets hit by... something. There wasn't any real physical weight behind it in the least, but there was something /else/ and it feels off. Whatever it is...
The positioning isn't as advantageous as may first appear, as the sheer power behind it pushes him back a good yard or two, but it's only one solid step he needs to take before he can thrust his head downward - terrible combover and all - in the vicinity of Zach, the motion of such carrying just enough momentum to skid him forward a tad.
Is 'a tad' enough to tag Zach Glen with this unassuming headbutt of pretty much zero note other than the fact that it is a short rushing headbutt that may or may not have its power fueled by his sinister lack of hair? Howard sure thinks so if he's doing it!
COMBATSYS: Zach dodges Rust's Hardhat Rush.
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Zach 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Rust
Zach lands lightly on his feet after the strike, and sees Rust coming back in to deliver some serious combover! Glen throws himself to the side, sliding to a stop at Rust's flank. His eyes are wide; a guy Rust's size can put some serious oomph behind a headbutt like that.
Zach takes a slightly skipping step backwards, landing in a low crouch. He brings a fist up, before slamming it into the sands with a shout of "POWER WAVE!"
True to form, a blast of purple energy screams forth along the ground, as if to chase Rust down and send him flying!
COMBATSYS: Rust endures Zach's Warning Shot.
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Zach 0/-------/-----==|======-\-------\0 Rust
Thick as he may be, Rust falls short of being a giant. Someone like Birdie or even local Pacific students Boman and Preston completely dwarf him in size. He's even a single inch shorter than Roy Bromwell himself, but he must pack at least something of a punch if he can hit. Being able to hit, of course, being the key.
He's far more prepared than he looks after a maneuver that simply appears dangerous as he rights himself up to a stand after hitting air, the corner of his eye finding Zach moving aside and back - so it's to the distance game, something Howard has trouble with! When Zach screams the name, Ol' Rusty and its wielder are already moving in, if not with great celerity.
Sand is blasted aside in great numbers with the oncoming purple energy. So far as he himself can see, he is being attacked by blasted sand and can barely see the purple energy behind it - especially when sand gets in his eyes, making him wince right when he makes another very timely step forward.
So timely that he steps onto the purple energy past the stand which jerks his knee so suddenly into the air that it would be a wonder if the blow didn't break it, launching him off his feet, all right, in a way akin to how someone like Haggar could ram through whole armies of two bit thugs with nary a rest. Howard Rust's leg - and the rest of him - is the embodiment of these countless thugs in this equation.
The problem is that thanks to the direction he was already going when sprung, he's now flying at Zach. One eye opens, free of sand but unsure of how high in the air he is. He could hazard a guess. The fact that only sand is below him makes the split-second determination of how high in the air he is and how far he may be flying a lot more forgiving in terms of readying for a less painful landing.
Maybe Zach will break his fall. He isn't aware that he's on a crash course with the prize fighter and if he's not in dire need to go to the hospital after the fact it may be something worth laughing over, but flying in the air after feeling like your leg has shattered to many little pieces is not... exactly... very funny in itself.
COMBATSYS: Zach blocks Rust's Crashing Down.
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Zach 0/-------/----===|=======\-------\0 Rust
Zach's eyes go wide. As inexperienced as he is, he knows a bad fall when he sees it coming. He throws his arms up, bracing as best he can in the sand, and catches Rust as the larger man falls. He winces slightly; there's a significant weight difference between the two.
He sets the shop teacher down on his feet, and takes a couple of steps back. "A for effort, Rust," Zach says gamely as he catches his breath. He looks like he'll wait for Rust to regain his bearings a bit before he does anything...
COMBATSYS: Zach gains composure.
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Zach 0/-------/-----==|=======\-------\0 Rust
Expert fighters can hone their focus to supernatural precision and catch a breath even in a split second interval allowed. The difference between Zach Glen, who makes a living fighting, and Howard Rust, who barely has the energy in these times to do much of it, is very easy to tell even by a casual eye over the next few seconds.
