Description: Ryuji Yamazaki. He is crazy men. Robert Garcia. He is terrible luck men. At J-Mart. It's a long, long story. But you can get through it!! Those poor stockers--they might not though. :(
Not too many days ago, Robert was washing his car, minding his own business, when Igniz showed up and decided to ruin him for seemingly no reason. At some point, Robert decided that it wasn't worth playing whatever game was going on and just outright took a nap to spite the man.
Unfortunately for poor, poor Robert, Igniz was not in a terribly talkative mood and he is still completely unaware of the fact that he is on the roster for this Strolheim nonsense. He isn't looking up matches, he isn't researching opponents. No. As it so happens, he's right here at the local J-Mart grocery store, doing a bit of shopping for himself and the Kyokugen Clan. He drew the short straw this week, you see. Plus his cars are in better shape. He still hates getting stuck with it though, not just because it's timesink where he could be doing other things, but what if one of the jars or packages break and leak in his car?! Even triple-bagging isn't enough to quell his anxious heart, there's still a risk!
...Anyway. Robert is currently in the haircare aisle, examining the label of a pink bottle. It's hard to guess whether it's for him or for Yuri.
COMBATSYS: Robert has started a fight here.
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Robert 0/-------/-------|
"Oh my word!" "Out of the way, granny!" "EEK MOMMY!!" "YAAHAHAHAHAHAHAH--"
That's about when Yamazaki rounds the corner.
For the record, he's looking a lot better than he was last time he showed up to one of these things, a few days prior for his match with Acacia. Or, at the very least, he's looking more minimally functional. Wearing a tight smoke black pima cotton form-fitting shirt and new 'stonewash/black' jeans with those three hundred dollar monkstrap boots, only his head is actually swathed up in bandages this time--his fighting gloves are on all the same.
Currently looking very much like a bear riding a tricycle, his claws are sunk into the wire frame of a shopping cart filled with two of every meat in the store, a Noah's Ark of butt and roast and was occupying hismelf with trying to run into those slow people who are too busy paying attention in the aisles to notice a marauding Yamazaki. Presumably he was looking for his opponent, too. It was a pian in the ass when they just didn't show up where they were supposed to be and he had to headlock a fight organizer and drag them out to Go. Look. He fixates the moment he gets to the hair care aisle though, running a comb tore out of a bin through (what's not bandaged over) of his hair and then flicking it over a shoulder, to look good for the cameras, and more importantly, Robert.
He knew he'd be here!!
"HEY GARCIA," Yamazaki roars, lifting the entirety of Noah's Barbecue over his head in one hand. "WE STILL GOT A SCORE TO SETTLE!"
Three seconds later, about 157 lbs of a shopping cart stuffed with italian, american, jewish and german meats comes tumbling through the air at Robert's /face/.
..and one bottle of ketchup, and a bottle of barbecue sauce. For the record.
COMBATSYS: Yamazaki has joined the fight here.
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Robert 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Yamazaki
COMBATSYS: Robert blocks Yamazaki's Large Thrown Object.
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Robert 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Yamazaki
Some creative camera work was done on the scene after the fact. A camera shot of Robert. Minding his own business, humming quietly to himself, examining a bottle of shampoo, contemplating whether or not it's worth trying a different brand to see if it'll break up the grease better.
Cut to Yamazaki. "WE STILL GOT A SCORE TO SETTLE!", and the Ark is launched. The camera follows the cart through the air.
Cut to Robert. Still humming. Cart, Robert. Robert, Cart. Cart, Rob-- "AAAAAAAAH!!!"
Hearing Yamazaki's battle cry, Robert's head turns to the side in bewilderment - particularly at hearing the name "GARCIA" in conjunction with the rest of that sentence, just in time to see the comet of meat closing in. Stuck between a cart of his own and impending concussion by meat, he has little choice but to raise both arms while clutching the bottle like a religious symbol of the grocery store faith.
The cart careens off of Robert's hastily erected forearm defense and goes crashing into the side of the aisle, causing all manner of bathroom goods to clatter to the floor. Stumbling back into his own cart from the force of the attack, he otherwise comes out not too worse for the wear. ...The bottle he had been contemplating is another story entirely. Cracked open by the force of the impact, a sticky lavendar substance begins oozing out over his hand. "Damn it, Yamazaki! Why the hell now of all times?!" Glancing between the psycho's bandaged face, the bottle in his hand, and Yamazaki's face once more, Garcia grimaces and just *chucks* the damn thing right at it, looking around for something *other* than his expensive clothing to wipe his hand off on.
"Who the makes their shampoo *lavender*, anyway?"
COMBATSYS: Yamazaki endures Robert's Thrown Object.
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Robert 0/-------/------=|=------\-------\0 Yamazaki
The aisle is just about instantly wrecked, transformed into a caricature rendering a McDonald's Beauty Salon. Sausages hang from the rack. Steaks are impaled on scissors. Pork chops are floating in pools of hair gel. Hot dogs are mized in with the nail clippers. The superior absorbency of those Bounties are put to the test by popped blood sausages.
Meat chubs rolling.. _everywhere_.
Yamazaki, stained thuroughly with what is best deemed as splatter from the Deluge, is still for his part just laughing his ass off in the corner. Oh, he's slapping a knee and whipping his head around until the fine oil from his hair just kind of splatters all over the place.
At least, until he catches the shampoo bottle in his teeth.
