Description: Ken Masters makes his Big comeback. Get it! GET IT???!!! Called out by Mister Big, Ken Masters struts his stuff. Whoever will win?! (Winner: Mr. Big)
"What the fuck is that??"
"It's my new piercing, Mistah Big, don't you like it--"
One palm to the face later, and a topless woman is on her back as she should be as the Biggest Man of Them All sits up on his incredibly cozy, quite potentially the coziest ever, recliner. Behind those mirrored lenses of his, he stares incredulously at the latest episode of Carson Daly to be streamed fresh off the coziest, biggest satellite ever constructed this side of a NESTS base, at the blonde supposed-heterosexual talking about his latest comeback.
"Fuck this, I'm gonna kick that guy right in the dick."
Strong, bewildering words. Lifting his pants back up to his waist, Mister Big departed then, leaving girls to wipe their chins as the Sultan of Southtown went to make arrangements.
That was three hours ago.
Suffering a case of potential blue balls, Mister Big waits on a rooftop arena, typically used to play tennis on since the Japanese are so goddamn crazy like that. It's a rushed fight, but thanks to the wonders of technology, the Neo League have been more than accommodating in arranging for this fight.
Mister Big vs Ken Masters.
The loser shaves their head.
Mister Big really can't lose this, and he stands with arms crossed on one side of the net, waiting for his opponent to arrive.
Ken Masters is walking down the street in Southtown, having flown in after his Carson Daly appearance on his improbably fast personal jet. He's doing some celebrating, as is his wont, while Eliza's home with the kid -- him and his entourage. Piling out of a bar is Ken, Michael K. Williams, Warwick Davis, B.J. Novak, and 90s pop group Color Me Badd. "Whoa, damn, Warwick, I almost stepped on you!" Ken laughs. He is wearing a suit that is even more expensive than Mr. Big's, collar unbuttoned and tie loosened -- and barefoot, because he's Ken Masters. He also has a bottle of Evian still in hand, half-finished.
"Sure you'e not going to drink anything, Ken?" Michael K. Williams asks in his distinctive Baltimore accent.
"Sorry, dude, but my body is a temple," Ken replies with his winning grin, "and even moreso now that I'm back in the mix with these fights!"
A guy wearing a Neo League jumpsuit runs up to Ken. "Mister Masters! Mister Masters!"
NOW
Ken arrives at the rooftop arena, still wearing his suit. "Mister Big," the American fighting champion says, narrowing his eyes. "I should have known the only person who'd challenge me to a match at three in the morning on an anonymous rooftop in Southtown... would be you." Ken steps forward, folding his arms. "Look, I know you've got a reputation to uphold, but so do I, and so does the Neo League."
Ken points at Big's escorts. "So I'm gonna have to insist that your, uh, ladies of the night head back down to the street. They can hang out with Color Me Badd or something, I guess."
COMBATSYS: Ken has started a fight here.
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Ken 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Mr.Big has joined the fight here.
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Mr.Big 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Ken
The measuring of the dicks can wait until later, and it no doubt will. When Masters starts shooting his lip, Mister Big only half-listens, and what he half-hears isn't to his half-liking. "What the fuck? You're kickin' the girls off the set? What the fuck are you, queer?"
Nearly, he takes his sunglasses off. Nearly. Instead he crosses his arms, looking like he might just not fight altogether. "The girls stay man. If you can't keep your eyes on the prize, that ain't my problem." He considers the matter settled. He points to the background, where the girls migrate to, to periodically cheer and wave their arms and jump, as background characters tend to do.
"You can put your backup singers there as well. Ain't that where you left to," he asks in that gruff quarter-mile at a time voice, "to start a music career?"
Really, Mister Big is more of a Saturday Night Fight kind of guy, but he can't admit his association with the brand openly. He makes a note to ensure all of Ken's upcoming matches are as filled with Hard Gay as possible, should Sumitani return to the circuit in time.
"Now let's get this thing started, huh?"
Lifting two black rods from the interior of his stylish, much more expensive than Ken's hair product allowance, coat, the Sultan of Southtown is ready to rumble, and he proves it by kicking the tennis net over and lunging at Masters, bringing those fighting sticks through in a vicious blackjack clubbing motion. He sent away for it.
COMBATSYS: Ken blocks Mr.Big's Medium Strike.