Hitting Zach takes some wind out of himself on impact, hitting the sand nearby uncomfortably on his back. Miraculously, Ol' Rusty is still in his hand and not flung thirty feet away from the scene. The grip still holds true in battle as much as it did in the handshake. The rest of him does not speak terribly much of that strength, rolling clumsily onto something of a crouch, thrusting Ol' Rusty down on the sand as the rain starts to pour just a little harder. Zach's got two pretty good hits on him. He doesn't sound too winded, too hurt, or anything. His heart races a bit too fast to catch his breath, the collectively sore feeling throughout his body he's lived with in the last couple of years dampening his ability to focus much. The eye that got sandblasted stays shut.
"Yeah... yeah, thanks," he gets out in a low tone as he coughs once, "but... still got some fight."
This probably gives him away completely, but there is a certain shame here - Zach seems ready to count him out after that last one. True, that leg stings like the dickens and he doesn't feel compelled to stand on it and that may be more than can be said for other people who have taken it.
He's not going to get any younger! He may have never been in a commercial fighting scene but he's fought for a good long time, he has street experience... so why can't he play that up? It's not without warning because he did just say he still has fight left in him, but that doesn't stop him from flopping down onto his side as though he were to collapse in exertion. This isn't the case. Rather, he suddenly swings outward with Ol' Rusty in a rather clumsy-looking swing to the furthest edge of his reach, spraying sand in equal volumes to the gifted (cursed?) strength of Zach's power, but that's secondary to the pipe swing that goes straight for the ankles in what would be much more appropriate as a sliding strike.
Sliding strikes are hard to do in the sand. Zach would have to settle with the teacher just trying real hard to hit him low from the ground.
COMBATSYS: Zach dodges Rust's Foundation Layer.
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Zach 0/-------/-----==|=======\-------\0 Rust
Zach takes a surprisingly high leap to avoid the incoming pipe. He obviously put more into it that he had intended, as can be seen by the slight sparkling trail of psychic energy that drizzles harmlessly to the ground. Zach stays aloft for a slightly too-long moment, his green eyes wide with surprise.
He shifts his weight slightly, and drops from the darkening sky, his left leg coated in what almost looks like a purple armored boot. There is something of a grin on his face as he comes down. The pipe swing was a bit more than he expected from Rust.
COMBATSYS: Rust interrupts Blast Bash from Zach with Cement Upper.
- Power hit! -
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Zach 0/-------/--=====|=======\===----\1 Rust
Zach's movements are textbook for fighters. Jumping up and away is an easy way to handle the Foundation Layer. Rust half-expects it when he makes the swing, which is why he always, always leads it with Ol' Rusty and tries to make sure he hits closer to the tip in order to ensure the fact that he's on the ground and prone is a little harder to take advantage of if they don't leap directly /at/ him.
Zach does. Inherently, in this exchange of strikes he'd be doomed, were it not for Zach deciding to hang in the alt for 'slightly too-long.' The issue here is that Howard's leg is still making screaming motions and he can't be bothered to wipe the sand off his eye because his gloves also have sand and it'd just mean more scratchy itchy kind of wet packed sand against his eye and that is not fun and the moment this fight is over he's yanking the glove off with his teeth and rubbing that poor eye. The thickening rain would really help in cleaning it off but so far, it hasn't.
But enough on the eye.
Working from an incredibly awkward position prone on the ground, Zach comes down hard if not as fast as it could have been to seal the teacher's fate. Maybe it's the grin that almost sets the teacher off. Raising his right hand again, he spins Ol' Rusty about in a few good rotations, like seen when Zach first came upon him. It doesn't fly out of his hand.
Zach comes down. It's hard to call the wide, sweeping motion when practically lying flat on his back an uppercut, but that is just what happens as the mighty Cement Upper, his favored technique that has gotten him out of many tough scrapes in his younger years (which also has precious little to do with anything involving cement except for maybe how hard he can make it hit), is swung up towards the right leg - the one not attacking!
Which means the left leg goes uncontested and stomps him square in the jaw, shoving his head deeper into the sand with a muffled choking noise. It stings about, oh, say half as much if only because of the feedback that goes through his attacking arm that let him know he hit /something/. Half of 'ouch,' however, is still 'ou.' Or 'ow.'