Working at it ambiently with jaws that rival some trash compactors, he gnashes the recycling code 1 PETE bottle, squirting shampoo and frothing silk lather just all over the racks as he chews, making just this terrible face as all manner of surfactant and fungicidal dandruff control assault his tastebugs. With a mighty gulp, he /swallows/ at least half the entire mangled mass, thumping his chest with bone-crushing force as bits of plastic catch in his throat on the way down. He has to do so at least six times to prevent choking through this and the next titanic swallow.
He spits out the cap.
"You know why," he growls, trying to savor. "You don't know a damn thing about making a match on time!" He's one to talk. But then again, he was almost legally declared dead. He licks his lips hard at the bitter chemical taste, frowning distinctly. The soft purple cream drips from the edge of his jaw.
Then the light scent of lavender and plum tickles his senses.
"THAT TASTES LIKE SHIT!!!"
Yamazaki just about climbs over the upended cart, the cheap steel bending with his body mass but in effect making the Syndicate gangster taller as, triggered, he fires off his fist like a cannon, space seeming to warp by the boneless appendage's raw speed as he makes the most earnest effort from humble mercenaries ever to just cave in Robert's face from across the aisle.
COMBATSYS: Robert fails to interrupt Snake Tamer from Yamazaki with Dragon Fang EX.
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Robert 0/-------/---====|==-----\-------\0 Yamazaki
The sound of crashing metal on metal, followed by a rain of plastic and wet "splats" on the ground attracted quite a bit of attention from those gathered in the grocery store, needless to say. Few were ready for just what the scale of carnage would be, however. It is as if the aisle were a volcano and the very *earth itself* had spewed meat, shampoo, sausages, and implements of cleaning all over the floor. Store hands haven't seen a disaster of this scale since someone decided that it was a good idea to stack those bottles of pickles in a pyramid display alongside the mayonaise. Still, it isn't this knowledge that makes them blanche the way they do. No, for even one of the onlooking little old ladies outright faints. Not from the epic mess to end all messes, but at the sight of a bandaged-head man *gripping a bottle of shampoo between his teeth* in the wake of the disaster, shampoo squirting out in all directions as he enjoys a light snack. That'll leave some housewives scarred for *life*, man.
BUT NEVER FEAR, FAIR HOMEMAKERS! Robert Garcia is here, and he will contend with this aisle-wrecking menace. *Deeply disturbed* at this turn of events all the same, Robert's stomach is made of stronger stuff than most stay-at-homes, and he remains undaunted. "Making a match on time?! I've been doing better lately! What the hell kind of crap reason is that to make this kind of mess?"
Charging toward the fiendish overseer of Grocery Hell, Robert's fist tucks in low. His form is perfect. He will send this cretin flying back into the dumpster from which he came! He will-- "Dragon FA--!!"
Uh, yeah. About that reach of Yamazaki's. Robert's face goes 'smush' right in midair, and he's sent flying right back from where he came. Where he came so happens to be his own grocery cart, which then proceeds to go careening down the aisle on its own with him inside of it. Onlookers are forced to dive out of the way in order to avoid becoming another casualty of the chaos. The cart continues until it crashies right into the dairy section. Jugs of milk and boxes of eggs are sundered with the force of the impact, causing yet another ill-fated explosion of gook and ooze with an Italian at its epicenter.
As for said Italian, he seems too busy contending with the egg in his face to offer witty commentary on the situation.
He is going to be paying for his little snack later. If we're all lucky, he'll be paying hard. That would mean that unlike the rest of him, his digestive tract is at least normal. Sadly or perhaps mercifully, no one will ever be around to tell the results. But for now, it's immaterial. Yamazaki is red-lining pretty hard. What's worse is, it's hard to tell if Yamazaki's trigger was more getting his jaw cracked by the fastballed shampoo, or from the fact that it smelled like lavender.
Without actual scientific study, there just really is no way to tell what Yamazaki would actually think of eating soap. After all, fats are a very necessary component...
Yamazaki doesn't so much cackle anymore as bark, hard and harsh as he rubs the new lather off of his face and spits violently to get the distinct acid taste and light feminine smell out of his mouth. Arm flopping to his side, he steps down from the cart, one hand in pocket. Walking out of the aisle with a lazy stroll to his step, he snorts hard, hacks, and spits again, "Don't lie to me, Garcia!!" he snaps, a jovial lilt entering his tone, "You couldn't make a fight on time if your little preschool friend was there selling sopressata in a bikini!!"
One would wonder where he thought up such a complex word on demand, until he whips a sliced prepackaged roll of that exact stuff off the ground and takes a bite of it savagely--plastic sheathing and all--to dislodge the taste from his mouth. He swallows that piece whole, before taking another bite, thinking briefly. A thought occurs to him, clearly, because he suddenly explodes again, spraying half-chewed meat all over the aisle. "You know how fucking far I had to come to track your ass down?!" He points, "I WAS IN _STROLHEIM!!_ Argh--" he chokes on his rage, "--you're fucking paying for my airfare!!"
He rages a little more, struggling briefly before he finally just throws the sopressata angrily somewhere off to the right, sending it in a slow roll off to another section of the store, presumably to KO the general merchandise manager.
"OR I'LL KILL YA!!!"
Finally, the gangster explodes into motion again, rolling his head down low before ramming bodily through a few fainted onlookers and a Halloween display, charging headfirst for Robert and his cart, fully intending on ramming the entire thing into a wire pancake with Robert inside, an explosion originating somewhere within Yamazaki's hairstyle ripping through the dairy cases and sending all manners of juice and yogurt and creamer flying in all directions, mostly back into the back stocking room, instantly destroying a poor stockboy who just never saw it coming.
A candy bowl rolls like a hubcap slowly away from the spectacle.
