Description: Ichiro and Frei mind the Church Yard after their escape from the YFCC rampages. With nowhere else to turn, they make watch there, only to have the Shadaloo tankette Scylla and probationary agent Vyle come for their heads. Unfortunately, things don't end too well, either for the two or the church yard itself.
How many times in his life has Frei sat in this very church yard and contemplated the direction of his life? He and Hotaru, the host to not only Frei but a number of 'refugees' in Southtown at the moment, have had a number of talks here about what various events in their life have meant to them. The meaning of family, of lineage, of training and hard work... of suffering. It was sitting on these very steps that Frei put to words a maxim he had always lived by but had little need to articulate, until that point: 'suffering today is strength tomorrow'.
Well, there's plenty of suffering today. The question is what kind of strength will be needed tomorrow because of it.
It was mere days ago that Hotaru and Frei extracted Kentou and company from the clutches of NESTS in the now-occupied Young Fighters' Community Center. Though their teamwork allowed them to prevail, both Glory Hounds were given rather dire warnings from the man in the strange battlesuit, a man of significant strength that spoke to more than some sort of turf war going on in Southtown. At least, that's how things have appeared to Frei, who wasn't doing a lot of thinking *during* but after the fact has had plenty of time to let things stew. Something big is moving behind the scenes, something that is likely beyond the simple scope of the YFCC chi sage's everyday life. He prides himself on being a relatively simple person... not without depth, but who handles things in a direct way, dealing with it as it comes. This... this situation is teeth-chattering worry, nameless dread. It's unpleasant. He doesn't like it.
On the other hand, he's one of the few people who's actually up, about, and relatively uninjured; his shoulder and arms are still a little tender from the beating that Zero delivered unto him, but for the most part the redhead is ready and willing to fight if need be. Thus while Hotaru and company deal with the others inside, Frei is a quite unexpected watcher at the gate, the church yard being just one of the entrances to the surprisingly sprawling Futaba estate. A less intimidating guard, from an external standpoint, would be hard to find; short, and still dressed in the jeans and Chinese shirt he was wearing when he came back from Kyoto, face smudged a bit with dirt. But the attack on the YFCC has unnerved Frei more than he thought it would; seeing the broken body of Kentou lying on the floor and wondering how many were hurt because he wasn't there to protect them has awakened something strange and serious that, now and then, flashes intensity behind the normally jovial expression on his freckled face.
The wind rustles in trees ready to bloom into spring, washed orange-red with the sunset, as he quietly goes through a series of tai chi pushes, trying to center his thoughts.
As the teen wanders the grounds of the Futaba Estate, Ichiro Oe looks more like a war veteran wandering the halls of a battlefront hospital than a high school student. His red and white motorcycle leathers are bloody with a jagged hole torn in the breast; the result of Kurenai's impressive bokken strike. A blood-stained strip of cloth is wrapped around the young man's head, covering his severely injured left eye and smaller, mostly superficial, cuts crisscross his face; another present from Kurenai. To say that the past hours have been a trying time would be quite the understatement. It's been a while since a smile has played on Oe's lips, but that is to be expected at times of war, isn't it? If this isn't war on the streets of Southtown today then Ichiro doesn't ever want to see what is. Sighing heavily, the teen makes his way toward the nearby church yard; the temptation of peace amidst the chaos.
"Mr. Frei? Is that you?" Ichiro asks in faint surprise as his cycloptic gaze falls on the guard. He hasn't seen Tsukitomi-Renard since their fight at the beginning of the Strolheim Tournament. "I'm glad I've run into you Mr. Frei," the lacrosse star says simply as he balances the ruined crosse on his shoulder. It's not much more than a souvenir now. Someone had stolen his duffelbag while he, Pas and Shurui were inside Gedo High. Not much of a surprise.
Not a voice he recognizes, which might be why Frei's response is automatic, and why he doesn't turn around to give it, his eyes closed as he continues pulling his David Carradine kung-fu-in-slow-motion act that is the restful motions of tai chi. Plus the voice sounds young, so it could be anyone... well, perhaps not Kentou, who always refers to him as 'instructor' and knows better than to append a -san or prepend a Mr. by this point anyway.
"Really, just 'Frei' is fi--" The redhead had been turning to see who spoke and though he doesn't give a big dramatic gasp or anything, it's clear that Ichiro's battlescarred appearance takes the YFCC instructor aback. He stops moving, hands frozen midway through some position which likely has a name like 'Twelve Swans in Flight' or something suitably ridiculous. For a second he's locked in tableau, before he stops and turns around completely, facing the Taiyo student.
"You're... Ichiro, right? We met in the Strolheim tourney." That seems to be all the redhead can say, at first; his expression suggests that he wants to throw some more words out there, fill up the yawning silence, but all he can think to say are awful phrases, trite stupidity that he would hate to hear and thus swallows. Instead, he opts for the first truthful thing that pops into his head, accompanying it with a wan, if tired, smile. "I wish we were meeting again under better circumstances."
That he'd just been thinking about how badly hurt Kentou and Jiro were when he and Hotaru choppered them out of the green hell (i.e. dragged them bodily from the YFCC) makes him especially receptive to Ichiro's state, and with a few steps the chi sage crosses the distance so that he and the Taiyo student are only a few feet apart rather than across the yard from each other. His fingers flex at his side, as if he wants to put them on Ichiro's free shoulder, but he resists, remembering how much that would have freaked *him* out at 17. Instead, he tries his best to smile. For Frei, it's not hard; he ardently believes that things will turn out alright in the end, but more than that, he knows that he has to be a rock for others to rely on, right now, more than anything. "Anyhow. I'm just here watching the 'perimeter'," he says, waving a hand at the edge of the church yard and half-turning to encompass the city in the resulting arm sweep. "Or some suitably chic military-sounding phrase. What can I do for you?"
A corner of Ichiro's mouth twitches upwards as a smile threatens to rise to his lips. "Ah, Just Frei, right," he corrects himself as the older martial arts practitioner recognizes him. "Yeah, better circumstances is right," he replies glumly. "I'm glad there are other fighters here, because when I saw what was going down at Gedo I knew it was too much for me to handle alone... Especially like this," he adds, gesturing to his ruined eye casually. "Shurui was right when she said there would be other people here willing to fight." Bouncing the lacrosse stick off of his shoulder, Ichiro peers through the torn net thoughtfully. Useless. "I wish I wasn't so reliant on my lacrosse skill when it came to fighting. All of this... real violence makes it seem silly..." Running his hand through his dirty black hair, the Japanese youth chuckles mirthlessly and shrugs. "Anyway. You mind if I help you stand guard? I'm still useful enough to do that I hope."
It's good that Frei is wathcing the perimeter. With those high walls, tall grass, and weeping willows to block one's vision, it might be problematic if no one was watching hard. Still, having two on guard in the church yard is better than nothing.
Whether it's sufficent though, will be put to the test, as in the cover of the coming dusk, those with ambitions on the stragglers of the YFCC assault come, and they come for bountyheads it seems.
Within the trees, a green and purple blotch can be seen, a dark purple bag at his side as he looks out into the yard with binoculars. Looking at a watch, he smirks. Almost time. Packing away the binoculars, the man known as Vyle, smirks, pulling out two small grey spheres from the bag. Yanking out a tab from each one, the wrestler chucks them into the yard, aiming particularly at the torn up kid in the red jacket. As they fly, smoke plumes out, trying to help fill the church yard with acrid smoke.
Don't look now, fellas, but the war's just come a knocking on your new doorstep.
COMBATSYS: Vyle has started a fight here.
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Vyle 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Vyle has joined the fight here on the right meter side.
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|-------\-------\0 Vyle
COMBATSYS: Ichiro has joined the fight here on the left meter side.
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Ichiro 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Vyle
COMBATSYS: Frei has joined the fight here on the left meter side.
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Ichiro 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Vyle
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Frei 0/-------/-------|
The church yard of Southtown Village had, at one point, been an extant piece of property seperate from the rest of the world; it existed as an archaic monument to the older ages of Southtown, providing a glimpse of the past. In more recent times, it has been encorporated into Futaba Estate by the young Hotaru Futaba, serving as a place of peace and quiet to those who desire it.
Not anymore.
