Description: Poison and Vice hold a blood-tasting party on the Metro Bridge. ( Winner: Vice )
It was muggy. There really wasn't any other way to describe the day. It was supposed to be getting colder as winter progressed, but by some trick of global warming, hurricane elsewhere, or miscellenous other reasons, it was warm, edging on hot. And considering the rainshower in the early afternoon, it was still a bit damp. Miserable, all things considered... at least miserable for Vice. She had been waiting here for about twenty minutes already, waiting for the camera crew to set their business up upon the sides of the street. The city, being ever-so-accomadating, had shut down a couple lanes of the four-lane highway, traffic almost literally crawling on the other side of the cordon.
And Vice was annoyed. She was used to the prefight bull that went on beforehand, all the... guys hanging cameras around, the officials arriving and whatever else. That didn't mean she particularly had to like it. Leaning against one of the girders of the side of the bridge, the woman was dressed rather nicely. It wasn't any different than the outfit she had worn to tournaments, to Neo Leagues, to anything else she ever appeared in public in, but it was nice, and suited her, the red-and-black dress with stockings her staple to such events. And hey, if it wasn't broke, why fix it? If she had her druthers, however...
A slowing car with a man sticking his head out of it and shouting some obscenity in the direction of the fighters breaks her chain of thought, Vice pursing her lips as she gives her head a flick, the golden earrings she wears catching the light of the fading sun. Her brow was furrowed, the annoyance that was growing by the moment inside of herself shown very clearly upon her features. This thing had best start soon.
Meanwhile, Poison takes her time. It's a damn hot day, yeah, and that's why she's not in any hurry. It's so muggy that the humidity is sticking to her bared flesh, and giving her thin white top a dampness that helps to ensure that this fight will only ever be broadcast on television after severe editing. The pace of her strut is positively lazy, and yet it only serves to emphasize the vampishness of her walk -- given the schedule to do so, her posturing only grows louder and louder.
She's smoking a cigarette, letting the smooth smoke roll off of her tongue as she pulls the cancer stick away from her lips. "Sorry I'm late," she purrs at the unit's director, reaching out to touch the collar of his shirt -- but then, after that teasing touching, pulling away, turning to face Vice. The pink-haired, statuesque Mad Gear O.G. looks like she's had a rough night; the most telling sign of this is the healing but still visible split lip. She drops the cigarette on the ground, eyes traveling toward her opponent's, and grinding the cigarette out. "So," Poison Kiss says, mouth curling slightly into the nebulous territory between sneer and smirk, "ready to do this?"
Vice's unsteady eyes lift, and fix their gaze upon Poison as she strolls into the area. In an instant, however, her expression changes from that of annoyance, to an easy, 'you can't be serious' sort of smirk. Straightening up a bit where she stands, Vice cants her head to one side, her eyes flickering up and down over the form of the woman opposite. She looked like such a frail little thing, but in a business where little boys could shoot fireballs and jump over lampposts... why couldn't this... person do the same?
The painted lips of Vice twist upwards, that smirk taking on an amused bent. Uncrossing her arms, she takes a step away from the side of the bridge... and seems to trip or collapse where she stands, her left leg sticking out behind herself as her face meets pavement. However, she catches herself upon her hands moments before that happens, Vice putting quite the arch to her back as she pushes her torso back up again. Chest jutting out, she releases a low groan as she pulls her right foot forward, first, then her left, as she rises back up to her feet proper. Once upon her feet entirely, however, the backward arch to her posture reverses, Vice slumping forward as she lets her arms hang loose, the woman staring out of the tops of her eyes towards Poison.
"Could be interesting, interesting..." the woman says, her voice bearing a steady tone. "...you first." she says, the bemusement in her expression spiking.
Poison reaches up to adjust her hat, making sure that the fascist-chic accessory is /just so/ as Vice lurches up and forward. Her own impression is that she's fighting some kind of painkiller addict, which she reasons is not only an easy victory but just good business sense on her part. "You sure?" she asks, pretty much entirely as a formality. "'Kay, then." Her fists come up, in a stance that's a bit like a boxer's, but more loose and informal. She sways a bit, too, getting her spirits going, her momentum charged.
And then, with a sudden step forward and a sharp, whipped swing of her fist, Poison lunges forward with a bare-knuckle jab, swinging right for Vice's cheek!
COMBATSYS: Poison has started a fight here.
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Poison 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Vice has joined the fight here.
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Vice 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Poison
COMBATSYS: Poison successfully hits Vice with Quick Strike.