It settles some ways away, before the motorized hand snaps over the bowl.
"GOTCHA! hahahahahahahah," it mechanizes obnoxiously.
COMBATSYS: Robert dodges Yamazaki's Bomb Headbutt.
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Robert 0/-------/----===|=------\-------\0 Yamazaki
Dazed, confused, egg yolk in his eye, and *very much having a bad week*, Robert Garcia wipes the oily gunk out of his face to look on as his deranged of an adversary advances. The guy is disturbed, sure. Whatever else you want to call him too. But it's hard to take a guy like that seriously when he just ate half a bottle of shampoo (*ate*, not drank, *ate*), has half of his face covered in bandages, and is munching on Italian salami without bothering to remove the wrapper. Words are processed, and Robert's expression shifts from a grimace of disgust to...something else. Eyes widen briefly, than narrow. His jaw sets in the hard line of a frown. His arms tighten. First of all, that is a lie. If Yuri were there to cheer him on, he'd be there. If Yuri was there to cheer him on in a *bikini*, he would be there SIX HOURS EARLY to better appreciate the scenery. It isn't that which bothers him so much no, oh no. LITTLE. PRESCHOOL. FRIEND?! The egg-soaked exterior of one Robert Garcia almost begins to cook with the sudden surge of chi around him - a pity Yamazaki left the bacon behind him when he charged.
Fortunately, luck is finally returning to Robert's side. So incensed is he by this offensive outburst, that he simply *isn't there* when Yamazaki's skull plunges through his grocery cart, through the box of Ryo's cereal, through Takuma's favorite brand of detergent, through a certain someone's box of tampons, detonating them all along with the neighboring products of refined milk. Robert himself is in the air, having abruptly launched himself away with his sudden discovery of purpose in this fight...something that he can identify with other than "oh shit another guy is trying to brutalize me for no discernable reason".
"Strolheim?! Well then..." Still in the air, that swell of chi from earlier roars to life in the Dragon's palms, a sunburst of orange forming between them as the man clenches his teeth. "...I'LL JUST HAVE TO GIVE YOU AN EXPRESS TRIP BACK, NOW WON'T I?!", the Italian roars. As much as a playboy Italian covered in lavendar shampoo, milk, eggs, and--eww, tapioca--can manage.
The aftereffect of Robert's rage is more impressive than his angry outburst in and of itself. A miniature sun of chi soars into the refrigerated shelves from behind Yamazaki, exploding *again*, the combined effort of the two fighters enough to not only cave in the unit but also the wall behind it, leaving a convenient portal to the warehouse beyond in the wake of their destruction. Whether or not Yamazaki *himself* is given an express trip back into the ill-lit stocking area himself is a matter of luck.
COMBATSYS: Yamazaki endures Robert's Ryuugeki Ken.
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Robert 0/-------/----===|===----\-------\0 Yamazaki
Yamazaki rocks the shelves. To tell the truth, the stocker that was inside the stocking area was not KOed by the massive shockwave caused when Yamazaki hit the shelf like a car, crumpling the shopping cart into uselessness and spraying ketchup out of it like a squished cheeseburger. It wasn't by the explosion of sound. It was by the yogurt. Yogurt falling in and onto poor Yuri, a veritable Dannon disaster, he is KOed by active bacterial culture blast /alone/, such is the force with which Yamazaki slams into the dairy case, headfirst.
"Yeah you damn well better--WHAT?!" Yamazaki yells, yanking his head out of the dairy case, with a ruptured and burned one pint butter tub stuck to his bandages, making the entire affair look like a very tiny hat stuck to his head at an impossible angle. Now covered in almost as much eggs, meat, shampoo, creams and truly god only knows what else, the image is short-lived. Yamazaki's face contorts and twists into a sharp-toothed visage of anger with a chocolate milk moustache as Robert's chi sears his eyebrow off (only one eye can be seen--his head is bandaged up for the rest) and bowls the massive man over that crumpled cart and through the dairy rack, the entire affair landing on the unconscious stocker.
Digging himself out of the pile, his heartbeat.. quickens.
He looks up and off in one direction, and smiles.
"Oh /yeah/."
Here is what Robert will see. Yamazaki looking up, grinning, and running off somewhere to the right. You see, milk stocking areas are indeed poorly lit and well confined spaces, making for excellent coolers, but they connect to the receiving area proper just like everywhere else.
Then he will hear muted cursing, and a blow landing.
Then ominous honking.
Enter the Yale Veracitor 650 LP Gas forklift. A simple retail counterbalance lift truck for operating in the warehouse receiving environment. It is capable of reaching top speeds of over 30 mph. Its lift is capable of lifting a fully leveraged 4000 lb load over 16 feet in the air and about five inches from side to side, with a wheel articulation of 0.22 inches. Literally, it is capable of turning on a dime. One of two employed at J-Mart, this is the shortfork standard retail version used in receiving standard freight. It has an operator's cage capable of resisting up to 1200 foot-pounds of falling product.
And most importantly for Robert, Yamazaki is behind the wheel.
Tearing a flap-door off its hinge peeling out of receiving, Yamazaki swings the rear-steer vehicle wide enough to smash a refrigerated case full of cheese. The headlights on the machine are on, Yamazaki is grinning, and there is at least half a pallet's worth of potting mix on the machine still.
"Broke-ass. I don't ride coach," Yamazaki explains calmly, wiping some stray butter out of (or into) his hair.
Then, cackling loud enough to be heard across the store, he tilts the forks and pallet up, lifts the mast to about ass-level, and floors it after Robert the whole way.