With Vyle's surprise entrance to the church yard by way of a pair of smoke bombs, there can be heard a distant, whirring, mechanical noise. Something growing louder, coming closer -- faster and faster. Another pair of smoke grenades /launch/ outwards, clattering against the ground nearby Frei and Ichiro. Smoke plumes out wildly--
--And the massive form of a speeding green tank suddenly SMASHES through the yard gates with the horrendous rending of metal, hinges ripped free as the gates launch forward across the expanse. The bulbous-looking tankette comes to a swerving stop as it comes to rest glowing eyes upon Frei and Ichiro, a dull hum heard from within.
"Targets sighted," intones a mild, unpleasant voice.
"Preparing to engage."
COMBATSYS: Scylla has joined the fight here on the left meter side.
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Ichiro 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Vyle
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Frei 0/-------/-------|
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Scylla 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Scylla has joined the fight here on the right meter side.
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Ichiro 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Vyle
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Frei 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Scylla
Despite himself, Frei continues to smile, even though it's clear Ichiro's situation is bothering him on a level similar to how Frei's not being here to protect others is gnawing at him. Misery loves company, perhaps? Though the YFCC instructor doesn't seem too miserable... maybe a better phrase is 'pain shared is pain halved'. "But that's... a good way to think, in a way," he says, to Ichiro's admission that he feels a bit silly. "Because it means you know what's at stake. You aren't treating this like a game. There's nothing silly about that, no matter how it is you fi--"
His ears perk; his body reacts on its own to fighters' instincts, turning toward the gate a fraction of a second before Vyle makes his appearance, and then the tank as well. Green eyes narrow both in concentration and at the burst of obscuring smoke from the grenades, but he's already twisting around to face into the cloud, trying to adopt a defensive posture pre-emptively. At least he was here. At least he could do something.
Now is the time.
The smoke curling around both defenders twists and gathers, like water in a whirlpool, before suddenly exploding outwards from the central point in a burst of air like a strong gale. The center point is revealed to be Frei's outstretched hand, which flickers pale green for a moment before the light fades. His voice is calm and clear as he speaks, an uncharacteristically serious mien adopted. "This is your chance to turn and go," the be-freckled YFCC instructor says calmly. "There's no need for anybody to get hurt."
A pause, and he lets his attention fall to Ichiro momentarily. "You don't have to stay if you don't want," Frei adds, turning his attention back to the tank and the curious invader that's come along with it.
COMBATSYS: Frei takes no action.
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Ichiro 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Vyle
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Frei 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Scylla
COMBATSYS: Ichiro blocks Vyle's Small Thrown Object.
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Ichiro 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Vyle
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Frei 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Scylla
Ichiro's determined frown softens a bit as Frei's words resonate with him... that is, until they're cut short. "What is it?" Ichiro asks as Frei turns away from him, the young man's gaze following Frei's own just in time to watch a small pellet land at his feet. "What the..." the lacrosse star asks rhetorically as the pellet spews acrid smoke all around the pair of defenders. "Arrgh, that... stings!" Oe gasps between coughs as he clutches at his wounded face. Luckily for Ichiro the sudden gale of wind sends the vile smoke billowing away, sparing him any further discomfort.
"Nhh... thanks," Ichiro coughs lightly as he pulls the ruined cross into a guard position in front of his chest reflexively. Squinting through the outlaying smoke, Ichiro attempts to make out exactly what it was that just attacked them. Even though his right eye was mostly spared from the brunt of the attack that almost blinded him, his vision is still a little blurry. "If it's all the same to you I'd rather stay and help you fight," Ichiro replies with a humorless smirk as he attempts to make out the advancing force and weigh his defensive options. "I already made the decision to stand and fight, rather than go to a hospital and get my eye fixed. There's no point in running now... holy crap, is that a TANK?!"
Right on time. Looks like Vega's crew is good about punctuality. Good to know.
Vyle smirks, watching the smoke fill the yard. As the Scylla tank barrels down and rolls out into the gate, the Luchadore leaps down from his tree, taking the bag down with him. Keeping his head low, he follows the path the tank opens for him, smirking as he slips in from behind, his head peeking out to look over both his targets. "Surprise kiddies! Uncle Vyle's here to brighten up your day! How about a magic trick, huh? I'm gonna make you two....*POP!* Disappear! HOw about that?" the gaudy man says in his usual acerbic tone, complete with the exaggerated jazz hands. GOod thing he's not wearing clown make up too. "So...who wants to be giftwrapped first, huh? I can make it nice and easy on you with a little anesthesia too." To that, he tosses up a small, brown bottle up into the air, catching it. Any bets on that being chloroform, or something similar?
COMBATSYS: Vyle takes no action.
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Ichiro 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Vyle
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Frei 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Scylla
COMBATSYS: Ichiro takes no action.
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Ichiro 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Vyle
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Frei 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Scylla
Initially, there is no response to Frei's warning. The green mini-tank towers well over the chi-wielding monk for a long moment of ominous silence; within, gears and motors whirr and click into place in a series of mild, humming sounds. The glowing blue 'eye' on the top of the Scylla's head seems to be pointed directly at Frei. There's no need for anyone to get hurt, he says.
"There's a good enough need," the voice within says after that pregnant silence.
"You're on the shopping list. Proceeding with preemptive threat removal--"
Suddenly, two long, slender barrels shunt outward from the 'nostrils' of the Scylla's frog-like top. Sounds of machinery activating and clips being fed into munitions are about the only warning Frei will get before red-hot artillery fire is suddenly /spewed/ at him from those two barrels. From the Scylla's nose. Nostril-based death rains down on Frei at high speeds as the Scylla suddenly reverses its direction, keeping itself at a distance -- it has to be careful, with these crazy fighters, after all.
COMBATSYS: Frei dodges Scylla's Light Chain Gun.
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Ichiro 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Vyle
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Frei 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Scylla
Grim though the situation may be, Ichiro's response does please Frei a little bit, and the grim tone and face with which he delivered the warning to the attackers is relieved a bit by a tight but genuine smile. "Alright... then let's do our best. People are counting on us." He turns back to the tank and Vyle just in time for the bottle-holding wrestler's little tirade. Make them disappear... giftwrapped? The red eyebrows furrow in confusion, and the YFCC instructor is trying to puzzle that out when two things happen: a voice comes from the Scylla, and there's the metallic sound of multibarrel chain guns spinning up.
Some memory is dredged up from the recesses of Frei's thoughts and, without even thinking about it, he dives *forward* in a roll. Mere milliseconds later the ground where he just was is peppered with gunfire, the high-velocity shots ripping up the turf as Frei crouches, then gets to his feet.
He eyes the tank, and then says, perhaps surprisingly since he's talking to a vehicle, "You... seem kinda familiar."
He doesn't waste any time fighting back, though; flexing the fingers on one hand -- which begin to crackle with a shimmering field of barely-visible power, like heat haze -- he closes it into a fist and then, rather unceremoniously, turns and throws a straight punch right at the tank's front chassis. The actual fist probably won't do a lot to the thing's metal body... but there's more to that punch than just a typical punching, for sure.
His eye widening as the gun barrels deploy from the vicious looking frog-tank, Oe gulps nervously and turns his attention to their human opponent. "Uhh... yeah, you take the tank, I'll take... who ever this weirdo is," Ichiro calls out to his partner as he strafes away from Scylla and attempts to get an angle on Vyle. "And what are you supposed to be? Some sort of psycho magician?" Ichiro asks Vyle wryly as he charges the wrestler, his ruined crosse gripped in both hands as he closes the distance. Juking left, then right as he draws close to Vyle, Ichiro moves aside right before he makes contact with the other fighter, and would have passed by him cleaning all together, had he not left his right knee sticking out right in front of Vyle's gut with the purpose of trying to knock the wind out of the creep's lungs. Anything to stop him from talking.
COMBATSYS: Vyle blocks Ichiro's Light Kick.
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Ichiro 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Vyle
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Frei 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Scylla
With the tank focusing on Frei for now, Vyle brings his attention to the kid with the...stick with the torn net. THe hell is he, a fisherman? Well, whatever, the kid charges for him and tries to wing out a knee into the luchadore's stomach. Unfortunately for him, the rudo is able to bring his arms up, meeting the knee and stopping it before it can take his breath away.
"Me...naaaww...I'm just your average neighborhood asshole." His hands quickly shift, dropping the chloroform onto the ground to try and grab underneath Ichiro's knee. "Oh...I do have a few tricks up my sleeve!" Suddenly, his own leg comes up, trying to sharply, and simply jam the heel directly into Ichiro's other knee.
