Description: War changes everything. Those who fight in such times are never the same. Few fought as bravely or as boldly as Alex, and the conflict left lasting scars on the young titan. However, time heals all wounds and once more the mighty warrior seeks to make his presence known. Of his old peers, there is one who can show him how far he has come, and how far he has yet to go. The legendary Ryu.
Germany. A nice, easy ride. Not like the endless mountainous twists and turns of Switzerland the biker rode through hours ago. Strolheim happens to be only an hour or so further from Zurich than Berlin and Alex couldn't pass up the chance to rent a Harley and do the Alps right on the way in. The cold air and breath-taking vistas gave him the calm he sorily needed. The longer ride gave him extra time to think things through.
Alex does his best thinking in three situations; fighting, working in the shop, or long rides. And Alex has a great deal to think about.
Having turned off the Autobahn an hour or so back, now the returned fighter actually is forced to puzzle out the damned speedometer attuned to kilometers. Thankfully the speed limits are posted in nice, big numbers but even still Alex glances suspiciously at the twitching needle, dancing every time he guns the engine.
Equally thankful, his destination isn't far. Driving around in Europe is so much different than stateside. One can go from country to country in a matter of hours. Getting to a little villa near the magnificent Strolheim Castle, which looms in stark profile above the glimmering waters of the lake, is a piece of cake.
Finding the world-traveling hermit-master Ryu is another story.
The loud engine of the softail Harley grumbles as the chrome-highlighted machine slows to a halt. A heavy boot balances the craft as mighty hands remove the red and black helmet, revealing unkempt blonde waves held back in a red bandanna. Intense eyes scrutinize the mountains near the village he parked just beyond. Weaving through tiny white streams weaving through the elegant craigs of stone and timber. Focusing on a particular waterfall in the short distance.
"..Heh." A slight smirk creases his lips as Alex unstraddles the hog, the powerful machine creaking as the titan mercifully leaves it's frame. "Old habits die hard.." He muses to himself, tugging thick leather gloves free from his meaty hands and hooking the helmet on the handle of the bike.
Train with a man for a few months and you pick up a few things. Like their taste in meditation.
Alex always was a 'better late than never' sort of guy. Just because the American wasn't in the initial matchups for the upcoming tournament didn't mean he wouldn't show... Ryu knew that.
That, and the pull these sorts of things have to a particular sort of nomad. It's not that he's expecting to see his erstwhile teammate - but it's always in the back of his mind, the interweaving paths of the many fighters he's met, those who've crossed his path or vice-versa, those who've walked alongside him for a time. Legends of the past, heroes of the future, infamous tyrants or champions of incredible power, after awhile... well, it's not that they blur together, not for the ever-compassionate Wanderer, but they all become similarly important. To call Alex his student would be hubris - the talented youth was mighty long before he wandered into Ryu's orbit. Rival is more accurate, but comrade the most fitting for the Ansatsuken Master. There are many ways to challenge another, and many subtle methods with which one's course can be influenced by others. Whatever the impact of past clashes and triumphs, as surely as Alex walked his own path afterwards... Ryu has done the same.
And both have faced so many difficult questions. Such is the cruel double-edge of the question for understanding, for strength of self and that all-elusive betterment of the universe - there are no easy answers, and always two more mysteries. While Alex's journey led him to arrive later than many, Ryu's inspired just the opposite. His camp high in the peaks of the Germanic range where the tiny pocket of a villa rests is harder still to reach than the mighty falls midway up the effective foothills, despite their still-inspiring grace, but luck is with the grappler today. Or is it, really? Many have claimed that luck is a shallow misnomer, that not only do men forge their own destiny, one can actually sense it, the balance of things, the ebb and flow of energy, life itself. Some claim that some men move in tandem with these threads, perhaps even consciously weave with them - such is it that as Alex arrives in Strolheim, the Ansatsuken Master concludes a trek down to those aforementioned foothills by training behind one of the broadest falls, after resupplying in the town. He's not that far ahead of the American, just as the remarkably intuitive blonde senses - an hour's climb or so, is all.
But don't worry Alex. He's waiting.
%Alex does not believe in fate.
The fundamental mechanics of the universe are for more spiritual men than he to ponder. In his experience, fate is just an excuse. A word used to divorce effort from reason by those enslaved by their own desires.
Luck. Chance. These things are fabrications, used to consol failure or deride success. Faith in one's own strength and determination, those things are gospel. Those things are absolute and can conquer any and all that would stand in their way.
Or so Alex once thought. Before Thailand.
Some time has passed since those days of war. Endless fighting and savage butchery of innocent people. Long enough where great fighters have risen and fallen in the days since. History has moved on and the average populous has already forgotten. If Alex possesses any of his old conceit left, it would be that he's pretty sure he isn't 'average'.
Combat boots march along the path towards the waterfall. Eyes drifting from guiding his step along the uncertain path to looking above for some further sign he's on the right track. Fingerless gloved hands occasionally brushing nearby trunks for balance as he continues his hike. Thoughts drifting further back to 'better' times. Training in that smiling Korean's dojo. Bragging about how he'd fight anyone and everyone without fear. Cock-sure and irrepressible. Even in the face of the young sannin, Ryu.
Hell, he couldn't help teasing that spunky kid Sakura on the team.
He wonders now, if she's quite as spunky as she used to be after what Vega did to her.
Occasionally, during the hour hike, Alex pauses. Turning to look out over the German valley beyond the mountains. The Rhine in the far distance, mingling its waters with the lake of Strolheim. The sun just beginning to set as the skies darken. Gloved knuckles touch his lips as the titan's thoughts conclude.
Everyone's different now. Sakura. Himself. Ken. Except Ryu. If there is one constant in the universe more regular than the rising and setting of the sun itself.. It would be Ryu's strength. Alex knew, the moment the question of his own readiness to return to the world's stage crosses his mind, there was only one worthwhile metric. You have no idea who you are, until you face Ryu. It was true then, it is true now, it will be true for as long as that man lives.