Keep in mind, the Yale Veracitor is /only/ intended to be used in a warehouse environment. The length of the truck is such that it cannot make a full turn in a standard consumer aisle. However, you'd be amazed at how little this matters when you're moving a four ton machine at top speed trying to ram 50 lb bags of potting mix into an Italian's ass and slam him into--and through--the value china endcap.
COMBATSYS: Robert blocks Yamazaki's Strong Throw.
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Robert 0/-------/--=====|===----\-------\0 Yamazaki
Ducking into an aisle would be a tactic worth considering, if it weren't for a few significant hazards on the roadway. One, the only thing arguably worse than being rammed by Yamazaki driving a fork lift aimed at his ass would be being *run over* by Yamazaki. That is the one certain fate if he retreats back into the destined aisle that began this fateful encounter, as the road hazards of various bathroom related tools and sludges combined with the with scattered meats present a triple threat of balance that he isn't likely to come out ahead on. ...And after running him over, Yamazaki can then come back and do with his ass *whatever he wants*. SCARY THOUGHT, man. No way. Neighboring aisles are out of the question too, as the observing customers who had only just recovered from their last dive for cover are scattered to both sides and in his way, and...as much as he values his personal safety, he has those damnable *morals* that Yamazaki pays little heed to working against his favor. So, little choice for Robert but to run in the opposite direction. Somehow he suspects an attempt to dive by the vehicle would be met with Yamazaki leaping out and onto him, you see. So run he does. Very quickly, at that.
Indeed, the Yale Veracitor is quite fast. Faster than a speeding Robert running for his life. Left with nowhere to flee to, civillians thwarting his escape routes at every opportunity, the Kyokugen fighter suddenly spins around to face the oncoming vehicle. He has enough time to spit into his palms, slap them together, and take on a wide stance with evenly extended arms. "Here goes something."
aking two running steps forward, Robert's jump manages to clear the top of the potting mix. He's not out of the woods yet, of course. He still has to contend with the oncoming operator's cage. His feet...do not touch down. Instead, they extend. The last thing Yamazaki sees before the Italian crosses his arms protectively in front of his face is his grinning countenance.
While the Yale Veracitor 650 LP Gas Forklift is indeed rated for 1,2000 foot-pounds(*) of falling product, a fact that the engineers laboured many long nights to make happen affordably after several lawsuits involving badly stacked airconditioners, as with many ratings it comes with a qualifier: * - Warranty on cage does not include damage inflicted by other vehicles, construction equipment, or fighters.
On TV, several Yale lawyers sweat profusely as the front of the cage meets a head-on collision with the foot of one Robert Garcia. Followed shortly by the other. The front of the cage caves in under the force of the combination attack, but physics are still in effect and the vehicle still speeds on. The series of kicks continue, meeting the opposidte side of the cage from the interior, repeating their earlier performance at no small expense of pain to their owner.
The end result? Within the span of few seconds, Robert swung on the forklift with a running leap and exploded his way through the operator's compartment through sheer force of Kick. Whether or not he catches Yamazaki by surprise in passing and kicks *him* through the rear of the operator's cage along with him is another matter entirely.
But it *would* be pretty awesome if he did, or if Yamazaki somehow managed to turn this state of affairs to his own advantage, now wouldn't it?
COMBATSYS: Yamazaki fails to interrupt Flying Whirlwind Kick from Robert with Sadomazo.
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Robert 0/-------/-======|======-\-------\0 Yamazaki
"Yeah!!!" Yamazaki shrieks after Robert, tongue lolling out of his mouth.
"Run Forrest!! RUN!! DAAH HA HAHA!!"
Wild-eyed and looking for blood, Yamazaki leans on his horn as he chases Robert down the main racetrack of the store full-speed, past the seafood section and deli proper, right clear into the produce section, wreaking a fair amount of devastation the whole way, blowing through a stackout stand of bread, sending Oroweat and jelly (important add on sales items are often located with the base product even if their native home is aisles away) in all directions. People dive out of the way screaming as if a crowd of rottweilers were running through the store after Robert, performing impressive feats of acrobatics such as jumping in their own carts, climbing endcaps, kicking their kids, and rolling across the forklift's direct path all to get out of the way.
Except for Robert. He stops.
And you know, it doesn't take a brain surgeon to tell that that Italian gleam in his eye means that fat bastard Garcia is up to something. That just pisses Yamazaki off.
"Come on!!" Yamazaki rages, careening towards Robert at top speed, pounding the horn with his fist, "Come on!! CRY SOME MORE!!" He grinds the gas with his boot as if that will work any way at all, whipping the forklift to and fro trying to keep the sensitive steering under control. The anticipation alone almost kills him.
"GIVE IT TO ME!"
He is not quite able to stay inside the cage to fight Robert. A horn blasts as Robert punches through the cage at full speed and rocks Yamazaki, who characteristically wasn't wearing his seatbelt, in the jaw. Like thunder no less, blowing him out of his seat and out of the operating cage. His skull impacts the LP gas cylinder tank directly behind the seat in a shriek of metal as his body tears the entire thing from its banded cradle, sending the mercenary slamming face-first into the tile in his rampage's wake. The safety alarm blares because the operator is no longer in his seat and the hand brake is disengaged. If it had known any better, it would be blaring because the forklift is careening towards a stand full of perfectly stacked oranges.
You know what perfectly stacked in the middle of a fight means.
Yamazaki groans like a hung-over teenager on Monday morning, dragging furrows in the commercial-grade tile with his teeth as he peels himself off the ground. "... shit hurts," he grumbles moodily. He blinks once, bleary. "...eh, screw it."