COMBATSYS: Frei successfully hits Scylla with Fierce Punch.
Glancing Blow
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Ichiro 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Vyle
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Frei 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Scylla
"Trickier than expected," remarks the voice from within the tank dryly as Frei manages that instinct-drive leap through the air. Hot lead ricochets off the ground, imbedding into a nearby wall with a series of deafening impacts. The chaingun stops quickly enough, the barrels glowing faintly as they retreat back into the confines of the machine's 'head.' Familiar?
"You'll have a long trip in which to wonder about that later," answers the one within the tank. "For now, just -- stay still!"
Frei doesn't comply, which is readily apparent as he lunges forward with that heat-infused fist. The motorized 'limbs' of the Scylla come to life in sounds of hydraulic shunts as the machine suddenly /strafes/ to the side. Heat and fist impact the machine's front left 'leg,' glancing off thick metal with enough of an impact that the chi exerted manages to melt the paint of the machine. "This Scylla is faster than you think. Here, let me show you."
The machine will surge forward at this point, seeking to do little more than /ram/ the very leg that Frei just struck into the monk at full momentum to knock the fighter backwards with brutal force.
COMBATSYS: Frei just-defends Scylla's Light Kick!
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Ichiro 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Vyle
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Frei 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Scylla
It may have done the operator of this tank some good to keep watching Frei's hands. Usually when someone makes a chi-infused attack, the energy fades quickly away as the fighter who brought it into being lets his or her focus slip. After all, it's only an act of will that lets the usually formless field of energy that pervades the world take on shape and color and form in the first place.
When Frei's hand pulls back from his punch, it still swirls with lines of force.
That the advanced weapon would strike back was more or less assured, so the YFCC instructor makes himself ready for it. He takes one step back and scans the body of the Scylla, looking for which of its many articulated, moving parts is going to come at him. It's hard to do, much harder than fighting a human being... the human body only has so many angles it can attack with, after all. But the legged tank is somewhere between a tank and a 'human being'... so it might just work.
It does. As the massive 'leg' comes toward him at speed, Frei is already turning toward it. The heat-like glow becomes a swirling mass of multicolored energy as the redhead reads the angle and direction of the kick and then, with a deceptively simple movement, throws his hand forward palm out and rams it into the edge of the tank. The 'glow' dissipates into a rippling wall of force that spreads outward from the point of impact in concentric rings before vanishing. It's a pretty little effect, but for the tank it's also an immovable object, Frei having generated sufficient counterforce to stop the kick dead in its tracks.
When he raises his head toward the glowing blue 'eye', he is smiling.
"That's true... which is why you remind me of someone, or maybe more accurately, 'something'," he says. Tanks, tanks with suspiciously sci-fi capabilities. He HAS seen them before, *fought* them before. The question, of course, is when? It's hard to focus on a fight and dredging things out of your memory at the same time. Instead of pressing the attack Frei steps back, assessing the situation... searching his memory, watching the tank, and trying to spare a glance to Ichiro and Vyle, too. It's a tall order, but he's just ADD enough to pull it off.
COMBATSYS: Frei focuses on his next action.
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Ichiro 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Vyle
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Frei 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Scylla
COMBATSYS: Ichiro dodges Vyle's Light Kick.
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Ichiro 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Vyle
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Frei 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Scylla
A small gasp escapes Ichiro's lips as his leg is gripped by the strange man under his knee. Not a good situation. The athlete can sense the incoming strike to his knee coming as soon as Vyle shifts his weight. Knee injuries are the bane of all athletes, and there's no way he's going to lose both an MCL and an eye in the same day. "I don't think so," Ichiro grunts as he throws his weight backwards, ripping his right leg out of Vyle's grasp as he backrolls away from the rudo. "Not from my neighborhood at least," he adds as he comes out of his roll into a crouch, using his powerful leg muscles to lunge straight up toward Vyle and swing his broken lacrosse stick at the man's throat. Ichiro isn't here to play games. Not anymore.
COMBATSYS: Ichiro successfully hits Vyle with Slashing EX.
- Power hit! -
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Ichiro 0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0 Vyle
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Frei 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Scylla
Somehow, Vyle finds himself....not so lucky here as he tries to drive away from the lunging Ichiro. He's not exactly looking forward to feeling a stick across his throat. Unfortunately, he finds himself backed up against the tank that had accompanied him, and instead ends up sandwiched between stick and metal. THe shot forces him into a collapse, his breath ragged from the nearly larynx-busting shot to his neck. "KKhhhh....khhhh..." The worst thing...one of his great weapons, his indeliblely snide taunting, is disabled for now!
Oh, Vyle's not a happy camper, not at all. Eyes narrowed into a deathly glare, he pulls his hand back. A sickly green glow forms around it as it sllps back into his sleeve...then out again. Lunging in himself, he stabs out with the glowing hand, trying to drive it straight into Ichiro's stomach.
"What the hell--?!"
Sensors flare within the one-man cockpit of the Scylla as Frei intercepts its charge with a glowing, rippling wall of pure force; the mini-tank is stopped dead in its tracks, even as it strains against that impenetrable wall of force, legs kicking up dust and rock as they strain with the errant creak of metal.
The output of chi, though, is too great; soon enough the Scylla is pushing /off/ that wall, literally /leaping/ through the air to land a short distance away with a cacophonous impact of metal against stone. "Tch. The amount of chi is just as expected," the voice of the Scylla mutters; as it does, the 'head' of the machine starts to lift, hydraulics sounding off as the metallic attachment rises upwards... revealing a plethora of guns beneath.
"But we're prepared for that, too."
A second later, canisters are shot forth from one of the many guns of the Scylla, aiming right for Frei, to impact him in the chest. Wherever they hit? They /explode/ into thick chemical gas -- tear gas, meant to distract and disorient.
COMBATSYS: Frei slows Tear Gas from Scylla with Hatsuyuki.
Glancing Hit
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Ichiro 0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0 Vyle
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Frei 0/-------/-----==|=------\-------\0 Scylla
Those statements get a blink or two from Frei. 'As expected'? 'Plenty of time to think about it'? At first, the YFCC instructor assumed that the tank and driver (or companion or cyborg puppet unit or whatever Vyle is) were here to roll over the Futaba estate point-blank. To his surprise, he's discovering that they may, in fact, be here to *kidnap* himself and Ichiro. His green eyes widen as that knowledge takes him off guard... and sadly, it diverts him entirely from remembering just where he's had this particular kind of encounter before.
Oh yeah, then he gets tear gas grenades fired at him.
Frowning, Frei takes a more aggressive defense this time; hand glowing blue-white, he turns and makes a complicated gesture with that same hand. The grenade suddenly and inexplicably has a thick coating of... well, ice. He'd HOPED that would make it fall harmlessly to the ground, but there's a conservation of momentum factor involved here that he didn't 100% take into account. The result is that instead of getting a tear gas explosion... the frosted grenade itself flies right into Frei's face, smacking him on the nose before falling harmlessly to the ground.
"Ngh... ow! By node!" he mutters, putting one hand over his face and grimacing behind it. That hurt! And dazed him a little besides. "Dubid dang."
COMBATSYS: Ichiro fails to interrupt Injector from Vyle with Cross Check.
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Ichiro 0/-------/------=|====---\-------\0 Vyle
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Frei 0/-------/-----==|=------\-------\0 Scylla
An intense sneer rises to Ichiro's lips Vyle finds himself stuck between Scylla and a hard place. Raising his crosse to try and keep the pressure up, Ichiro is about to plow through Vyle's strike with a brutal blow to the man's mohawked dome piece when Ichiro's rock leaps away, leaving the lacrosse star and his opponent in the open field once more. "Gah!" the teen exclaims as his crosse flies past Vyle's head even as the fiend's sickly green hand jabs Ichiro's abs through his unzipped jacket. "Hnng... what...?" Ichiro marvels as a sick cramping begins to weave through his stomach, causing beads of sweat to form on his bloody brow. "I don't feel so hot..." Oe groans, doubled over slightly by the grotesque power of Vyle's chi.
That's it. That's what Vyle wanted to see.
Eyes narrowed, seeing Ichiro start to double over after the spearing strike of his hand, the vicious wrestler allows himself a smirk. "You know....I was going to just chloro your ass and gag you up before...but you know what, I feel like having a little fun first." His tone is ugly and sadistic, and so are his actions, as he tries to grab Ichiro by the head. His aim? A quick, snap suplex directly into the wall surrounding the yard.