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Mr.Big 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Ken
"Man, you sure don't make it easy for the editors in post with that mouth, do you, buddy?" Ken says, snorting derisively at Big's potty mouth. Still, he doesn't respond to any of the charges specifically, realizing that it's time to act.
Ken stomps a foot forward as Big charges, bracing himself and swinging his forearms up as the Biggest Man on the Roof comes down with those sticks. They whack off of Ken's arms with a noise that definitely sounds painful, but, well, at least it's not his skull.
"Damn, those things sting," Ken says, pulling back when the impact completes, and shaking one forearm gingerly. Still, he seems unfazed, grinning as he resumes his rhythmic fighting stance -- and then, while Big is close, swooping a leg out to try and sweep Big to the ground and make him the Hardest Fall on the Roof.
COMBATSYS: Ken successfully hits Mr.Big with Light Kick.
- Power hit! -
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Mr.Big 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Ken
Hardest Fall indeed. The sweep is the stuff of an older generation, but it still smarts, cleanly causing Mister Big to fall and crack his head against the pavement. "Fuck," he instantly curses, rolling away and back to his feet, not about to let those black-as-your-soul feet plummet down on him and the expensive threads.
With a half-leap back into the fray, the Chrome Dome Don narrows the gap, aiming to loop an arm around Ken's neck and pull him down into a vicious headlock to really wrench that neck.
And if all goes to plan, he's gonna play Ken's head like a bongo. Only using one of those sticks instead of his bare hands.
Maybe it will paralyze him with island rhythms!
COMBATSYS: Ken dodges Mr.Big's Armed Combo.
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Mr.Big 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Ken
As Big goes for Ken's head -- or, more importantly, Ken's precious hair, which is insured for an absolutely disgusting amount of money (he can't lose!) -- that headlock is just about completed when Ken pushes Mr. Big away. "Hey, hey, buddy, watch the hair," he says, running a hand through his golden locks. "You're gonna get it all flattened out."
Ken's hair dealt with, the all-American now turns to deal with his opponent. "Listen, Big, I'll try not to make this /too/ embarassingly quick, okay? But I've got stuff to do, and I promised the little lady I'd be home by sunrise, so don't take it personally if I just completely and ridiculously chump your ass and then air it on TV."
Trash talk phase: complete. Ken charges forward, moving damn fast for a pretty big guy -- but certainly not as Big as Mister -- and brings one leg up, spinning on a bare foot to deliver a roundhouse toward Big's chest!
COMBATSYS: Mr.Big blocks Ken's Ushiro Mawashi-geri.
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Mr.Big 0/-------/-----==|=------\-------\0 Ken
Shoved away so easily hurts Mister Big deep down inside, but he's a man's man and he can't show it so easily. But no doubt inside, in that Biggest Heart of Them All, he's crying just a little. Why doesn't anyone want to roughhouse with him like a brother would??
"Chat your mouth off all you want, punk," the Sultan retorts, and when Ken starts charging, so does Mister Big. Only, with a burst of pimptastic stamina, he's charging in even quicker than Masters is!
It's like two titans of muscle and pure sex appeal about to merge together like those two ugly dudes in Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey, only these two dudes are not ugly.
The roundhouse happens, but it's met by Mister Big's leading arm, a forearm cushioning the blow. But with a full head of steam and momentum of his own, he rises up, bringing the other arm through into a rising uppercut -- with that deadly, unforgiving black stick held firmly in hand!
This could well be the nut cracker, but everybody goes for nut shots these days.
COMBATSYS: Ken fails to interrupt California Romance from Mr.Big with Shoryuken.
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Mr.Big 0/-------/---====|====---\-------\0 Ken
"An uppercut?! Let me show you how an uppercut is d--"
As Ken's fists gather chi-flame, Ken is punched soundly in the jaw, causing him to fly off his bare feet and land on his clothed back. He sits up, groggy, rubbing his jaw. "Okay, maybe a little rusty there," Ken says, standing up. "But plllaytime's over, Big."
In a manly display, Ken rips the sleeves off of his insanely expensive suit, as well as the equally expensive shirt underneath, leaving his tan, thick biceps on display past the ragged, torn hem of his fighting attire. He adopts a ready stance, flexing mightily. "Bring it on!"
Landing with a smirk upon his face, Mister Big waggles his sticks, lifting them out as he performs that mighty shrug of his. "Fine, fine, I hope you're happy now," he remarks, casting a glance down at the tattered remains of fine tailoring.