He grips the bandages at the side of his head and peels them off, revealing the black and flaking crust that used to almost half his face, regrowing hair and what looks like a yellowed cat's eye in his skull. A cat's eye that's been stabbed a few times. Sharp lines of knifeplay draw into the blackened crust, causing further flaking, and rows of dark, healthier skin to appear underneath it, in a contradiction of conviction medical knowledge enough to make most physicians gnash their teeth and kick trees.
Yeah. Time to party.
The oranges could have had a better life. They could have lived out the remainder of their days with the rest of their friends in the fruit section until some idiot thought it would be a good idea to have a stand of oranges near the juicers. Thankfully, there's Yamazaki. The forklift careens right through them and into the stack of juicer boxes themselves, not only demolishing them but taking out the power for half of the produce refrigeration. Freed from their grisly fate, the oranges bounce gleefully along the floor, enjoying their newfound freedom until gravity at last puts an end to their fun and halts their progress. The elation of the oranges will only be temporary, as in the end they're likely to be swept up along with the rest of the mess of the store into one of four dumpsters, but for now they are content where they sit.
The forklift continues through the wall undeterred. Now a horribly disfigured piece of engineering, it continues onward and out into the parking lot. Its attemptit to pass between two cars meets with horrible failure, only scratching the hell out of the painting on both and decapitating their rear view mirrors. Trapped between cars, the forklift's wheels still turn underneath the setting sun, but there will be no further progress to be made there.
Inside, two fighters remain standing yet, their carnage unfinished. Robert just...kinda takes a few steps back as Yamazaki unwraps his head and reveals his gruesome visage. "Shit, man! What the hell are you doing coming over to the other side of the globe to hunt ME down, with half your face looking like that?! Do I *look* like I'm worth it to you?" Still, he knows better than to sit back and talk his way out of this. Guys like this never listen when you talk to them unless you're punctuating your statements with blunt head trauma. Such it is that Robert advances, rolling up his grime caked sleeves as he does so, a grimace on his face. "Hell, they've got a tournament going on over there and everything, you could have beat some of *those* kids up if you wanted to save yourself some airfare. But noooo, you're with Geese. Always gotta start shit when you forget how bad the last round of beatings were..."
This last statement is accompanied by a twist of the man's body to the side, a single fist swinging wide with the intent of landing a solid punch in the nutjob's gut.
The oranges look on in awe. The world is so much more exciting than they ever knew!
COMBATSYS: Yamazaki endures Robert's Strong Punch.
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Robert 0/-------/=======|======-\-------\0 Yamazaki
His hand slides into his pocket.
He seems critically unconcerned as the bass boom of a forklift rides through the wall ans blows through the parking lot, probably terrorizing more than its fair share of cart handlers as the store manager is greeted by a call from the assistant manager, both of whom are immediately adding up the amount of money that they're gonna have to spend for repairs to the wall, replacement bays, the forklift, and how many of the cheap payroll employees they can con into staying late to actually get all the product cleaned up and put back. There are wistful tears in their eyes, as they remembered the easy life of a non Yamazaki and Garcia J-Mart. The former of the two grins.
A few seconds later, every produce sprinkler in the bays open.
"The fuck kind of dense are you, Garcia?" Yamazaki sniffs, as orange scent fills the air. Not all of them can hail Yamazaki as the savior of fruits that he rightfully is--not all of them survived the forklift impact. The rest... tomorrow will be the most beautiful day of their lives. They will have never felt more alive. Yamazaki, in the meantime, is baffled. "You get amnesia?" he asks, tapping his engrimed temple. "Since you seem to have your ears plugged with Nair, lemme make this simple for ya." Free hand raises. He /points/. "I get in a tournament. My name goes on a sheet of matches. Whoever is on the other side of the 'versus' from me? That person's ass is grass. Even if they run and hide like a bitch.." He walks up as Robert advances, kicking aside oranges. "Who cares who I'm with? It's just. fate. The judgment of God and his good secretary, the tournament organizer--"
Yamazaki's body twists under the impact. He doesn't even take his hand out of his pocket to guard against Robert's fist, taking the blow into his gut will full force enough to knock the candy coating packets off a nearby rack from the acoustics of the blow alone. The fine reservoir of butter and eggs and grease--a veritable cake mix--that gathered in the fine nooks in his midsection squirt out through the weave in his shirt in all directions from the blow. His breath catches in his chest, whistling out of his lips as the wind is knocked out of him by the scrappy little prince.
But he towers over Robert now. Robert's really close.
He can almost smell the old barbecue that is the merc's *face*.
And Yamazaki? See. He just. doesn't. move.
He locks his hand into a claw. "An' it just so happens," he snarls breathlessly, "Strolheim don't mind if this gets a little bloody..." That iron grip will reach out to /sink/ into Robert's shoulder. Then Yamazaki's knee will meet his chest as he snaps up his boot to legwhip Robert in the chin. This is only briefly before Yamazaki leans over to leverage all his weight in stomping him some delicious Garcia wines out of Robert and some the bunches of grapes in the nearby produce shelves.
COMBATSYS: Yamazaki successfully hits Robert with Yakiire.
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Robert 1/---====/=======|=======\-------\1 Yamazaki
"...Running and hiding?!", is all the time for a reply that Robert has as he's yanked down onto the harsh reality of Yamazaki's knee, which is marginally harsher than the reality dawning on him of just *why* this last week has been so messed up. A deep rage begins to boil within the man even as he's ground under the psycho--his TOURNAMENT OPPONENT'S--boot, ignoring the slimy paste pressed against his face that were once grapes before his head was stepped on several times. Still, despite all the punishment the Garcia Hair is receiving from this position, he doesn't fight it. No struggling, no whimpering, no begging. Just like that, has he given up? Decided that if he lies there and lets Yamazaki brutalize him until he's had his fill, that it'll be over and they can both go home?