Rolling forward as soon as those tear gas grenades are deployed, the heavy head of the Scylla descends back into place with a metallic clicking sound, artillery returning to its hiding spot. It rolls forward at high-speeds even as Frei freezes up the grenade -- the resultant impact of hard ice and unfortunately vulnerable nose causing a brief, static-y laugh from within the Scylla.
"All that power, and you can't even think things through right! -Too bad for you-!" The Scylla bears forward at full throttle, its legs noticeably descending as it is carried forward at high speeds. At first, it seems like another attempt to simply ram into Frei like the previous. But before it can make contact?
It leaps.
With an impressive amount of thrust for a thing so large -- and likely heavy -- the Scylla propels itself into the air, leaping like the animal it was designed like. Clearing feet in the tens, the Scylla becomes nothing more than a shadow over Frei... before it rapidly begins to descend. Right over Frei.
The implications of a tank falling down towards the considerably smaller monk should be relatively clear.
COMBATSYS: Frei interrupts Fierce Punch from Scylla with Shindou EX.
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Ichiro 0/-------/------=|====---\-------\0 Vyle
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Frei 0/-------/-======|====---\-------\0 Scylla
What goes up, must come down, right?
Heeheehee.
The redhead's hand is still over his face as he frowns a bit at the operator of the Scylla, who has plenty of smacktalk left to deliver, apparently. Of course, it's not entirely undeserved; Frei acts on intuition more than tactics, which can have its advantages... and its drawbacks. Case in point, he's holding his kinda-bleeding nose because he just got hit in the face with a live grenade. Of course, that also means that once the tank driver gets a little cocky and starts heading skyward, he doesn't have an angle to observe Frei's sudden smile, either.
There is no way a human being could stop that much weight from falling point blank completely. A little dash of red flies through the air as Frei whips his hand away from his (thankfully no longer bleeding) nose down to his sides, both hands held palms out like Raiden gathering lightning, but instead they shimmer with a field of pale yellow-green. The tank descends and, gritting his teeth and setting his feet, Frei... well...
Catches it.
The strain is *extraordinary* and of course, all he REALLY has a grip on is one of the frog-like legs, not the whole thing. But it's enough to keep from being completely crushed. It's NOT enough to keep the weight from literally driving him into the ground like a piledriver, but against all logic the seemingly slightly-built fighter maintains his ground just long enough for the dust to settle.
"Not all that powerful..." he grits out through clenched teeth, before suddenly shoving UPWARD with as much chi-enhanced strength as he can muster, looking to frankly overturn the tank entirely before letting the stored power release as a bursting shockwave of concussive force to speed it on its way. "Just... devoted!"
COMBATSYS: Vyle successfully hits Ichiro with Medium Throw.
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Ichiro 0/-------/----===|=====--\-------\0 Vyle
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Frei 0/-------/--=====|====---\-------\0 Scylla
The lingering effects of Vyle's vicious attack coupled with the disorientation of seeing through only one eye for a prolonged period of time has hit Ichiro pretty hard so far, so it is not much of a surprise when Vyle easily grabs the young man around the head and whips him up, over, and through the brick wall that surrounds the church yard. And the fight started out so well too.
"What the hell..." Ichiro groans as he writhes for a moment on the pile of loose masonry. "You're a real sick bastard, you know that?" Ichiro mutters, his arm clenching his stomach tenderly as pushes himself to his feet, sending bricks and mortar chunks scattering as he rises. Right about now is the time when Ichiro would normally want to keep his distance by lobbing lacrosse balls at his foe. Unfortunately the rest of his lacrosse balls were in his stolen duffel, not to mention the fact that his crosse isn't in any shape to be throwing anything right now... or is it?
"I'm serious. You should really get some help," Ichiro adds as he stoops down to the pile of broken bricks and pulls up a jagged half-piece of masonry. This should do nicely. Lobbing the brick into the air, Ichiro concentrates for a moment as the brick reaches the apex of its ascent... then the brick is engulfed in bright golden chi. Reaching out with the ruined crosse, the masonry's jagged corners are caught up in the torn netting as a bright triumphant grin erupts on Oe's face. "BULLET SHOT!" Ichiro calls out as he slings the stick around his body like a hammer throw and lets the chi-charged brick sail right toward Vyle's face.
COMBATSYS: Vyle dodges Ichiro's Bullet Shot.
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Ichiro 0/-------/-----==|=====--\-------\0 Vyle
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Frei 0/-------/--=====|====---\-------\0 Scylla
Pulling himself up after the successful suplex into the wall, Vyle looks back at the collapsed brick barrier, smiirking as Ichiro pulls himself out of the pile of rubble. "I'm not paid to be a nice guy. And even if I was..." he manages to get out, his voice still scratchy from the earlier shot to his throat. "I like the hours better." He looks on, seeing as the sports star uses his broken crosse to lob up a stray brick, and toss it up for something...rather obvious.
"Now what I don't get..." he asks, suddenly diving down as the brick is lobbed up. "Is what your deal is." When the Bullet Shot flies out, the venomous one slithers forward and under to slip himself underneath the cannon-like shot. "Don't you pansies do real sports?" Suddenly, he lances out with a dive for Ichiro's legs, trying to whip an arm out and tip him over by a swipe to the ankle. Don't bother with the irony of a pro wrestler asking someone about why they don't do real sports.
"Wha--what the--"
CRUNCH goes the Scylla into the ground; at this point, it should be dealing with a moderately crushed human being. What it actually gets? A moderately crushed human being-- /gripping its leg with searing energy./ The operator of the Scylla grips at the controls, attempting to wrest itself free; the leg jerks and snaps back and forth with the hectic hiss of moving motors, all to no avail. It's stuck, and that energy is slowly searing away at that exterior armor...
"Shit--!!"
Boom.
The Scylla is literally /flipped/ backwards before that sudden /surge/ of chi explodes all around it with sheer, overwhelming force. Even the heavy, multi-ton Scylla can't help but simply be blown backwards. The hull of the machine scrapes across the church yard grounds in a hail of sparks as a chunk of exterior armor is blown free; it flips over and over until finally, the smoking machine comes to a stop, sprawled on its 'legs.' Within the cockpit, its operator groans, touching his head.
"God... /dammit/..." he mutters, even as combat data begins to stream in. Watching the data carefully, the Scylla slowly, awkwardly, pushes back up onto its wheeled stumps, glowing 'eyes' once more pivoting to stare at Frei as it waits. Why?
Because its operator is far too intent analyzing that combat data to respond in kind. "Yeah..." he mutters, slowly. "... that'll work."
COMBATSYS: Scylla calculates her next move.
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Ichiro 0/-------/-----==|=====--\-------\0 Vyle
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Frei 0/-------/--=====|====---\-------\0 Scylla
It's a good thing Frei isn't giving voice to his hidden thoughts. Why? Because rolling around in his brainmeat right now is the constant, worrying question: 'how the hell did I just do that?'. It's not a confidence-inspiring sort of vocalization and really, the YFCC instructor and his ally could use all the confidence they can get for the moment. He actually has to step back up onto the ground from the *hole* the Scylla's stomp made by merely pressing him into the ground, and when he does it's to lean forward like a soccer goalie, arms hanging in front of him, head low and taking deep breaths. He's probably going to need a lot more tricks like that if they're going to fight off this assault.
Just as soon as he figures out how he did that one.
The fact that the tank doesn't come right back at him gives the chi sage a moment to think things through, and when he stands up straight it's to circle the tank's location warily, flicking his gaze to the Ichiro/Vyle battle whenever he has a spare moment. "Why are you doing this?" he asks, deciding to go for the direct approach. After all, you never know. Honesty has this way of disarming people. "Besides, shouldn't I be flattered that they thought a tank and uh, some guy with with absolutely ridiculous hair were required for whatever it is you want?"
Part of him is screaming to stay back, take things slow, and not rush in. Still, Frei's hand flicks out and purple-blue lightning dances between his fingers. No. If nothing else, he needs to keep the focus on him, give Ichiro as much time as he can. Rushing forward, he dives directly for the part of the tank where the armor was sheared off and, if he can get a grip, heaves it sideways. Whether or not it can pull an entire tank off balance is one thing... but there's also the sudden burst of electrical chi to consider.