And right now, that very question is burning in his mind. Driving him to hasten the last few steps up the mountainside and approach the camp that serendipity itself guided him to.
So much for not believing in luck.
Not everything is about conquest, not every hurdle can be overcome. Sometimes the test is not in success, but in survival - coming through not only intact, but yes, strong. Constant. It is the lesson of these mountains themselves. Beaten down, buffetted by winds, rains, the rushing rapids of the roaring rivers and falls crossing down from the heights.... yet still they stand. Ever evolving, ever stalwart, regardless of the stage of their transformations. Eventually, there will be a great canyon, perhaps a plateau or three - for now there are titans in their prime, gargantuan towers of earth and stone and living beings reaching upwards towards heaven, breaking the clouds with their snowcapped peaks. Yes, the consistent strength, the grounding energy that flows up through his bare feet is one draw of this place, the obvious focus... but the mountains have always been one of his loves, for their embodiment of every philosophy in the evolved style passed down to him. Strong, yes - unrelenting, enduring like the mountain.
And swift, sure, unhesitating like the wind. Everywhere yet nowhere, impossible to pin down, seemingly in opposition to the mountain it roars through these valleys, voicing its response to the rushing waters, the singing birds.
Stirring the branches of the scattered trees, rustling vegetation, that undercurrent of life, quiet yet strong in its subtlety - impossible to fully read or suppress, entwined through everything. The quiet of the forest, the serenity of meditation, of connection to life itself.
Least obvious is the fire - but surely, it burned on one of the higher slopes the night before, brightly. As fiercely as it burns within Ryu now, as he focuses his spirit, forges himself into the warrior he will need to be for the trials ahead.
All these natural forces and more course around, and through Ryu, in the cleared-out plateau behind the wide waterfall, dropping farther down the cliff into another recession, this one forming a deep pool before the falls splash down, down, lost into the mist. It would be more than tangible to a warrior such as Alex, even without the familiarity between the two fighters, a certain beacon confirming his path, until his eyes confirm it for themselves, further along his trail.
The focused Wanderer holds an even, steady stance behind the falls, one hand forward, an open palm slicing the air, the misty water splashing back inward, showering the cavernous undercropping. His right fist is drawn back, tight at his side, for long moments before the gathered energy rushes through him, crackling visibly along the densely built nomad's musculature as his gloved fist rips through the air in front of him.
It's a punch - just a simple punch. One single, straight thrust. And yet, it is so much more - the center of the falls itself shifts outwards, water explodes in a prismatic spray out over the abyss, a tremendous force resonating in that clean, efficient motion. Immediately, the Wanderer resets his stance, focusing to do it once more - it's hard to say how long he's been at it, but he certainly senses Alex's approach, glancing aside towards the path, his focus unbroken.
Upon a time, Alex might have announced his presence with the subtlety of a bull in a China shop. The mysteries of patience and profundity of silence was lost upon him. Possessing little understanding of the meditative ways of Asian martial arts and little appreciation to speak of.
A few Hadokens upside the head later, Alex's understanding may not have improved but his appreciation certainly has.
The tall man strides into view, but pauses at the edge of the plateau. His head tilting back as he surveys the young master in the depths of his training. The brash American has learned something of serenity in the past few months, and demonstrates this new-found trait by doing what was once unthinkable of the American.
Waiting until Ryu is done.
The blond giant hooks his thumbs into the pockets of his thick leather biking jacket, boots settling into the barren rock. Steel blue eyes watch the Ansatsuken master draws back his fist, then unleash a strike of such magnificence that the waterfall itself bows in obeisance. The rainbow-hued spray touches Alex's cheeks and a murmur of approval rumbles from his throat.
Ryu has certainly not lost his strength. If anything, the man seems even stronger since last he saw him.
His attentions brush over the nearby campsite, eliciting the faintest of chuckles of amusement. A perfectly good villa nearby, and the guy lives out in the woods like some kind of survivalist crazy person. Alex has been a city-slicker his whole life. Never lived anywhere that wasn't paved over. Not that he doesn't appreciation some time camping out in the woods every so often, but Ryu's habits go far beyond a simple outdoorsman.
But seeing how effective the man has become, its extremely hard to argue with the results. Something to that clean living, Alex supposes. No distractions. Just a singular focus. His fist. The world beyond it. The American didn't admit it back then, but training with Ryu for a handful of months taught him more about fighting than he learned in whole years of training. That kid Sakura, she's one of the most popular fighters in the world now and she only trained with the guy for a year or two. To say nothing of Ken Masters, who grew up with the guy or something like that.
Time has given Alex a far grander appreciation for the other fighter. And the modesty to know how grateful he should've been for the man giving him the time of day when he was younger and far more arrogant.
It takes a moment of that distant, yet oh-so-present focus before Ryu acknowledges Alex. He clenches his fist, tightly, muscles flexing powerfully as his dark eyes close momentarily. He is not thoughtful, so much as attentive - the hardships Alex has faced may be unknown to him, but the struggle is not. Nor is the quiet fervor of epiphany, and the many reactions and changes that come from brushing up against that which is just a bit larger than oneself. Another strike never comes, the tremors of chi rumbling back within him as a particularly strong, cool breeze rushes in through the mouth of the cavern, spraying further water inward, dampening the nomad's worn, thick white gi. His headband flutters wildly to the side, and the powerful nomad faces his old comrade fully, tilting his head ever so slightly to the right.
Studying the blonde, as if for the first time. In retrospect, it is strange, or perhaps foreshadowing, that they argued of the consequences of crusades, of the nature of good and evil, once. While such things can never be fundamentally proven, their impact remains all around us, altering the landscape in seemingly irrevocable ways that can't possibly be part of any balance, any greater good.
Can they? It's there every day, if one looks for it. The joy in the little places, the quiet things - and more dramatically still, the swell of hope that can come from suffering, the freedom that comes strongest sometimes only in the darkest hour, when one finally realizes it was within the entire time. It is the little things, the quiet consequences, that the nomad claims to concern himself with. Not a crusader, he would not claim to be a hero - yet never has he hesitated to act, to protect the weak, or stop the malevolent. It is not unscathed that he has passed through the fire, though sometimes it must seem so...