No. Some internal adjustments were occuring while this was going on. Yamazaki is not Southtown Syndicate randomly deciding to tear up another place where he does business on a whim, not this time anyway. "STROLHEIM, you say...?", comes the quiet question from the Italian as he lies there. "Heh heh. Th one I tournament didn't sign up for, and it seems I don't get a choice in the matter."
"You know, Yamazaki..." The words are cool, relaxed. Deceptively so. The Kyokugen Dragon swiftly pushes himself up into one leg, his unused fist simultaneously swinging with a punch aimed at crashing into the other man's throat. It comes out with an unrushed brutality that one might mistake to be rather uncharacteristic of the mussed up Italian playboy. Of course, he isn't much *looking* like an Italian playboy right now thanks to this man, his blue lesiure suit an ugly paste of purple and white, his slacks torn from kicking through a fork lift...some of that might be part of why this side of Robert is coming out right now. "...I think we could both use a shower."
The second strike flows out naturally, regardless of whether or not the stunning blow lands and catches the lord of produce unaware. With a sudden jerk of the torso, Robert's first punch draws back, the force of the first blow being redirected into a second, far more brutal one. Aimed right between the ribs, should it land, he rises on both feet and launches himself upward into a powerful corkscrew uppercut of twisting, jagged knuckles, straight into the overhead spickets that once rained down their affectionate love upon the Produce Kingdom. But no more. Whether it be at the point of Yamazaki's spine or his bleeding knuckles, Robert Garcia is going to ensure that the produce in this shelf is never going to experience a pleasant drizzle ever again.
Or at least not until the insurance company finally realizes they have no way out of this one, as the regional manager *was* smart enough to purchase insurance against fighters.
COMBATSYS: Yamazaki endures Robert's Haiga Ryuu.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////// ]
Robert 0/-------/---====|=======\====---\1 Yamazaki
The creature known as Yamazaki stomps rampantly, introducing Robert to the impact resistant rubber soles of his boot several times until several in the gathering crowd (at a safe distance) of the tougher section of society (read: hardcore fight fans) start to mutter Welch's jokes. You know, Yakiire would last forever and do unlimited damage, but for Yamazaki's limited attention span. He kicks off Robert's body, stumbling backwards as the large mercenary pitches ominously, swaying slowly to a stand. Shoulders shake in a barely suppressed chuckle.
"YEAH," he snarls, raising a hand to thrust it at the air between the two before his voice cants into a very matter of fact roar, "RUNNING. AND HIDING!" Yeah, he heard Robert just fine. It's debatable that Yamazaki cares though. People will believe whatever he wants to believe. He just pauses to think about it a little longer. And then adds, spraying grape jelly (that was a pretty serious crash) with the act, "Just like a little bitch!!"
Pause. Whoa. Whoa. Hold on. Genuinely taken aback by Robert's words more than the fist slamming into his throat, Yamazaki chokes, making a sound halfway between horror and agony, his hair gleaming with butter-enhanced malevolence underneath track produce lighting as it slams into a bay of apples. When his voice comes out, it's in ravaged spurts, "WHAT YOU SAY, WHITE BOY?! -- augh!"
Bouncing off and rolling into the side of the produce stand, Yamazaki's ribs compact, warp around Robert's fist, cracking as it splits air, Yamazaki's entire physical body is lifted up with the motion, his head slamming into the overhead sprayers and breaking the plastic pipe (and coincidentally, the large steel beam the pipe was attached to.) He hits thr ground bleeding. Yamazaki's own ruined outfit is drenched, a moment later, inthe frantic spraying water. A pat of butter rolls slow past his eye.
Hits harder than he thought.
The mercenary stumbles as he does so, scattering onlookers in all directions and snorting like a rabid bull before grasping a candy mint display (kind of rider-on for Halloween) next to the adjacent entrance with both claws to help him stand, shoes wet and slippery on the tile. His vision is dimming rapidly, tints of red flowing into both fields of view now.
He grins..
"Hey, ROBERT," he calls.
Then he lifts the display. "WANT SOME CANDY?!"
And he slams the entire cardboard and minty sugar mass at Robert's face, trying to knock him down and grind him across the tile floor to the exit, just as a familiar themesong we'll all recognize clicks on the overhead.
Doodoo doodoo doo doo, DOO WAH... o/`
COMBATSYS: Yamazaki successfully hits Robert with ...!!.
[ \ < > /////// ]
Robert 1/-----==/=======|-------\-------\0 Yamazaki
In the end it was kind of immaterial. Yamazaki was rapidly running out of store to pummel Garcia with--they were too close to the exit, and none of the onlookers were close enough to whip Robert with.
IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT COMES, FRESH GOES BETTER IN LIFE
WITH MENTOS FRESH, I'M FULL OF LIFE
Furthermore, that last blow was really messing with Yamazaki's head, most of his blood was draining through a friction split in his midsection and what's worse, he was soaking wet, too.
Heart beating fast, Yamazaki ruminates furiously, slinging the candy display at Robert until it wasn't much more than ruptured and abused cardboard. He didn't even get to run Garcia over or ram a fork in his ass like he wanted!!