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Vice 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Poison
There is a twitch, Vice's hunch straightening in an instant as she leans towards one side... just a little bit too slow, the jab clocking the woman right in the chops. Staggering a bit in the direction of the punch, Vice lifts her chin back up, a certain fire blazing in her eye as she lunges forward, a snarl upon her lips. But instead of punching towards Poison's face, as Vice's uplifted hand might suggest, the woman flicks her arm downwards, falling into a bit of a crouch as she hopes to grab Poison by the ankle.
Should Vice get her evil little clutches upon Poison, she would yank back, and effortlessly toss the woman the woman over her shoulder. Thankfully, not towards traffic, or off the bridge entirely. Not yet.
COMBATSYS: Poison fails to interrupt Deicide from Vice with Light Kick.
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Vice 0/-------/------=|======-\-------\0 Poison
Poison is grabbed -- and the wet heat of the day fails to add sufficient slipperiness for her to break free. Rather than pull back, then, she tries to lunge forward, and abort the attempt to throw her with a knee to the solar plexus --
-- just as Poison is about to swing her leg up, though, she finds herself airborn. She lands with a sharp crack on her shoulders, hat dropping off of her head in mid-air and clattering on the pavement of the bridge. Poison's spine folds like an accordion, bending her body into a nearly obscene shape as her legs splay out, knees just about touching her shoulders. "Hh--ungh."
With a sharp hiss, Poison snaps her legs together and rolls back over one shoulder, ending on her knees and readying herself to charge. "That's all you got?" she taunts, even though she has blood trickling from one corner of her mouth.
There is a grunt of satisfaction from Vice at the fall of the other. Rolling her neck to a series of crackling noises, Vice twists towards the other woman, her painted lips parting in a wide, toothy grin. "No. We're just getting started, you and I." she says, voice nearly a coo. Back hunched forward again, Vice takes a step towards Poison, then another, her heels clattering upon the pavement as she picks up in speed.
As she draws near the pink-haired punk, Vice drops her shoulder, almost throwing her body at Poison, shoulder-first, the Orochi evidently intent upon ramming the woman, shoulder-first.
COMBATSYS: Vice successfully hits Poison with Mayhem.
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Vice 0/-------/----===|=======\====---\1 Poison
Poison has precious seconds to prepare -- but it's not enough, as her reflexes, possibly dulled by spinal damage, possibly just not a match for Vice's either way, fail to carry her out of the path of Vice's vicious shoulder-check. "Gnnuhh!" the petty (and pretty) thug spits, as Vice connects squarely with her diaphragm, knocking the wind right out of her. She topples backward, rolling on the wet pavement from the force of the impact.
Poison pushes herself up, and hisses again, sweeping her bottle-pink hair back with one hand. "Nice hit," she coos, reaching for her hat and putting it on before standing up. "Haven't taken a pounding like that in too long." As if to sledgehammer the insinuation home, Poison runs a thumb along the belt line of her cutoffs, smoothing it out. And -- oh dear.
A switchblade is produced. "Hope you don't mind me trying to even things up a bit?" The knife is flicked open and thrown, its silver blade glinting in the light as it whirls toward Vice.
COMBATSYS: Vice blocks Poison's Knife Throw.
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Vice 0/-------/----===|=======\====---\1 Poison
Vice's reaction is quick. Straightening up to something resembeling a civilized posture as she recovers from delivering the blow, her eyes unfocus as she gazes towards Poison, the response to her praise nothing but a widening of Vice's smile. At least, until the glimmering blade arcs towards her face. Expression switching to a snarl in an instant, Vice jerks her face out of the way, bringing up a hand to grab the knife before it strikes her. And grab it she does. Only her fingers don't quite wrap around the handle. Blood leaks from between her clenched fingers, although the flow wasn't quite as copious as one would expect from your average joe, her expression growing angrier.
"...Damn you." she says darkly, tossing the knife, (along with a splattering of blood), off to one side. Hoping to cross the difference between herself and Poison with a few vaulting steps, Vice would yank out her hand, trying to catch Poison by the arm, hair... anything, really, tug the woman to herself. Assuming Vice got that far, she would spin towards one of the girders, and give Poison quite the shove in that direction, hopefully driving the woman into the metal construct.
COMBATSYS: Poison interrupts Quick Throw from Vice with Thrown Object.
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Vice 0/-------/---====|=======\=======\1 Poison
Emboldened by blood being drawn, Poison offers a leering grin as Vice tries to seize her. She goes along with it -- but as Vice swings her, she forces a change in her trajectory, tumbling into one of the cameramen. The circumstances are then taken advantage of -- and as Poison stumbles, tilting back and falling, she manages to wrest the camera away and throw it at Vice. The ethical fallacy of this action is entirely ignored, as Poison's heel proves too tall a spike to catch her balance on, sending her sprawling into the sound equipment.