"Been hitting the tanning salon, hmmmmm?" he taunts, opting to press the attack. And that he does, taking to the air with a huge leap.
Bringing both of his knees up close to his chest, he extends one leg in a vicious kick. The only problem is, he's wearing stylish loafers, so while the kick is vicious, the shoe is soft and supple! Total damage slim, but style points off the chart!
COMBATSYS: Mr.Big successfully hits Ken with Light Kick.
- Power hit! -
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Mr.Big 0/-------/---====|=====--\-------\0 Ken
Ken stares up at Mr. Big's leap: "God, where did you get those loafers--?! I've been looking for a pair like that, for stuff like when we go to see Eliza's parents and she's all insisting I wear shoes and UMPH!" Ken eats the kick to the chest, landing on his back and rolling awkwardly over his shoulder so that he ends up on one knee.
"Man, tanning salon? Do I look orange to you? This is all natural, dude," Ken says, running a hand through his hair in case the fall messed it up. "Anyway, c'mere."
Ken is pretty casual for a guy who just took two pretty rough hits, as he attempts to grab Big by his gaudy pimp coat and, with a twist of his waist and a shrug of his shoulders, flip the Biggest Man on the Planet down onto the proverbial mat.
COMBATSYS: Mr.Big interrupts Jigoku-guruma from Ken with Chopsticks.
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Mr.Big 0/-------/---====|=======\-------\0 Ken
"Ahh, we can discuss fashion tips afterwards," Mister Big notes as he lands, although he holds off on further discussion about the topic of tanning; it would be somewhat telling if he were to tell Ken that he would only be orange with a spray-on tan!
Push comes to shove as his coat is grabbed, and as he's tossed over Ken's hip he happy-claps Ken across both ears with those sticks of his, descending each down like the pincer of chopsticks.
Landing with a grunt, the Sultan rolls through as best he can, although he's definitely not the most rolly of opponents. Rising back through to his feet though, he scampers a few yards away, unafraid of showing Masters his back. "Oooh, is that ring rust coming off now, boy?"
Ken's ears are duly boxed, like his parents' maid used to threaten to do when he was sassy as a youngster; in the end, she was fired for stealing silverware. But that's not important now -- what's important is that Ken clutches the side of his head and goes "Aah, you ass!" before recovering, his black-haired brow furrowing as he glares at Mr. Big. "Tell you what, I could /tell/ you, bro, or I could just /show/ you!"
Ken charges again as Big shows him his back, hoping to at least catch the premier pimp of the fighting world while he's turning -- if not outright off-guard. Ken jumps, and straighens his posture out perfectly -- one fist forward, one pumped back, one leg bent, the other straight forward, heel first, eyes angry, mouth open...
Ken has perfectly re-enacted the movie poster to 'Dragon: The Bruce Lee Story.' And it is breathtaking to see.
COMBATSYS: Mr.Big blocks Ken's Strong Kick.
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Mr.Big 0/-------/--=====|=======\-------\0 Ken
At least there's no gun loaded with blanks for Mister Big to fire at Masters. The flying kick transpires, but Mister Big, oh Mister Big, he's so good at doing things fast. Spinning about, he catches the offending foot with both forearms -- and is knocked back, right off his feet!
Rolling backwards, the Sultan of Southtown grunts once, twice, three times as he rolls, eventually coming back up to his feet, sliding further back on those soft loafers.
"Ooooh, not bad, not bad," he compliments his opponent, clapping those deadly sticks together a few times. But spinning them in his hands, he eventually starts charging back in; "But not good enough!"
Leaping up into the air -- and over the tennis net, don't try to figure out the placement for this battle -- Mister Big plummets down, those two sticks threatening, on the constant offensive! But in this case, the sticks are destined to miss; it's Mister Big's shining forehead that's the problem, as he descends from the heavens in a plummeting headbutt!
COMBATSYS: Ken blocks Mr.Big's Random Strike.
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Mr.Big 0/-------/--=====|=======\-------\1 Ken
"Wh-Whoa!" Ken stammers as he catches Mr. Big's head, like, an inch from his own. "Sorry, buddy, but Ken doesn't swing that way -- and that goes double when you need a breath mint /this/ bad!" Ken pushes Big back, and swings a few check punches, just to give himself some space.