COMBATSYS: Vyle successfully hits Ichiro with Quick Throw.
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Ichiro 0/-------/---====|=====--\-------\0 Vyle
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Frei 0/-------/--=====|====---\-------\0 Scylla
Oe looks a bit crestfallen as his makeshift Bullet Shot is easily dodged by Vyle. He must not have been able to get quite the same speed on such a heavy object. It was worth a try anyway. As focused on kicking the purple and green luchador's ass as Ichiro is, he manages to catch a glimpse of how his partner is doing against that brutal looking tank. Did Frei just throw that huge thing?! Yeah, let's see Mr. Tsukitomi-Renard try to brush off comments about how powerful he is now! Unfortunately for the lacrosse player, Vyle capitalizes on the young man's astonishment by snaking in and swiping his feet out from under him.
Sighing in vexation as he stares up at the sky for a moment, Ichiro reaches back to kip-up to his feet and give the rudo a silent one-eyed glare. Letting his lacrosse stick sink down by his side, Ichiro's good eye flutters closed as he attempts to focus and harness the burning sprit inside him. The lacrosse player might not be able to sling around chi like Frei can, at least not yet, but he is very capable of harnessing the vast stores of energy within himself; and he's going to need a lot of it to try and help Frei fend off these attackers.
COMBATSYS: Ichiro gathers his will.
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Ichiro 1/-------/=======|=====--\-------\0 Vyle
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Frei 0/-------/--=====|====---\-------\0 Scylla
The mayhem between the tank and the freckle-faced guy is...well, it's partially Vyle's concern, but he's focused mostly on his own prey right now. THe rumbling of the tank tipped over and tumbled over gives Vyle a good damn sense of what's going on though. "Sounds like we need to kick things up a notch, don't we?" Vyle says with a snort. Frowning toward Ichiro, the luchadore starts to walk back over the hole in the wall he created, watching the lacrosse star warily.
"So...hey....think fast!" With a quick dip into the scattered bricks, he tries to pick one up and fling it sharply right toward Ichiro's bum eye, with a smooth motion. Not much, but maybe he's setting something up...
COMBATSYS: Scylla blocks Frei's Improvised Throw.
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Ichiro 1/-------/=======|=====--\-------\0 Vyle
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////////// ]
Frei 0/-------/--=====|=====--\-------\0 Scylla
Why?
"Huh? ... What kind of question is that? Because we were ordered to," is the simple reply. And that's that. After all, this isn't a personal vendetta. It's just another mission objective to accomplish.
The Scylla rights itself as Frei poses his question; data finishes processing, variable strategies proposed, and the operator within the Scylla chooses his approach. Lips pull into a sneer as Frei speaks again, and as the young monk lunges--
"The people in charge just know the amount of force necessary!"
As Frei makes his move, so too does the Charybdis; surging forward in a rush of heavy metal, the machine /swings/ its front right leg around to intercept Frei's attempted grip, bringing him to seize up heavily armored metal instead of that exposed weakpoint. Electricity surges, sending jolts through the limb with a mild, sputtering explosion... but the machine remains standing tall, its 'mouth' now wide open.
"Gotcha!"
And, hoping to seize Frei by surprise, a full on /volley/ of bombs are suddenly /launched/ from the machine at point-blank range, explosives rocketing forward and veering in towards Frei with almost pinpoint-precision to simply blow him the hell up. The Scylla operator's chosen his designated tactic: overwhelming force.
COMBATSYS: Scylla successfully hits Frei with Smart Bomb Seekers.
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Ichiro 1/-------/=======|=====--\-------\0 Vyle
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////// ]
Frei 1/-----==/=======|=======\-------\0 Scylla
Gotcha indeed.
What the hell are you supposed to do against a volley of high explosives?! Yes, traditional military hardware isn't much use against fighters, but this is hardly typical military hardware, is it? The clear answer is to hunker down and pray for the best, unless you have equal firepower up your sleeves and at the *moment*, Frei does not. He does his best to shield his face and cover his torso but really, after the first bomb the point is academic. The explosion quite literally sends the redhead flying through the air like a ragdoll, impacting the side of the church with a grimace-inducing *CRUNCH* noise, the wall's brick reinforcement under the wood exterior being the only thing that keeps it from being completely destroyed.
After a moment Frei effectively peels forward off the wall, falling forward from it like a zombie before catching himself at the last minute. Shrapnel has shredded some of his shirt, revealing bleeding cuts beneath it. Apparently they really DID know how much force to use. Perhaps.
"And who..." Frei says, bringing one hand up, "are the people in charge?" Gritting his teeth, he drops into a defensive posture. Attacking again after that... ngh, maybe not so much. This may take a second. But it gives him time to talk. "I mean, if they're so interested... in me... they could send an email, perhaps."
The air around him churns and swirls, a mad zephyr, the only indicator of the power he's slowly trying to build.
COMBATSYS: Frei gathers his will.
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Ichiro 1/-------/=======|=====--\-------\0 Vyle
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Frei 1/-======/=======|=======\-------\0 Scylla
COMBATSYS: Ichiro blocks Vyle's Thrown Object.
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Ichiro 1/-------/=======|=====--\-------\0 Vyle
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Frei 1/-======/=======|=======\-------\0 Scylla
"Oh hell no," Ichiro swears as the brick flies toward his eye. The chances that his eye will be any good after it gets medical attention aren't that great as it is now, much less if it were to be smashed in by a brick. Leaning back slightly and throwing his left forearm in front of his eye, the brick slams into the metal shank sewn into the sleeve of his motorcycle jacket and cracks in half before falling to his feet.
"Looks like you need to kick it up a few more," Ichiro replies darkly as he lunges toward Vyle, his lacrosse stick jabbing in toward the wrestler's face. It's not a very powerful attack, but it is mostly meant to get the green and purple jerk back on his heels and help shift the momentum back in Oe's favor.
COMBATSYS: Vyle counters Quick Strike from Ichiro with Antidote.
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Ichiro 1/-----==/=======|======-\-------\0 Vyle
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Frei 1/-======/=======|=======\-------\0 Scylla
Smirking, the rudo watches as Ichiro brings up his arm to absorb the flying brick coming at him. So the brick broke against something loaded. That doesn't quite concern him too much. After all...it's not like the brick was what he was really hoping to hit with.
"Oh? And praytell, Emeril," Vyle says rather expectantly as he lurches low upon the lacrosse star's advance. "Just after I kick your ass up a few notches..." When the stick jab comes in, Vyle flattens in lower and tilts his head away, letting the jab fly over his shoulder. Like a snake striking, his arm snatches out for the stick and Ichiro's arm, pulling himself up by it. "What was it you were expecting to do next?" Smirking viciously, he wraps one arm around the sport star's chest, clutching him and sweeping his leg out behind the younger fighter's own. The result? A hard, sweeping slam onto the head and shoulders right into the harsh ground.
The four legs of the Scylla tank shift across the ground, churning up a divet to brace the sleek machine of war. One leg still appears rather gouged from Frei's unexpectedly effective assault, but that tone of empty, mild derision remains nearly complacent. "I don't particularly care who signs my paycheck. War isn't complex. They point me here..." Suddenly the frog-like head whirrs. Lifting up, two plates parting, creating a rictus maw of steel and shadow. Before two slender chainguns emerge, a final click as they settle. That blue camera twists, focusing upon the preparing monk. "And the tank does the rest!"
A slow whirrrr begins, rapidly reaching a crescendo. Before both are unleashed, the ground leading up towards the poised fighter exploding in a hail of debris, sent a couple meters high. Careful adjustments attempt to bear them down on Frei, hundreds of steaming shells sloughed off from the port sides to begin piling upon the ground. After a disturbingly long number of seconds, the deafening sound and flashes of muzzle fire vanish, leaving only a click-click-click. Much of the landscape behind the monk, one way or another, got neatly filled with holes. "Ah... sec. Need to reroute ammunition."
COMBATSYS: Frei blocks Scylla's Heavy Chain Gun.
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Ichiro 1/-----==/=======|======-\-------\0 Vyle
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Frei 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|=======\-------\1 Scylla
Flash point.