NOTHING GETS TO YOU, STAYING FRESH, STAYING COOL
WITH MENTOS FRESH, I'M FULL OF LIFE
Then Yamazaki notices there is more candy over there by the self checkout lanes.
Oh yeah, definitely some killing to do today.
"OH Robert~!!" he snarls, "I HAVE MORE CANDY FOR YOU o/`"
You ever hear a rottweiler sing? It's like that.
FRESH GOES BETTER -- MENTOS FRESHNESS
Yamazaki doesn't satisfy himself with just stackout-whipping Robert alone. No. Sinking claws into the entire #4 self-checkout lane, dinky attached impulse-buy racking and all, Yamazaki rips the entire thing off the power cables and bolts holding it in place, dragging it just close enough for the magnetic fields inside the flickering monitor to trigger the exit's inventory control system alarm, and pitches the entire thing at Robert's body.
Then, much in the same manner, he throws the #3 and #1 desks as well, doing his level best to get the entire mass stacked on Robert. Then, as an afterthought, Yamazaki reaches about a foot or two farther than anyone expected, snatching the self-checkout cashier (they're not allowed more than 10 feet away from their station) and stacks him on top too.
FRESH GOES BETTER
The last thing anyone sees is Yamazaki scattering the entire gathered thing with a massive crushing blow, sending checkout desks, candy, copies of TV Guide, reading glasses, cashiers, and probably Italians flying everywhere.
-- WITH MENTOS FRESH, I'M FULL OF LIFE! :D
Yamazaki laughs his ass off the entire way, like a dick.
Mentos. The Freshmaker!!
For a moment, there is a dreadful silence. The whole thing happened so suddenly, so VIOLENTLY, that the only expression that Yamazaki was able to register on Robert's face was a horrified widening of eyes - after that, there wasn't much of his face to be seen at all, not for a good long while. After all of that punishment, is there even a face left?
The unspoken question goes without answer for the time being as desk after desk is piled on top of his brutalized form. Robert's clothing actually makes a grotesque *squashing* sound as the #4 checkout lane lands on him, an unholy marriage of smashed grapes, oozing egg yolks, liquified blood sausage, shampoo, and *Italian head grease* splattering a small distance away from the impact. The following impacts aren't nearly as impressive as by this point, Robert's clothing (and hair?) have been systematically milked of whatever substances they've absorbed over the course of the fight. A few stray twinkies from the impulse-by racks go *splat*, but nothing nearly so impressive as that initial /*~blort~*/ on contact.
The jingle on the speakers is over. For a time, there is nothing but silence. Deep underground, beneath the wreckage of no less than one demolished candy display and three and a half checkout counters (the self-checkout lane only counts as half, naturally), Robert...is still alive, amazingly. Feeling like shit, but still alive and conscious despite all reason. It's tempting to just lie there, safe in his little cove, surrounded by a protective coat of ruined rubble that would require Yamazaki a lengthy deal of digging in order to find him once more. But...fate can be a strange mistress. The coin in Robert's pocket, for whatever reason, sears his side like a red hot poker iron. Strange, it doesn't usually do that. It's actually because the coin is tilted on its side, halfway imbedded thigh, but to Robert right now it feels like the burning of destiny. He forces an eye to open. A trickle of light passes through a gap in the rubble overhead, illuminating a small box of half-bursted candy. Not just any candy, though. Nerds. A cartoon Willy Wonka grins up at Garcia cheerfully, almost making slight of the condition he finds himself in. What's there to feel sorry for? It's a beautiful day out there! And there's delicious, tooth-rotting candy in front of you.
Sure, it's stealing, but...if you were in his position, wouldn't you too? The pile stirs briefly as his arm shifts, lifts the box, and gingerly pulls it toward his head so that he can dig a small mountain out onto the unwholesome floor and shovel them into his mouth.
*crunch* *crunch* *crunch*
The pile of rubble is suddenly afflicted by a tiny earthquake of sorts. Kneeling up on one leg, arms crossed in front of him, Robert throws his arms out to either side, ruined conveyer belts toppling over to the side rolling over onto the floor. The grin on his cut, bruised, bloody face is out of place. His hair has been torn out of its ponytail, falling around his shoulders in messed mess of grocery store goods, blood, and of course the forementioned grease. The *grin* on his face though, oh man. Brilliant. The set of his eyes is a little disconcerting seems to be a little on the disconcerting side too. Straight forward, focused on Yamazaki, wide yet focused.
But the most disturbing thing of all about Robert is that he starts to sing a little jingle of his own.
"....Who can take a sunriiiiise, sprinkle it with deeew...?" o/~
The song starts out as as a croak as he rushes Yamazaki, grabbing two packets of little debies off the floor as he bursts free of his grocery store prison, gripping plastic wrappers between thumb and forefinger as he slings cake-augmented punches at Yamazaki's face, one right after another.
"...Covert it in CHOCOLATE AND A MIRACLE OR TWO...?" o/~
COMBATSYS: Yamazaki reflects Kuzuryuu Sen from Robert with Bai Gaeshi.
[ < > ////// ]
Robert 0/-------/-----==|-------\-------\0 Yamazaki
At this point, Robert does something dangerous. Hoping that Yamazaki's vision would thusly be clouded by a faceful of Debbies, Garcia attempts to tumble around the madman.
"The Candyman can!" o/~
Unfortunately, this strategy of subtlety works best when you aren't singing and announcing your location to the world. Singing BADLY at that, and making anyone within hearing distance greatly inclined to punch you in the face even if they weren't already planning to do so. Rising to his feet once more, Robert's leg glows with orange light as he delivers a single upward punt, meant to send Yamazaki into the air for a follow-up.