"Not that I don't, you know, I don't /disapprove/ of that lifestyle, but seriously, not for me, dude." Ken is a businessman -- he knows he needs to cover his ass in case that gets aired on TV.
Ken braces his position, and winks at the camera. He then brings his hands together, and as he separates his palms, a red ball of chi flickers into being, roughly spherical and pretty radical. "Anyway, seriously now, HADOUUUKEN!"
COMBATSYS: Mr.Big blocks Ken's Hadouken.
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Mr.Big 0/-------/-======|=======\-------\0 Ken
"What!" It's an indignant exclamation, as Mister Big's sexuality is brought into the question. Thrust back, he evades the initial punches, weaving neatly but giving up ground. "I'm here with the girls man, what do you think they are, for show?!"
Ok, so maybe they are somewhat, but the Biggest Man of Them All is now staring down the barrel of a Hadouken. Left with no choice, he blocks, letting the red-chi wash over him and force him back. "Fucker," he growls the curse out, feeling a tingle in his arms, not to mention some damage done to his stylish threads.
"Ahh, you're getting on my nerves now, Masters," Big warns, as he lets the sticks hang limp at each side. Reaching into his coat, he pulls out a pre-cut cigar, lighting it from his lightly burning sleeve before patting the flame out. Contentedly, he puffs away, getting the burn started before he waggles the phallic symbol at his opposition. "You should suck on one of these, it might calm you down, get your head straight. You should've stayed in singing."
COMBATSYS: Mr.Big gathers his will.
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Mr.Big 1/-----==/=======|=======\-------\0 Ken
"Never was a singer, dude. I was something much more rewarding -- a /father/." Ken grins, boyishly and charmingly, as all Ken grins are. "But I'm betting you're not the type to be into that. You know, responsibility for loved ones, a family you care about, unconditional love -- none of those strike me as your scene." Still, if Big's taking a smoke break, Ken shrugs and decides to take a moment for himself as well.
Putting his fist in his palm as he keeps his legs slightly spread, Ken dwells on what's important -- well, punching Big in the grill for one, but also looking like a champion. But why look like a champion? Just to feel good? No, Ken, he tells himself, to make your wife, son, and that kid who lives in your pool house when Ryu isn't there proud. But couldn't he make them proud by doing something else? Well, yeah, but fighting is what he loves, and if they love him, they will be all the prouder and he will be all the happier and they will be all the happier and one day he'll teach Mel how to ride a bike without training wheels. "Circle of life," Ken says with a smile as he opens his eyes.
COMBATSYS: Ken enters a meditative state.
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Mr.Big 1/-----==/=======|=======\-------\1 Ken
There's no real response from Mister Big as those barbs are slung. He simply smirks around that cigar, letting the good feeling spread throughout his limbs. It's by no means as meditative as what Ken dwells on, but it is what it is; precious nicotine.
Naturally though, when Masters finishes thinking about the important things in his life and opens those eyes, there's a hurricane heading right his way.
Three seconds prior, Mister Big had linked those sticks together, only to swing the staff up and over his shoulders, looping both arms prior. In such a position though, there's really only one thing he can do; spin! And spin he does, loafers placed carefully time and time again as the Chrome Dome Don threatens to take to the airs and fly through the skies, only in this case he keeps his feet on the ground like a good dwarf.
Three seconds later though, he's about to barrel into Ken Masters, a whirling dervish of pain!
COMBATSYS: Mr.Big successfully hits Ken with Spinning Lancer.
# Disabling hit! #
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Mr.Big 1/-----==/=======|=======\==-----\1 Ken
WHAP WHAP WHAP WHAP goes Ken's chest and head area as Big spins into him. "Ugh! Ow! Damn, man!"
Ken finally flings himself away, only to find that the most integral part of his finely honed fighter's body -- he reaches up to find that his carefully feathered and perfectly arranged hair has been mussed into a ridiculous looking sort of part, some of his hair flopped over and it's just /awful/. "You -- okay, Big. That," Ken says, trying to rearrange his hair with his hands and, without a mirror, only able to do a B+ job, "was /too/ far."
Ken is genuinely mad, perhaps unable to focus. A man's only as good as his hair is beautiful, after all, and now his hair just looks /shaggy/, which is /terrible/. Still, Ken's rage carries him into the air -- as he suddenly spins in the air, soaring toward Mr. Big in a burning hell of hurricane kicks!