The redhead looks up, and the invisible power around him begins to fade into visibility, swirls of pure white and purple-edged black twisting around him. The gun starts to fire and he doesn't actually move. Instead he turns and eyes the tank, listening to the operator's answer with a calm expression. The bullets do need to be dealt with, but that's what the growing aura of yin and yang chi is for; shot after shot smack into the haze of light and dark and effectively burst with tiny *pop!* noises and a little flash of light. They can't ALL be so deflected; Frei's already-battered clothes are suddenly pocked with tiny holes and oozing trails of red blood. He grits his teeth, hissing in a breath, but it's not enough to put him down, not just yet.
"That's unfortunate," he says quietly, bringing up one hand, palm out. The tendrils of white and black become a helix, then a swirling sphere in his hand, illuminating the freckled face with a somewhat unsettling sort of glow... though he remains, per normal, perfectly calm. "I don't put much stock in blind duty. If you'd had a purpose, we could have talked it out, perhaps... and it wouldn't have had to come to this."
The sphere 'bursts', surrounding Frei with that two-toned, monochromatic aura, and the YFCC instructor literally launches from his position toward the Scylla like an arrow fired from a bow, skimming the ground without touching it until he flips to a stop just inside the tank's range and brings both hands around. The aura once again compresses, before exploding outward in a spiralling blast of pure yang and pure yin force... beautiful to look at, perhaps, but a somewhat inelegant attack, attempting to overwhelm the mechanical monstrosity through sheer force alone.
Black spots swim in Oe's vision as he's slammed down HARD onto the church yard ground. Arms flailing weakly as he blinks his eye and scrambles to his feet while still in shock from that last blow, the lacrosse star shakes his head wearily to try to get the cobwebs to rattle loose. "You're fast..." Ichiro admits quietly as his vision clears and his gaze locks on Vyle with a steeled look in his eye. "...but I'm not going out that easily."
Lifting his the boot on his right foot, Ichiro steps lightly on a broken brick near his feet and hefts it up into the air like so many hacky-sacks before catching it in the ruined net of his crosse. "BOUNCE SHOT!" Ichiro calls out as he charges the brick with his fiery golden chi. Sure the last brick he threw didn't really work out so well, but part of being a good athlete is knowing how to adapt to your opponent's strategy. Whipping his lacrosse stick toward Vyle, Ichiro sends the brick straight toward the ground about a meter from Vyle's feet. The energy-charged brick detonates as it hits the ground, exploding into jagged masonry shrapnel that threatens to bludgeon and cut into the wrestler if he doesn't get out of the way fast.
COMBATSYS: Vyle dodges Ichiro's Bounce Shot.
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Ichiro 1/----===/=======|======-\-------\0 Vyle
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Frei 0/-------/---====|=======\-------\1 Scylla
Vyle pulls himself up after slamming Ichiro down, skittering back and sizing up his foe as the lacrosser slowly gets up. "Heheheheh....really now? That's good, that's real good for me, because I like breaking down guys with fight. It makes it so much better when they collapse into a mess of fail."
When Ichiro boots up that brick, the rudo is set, ready to move with feet spread. The glow only makes him even more wary as the kid charges up. As soon as the stick flies, Vyle jolts to the side, diving out of the way. Good thing too, as he manages to avoid the ugly spread of dirt, debris, and other nasty jagged things. "Nghh...nice...you know, if there was a sport to see how much dirt one could kick up and eat, you'd definitely be a star, kid," he taunts, quickly grabbing for the brown bottle he had discarded earlier. Rather than use a cloth though, he simply pours it across his own sleeve. "But...you know...guess you'll just have to settle for jobbing to me tonight. Just the breaks."
With a rictus grin spread along his ugly face, Vyle charges in low, reaching out with his left arm to grasp for Ichiro again. If he gets the chance, he'll pull himself up, and immediately attempt to bury the crook of his own right elbow into Ichiro's face, trying to both crossface him as well as chloroform him with that soaked sleeve.
COMBATSYS: Scylla blocks Frei's Samsara.
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Ichiro 1/----===/=======|======-\-------\0 Vyle
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Frei 0/-------/---====|=======\=------\1 Scylla
The tone slithers out once more, the same even tone that began. "Please. If you can pay me more, then we'll talk. That's what matters. I hope your ideals and principals keep you warm and cozy in the hospital." This is stated with outright mockery, more or less confirming that such is well beyond the reach of anyone present. Although there's suddenly an alarm going off in his cockpit. How dare it interrupt his taunting! "What?" Inadvertantly, this is broadcast out, before he cuts off the mic.
<< ENERGY LEVELS BEYOND FORECASTED ESTIMATES. >>
He begins to adjust dials, trying to get a new reading. Grasping the controls, the driver leans forward with eyes narrowed.
<< DANGER. >>
Whirling, the camera focuses on the charging Frei, his HUD alive with graphs, readings, predictions. Wait... making haste is making mistakes.
<< DANGER. >>
The tank is yanked backwards, kicking away. Not enough; the monk still reaches him as it skids to a stop, although this was enough to acquire the information desired.
<< ASSAULT SUFFICIENT FOR CATASTROPHIC SYSTEM DAMAGE. >>
That's sure helpful. Collapsing the frog head, both of the front legs snap up, just prior to the explosion of energy. It is lost in the wash of light, and when the smoke curls and wisps away, the Scylla is three meters away, surrounded by the scorched earth. The damaged leg sudenly erupts into sparks, twitching as the mechanicisms struggle to compensate. Although then the tank slowly sinks downwards, before two panels shift away from the sides. Fine. He didn't want to use heavy artillery. It's expensive. But he has no choice now, does he?
Suddenly, a swarm of rockets are launched straight into the air. A dozen. Dozens. Glimmering like stars in the sky, they then twist, suddenly descending. Heading straight for Frei, and at the last moment kicking in afterburners. Shrieking, to then explode into a cloud of hellfire and shrapnel that would shake the very ground. His calculations didn't help much for his defense. But now, with these precision missiles, he might be able to take that damn monk down!!
COMBATSYS: Scylla successfully hits Frei with Incendiary Hailstorm.
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Ichiro 1/----===/=======|======-\-------\0 Vyle
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Frei 1/-------/=======|=------\-------\0 Scylla
Well, overcommitting has its issues, and the chi sage failed to land a clean hit. He's going to pay for it, too; as Frei steps back from the tank, glow fading from his hands, he realizes there's not much he can do about missiles coming from the sky. Or about paying someone off to leave him alone. He should feel upset, he thinks deep in his heart, but he's not... sad, perhaps. Regretful, but not upset. Things are just not going his way right now. But the longer he can hold people off...
He knows a trick, Frei does. Chi gives the body capability to move beyond its limits, but tapping into deep, personal wells of chi... well, they have a cost. Deciding it's worth the risk, he does it anyway. Gritting his teeth, he gives a little "haaaaaaaaa...." gasp through them as the missiles head upward, a trickle of blood suddenly moving down his face, before he swiftly ducks backwards in a leap to get away, far faster than he typically moves.
It is, sadly, insufficient. The distance was supposed to give him extra time to mount a defense but the missiles are on him before he can even react. The smoke and flame obscure Frei from vision entirely in a massive explosion, one far larger in scope than the burst he just directed at the Scylla.
But against all logic, when the smoke clears, he's alive. Hurt *badly* -- no matter how this ends, things are going to take quite a while to heal from -- but alive, lying on his back in a deep crater of cracked earth and charred grass. Slowly, he pulls himself up standing, gripping his left elbow with his right hand, taking slow and deep breaths. "Principles... heh. Mostly... they seem to get me... hurt a lot," he says in quiet tones, smiling (bizarrely enough) though with a rueful cast to it. "In the end, I think... they're worth it."
He doesn't attack. How could he? But he's not out yet.
COMBATSYS: Frei gains composure.
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Ichiro 1/----===/=======|======-\-------\0 Vyle
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Frei 0/-------/-======|=------\-------\0 Scylla
COMBATSYS: Ichiro interrupts Choke Hold from Vyle with Lacrosse Plus.
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Ichiro 1/----===/=======|=======\===----\1 Vyle
[ \\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////// ]
Frei 0/-------/-======|=------\-------\0 Scylla
Ichiro has never been very good with chi. Sure, the very fact that he can actually manifest chi means that he's probably in the top .0000001% of people on earth when it comes to using energy, but in the fighting circuit he's nothing special. The kid actually has quite a bit of chi firepower at his disposal, most likely due to his huge wells of confidence and inner strength, but he's really doesn't have much finesse when it comes to wielding that power. He can't even throw a fireball without something to latch the chi on to first.