You know, if only Yamazaki has a tape recorder, he'd of liked to have had that squish set as his ringtone.
Aggrieved thuroughly by this, it seems as if Yamazaki is trying to recreate Mozart by piling the other stuff on Robert, the jingle ringing overhead in eerily sick time to his work. Yamazaki piles it all high like a Jenga stack. "SAY UNCLE," he rages at the stack, though it's highly unlikely that Robert is in any condition to answer or really, even hear him underneath all that. "Say it!!"
To wring a concession out of him, Yamazaki is fully prepared to get the much larger standard checkout lanes and restart the stack on Robert's face until he gives up.
But Yamazaki doesn't get a chance to tear the stack to pieces to reset.
The Italian gets ahold of some Nerds.
Oh, shit!
Yamazaki catches a glimpse of the empty box, can hear the crunching. And then Robert, empowered like some kind of sailor man, topples his perfect work of art.
In an instant, the tide seems to turn. Yamazaki is rushed, pummelled in a highly creamy fashion by Italian fists of fury, blotting out his vision with chocolate sprinkled with dew. Mountain Dew that is--there was probably a bottle or two abandoned in one of the bags when the customers disappeared right about the time Yamazaki came to town. Yamazaki is completely blinded. And this upsets him.
But worse yet, Garcia is singing.
Having a long history of not putting up with people singing around him, the aggrieved mercenary stumbles back to one of the checkout lanes he didn't stack on Robert's head, trying to hold his position as the Kyokugen Dragon just rolls around him like David fighting Goliath.
Terrible singing...has to stop!! He grabs ahold of something cold and large that was still on the line, the only thing he could feel for in his blindness.
Robert rises, slinging a leg like the best women of the Wild West.
Yamazaki could /smell/ the chi coming off that asshole's foot.
--Or was that the blueberry yogurt?
DIDN'T MATTER!!!
"Shut the hell up, Garcia!! SHUT THE HELL UP!"
Following Robert by smell and hearing alone, Yamazaki's own force flexes against the kick, his hand snapping high and then straight down to meet the playboy with a good 10 lbs of Carvel Family Sized Giant Yellow M&M Ice Cream Cake he grabbed ahold of. The entire delicious mass begins to rip and spin, a side effect of his chi, as it drills into and tries to break down Robert's force of momentum. It all culminates in a massive cake-imbued crush blast composed of the not-insignificant sum of Yamazaki plus Robert rendered in brutal white, thrown with murderous force point-blank range right at the Italian's midsection.
CAKEALITY.
Delicious, factory-fresh M&M cake explodes outward in all directions, the delerious Robert Garcia caught not only by the backlash of his own chi, but...M&Ms. A few of them go go flying off of the pastry, and thusly caught unprepared by the surprise turnabout by his opponent - his mouth is open mid-verse, mid-exclamation of dismay - an lone M&M lands in his mouth.
Stumbling backward, Robert tries to regain balance, but the combination of cake landing before his raised leg does - nevermind the hazy grip on his conscious he had to begin with - causes him to merely release a strangled gasp as he slips and lands on his butt. His jaw slams shut with the force of the impact. He tastes...something inexplicable.
"Who actually *eats* peanut butter M&Ms on cake?!"
Staring up at Yamazaki following this exclamation, thus prone, things are not looking good for the Italian. However, he spies one last chance for escape...there is a straght shot between the towering madman and the sliding doors of the exit. All is not lost yet. Summoning forth every bit of vitality he has left to him at this point, his chi furnace still readily accessible from the failed attempt to send Yamazaki through the roof, he thrusts both palms forward with a grimace. All of his waking spite and defiance is channeled into the attack as well, meaning that he ignores Yamazaki...and completes his incantation just as he thrusts both palms forward.
"The candy man can, 'cause he mixes it with LOVE...!"
He launches a volley of orange chi at the man once more, intent on rocketing him right out of the building, through a shopping cart, through the windshield of a parked car, and into the back seat.
"...And makes the world taste GOOD." o/~
It is preferable to store buttery messes such as Yamazaki in the trunk and not to ruin a perfectly good car interior, but such particulars are lost upon Robert as he makes this last ditch attempt to rid himself of thi sbad day.
COMBATSYS: Robert can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\ <
Yamazaki 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Yamazaki dodges Robert's Ryuugeki Ken.
[ \\\\\\\ <
Yamazaki 0/-------/-------|
Still feeling catty after basically wrecking Robert with a cake (and a forklift. And meat..) there is all due reason for Yamazaki's strutting like a preening chicken. But technically and biomechanically speaking, it's more because Robert broke quite a few of his ribs than any particular cattiness on his part.
Still catty.
But also significantly distressed by Robert's singing.
"Hey---HEY!!" Yamazaki rages. "I LOVE PEANUT BUTTER M&MS!--AAAHH!"
Robert opens fire on Yamazaki with bursts of orange chi. Yamazaki sways to one side, his hand in a pocket, looking rather cool. But all truth told? It's hard to look cool when your shoes are going 'squish squish' with every step, and all the produce shower did was just make the eggs he crashed through /runny/.
Also, he doesn't really coolly slip to the side, moreover coolly slip to the side, flop over self check #4 and faceplant on the tile, foul language boiling up from behind the lane for a full minute or so.
Yamazaki's grotesque scruffy head rises a little bit after that, grimacing as he looks out the door after the shopping cart Robert just plastered through the front windshield of someone's parked car.
He snorts.
Log created on 19:33:18 10/08/2008 by Yamazaki, and last modified on 15:55:38 10/12/2008.