Wily. Having figured that Poison would be stunned from being slammed into the metal sidepost of the bridge, the last thing the woman quite expected was one of those heavy cameras striking her head. Wincing mightly as the heavy object wings off the top of her skull, Vice stands there a moment, posture scrunched, and shoulders hunched, stunned. Ow. ...ow. OW!
Gritting her teeth against the lingering pain, Vice's gaze grows further unfocused, the woman clutching her hands together. "DON'T!" she calls out, her voice rising and wavering rather strongly. One of those hands, still clutched into a fist, lifts up in the air, Vice leaping forward towards wherever Poison would be now. Hopefully, still on the ground. With a ragged cry, Vice brings that fist down, hoping to hammer it into the gangster.
COMBATSYS: Vice successfully hits Poison with Monstrosity.
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Vice 0/-------/--=====|>>>>>>>\>>>>>>>\2 Poison
"UGH!" Poison eats a fist to the throat. Well, 'eat' is a poor choice of words, although she certainly does choke it down, hacking and gagging and clutching at her neck as she struggles to breathe. She doesn't have much that she can do in such a situation, other than writhe and pray not to die; if the thug is going to go out, though, she'll at least go out swinging, and her leg comes up in a savagely rude attempt to strike between Vice's legs with the sharp spike of her heel. It is a remarkably uncouth attack that could be held against the Mad Gear maiden as evidence of severe sociopathy -- but right now, as she wheezes and takes in air in strained gulps, she doesn't care.
COMBATSYS: Poison has reached second wind!
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Vice 0/-------/--=====|======-\-------\0 Poison
COMBATSYS: Vice fails to interrupt Cheap Shot from Poison with Death Blow.
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Vice 0/-------/-======|======-\-------\0 Poison
Well. Ouch again. Doubly so. Vice made the mistake, unfortunately, of taking a moment to savor the little 'crunch' beneath her fist that was Poison's throat. She did notice that the woman still had some fight in her, and it is with a hissing breath that Vice reaches down, intent upon grabbing Poison by the face... well, when Poison jabs her rather rudely, with a rather strong kick, and a rather pointed end. Needless to say, perhaps, Vice's intentions of clawing out Poison's eyes was doubled in fervour, but while the spirit might have been more than willing, the flesh, as it were, failed her. Clutching her thighs together, Vice growls darkly, (if a bit impotently) falling backwards unto her butt.
"Huhh huhh huhh" gasps Poison as her throat finally loosens enough to allow unfettered passage of air. "S'what hh s'what you get hhhh," she wheezes as she forces herself up to her feet. She stands over Vice, glaring down darkly, mottled and dried flecks of blood marking the spots where she's taken the most punishment. "C'mon, get up -- I got more payback for you, bitch."
Poison has the cold glint of murder in her blue eyes, and reaches down to try and grab Vice by her hair -- which could be hard, since it's so short. All the same, the idea is to force her up -- and then kick her back down by applying a sharp strike with her heel to the back of the woman's knee. That's where the cable from the sound equipment comes in. If the hold maintains -- it lashes down, whizzing toward Vice's back, a good old fashioned hiding.
COMBATSYS: Poison successfully hits Vice with Trip 'n Whip EX.
-* CRITICAL HIT! *-
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Vice 1/-------/=======|=======\-------\1 Poison
It was hard, but Poison's grip in Vice's hair finds purchase. Vice brings up a hand, and Poison would find it rather difficult to keep a hold of the strongly thrashing Vice, but just so luck would have it, Vice's thrashes cause her to stumble, the toe of her boot stuck in a crack upon the sidewalk. Right in time to have Poison hammer the back of her knee. Pain and heat shoot all throughout her leg, and Vice releases a strangled, if angry cry.
Foot feeling a bit numb, and not quite responding as it should, Vice is a sitting duck for Poison's... ah... application of the cable, each lash of the makeshift whip drawing what could be called a yowl from Vice. Whipping out a hand of her own, and trying vainly to ward off the cable, the last lash strikes Vice across the face, drawing more blood from a new cut across her nose. Trying to stumble to her feet, and twist towards Poison, her leg threatens to give out on her again, but she remains upright enough to lash out a quick, if deceptively strong, punch towards the underside of Poison's jaw.
COMBATSYS: Poison blocks Vice's Quick Punch.
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Vice 1/-------/=======|=======\=------\1 Poison
The punch connects, but Poison manages to roll with it, lessening the punishing impact such that she can move quickly to wrap the cable -- wet with Vice's blood -- around her opponent's wrist. This trap is not very constrictive, and pretty easy to slip out of, but Poison's more concerned with acting fast. "Not having much fun now, are you," she sneers, her voice flat with menace.