How is this relevant you may ask? Well Captain Oe doesn't really have much left in the tank at this point of the fight, and when Vyle quickly jumps out of the way of his latest attempt to wield chi without the help of his usual lacrosse balls, Ichiro isn't quite sure of what to try next. To make matters worse, the snaky wrestler manages to grab a hold of the lacrosse player and rub his face into Vyle's chloroform-soaked sleeve.
"Oh god, don't you ever wash... this... thiiing..." Ichiro complains as he struggles against Vyle's tenacious grip, his speech slurring as the nasty chemical begins to take effect. Striking out with his arms as if trying to physically grab on to his own drifting consciousness, the wealthy young athlete does his best to fight off the dark embrace of unconsciousness the only way he can, by reaching down into his deep well of burning spirit and unleashing whatever energy doesn't slip through his fingers on the vile man holding him. Suddenly, against all odds, a brightly burning ball of chi rises up from Ichiro's almost unconscious form; the golden ball hangs in the air meters above the two fighters for a brief moment before splitting itself into around 20 smaller replicas of itself like a cell going through mitosis. Once this process is complete the burning balls of energy streak downward toward Vyle and pelt him with the painful energy of fair-play and justice, a certain anathema for the evil wrestler.
The poisonous wrestler is well and fond of his jacket...but it doesn't mean he's above using it as a weapon like he does here. He'd be insulted otherwise about the crack on its smell. Vyle doesn't quip back, mostly focused on trying to completely chloroform the Lacrosse player with that soaked sleeve, combined with his own crossface hold.
He just....never quite expected the kid to turn into a bloody human scatter bomb. The burning ball of chi forces Vyle to relinquish his hold as the force of the rising sphere pushes him back. And when they split and rain down on him...well, there's no escape. As Ichiro was battered and thrown aside by his wrestling prowess, so Vyle is knocked and blown about by the energy break.
Oddly enough, in a mirror of Frei's own state, Vyle is miraculously intact...but obviously worse for the wear, his chloroformed sleeve torn off and ragged, the rest of his body slightly smoky and definitely dirty. "....hey...whoever's in the damn toad thing...get ready. Two birds, one stone, catch me?" he calls out to Scylla, his body slowly slinking down to the ground, hand touching the disrupted soil beneath him as he watches Ichiro, biding his time and slowing his breath. "Come on, you son of a bitch....come at me like that again, I dare you...." Sure, he might have let slip some kind of plan in the open...it's a question of what Ichiro's response is...and whether Vyle's expecting it or not.
COMBATSYS: Vyle gains composure.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////// ]
Ichiro 0/-------/-----==|=======\=------\1 Vyle
[ \\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////// ]
Frei 0/-------/-======|=------\-------\0 Scylla
Well. Scylla seems to need a tune-up. The machine was wrong twice in short order; about both his combative threat level, and his resilience. How annoying. He had him! Those damn missiles were expensive! No matter. A moment is taken to assess Vyle and Ichiro's fight, and he's content that his associate has such well within his hands. Although the capacitors are low for his tank. A hiss of steam erupts from the rear, as the port weapons bay closes. "Whatever. Think what you want to think. Like I said before, this is just business." A low thrum begins to resonate, the air shimmering lightly. Vigor returns to the exterior of the machine, raising up higher, the lights upon the frog-like head shutting off before flickering back to life with newfound strength. Good... the damage outside the right front leg is negligable. A lull in the storm of combat; but in the next seconds, one side will win, and one will lose. "I'll show you what this tank is made for..."
COMBATSYS: Scylla gathers her will.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////// ]
Ichiro 0/-------/-----==|=======\=------\1 Vyle
[ \\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////// ]
Frei 0/-------/-======|=====--\-------\0 Scylla
"It's a weapon," Frei says in a dull tone, voice thick with injury and fatigue. "It's for killing. I know what a tank is for."
Every part of him aches, worse than he recalls feeling in a very long time. The YFCC instructor doesn't fight people with guns, much... and whoever armed the Scylla did so with the intent of making it useful against fighters, people who are *traditionally* pretty resilient when it comes to things like bullets. But between burns and blood loss, it's taking all he has just to stay upright... and with the way he's swaying forward a bit, even THAT is a little... questionable.
Yet up he remains. For a second, the green-eyed gaze flickers over to Ichiro and Vyle, squinting a little at the lacrosse player's state, which doesn't seem much better off than his own. There's a moment while Frei swallows, looking concerned, before he turns back to the tank. When he speaks, though, it's to his partner. "Ichiro... go," he says carefully, flexing the fingers on his right hand nervously. "Get inside, tell everyone what's happening. I can hold them off long enough for you to do that, I think."
And in that instant, he strikes.
Silver-gold light floats around Frei's hand as he ducks forward, the chi of the metal element forming a glittering haze. His goal is to simply slam his hand, palm-down, on the tank's chassis. Normally, this attack of his -- a sort of freestyle use of chi -- has to travel through the air first. In this instance, besieged and desperate, Frei cuts out the middleman: he forces a rippling, shredding shockwave of chi right *into* the Scylla's hull, if he can manage it. Nothing between pure destructive force and his target.
"Nnnh..." Ichiro groans as the effects of the chloroform slowly fade from his head. "What... did I do?" the young man marvels as his brain fuzzily recounts his first every use of chi that was independent of a focus. His gaze darts up to Vyle and shakes him out of the introspective moment though, as the older man issues a challenge. His unbound eyebrow raising in suspicious at Vyle's words, Ichiro doesn't really like the gist of what the wrestler is saying. Fortunately for the lacrosse player, the tank seems to have it's hands full with Frei. Speaking of Frei...
"No way!" Oe calls out in response to his makeshift defense partner's urging of him to leave and notify the others. "We can BOTH warn them after we get rid of this trash!" he adds, flashing Frei the first genuine smile since the two ran into each other. Retreating may be a valid tactical decision during a battle, but Ichiro isn't a soldier, not yet anyway. He's an athlete, and you never turn you back to the goal.
"Hey man," Ichiro now calls out to the jerk standing in front of him. "I ain't gunna do your laundry!" What does that even mean? "If you want it, come and get it!" Maybe it's just the chloroform making him light headed, but Ichiro's mood seems to have brightened some. Holding his lacrosse stick in front of his chest with both arms, the sports superstar closes his eye for a brief moment and he begins to glow with a golden aura as he attempts to dip into that well of burning spirit once more, if for no other reason than to feel it's warmth sweep through his body and invigorate him.
COMBATSYS: Ichiro gathers his will.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////// ]
Ichiro 0/-------/-======|=======\=------\1 Vyle
[ \\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////// ]
Frei 0/-------/-------|=====--\-------\0 Scylla
Well, so be it. This was probably the more problematic of the possible reactions he could get from the lacrosser. And that aura that glows around the kid isn't looking too good as well, especially after that freaky scatter bomb he blew out on Vyle.
Still, the luchador isn't about to let himself be too daunted, eyes narrowed at his target. "Well, fine then. Guess I'll just have to bleach you out myself," he taunts back, trying to play off the rather...nonsensical call from Ichiro as he could. Shooting in, Vyle seems like he's about to come in for one of those grabs that seemed to work so well earlier. However...just as he's about to get in arms reach, he stops, rising up from his low charge and....
Suddenly, the world is all green for Ichiro. At least, that's the rudo's hope as he spews out a noxious cloud of his trademark 'venom' toward Ichiro's face. Even with eyes closed, it can't be good for the lacrosser if he gets it right to the face.
COMBATSYS: Scylla interrupts Reiki from Frei with Power Drive.
*KNOCKED AWAY*
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////// ]
Ichiro 0/-------/-======|=======\=------\1 Vyle
[ \\ < > /////////// ]
Frei 0/-------/-======|====---\-------\0 Scylla
There's no response given to that. A tank is a pretty obvious thing, after all. But it's true that Scylla is not an upfront opponent. A tactical ranged combatant, reliant on data and surgical precision. So far it has worked well, but that is hardly the only thing the machine is capable of. For the man driving it is a human being, alert and aware. Data are suggestions. And when Frei begins to summon the energy, Scylla rockets forward. Literally; there is a flash of fire as it is boosted, skidding across the intervening distance. Ducking down, the shockwave of energy impacts the armoured back, blowing away the dirt, parting around the aerodynamic body with plating built for chi based attacks. This time, the readouts were expected. And it raises up in a violent arc, slamming the steel head right into Frei's chest. Sending him flying through the air no doubt, with a rather sizeable amount of damage. Of course, reacting in such a manner overlooked the strength. System damage is greater then anticipated, and he had to cancel charging the capacitors. No matter. This battle is won!!