Ow indeed. Zach sprawls out on the sand in the wake of Rust's signature strike. The grin was more excitement than certain victory. He does one of those fancy kippup moves like you see in the martial arts movies, and then rubs his jaw for a moment, as if trying to work it back into place.
"Alrighty, then," Zach says, clearly impressed. He tenses up, and focuses for a moment.
That same purple energy boils forth from Zach's limbs, spilling to the beach sands like tiny drops of rain as the younger man prepares for the next attack...
COMBATSYS: Zach gathers his will.
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Zach 1/-----==/=======|=======\=------\1 Rust
Rust is nowhere near as agile as Zach. Any movie-quality kickflips, you probably won't find here. But the fact he's able to sit up so quickly after getting his jaw busted in with a fresh trail of blood leaking down it, well, maybe that's more his schtick. Zach dances around and blasts people. Rust hangs in there. Somewhat. But he can see here why Zach manages to make fights short. Whatever he's hitting him with, it's agonizing! He can't say that about a lot of things. He's taken falls, workplace accidents, a few gunshots here and there, tanked a few severe thunderstorms... but this, something about this. Maybe it's a simple difference of training and proficiency more than /what/ it is, but he'll be left wondering for a good long while.
The purple energy boils up, almost blinding to the one eye Rust still has open. He doesn't bring his forearm to guard against the light. This may be routine to Zach but to Rust himself, this may very well be a turning point in his life, telling him how he, personally, compares to an established tournament fighter. This day could dictate the rest of his life, whether it is still worth bothering to try. Being strong enough for the kids in a time of need is a powerful motivation in itself, but right here, right now, it's come down to this.
He gets up, favoring the less injured leg. There's nothing more to punctuate about it other than the act of getting up, groaning and pained from taking just a scant few of Zach's overwhelming strikes. But he's up. Ol' Rusty is held back for a moment, as though he were going to wait for Zach to strike next.
He doesn't.
Zach may feel a slight breeze as Ol' Rusty is swing upwards with rapid speed. It's a total miss, except he takes another step forward and repeats this motion with only the tiniest differences in angle but not speed. It's somewhat rhythmic, even, a variety of simple strikes flown out of nowhere as he forces himself with the gritting of his teeth forward, one strike after another in a rather common sort of technique you'd find around the rival schools, advancing upon the charging Zach Glen by practically charging himself. Damn his knee.
Unless halted, this continues until one last uppercut maneuver, punctuated with the usual spin that comes before it, matches that of the Cement Upper to try and force Zach off his feet in an effort that's more akin to trying to work with a rusted nail. Maybe that's what he calls it?
COMBATSYS: Rust successfully hits Zach with Rusty Nail.
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Zach 1/-======/=======|-------\-------\0 Rust
Zach sees Rust coming. He can see the flow of the pipe strokes. He brings his arms up to try and slow them a bit.
The rhythm is just fast enough, just strange enough, that Zach fails to block all of them. The rusted pipe batters Zach nearly senseless for a moment, causing his vision to swim for a moment.
Zach staggers back several paces in order to put some space between himself and Rust. He's not breathing too hard, having taken a slightly slower pace in this fight to get Rust's measure. However, he knows that he cannot take too many more hits with that pipe. Rust seemed to invest a lot in that move. Maybe it is time for Zach to show some of his own investment....
Zach dashes forward, skidding to a halt less than a foot in front of the larger man. He brings one of those glowing fists towards the sky once more. "POWEEER!"
The fist slams down. On the impact, a massive gout of that purple power erupts from the strike point... and right in Rust's face! "GEYSER!"
COMBATSYS: Zach successfully hits Rust with Burst Stream.
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Zach 0/-------/--=====|=======\-------\0 Rust
The teacher's shoulder cracks on the last of the several swings, almost muted by the rain. He breathes heavily, having exerted plenty in his attempts to match Zach's strength. He seems to have succeeded in small bursts, as Zach appears to struggle to stay on his feet too. The adrenaline fades, the leg that got blasted goes back to threatening to secede to amputation or /something/ to get out of its owner's abusive use of it.