It has forged him, and he embraces it still, seeks it out. He steps forward a stride, two, and the legendary warrior smiles warmly, sincerely, with familiarity of earned friendship. Stepping forward, he inclines his head, and then extends a hand towards Alex's, rather enthusiastically, "You made it! I hoped you would. You're looking well, keeping your training up?" Entirely at ease, the proverbial eye of the storm he's been basking in, the nomad still holds no pretense born of his power... if anything, the Ansatsuken Master seems more centered, the weights of the world lessened from what they were in earlier years.
It MUST be the clean living.
As dark eyes meet light, a lifetime of communication transmits between them. A weight of worldly experience gives gravity from the look in Alex's gaze. That long-ago argument between them, the nature of righteousness and high-ideals, turned out to be prophetic indeed. If only Alex listened, then. If only the young warrior had taken heed to the Mountain Priest's words then, perhaps things would have turned out differently. Or maybe if he did listen, they wouldn't have turned out as they should have. Regardless of the past, the American titan's look is one of a man who truly wants to listen now.
While Ryu has been tempered by the flames of brutal experience, Alex is not as certain he can claim similar. Which brings him to the here and now.
Regardless, whatever uncertainly Alex may feel, one thing certainly has not changed. Ryu is one friendly son of a gun. With a solemn nod the man strides forth, looming tall over the shorter Japanese but somehow never looking down to him. "L.." A beat. A sideways smirk and close-eyed tilt of the head. Heh. "Ryu." Finally managing to correct himself. Reaching out a hand to accept that shake unreservedly, his opposite clasping along with the first in firm welcome. "Good to see you again. I knew you'd be here, showin' these Krauts how it was done." The epithet is more affectionate than insulting. Oh how Americans can slur with such double-meaning.
Taking a step back then, Alex tilts his head as answers that question simply, "Matter o' fact, I was hopin you could tell me." Lifting a hand and curling his fingers, "Got time for a fight? Fer old time's sake?" The smile on the Goliath is pure and genuine, perhaps more so than in the past. While the pressures of life have weighed down upon him, Alex's tone has softened some. At least to those whom he'd call friend and ally. "Not really here for the tournament. Came to see you more than anythin'. And.. Maybe see what new kids that crawled out of the woodwork these days since I've been out."
Alex looks like a man with a lot of questions. The tough kind with answers that can't ever be given. Sometimes, the one thing a person needs more than anything at those times is a friend, an ally. Even if he doesn't have all the answers, Ryu is quick to stand with Alex, and make it pretty damn clear. He shakes the American's hand firmly, a gesture encouraged by the prodigal brawler at one point, clasping the other man's forearm briefly, a reaffirmation of strength and camaraderie, "You should have come already." Ryu answers, not so much a condemnation, but a dismissal of the entire question. For old time's sake... as if he even needed to play that card. Whatever's wormed into the blonde brawler's doubts or fears, his arrival is anything but an intrusion. ... if anything, Ryu seems to have expected it.
Of course, he notices the shift in Alex's tone - and his entire poise. It's like the American warrior is a new man, but the nomad doesn't miss a beat, and isn't the least bit suspicious or demanding... it was always the spirit of this warrior that spoke to the Ansatsuken Wanderer, and that is as true here, as ever before, "Watching the tournament, testing yourself on your own terms, getting ready. Smart." Action, ambition for its own sake bring only destruction - that it took time to learn isn't something the one known only as Dragon is going to hold against his old ally.
His bare feet slide in the dirt, his eyes sweeping his surroundings, as if committing them to memory. The duffels he's carrying back up to his camp resting up the slope, the subtle slickness of the slowly smoothing rocks nearer the edge, moistened by the constant splash.... the roar of the waterfall past the cool, shadowed plateau. And finally, back to Alex himself, his crimson gloved hands rising before him, in a similar stance to the one facing off with the water itself, before.
"Let's see what you can do."
COMBATSYS: Ryu has started a fight here.
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Ryu 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Alex has joined the fight here.
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Ryu 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Alex
A card played perhaps for comedy. Or perhaps Alex's uncertainty really has become that vast. An unthinkable prospect for a man who was once driven by infinite self-confidence.
"I try." Is the only words of acceptance Alex offers to Ryu's kind appraisal. The smile is wane then, but Alex does not vent or offer exposition as to the whys and wherefores of his current troubles. The most important fact that the American learned training with the Dragon is that the real truth only reveals itself in the fight. Never before or after. Not in lengthy dialogue or reasoned diatribe. For the two warriors, there can be no greater act of camaraderie than this communion of battle. Whatever confusion life may have thrown Alex into, he remains steadfast in this. Fighting is what he was born to do.
Taking a further step back, the titan shrugs out of his leather jacket. Tossing the black riding garb haphazardly aside. For the flimsy charcoal shirt beneath, Alex doesn't even bother with that much. Ripping the material apart like paper mache, revealing a mighty physique that has diminished not at all. Rolling his powerful shoulders a few times, the blond behemoth squats a few times to work the fatigue out of his legs from the long ride and hike. Such efforts are as trivial to him as a day of training would be to a man like Ryu. No complaints or prevarication. He's ready ready to go at a moment's notice. Such is the grim necessity of street fighting, where warcraft can fall upon you at any moment of any day.
A moment of exercise all he requires, as he then hunches forward. Looking Ryu in the eye with his hands upraised, open hands readied before him with a tactical caution that belies such berserk strength. A deep breath. Friendliness fading behind a facade of raw determination.
"Lets do this."
A grunt of effort and it is joined. Alex takes the initiative and surges forth, thrusting his forearm in a shoulder-level arc. Seeking to batter Ryu's defenses in a controlled, opening gambit.
COMBATSYS: Ryu blocks Alex's Medium Punch.