Poison then yanks forward with the cable, attempting to pull Vice forward so that she can wrap her arm around the Orochi's neck in a reverse headlock. She tries to swing Vice up in a loose, sloppy suplex -- only to suddenly drop her back down, stomach first, onto Poison's bent knee!
COMBATSYS: Poison successfully hits Vice with Ulcer Driver.
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Vice 1/-----==/=======|-------\-------\0 Poison
Lashing around blindly, now, the connection of her fist with Poison's body not quite registered in Vice's mind. Finding her arm lashed, well, Vice yanks her hand out of the cable quickly enough, but not quickly enough to avoid her neck being grabbed like that. Swung up, the air in Vice's lungs is driven from her, leaving Vice coughing and dry retching on the ground. Bleeding from face, and the back of her ruined dress, Vice lifts her head, the look in her eyes pure venom.
With a flowing movement that belies her wounds, she hopes to throw her arms around Poison, Yank her up, off of the ground, twist her around, and then bash her into the ground. Again. Again. Again and again, until her arms burn from the exertion and the scream of rage on her lips dies down with lack of breath. Should she get that far, she would simply toss Poison aside, then bringing up a forearm to wipe across her lips.
COMBATSYS: Vice successfully hits Poison with Withering Surface.
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Vice 0/-------/-----==|=======\-------\1 Poison
Sometimes, rage pays.
It's a good thing that Poison is so familiar with cosmetic surgeons, because the savagery of Vice's assault is horrifying in both execution and results. Poison's head bounces off of the concrete again and again, each time leaving her bloodier, more swollen, features more distorted as her nose breaks, her cheeks bruise, and a thick, shining crimson coats everything, red streams running down her neck to her breasts and staining her top, crimson streaks running deep in her hair.
And then Poison is cast aside. She twitches -- but doesn't rise.
COMBATSYS: Poison takes no action.
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Vice 0/-------/-----==|=======\-------\1 Poison
COMBATSYS: Poison has reached third wind!
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Vice 0/-------/-----==|=======\-------\1 Poison
For the most part, Vice's immeadiate anger was mollified. The secret to her color scheme might be revealed as she drags her bloody face across her sleeve, leaving the material shiny and wet, but as to the color of the blood? It was not noticeable. Glancing across the way to the ravaged body of Poison, Vice turns, ripped skirt swishing awkwardly with each of her steps, her leg still smarting from the kick to the back of her knee. Expression turning into a rictus of anger, Vice brings up her heel, and sets it right upon Poison's sternum, hoping to grind that heel, however unpointy it may be in comparsion to Poison's, right into the pink-haired woman. If all went well, that is.
COMBATSYS: Poison interrupts Light Kick from Vice with Quick Throw.
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Vice 0/-------/----===|=======\====---\1 Poison
COMBATSYS: Poison can no longer fight.
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Vice 0/-------/----===|
"NNNAH!" Poison's eyes snap open just in time to see the foot swinging toward her. It hits, right in the ribs, producing a nice, satisfying, wet crack. But Poison's arms, slathered with blood -- her own, and Vice's -- are up and grab at the assassin's stockinged leg, press-on nails ripping runs in the dark nylon. "Hhh--haaa-agh!" Poison leg-screws Vice, attempting a quick, brutal takedown.
Unfortunately, she can't capitalize -- Poison stands, but is so wobbly that she might as well not have. She struggles to regain her balance and fails, reaching out to slump against one of the bridge's pillars as her vision starts to go fuzzy. Sliding downward onto her rear, she drifts into a peaceful unconsciousness, looking for all the world like she's been hit by a truck.
Vice could care less about the state of her clothing. Which was good at the moment, all things considered. When Poison grabs her leg like that, twists, Vice happens to remember that perhaps pushing down with her 'bum' leg was not a good idea. What leaves her mouth is a wet-sounding scream, baring an undertone of pain. Needless to say, all the cars driving by? Had their windows rolled up right now. Falling down to her knees beside Poison, Vice releases a sharp hiss, blood pushed out between her teeth with each breath. Vice rarely has the urge to beat someone /to/ death. After all, when they die, they cease being fun.
Poison was a little bit of an exception to that rule. Rearing up, Vice drives her fist across the cheek of the fallen woman with a snarl and a cry of, "Trash!" Gathering her hurt leg up beneath her, Vice steps awkwardly away, intent on limping away from this god-forsaken fight, back to what passed for a home for her lately.
COMBATSYS: Vice takes no action.
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Vice 0/-------/----===|
COMBATSYS: Vice has ended the fight here.
The punch strikes Poison and fails to rouse her -- and considering how mutilated her face is already, its effect cannot be immediately seen, save for Poison's unconscious form toppling over to one side, like an abused rag doll.
Log created on 02:20:08 10/08/2008 by Poison, and last modified on 20:24:47 10/08/2008.