COMBATSYS: Mr.Big interrupts Shippuujinrai Kyaku from Ken with Blaster Wave.
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Mr.Big 0/-------/------=|====---\-------\0 Ken
This was all planned you see. All meticulously plotted in advance; hit the hair, get him enraged, and then when he thinks he's going to do something spectacular -- thoroughly disabuse him of the notion. Coming out of that spin has Mister Big a little dizzy, but while Ken is busy arranging his hair, the Biggest Man of Them All is busy striking his sticks together.
And there are sparks flying. That can't be good, can it?
So when Ken lets his hot-headed nature float him into contact with Mister Big, he at the same moment unleashes the charge, thrusting both rods forward to unleash ball lightning at point-blank range, right into Ken, to interrupt that hell of kicks before the third can land.
Knocked back all the same, Mister Big lets his arms pinwheel for a moment to ensure he keeps his footing, looking to see if his opponent is still ticking...
Okay, well, look, here's the thing about rooftop arenas --
--you can fall /off/ of them. Mr. Big's lightning attack blasts Ken into the air, causing him to soar through the night sky like some sort of glorious blonde comet, smashing into and through a billboard advertising deluxe pillows before he bangs into a neon sign reading 'COMFORT INN' and richochets into a flagpole before finally landing in an open-top truck full of mousetraps.
As the truck drives off, the sound of a thousand snaps echoes through Southtown, as does Ken's "OW! FU--! OW! OW! DAMMIT! OW! OW!"
Observing Neo League officials look at one another confused. "I-- I think that's a ring-out," one says, as the truck disappears into Southtown traffic.
COMBATSYS: Ken takes no action.
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Mr.Big 0/-------/------=|===----\-------\0 Ken
"No..." Mister Big tells the officials slowly, watching as that delivery truck continues to drive away. "He's not done yet. I can sense it." The officials look at each other. Street fighter ESP? Likely it's just the screams of pain as mousetraps snap shut.
Throwing caution to the wind, the Sultan of Southtown seeks to prove his dominance. In a death-defying act, he leaps from the rooftop, right over the stands and through the safety net to prevent incidents just such as this. Down he descends, despite the great height, a few discrete spins altering his course as he narrows in on the truck.
Closer, closer, closer--
SNAP.
"Motherfuck--" SNAP. SNAP SNAP. "What the fuck man," Mister Big has landed into a fate worse than death, his landing causing him to roll across the floor of the truck and take out a good portion of the traps.
He finds his footing, a tortured look on his face, skin thoroughly red and his clothing covered in traps. He looks down, brow twitching above his glasses, as he seizes a rat trap from his groin and rips it in half. "You son of a bitch, you fucking planned this!" he roars, and does the sensible thing; he kicks with soft loafers.
SNAP. Snap snap! But he also sends several mouse traps flying at Ken Masters.
COMBATSYS: Mr.Big successfully hits Ken with Thrown Object.
-* CRITICAL HIT! *-
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Mr.Big 0/-------/-----==|=====--\-------\0 Ken
Ken emerges from a sea of mousetraps,covered in them. They're pinching -- everywhere. Clothes, skin, hair, even one hanging from his lower lip, causing it to pull down so he talks like an idiot. "UM NUH DUHH YUH, BHUH! LUH TUHG--"
Then, Mr. Big hurls some mousetraps. One snaps Ken right in the nose, and another his nipple through the suit. "UGH!" Ken groans, as he falls backwardinto the huge pile of mousetraps -- causing another fifty snaps to sound off.
Slowly, Ken sinks, mousetraps enveloping him like fire ants.
COMBATSYS: Ken takes no action.
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Mr.Big 0/-------/-----==|
COMBATSYS: Ken can no longer fight.
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Mr.Big 0/-------/-----==|
Burning with rage at this final ending, Mister Big considers doing more damage, stepping forward menacingly -- and then he steps onto another big trap, which snaps shut to another audible snap from his toe.
"Fuck this!" the Sultan roars, and he leaps to sweet freedom, landing with a crash and a tumble and the hurting as the truck drives off into the distance.
This Neo League fight is over, but by the light of all that's holy, it may never be aired, unless it's in that dreadful 3 am timeslot right after NBC's Poker After Dark.
COMBATSYS: Mr.Big has ended the fight here.
Log created on 01:15:02 01/12/2009 by Mr.Big, and last modified on 23:57:53 01/16/2009.