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Ryu 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Alex
There is a subtle difference between confidence, courage, and the loss of focus so often born of pride, an arrogance in one's own purpose... one's own strength. Too often does it lead those with it to misuse it, to misunderstand it, or to put too much lofty importance on themselves alone. The world makes it difficult to remain humble, but it is doubly true in a calling such as theirs. Doubly true, and oh so much riskier.
The Wanderer is ready to fight - his gloves taut, his headband tied tight, the gi-clad warrior holds his stance, his attention firmly on the larger, burly American. Where Alex is huge, Ryu is compact force. The hulking grappler launches himself forward, and the Japanese champion follows suit, slamming full on into that flying arm with his own forearm, thick muscle clenching with a rippling opposition as he crashes in and stops Alex's assault directly, teeth gritted, energy centered. He is a stone.
The nomad does the impossible - he pushes into the pain, takes a step, shoves back against the mighty American directly. Before, Alex's size would have dictated a certain response - but it lessened him, and martial style, like all things, must evolve. White teeth show in a brief, enthused grin as Ryu sharply twists, a surge of energy rushing through him as his opposite palm thrusts outwards, fingertips open, in a singular lunge timed with a singular step. His weight shifts behind it fully, but all the force is perfectly disciplined, focused almost entirely interally. His arm snaps outwards, for the blonde brawler's guts, a shoving, straight and sudden palm-thrust that is intended to deliver substantial force through sudden disruption of the assaulting titan's very center of gravity. ... if successful, the transference and oppositional momentum would launch him rather abruptly backwards, harshly into the back wall of the mountain herself, "Haaaaaaah!"
COMBATSYS: Alex blocks Ryu's Quick Throw.
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Ryu 0/-------/------=|==-----\-------\0 Alex
On the subject of stone, Alex knows something of the philosophy.
The forearm strike is met with the expected resistance, even if the outward image is almost ludicrous. The wiry, Japanese man nearly half the size of the American titan but standing completely unmoved by the massive blow. The young warrior has come to know and expect Ryu's mastery of balance and flow. He's long come to know that sometimes great force cannot be used without focus or wielded without leverage or calculation. Such displays of careless power has doomed him in more than one fight on the streets of Metro City. Unlike others his size, Alex does not rely on muscle alone. It is this foresight that saves him from a thrusting push that would have sent the larger man sprawling.
Instead, as Ryu's palm strikes his steel-hard midsection, it is not Alex that gives.. but the ground beneath his feet. With a growl of effort, Alex tenses against the shove and earth grinds beneath his boots. Tougher than the mountains surrounding him, the Dragon actually shoves himself backwards as ground gives way. Pushing the two warriors away from each-other in equal and opposite directions.
In a moment of hindsight, perhaps he should have given as opposed to holding his ground. He can already feel an ache in his middle. One does not cast aside even casual force from Ryu lightly.
Unwilling to relinquish what momentum his unshaken stance has given him, Alex swings out an arm at full length. Seeking to chop the side of his hand across Ryu's central body mass with enough force to send the man spinning about. Hoping that, perhaps, with the rubble formed beneath his bare feet from the forceful rebuke, his stance will be less unfailing than usual.
"HAHN!"
COMBATSYS: Alex successfully hits Ryu with Flash Chop.
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Ryu 0/-------/----===|===----\-------\0 Alex
When it is not the titanic brawler who gives, but the very ground beneath his feet, Ryu is indeed caught out without a trick ready. It's not to say he doesn't think on his feet, but the proximity of the blonde grappler leaves his options rather simplistic. He weaves backwards, dropping to shift his weight... and then the explosive chop reaves into him, turning graceful evasion into staggering, barely upright reversed momentum. The searing pain is shaken off, the force of it sees him skidding across the rock once more as he pulls up short, sliding into a low crouch, still facing Alex, "Heh. Guess that's a point for you." The nomad notes, not sounding overly concerned about the outcome of their impromptu test of might. Overpowered, but far from beaten.
It's a thrum of energy that seems to surge up through the Earth itself, course in from the rush of the winds, energize Ryu in an instant as he reaches deep into a well that even he can scarcely conceive, much less tap. His arms sweep forward, pushing to his feet as a flashfire of energy courses up his arms, blue-white fire burning bright from his fingertips, coalescing rapidly into a densely packed, wildly flaring sphere of purest chi, the wildly luminescent blast glinting through the water, refracting in the mist of the chamber as it rockets in for Alex.
For old time's sake.
"HADOOOUKEN!!"
COMBATSYS: Alex endures Ryu's Hadouken.
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Ryu 0/-------/-======|=======\-------\0 Alex
Encouraging, but definitely not the end. Not by a long shot. No thrill of success crosses his gaze but the acknowledgement of the exchange is met with a sincere nod. So far so good.
Then, Alex can feel it. He's fought spiritual fighters enough to sense that tell-tale sensation. The air growing crisp, the sensation of a breeze. He can feel it through the soles of his boots. For other, lesser fighters it would be a tingle. A vague notion that they were tapping resources unseen by the naked eye.
For Ryu, it feels like an underground river was just channeled to his feet. Blue eyes widen in clear apprehension as his iron-like muscles tense.
In a sense, Ryu's notoriety and fame works against him here. As his open palms sweep forward then pull back, drawing that blue hurricane of force into a perfect sphere of energy.. Alex knows what that means. Everyone who's in this business knows what that means. If there is one move that's universally feared by all fighting competitors everywhere in the world, it would be this most famous of moves. Everyone else who throws energy with their hands? They're just stealing this man's act. Nobody does it better than Ryu.
Which demonstrates why the idea of charging him anyway seems absolutely insane.
Alex knows he can't get out of the way in time, its already too late for that. His only options? Weather the storm or beat him to the punch. Or a third option.. All the above.
"HRAH!" With a cry, the American Titan surges in a rush. Closing the short distance between them as fast as he can will his powerful frame to motion. By a miracle, his hands just barely manage to clench at Ryu's upper arms as he completes the blast.