He's not going to be stepping back up to Zach over the next few seconds, which is problematic when Zach looks ready to let loose his power. Then Zach comes closer. Whatever it is this time, Howard believes himself ready. (He believed himself ready with the headbutt, and look where that went...) The fist goes up, he makes a split second decision between tensing to take it or going for gold in that one last moment.
Or commenting. "Terry?" The brow over the non-itchy eye raises a little, /now/ he notices. This means he has picked neither proper bracing nor skillfully inserting a timely attack to try and stop it outright as the fist slams down, the massive geyser of that purple power erupting at his feet. It's more like someone just shelled Sound Beach, given the sand that flies everywhere in the explosive display and that Howard Rust goes flying into the air again.
But there was a single nervous twitch before impact, where his right arm thrusts a bit towards Zach moments before the explosive display. There's not much to say of it from here, except when the teacher goes flying up, if that pipe so much as accidentally hitches itself around Zach's shirt and yanks upward, he's going for the ride too.
The teacher wouldn't be aware if that fortunate accident occurs, what with pain flooding the entirety of his senses. Point blank blasts of that sort? They're loud. He goes high, he goes back, and he's going to be too faint to ready the landing. Let's hope Zach didn't end up coming for the ride with him.
COMBATSYS: Rust can no longer fight.
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Zach 0/-------/--=====|
COMBATSYS: Rust successfully hits Zach with Wrecking Ball Swing.
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Zach 0/-------/=======|
Zach is not fortunate. He's hooked, and flung by Rust's pipe. Fortunately for both of them, Zach does not need as much torque to go flying. He realizes in mid-flight, however, that Rust is not going to be ready for the landing. He needs to get down quicker. Zach twists his wrists, and aims with his palms before firing a wrenching blast of psycho power from both hands to send him rocketing (or maybe lawn darting) to the beach before Rust can crash land. The smaller man throws up a large spray of sand, even as he spins and braces up to catch Rust once more.
The impact is enough to bowl both men over, but at least no serious injury results. Zach sets Rust down gently, to see if the older man wakes up.
COMBATSYS: Zach has ended the fight here.
It's not the first time Howard Rust's fainted or come close to it when hurled high into the air. He's still not sure how he managed to fight off Cracker Jack when half-buried in concrete he fell through. Or getting blasted by Igniz with such power that he ended up paving a downward ramp into the underground. A part of him, the 'conscious' part to be precise, hasn't any idea if he really came that close to being a match to Zach, other than that last few strikes he got on him. The grip on Ol' Rusty still remains with a certain strength completely absent in the rest of him.
There may be no excessively serious injury from the fall, which is one of the nice things about sand - to a degree, it's safe to land upon. But considering Zach's power, there's no doubt that he's suffered some legitimate injury. Having passed out somewhere in mid-flight, the teacher doesn't seem like he's going to wake up within the next few minutes.
Blood soaks the knee where he was first struck stepping into a makeshift power wave, not to mention the trail going down his jaw, which the rain could gladly wash away. But who'd leave a grown man unconscious around Southtown?
Not Zach, that's for sure. Being passed out in Southtown is a good way to have bad thins happen to you. Zach simply hefts the man as best he can, and heads for Pacific High. Dude said he was heading back that way before the fight anyway, and Zach's certain that they have a good clinic there, what with all of the fighters there.
It'll be quite the trip, what with the encroaching storms and the man's weight (which he could stand to lose some of!) and perhaps some of Zach's own compounding entries, but given how often fights happen, chances are people over there will be understanding. Especially the students that are not doing well in his class and could look forward to either the storms canceling class or him having to call it off due to injury, something he used to not do back when he was younger.
He's sure paid the price now, what with an overworked body tired well before its time, but yet he still wants to see how far he would go if he felt ready to step into a real fighting competition. But did that ambition, slightly childish as it is, come to an end today with this defeat?
Time would tell.
Log created on 16:01:34 08/17/2008 by Rust, and last modified on 19:56:09 08/17/2008.