Fingers locking on his flesh as the azurian explosion -rocks- against his chest at point blank. The flow of force washes over him, blowing his long blonde locks back and blasting the air from his lungs. His body buckling forwards as he almost collapses to his knees... Almost. The giant uses his grip on Ryu as a fulcrum. Stealing Ryu's balance for his own, keeping him from being blasted away as he clings to the man for stability.
It was a costly bet, as that most sincerely hurt like the damned blazes.
But as his eyes lift again to meet Ryu's with a spark of determination.. He's ready to deliver in kind. His feet retrench and his grip tightens, attempting to lift the Ansatsuken master off his feet and sunder his connection to the mountain...
COMBATSYS: Ryu interrupts Powerbomb from Alex with Joudan Sokutou Geri.
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Ryu 1/-------/=======|=======\==-----\1 Alex
The Hadouken is indeed fast - the primal, elemental fury burning brightly as Alex blasts right /through/ it, grabbing Ryu even as it's launched. As swift as the blast may be, so is Alex's followup assault. Left with few options once more, Ryu re-examines this whole 'think on your feet' thing his hybrid style is known for. In this case, it's thinking off his feet - contact severed or no, every synapse fires on cue, every muscle tenses as he's launched upwards in the blonde's grip. Spun around, inverted.... up, up, up....
The plan, one would assume, is to reintroduce the Ansatsuken Master to the resilient rock, upside first. Abruptly, harshly, Alex's grip is prematurely rent asunder, a sharp twist of all that culminated energy, tension, and frankly self preservation brings the upside-down nomad around, leg first. His knee crashes into Alex's chest, abating the last vestiges of the intended maneuver in an instant, both fighters midair as the spinning, snapping kick is delivered fully, the nomad's foot thrusting out forcefully.
Forcefully enough to launch the other King of Fighters away, and him right back the other way, both fighters all but exploded to their proverbial corners, the nomad landing in a heap, rolling haphazardly over himself, coming to rest near the edge, the waterfall rushing down over his shoulders and head, the chill refreshment welcomed as he shakes off the impact, and pushes back to his feet, turning to face Alex once more.
The mighty American is indeed as strong as ever, perhaps stronger - Ryu welcomes it, raising his guard once more, intensifying his attention to every detail in his rival's motions, and attack. He beckons the blonde forward once more, a half-smile coming to his face.
Oh he thought he had 'em that time!
Just as Alex wrenches Ryu up and away from the source of his strength, he commits completely to following through with the Powerbomb. One of the most brutal moves in all of wrestling, few have the strength needed to complete the technique on command. Fewer still can walk away from it immediately afterwards. Ryu? The titan figures it would slow him down.
Little did he realize how optimistic even that grim assessment was!
The wrenching escape from his grasp is the only warning Alex receives. Mid-air, his blue eyes dart upwards in astonishment just as the knee crashes against his already battered chest. The goliath has had no time to draw breath again since the wave motion fist, thusly the giant can only mutely contort his face in pain at the surprising blow. His arms flailing as he's sent sprawling to the ground a distance away.
Gasping for air, Alex rolls back up to his feet. A hand briefly touching his chest, taking inventory of the damage inflicted and gauging the state of the battle--Taking this moment to reassess and consider. And laugh. More of a coughing sound from lungs as tormented as his, but the exuberance of the moment goes unsuppressed. A grin spreads ear to ear, reflecting Ryu's own thrill.
God. He almost forgot how much he missed this.
"You haven't slowed down.. One bit have you?.." The titan manages out amidst gasps for air. His hands lifting back into his readied stance. That was a bit facitious. Truthfully, Ryu's seems even more resourceful and potent than before.
Excellent.
With a deep battlecry, Alex charges forth once more. Judging his best hope against the Wanderer is to get in close and disrupt his balance. His strength is in his foundation, his rooted stance. Break that and the rest will follow. Easier said than done, but he can't do it without closing the distance. Risky.. But fighting the best always is.
Stealing a page from shoot fighters, the giant soars through the air. Diving at Ryu in a low arc, aiming to tackle the man's ankle. Hoping the surprising lunge will literally sweep the man clean off his feet before he can fully escape, swing him across the ground like a golf club and send him sprawling. A brute force, aggressive move... But perhaps not the one Ryu was expecting. It is a chess match between them now, staying a move ahead is key..
COMBATSYS: Alex successfully hits Ryu with Quick Throw.
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Ryu 1/-----==/=======|=======\==-----\1 Alex
"Not for a long time yet." Of course, the same could be said of Alex. The grappler's been training, honing himself, and to say he's putting the Ansatsuken Master through the paces is putting it mildly. In a game of staying a step ahead, Alex came sprinting out of the gate. Not that it seems to be bothering the gi-clad Wanderer all that much. Just the opposite, in fact - he matches Alex's fervor, throwing himself back into the fray as the lunge comes. It is unpredictable, and forceful, yet somehow Ryu still seems to predict the swift onslaught - dropping low, he braces himself... but Alex barrels in just a moment too soon, bowling over the crouching nomad and sending him hurtling groundwards once more, crashing hard into the rock as his attempt at raising a guard goes terribly wrong. Grunting out a pained exhalation, the unexpected turn of events does little to sway Ryu from taking the initiative once more.
He's already in close - the ascent is not exactly like 'picking himself back up' is meant to go. As soon as both bent legs are beneath him, the Ansatsuken Master launches himself upwards, in at Alex, seeking to hammer the blonde brawler up, up, and away as he spins about with blurring speed and intensity, a whipping wind rushing inward all around him as his right leg rotors about time and again in blatant defiance of gravity.
Neither has slowed down - both look at this fight as a test of sheer strength and tenacity. Spirit. The outcome is meaningless, it is all in how each battle is fought. The cry echoes off the mountains, the attack itself rushes audibly through the air, displacing wind in voluminous fashion as Ryu seeks to return the punishment right back to Alex, rather thoroughly indeed.
"TATSUMAKI SENPUUUUU KYAKU!!!"
COMBATSYS: Alex endures Ryu's Tatsumaki Senpuu Kyaku.
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Ryu 1/---====/=======|=======\=======\1 Alex
Unquestionably, Ryu has nothing to prove. Alex thought the world of him before, and after this he'll think the world of him still no matter the outcome.
Unquestionably, Ryu has nothing to prove. Alex thought the world of him before, and after this he'll think the world of him still no matter the outcome.
%Alex, however, does have something to prove. He walked into this fight with a zeal and intensity usually reserved only for final matches of grand tournaments. Heavy questions had lay on his mind. Has he lost his way? Has he lost his edge? Without his unyielding bravado, was he half the fighter he was before? Had his year away slowed him to the point where he may as well just throw in the towel?
Alex had come to the mountain with a question. He wanted to know his measure now. Desired to find understanding of himself and who he was.
Every strike given was a question. Every blow taken was an answer. A dialogue had transpired between them, one in which the truth began to reveal itself little by little.
Only fighting the best, only fighting Ryu, do you really know who you are.
As Alex's brash lunge had paid dividends, the warrior rises to a low crouch swiftly. Realizing his bold move only bought him the smallest measure of time against the unfathomably wise and insightful Dragon, he squanders not a moment. And once again, against all odds and in defiance of physics itself, Ryu possess yet another answer. Launching himself, harnessing the wind to gain the force of a hurricane itself, Alex is faced with yet another terrible choice.
Rely on his own resilience, or dare to hope to evade the wanderer's uncanny wrath? In the end, he has no choice at all as Ryu is already upon him. Gritting his teeth the newer fighter lowers his shoulder and vaults into the hurricane from his crouch. Shoving his way into the flurry of kicks, every single one striking him hard. Every full revolution would be enough to knock a lesser man clean off his feet and tumbling down the mountain.
"HRAAARRRGGHHH!" The howl of determination leaves his lips as blood and spittle fly into the air. Not anger or frustration, but primal force. Boots sliding back as dirt and rock alike crack and fold beneath his grinding heel, holding fast against the potent onslaught with power that the rocks themselves may envy.
As the last kick rebuffs off of his shoulder one final time, Alex half-whirls with the impact. Eyes widened as sense was nearly beaten out of him.. For a heartbeat.. it almost seems like he could topple.
That is, until his boot slams into the ground and his hands -lunge- forward. Attempting to grab the Dragon before he can land and recuperate from his flight.. Betting all the savage damage he just took that he could get one.. clear.. shot..
COMBATSYS: Ryu endures Alex's Hyper Bomb.
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Ryu 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|===----\-------\0 Alex
Alex's powerful arms manage to coil about Ryu's waist, a situation that has heralded doom to many contenders in the past. His momentum carries him through the air, grip tightening with all the strength he can muster to wrestle the Dragon into as much stillness as he can muster. Outwardly it may seem ludicrous for such a hulk to be carrying about such a tinier opponent, but the reality is completely the opposite of the vision. In fact, it is the smaller fighter barely containing the greater.
Committed completely now to his most potent technique, Alex carries through. Flipping backwards in an arching dive, -slamming- Ryu's shoulders into the Earth with bone jarring force. And it only begins there..
Alex's momentum is unending, vaulting off of Ryu's shoulders like some manner of stone fulcrum, flipping over and gaining a new foothold, only to complete a second suplex. Smashing the warrior into the ground.
Still not enough.
The motion continues as the titan rolls aside, flipping the Ansatsuken master up and over his shoulder and -leaping- high into the air. Rocketing skyward as his cry rebels against the mountaintops.
A moment of strange serene stillness in mid-air, seconds of freefall..
-Impact-
Alex drives the wanderer into the stone with enough force to send small stones skyward. All of the might his great body can bring to bear, focused into a single mammoth throw of impact. The thunderclap of the blow retorts across the mountainsides as wind blasts outwards and away. A spiderweb of cracks reaches outwards from the cradle of impact where Ryu was planted, and rubble rains down moments later in the aftermath as the world itself hushes in silence.
It's true. Each style, has its own rhythm, its own tone - a fingerprint every bit as unique as the fighters who devise them. It is doubly true that it is hard to hide, or hide from, one's own nature in a pitched battle. This is all-out warfare, a spar between men who know exactly what limits they can push the other to - and that nothing less is even welcome. That Alex brings many a question to this battlefield is perhaps something to be expected, but the younger warrior has nothing to prove, either. Not really. From the moment they first did battle, Ryu knew what sort of man Alex was, what sort of warrior. What his heart demanded he seek, and how strongly this rising champion would seek it - it has been bumpy, it always is. The cliffs are tenuous... they always are. The higher the climb, the higher the fall - the harder the path, the easier to slip. The greater the reward, the easier it is to allow that accomplishment, that power, to cloud who one is entirely.
All of these questions loom large before Alex - they loom large before Ryu, and there was a time when the young champion felt much as his comrade does, about all of it. What was his place? What was his role? Was he a tool of light, or a weapon of the darkness?
The answer, Ryu realized, simply was. His place was here, every step his feet took. His role was whatever he decided it to be, and could change at the drop of a hat. Yes, and yes... within him was a great villain. Within him was the noblest knight. Accepting this, in himself and others, was responsible in large part not only for Ryu's current peace of mind... but his redoubled commitment to training, meditation... discipline. If he is to seek understanding, he must be prepared for everything he will find. There is value in the search, but one must never overreach themselves. Overzealousness, Ryu learned early, can lead to serious trouble.
'A zealot is one who redoubles his efforts, whilst losing sight of his goals.' Instead, these two prepare themselves - search /within/, rather than acting without foresight - at least, that's the general idea. Success and failure are also very, very human things. Almost unbelievably, Ryu makes no motion to divert his descent - the punishing kicks delivered, he lands in the lunging titan's grip, launched up and over before he knows what's happening. Or is he?
*WHAM* Ryu crashes to the ground, suplexed soundly, skidding along the moist, cold stone - it's almost a refreshing reunion, if not for the force. His mind clears, his thoughts focus, he clenches his jaw - he heaves as if in synch with the next motion. Alex hurtles over once more.
*WHAM* Ryu lands hard a second time - he can't roll free, but he can reach out, sense where this is going - endure. He knows Alex's strength, every impact is resounding confirmation of the soundness of his plan. At least, that's what one has to keep in mind to remain calm through what happens next.
*CRACK* The cliff itself reverberates, protesting loudly as small bits of stone rain down from overhead, and tumble down the mountain below. The release of energy is tremendous - and Ryu is all but sunbathing in it, by this point. Crushed to the ground, rolling free, Ryu comes up in a crouch that's incredibly low to the ground, his hands already at his sides. His own inner chi roiling to fever pitch.
It's a subtle crescendo, not the berserker rage of a masochist like Yamazaki. Not the building outrage of a rage-fueled overlord like Rugal. No, it's for entirely different reasons that Ryu's resolve is reinforced by Alex's display. But as he snaps his gaze back to Alex, there is no mistaking it now.
As loudly as any in this world, the roar comes. It's easy to mistake for a vocalized cry, a primal, deep scream, for the moments it takes the coalescing vortex to surge into being. But it is the power of that cerulean wormhole that fuels the resounding displacement of air - not outwards, but inwards. The crouching Ryu's arms brace, the growing sphere is cradled between flexing hands, palms open as the sphere grows, expanding ever further in wildly fluctuating, dark energy. Bits of rock disappear, consumed within - a pit is opened up at Ryu's feet, the conjured chi rending rock as surely as it draws air and water into a tremendous void, doubling and redoubling in instants, "SHIIIIIIIINKUUUUUUUUUUUUUU....."
The Wanderer intones, barely audible over the roar of the Hadouken itself, the waterfall now a violent, inward spray showering the entire outcropping, reaching for the spherical surge with inexorable determination. And then exploding forwards in similar fashion, as the entire mass is shoved forward with swift, natural fluidity despite the herculean effort. The densely packed, wildly coruscating mass of cerulean energy crosses the distance between the two in an instant, echoed by an equally fervent, "HADOOOOOOOOOOOUKEN!!!!!"
COMBATSYS: Ryu successfully hits Alex with Shinkuu Hadouken.
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Ryu 0/-------/-------|=======\===----\1 Alex
A zealot was the very thing that Alex was terrified he was becoming.
It was in Thailand that he fought Vega and lost. His first true, soul-crushing defeat. Oh, Alex had lost before, yes. That comes with the territory. Fighters win, fighters lose. Nobody fights at his level without being acutely aware of how precarious it is to balance over them. Losing to Vega was another story. He was so certain.. So certain.
Alex had fought those of monstrous strength before. He even faced down Kain himself and managed a victory by guts and determination alone. The mad tyrant of Thailand was a changing point. A realization that strength and force.. was not enough. Even if he could gain such power to conquer Vega, what then? Would Alex lose his own soul along the way and become every inch as terrible as he?
The Wanderer had confronted such inner demons before, but it was the next generation's turn to confront them. Unaccustomed to looking inward and truly analyzing his own life, Alex found himself at a loss. He never questioned himself or his resolve until that moment. In some ways, perhaps his great strength and excellent luck in battle did him a disservice. So much so that when true defeat eventually caught up with him, he was ill prepared to deal with what it meant.
Seeing the carnage in the aftermath of that war took its toll upon him. Raised a military brat his whole life, he strove for so long to be a soldier. Only for Tom to deny him that avenue.. He never really understood the wisdom of that decision until the horrors of Shadaloo.
Thusly, Alex had to change. Leaving the stage of world events for a time, returning to Metro City to ponder his direction in life. Brooded in silence as events became a distant memory.
And then.. a month ago.. Alex felt it. A pang in his chest, an emptiness in his mind. He missed the thrill. The camaraderie. The brotherhood he had formed with his fellow contenders, who he was afraid he had estranged with his .. brash and arrogant behavior, he considers in retrospect. He wanted to be a part of it, he knew. He couldn't walk away from everything he gained. It was part of his life, it was part of him. He wasn't going to let it go.
Not one for wasting time, the titan knew there was exactly one way to see how much of his edge he had lost. Only one friend he could count on to show him exactly where he stood.
And that friend rolls to his feet with such grace and speed that Alex would think him a phantom. Still hunched forwards in the aftermath of that mighty tackle, looming above the crater like a god looking over his terrible works. A throw as potent as the Hyper Bomb technique, very, very few fighters rise again in its wake. Instead.. the Dragon has truly awoken. It rises with awe-inspiring power as its roar echoes across the mountains. The energy and force pool and flow inwards, forming into a void space of ultimate potential. A force unbidden by nature itself and crafted into being by sheer will and wisdom.
Instantly, Alex knows he is doomed. He had weathered previous strikes out of pure constitution.. But he is only mortal. Even a stature as great as his possesses limits and a wave-motion of that size is inexorable. He hit Ryu with everything he had, and the man bloomed. Invigorated and renewed with mythical, legendary vitality.
"...Incredible.." Alex manages to whisper before the tempest is unleashed. He does not give up, even now. Throwing up his arms in a semblance of last-minute defense. Hunkering forth and leaning into the blast.. That proves utterly irresistible. His bellow is swallowed in the thunder of impact. His great form swallowed in a massive azurian explosion. A second thunderclap of equal power echoes throughout the German range as the Dragon brings the Titan low. Sent clean off his booted feet, Alex -smashes- into the far cliff-side. Half-embedded within the stone.. His expression reflecting the shock of the impact, with eyes wide and jaw slack.
To his supreme astonishment.. Alex isn't unconscious quite yet. He regrets nothing. The terrible ache in his body, begging him to just fall over, is a benediction. A trial by fire. That he could not topple Ryu is encouragement.. It means he does have a ways yet to go. But at the same time.. He went the distance with him. It was a hard, tough fight. He could not have hoped for better.
But as long as he still has an iota of strength left in him.. He won't insult Ryu by just giving up because it hurts.
"..Hnng.." Pulling himself from the giant-shaped impression in the cliff, Alex stumbles forth. Wobbling on his boots, staggering closer and closer still. The quintet of Ryu's in his vision all look the same to him.. As such, the best he can do is pick one at random and swing his fist one last time. A random, haphazard attack. The last conscious breath he has in his body, shouted in a grunt of effort as his forearms swings once more. The force of that unbalanced strike enough to topple Alex one last time and send him crashing to the ground in a loud heap.
COMBATSYS: Alex can no longer fight.
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Ryu 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Alex successfully hits Ryu with Medium Punch.
- Power hit! -
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Ryu 0/-------/-----==|
It's an easy thing to do, when confronted by the evils of the world. To become consumed by it, by stopping it, by fighting it - to the exclusion of everything else, even the other evils, and the consequences of one's own actions. Thailand, and Metro City, taught that lesson to many who listened. Ryu himself had to trek into the warzone on a very different kind of mission, a journey that did not shock or surprise him - but disheartened him nonetheless. All the suffering, so much of it personal. .... if he had been able to pull Ken back just a few moments earlier, before the fight went the way it did, perhaps the entire journey would have been different. Perhaps he should have helped, more - but these things have a life of their own, and people who thrive on the chaos. Sometimes it is the small gestures, and the personal missions that have to be considered.
They are too often forgotten in the shadow of lofty ideas, and the ambitious of zealots. If Ryu were to serve as a yardstick for Alex's own sense of his self and readyness - well, Ryu certainly puts his all into that pursuit. The man known only as the Dragon, which some would say he so thoroughly embodies, forges the burst of pure will in just that aim. A true test, a confirmation that this battle was hard fought indeed. An all-consuming mass of purest chi, perhaps searing enough to burn the doubt from his old comrade - at least enough to send the Titan hurtling away, and take the fight out of him. Ryu comes up fully, drawing a deep breath.... and the blonde pries himself out of the cliff wall, and makes his last ditch, all-out offensive. A step from falling down, the swinging forearm catches Ryu a moment before he can fully recover and adapt to the unexpected offensive.
Turns out Alex had just a touch MORE strength than Ryu had expected. A misguaged whack that brings a stream of blood from his nose, and sets the nomad staggering backwards.
... staggering backwards.... blackness licks at his vision, the lure of unconsciousness whispers in his ears. If there is one single thing to which Ryu's fame could be attributed, the loyal fan would tell you, it is the consistency with which he fights on. Past the point most would fall, past the techniques that might ruin an entire building.... past, perhaps, the point of all logic or common sense, the Wanderer fights on.
'Every time you fall, rise. No man is perfect, Ryu, but if you have courage, if you endure... you will always be the one standing.' Regardless.
Brown eyes flutter back open, blackness replaced by fierce inner light. The muscular nomad cracks his thick neck to the side, and shuffles one foot back, suddenly stabilizing his footing. As Alex falls, he rests one hand to the wall, exhaling a deep, tense breath. But there's no denying what just happened there.
The nomad regained his fighting form, adapting and rising to the level set and reset again by the American Titan.... but this time, Alex is not leaping at the renewed chance. Ah, well. It's hard to blame him.
"Heh." Ryu chortles, eyeing the fallen Alex, though not moving to assist him QUITE yet - due to his own pain, "I'd forgotten just how strong you are. It's been too long."
COMBATSYS: Ryu takes no action.
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Ryu 0/-------/-----==|
COMBATSYS: Ryu has ended the fight here.
The Titan's ruin lay smote upon the mountainside. The American held nothing back. He put everything he had into that and left no reservation or contingency. It was a pure, glorious beating he took and he loved every moment of it. Alex missed that.. That kinship between warriors. That certainty of purpose, that exhilaration where the world itself focuses into such clarity that there are no questions left. He sought answers, and Ryu provided them. He can't thank him enough.
When he's conscious, that is.
"Mng.." Thankfully, the Wanderer does not have to wait long. Alex was out for a solid minute or two, but a constitution as great as his allows him a relatively swift recovery from that holy thrashing. Not to say that the waking world treats him kindly, as his body lets him know that was extremely uncalled for behavior with the aches and pains it grants him. His muffled breath puffs dust from the ground as a meaty hand slides upwards, fingers curling into the broken Earth--disheveled from their combat.
"Pfah.." Pushing himself up, eyes squinting while bearing the aftermath of the fight, Alex spits a few motes of dust from his lips before stating, "...God Damn.. You still hit like a freight train.."
Flopping onto his side and turning his dizzy gaze skyward in Ryu's presumed direction, Alex offers a bloodied grin, "..Glad to.. be back. Fha.." Wiping his lips with the back of his glove, sitting up further, "..I almost forgot.. nng.. what's like. Bein' in a real fight. S'been.. s'long.."
A deep, agonized inhale. The mountain air smells sweeter, crisper than he first arrived. Everything just seems better now, moments to savor and treasure. Moments like this remind him why he's alive. Why he does what he does.. And reinforces that seeking ot Ryu was, in fact, the right thing to do.
And now, here they are. With that settled, the reunion can begin in earnest. Alex finally manages to ease himself into a half-sitting, kneeling crouch. An arm slung over an upraised knee with his off-hand balancing on the Earth. His blonde tresses mostly freed from beneath his bandanna in the mayhem, framing his blooded nordic features, "Thank you for that, Ryu... I don't think I ever thanked you.. did I? Before?" Hadoken-addled mind certain could be missing a few details of the past right now, but one things for sure. He never really thanked him enough, "..There's a lot of things .. I wish I said different. But of all of 'em.. s'the most important one, I think. Just... Thank you."
Log created on 22:41:38 10/20/2008 by Alex, and last modified on 22:26:04 10/28/2008.