*Through* the church.
It's a curiously amusing sight; Frei is a black, gold, and dark blue comet that quite literally shears through the church's roof. There's a staccato series of crashes and splintering sounds that can't be good, considering. The dust cloud is really impressive. If the tank really, really wanted to put him down and out, that was probably the way to do it. Nobody could survive that much dust.
A hand grips the corner of the church doors.
It's coated in dried blood, and followed by Frei effectively bodily *hauling* himself up and forward. The bullets were enough to make him look seriously injured; being catapulted through a building is enough to warrant half dead, at this point. One eye, in a cruel parody of Ichiro's condition, is squinted shut... though it doesn't appear injured, merely to keep the blood running down his forehead out of his eye.
He actually has to lean against the jamb to keep from falling over. But he IS up, just long enough to take one last shot. His voice is thick with injury and fatigue, even worse than before, but he makes himself heard. "Not sure why you're..." A pause, then some coughing. "But we gave 'em... enough time, I think."
So he hopes.
His free hand comes up, palm held in, and a burst of white light becomes seven erratically-moving motes, like tiny stars. "Ichiro..." he murmurs, before squinting both eyes shut and flicking his hand out. "Now!" The spheres launch off into the distance, wobbling a little more than usual, Frei's precise control slipping under the sheer weight of injury... but some of them still arc toward the tank, and others toward Vyle. It's his last opportunity to give Ichiro some opening to escape... or attack. Either way, it's his last gift.
The redhead sinks to his knees, and then finally face-firsts onto the flagstones.
COMBATSYS: Frei can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////// ]
Ichiro 0/-------/-======|=======\=------\1 Vyle
> /////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Scylla
COMBATSYS: Ichiro interrupts Venom Breath from Vyle with Cross Check EX.
[ \\\\\\\\ < > //////// ]
Ichiro 0/-------/----===|=======\=====--\1 Vyle
> /////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Scylla
Ichiro would be pretty damn impressed with Frei's resilience after getting brutalized by the frog-tank like that, but he's busy with a face-full of gross green mist right now. "Gyaaah!" he teen cries out as the vile substance paints his face green. He's really glad he covered his destroyed eye with that cloth now. Suddenly a voice breaks through his pain. Ichiro now!
Frei is most likely trying to get him to retreat again, but the words prompt an immediate action of a different sort. His eye still clamped shut; Oe lunges forward through the remains of the poisonous green mist and lashes out with his crosse held in both hands, bashing the metal-hafted weapon straight into Vyle's ugly mug and following through with enough force that it may very well send the wrestler to the ground.
"You are fucking DISGUSTING," Ichiro swears uncharacteristically as he stumbles back a few steps, wiping at his good eye with the sleeve of his motorcycle jacket to try and remove the stinging substance and give him a chance to see. His vision returned (mostly) the one-eyed teenager pants lightly as he tries to catch his breath, his gaze darting over to Frei's limp body. "I won't let them take us Frei," Ichiro whispers determinedly as he is left to fend off both Vyle and the tank by himself. A hollow promise, most likely, but heartfelt.
COMBATSYS: Frei successfully hits Vyle with Seiya.
Grazing Hit
[ \\\\\\\\ < > /// ]
Ichiro 0/-------/----===|>>>>>>>\>>>>>>>\2 Vyle
> /////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Scylla
Well, that was rather sad. Vyle had did his best to put his mark on Ichiro, the trademark Venom Breath sprayed out toward the lacrosser's face. He just...didn't count on the willpower to burst through and simply check Vyle right in the face despite the full-on burning that Ichiro had to be feeling. "GHNNNhhh!!!" Face rocked by the stick, Vyle is wrenched back, launched away...just as even MORE DAMN ENERGY SPHERES FLY OUT!! And this time, between the check and his already worked over body, the luchador can't even fathom dodging. Blown away, the smoke clears with Vyle seemingly down and out for the count. Impressive last ditch convergence it seems....
Too bad you just can't keep a good heel down. "You....bastards...ain't....gettin' away...like this," the rudo growls, his battered body rising up despite his damage....and suddenly shooting in like a dart to tackle Ichiro at the legs, setting up for...well, if the broken wrestler can, sipmly lifting the lacrosser up into the air with a leap and spiral suplexing him directly into Scylla's line of fire.
Of course...it's all a big if. That crap really did a number on him....
COMBATSYS: Vyle has reached second wind!
[ \\\\\\\\ < > /////// ]
Ichiro 0/-------/----===|====---\-------\0 Vyle
> /////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Scylla
COMBATSYS: Scylla dodges Frei's Seiya.
[ \\\\\\\\ < > /////// ]
Ichiro 0/-------/----===|====---\-------\0 Vyle
> /////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Scylla
Well, well. Frei is a persistent individual. The Scylla twists to take him into focus once more. Calm, complacent, seeming to not register him as any sort of threat. "Well, at this point, it doesn't hurt to say. We came to capture fighters. We wouldn't of done anything to the refugees anyway." Although Vyle had not been paying proper attention, the sleek tank showcases it's own incredible speed, lunging upwards. The ball passes cleanly beneath, shattering some surroundings in an appropriately aesthetic manner. And while airborne, focuses on Ichiro. Vyle living or dying is pretty irrelevant. He was a distraction. Let's see if that works.
Suddenly, Scylla ripples. The air makes a hiss, and the smell of ozone wafts over. It... vanishes. One last time flickering into view, before the warbling outline is gone. Neither fighter would be able to see it in the slightest. The stealth tank finally showing off what it was built for. Sound dampeners kick in. Displacing where, precisely, the metal thing is. A trail of dirt rockets towards Ichiro. A building warble.
Before suddenly a terrific impact, hopefully sending him flying, before the cloaks disengage. "This should do it."
COMBATSYS: Vyle successfully hits Ichiro with Outbreaker.
[ \\ < > /////// ]
Ichiro 0/-------/=======|====---\-------\0 Vyle
> //////////// ]
|???????\???????\0 Scylla
COMBATSYS: Ichiro dodges Scylla's Strong Throw.
[ \\ < > /////// ]
Ichiro 0/-------/=======|====---\-------\0 Vyle
> //////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Scylla
Ichiro's promise certainly doesn't have the legs that he'd hoped it would have. Vyle was right. Ichiro and Frei didn't get away with... not getting kidnapped. THE BASTARDS! Tackled to the ground and suplexed through the air, Ichiro is at least carried out of the path of the vicious stealth tank, thanks to Vyle, but there is little that Oe can do but stir and groan as the vision fades from his one good eye as darkness engulfs him. "Sorry Frei..." Ichiro whispers as his body goes limp and slides into unconsciousness. "...they got us."
COMBATSYS: Ichiro takes no action.
> /////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Vyle
> //////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Scylla
COMBATSYS: Ichiro can no longer fight.
> /////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Vyle
> //////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Scylla
Well...ok, so the tandem attack didn't quite work. Vyle blames the cloaking tank for screwing up the line of his throw by disappearing. But...it seems that the spiking suplex that the luchador manages on Ichiro is enough by itself, the man dropping from the air after the Outbreaker and groaning. He's pretty well and beaten up, but he's a persistant bastard, kind of like...well, there are many diseases that it could be compared to, but we'll just leave it to imagination there.
"Hehhhh...hehehehhhh....what....you thought that glowy Last Dragon crap was gonna save you? You thought you could go like god, bring down the wrath, and save yourselves? You thought wrong...you thought dead wrong, kids..." he manages to get out through pained chuckles. Looking up as he pushes himself to his feet, he sees the uncloaked tank. "...Alright. Lets tie these bastards up, and gift wrap 'em for the bossman, huh?" He lurches, hobbling slightly as he clutches his abused face and shuffles toward the bag he had brought. "Ropes...gags....blindfolds...if I was a sicker man, I'd have brought the whips and chains too." He serious about that?...one can never tell when his very existence seems antagonistic like that.
"Shut up, you idiot. You are only alive since you are too stupid to stay down." mulls the tank, rolling it's way over to the pair. Certainly little respect between the pair, but he is rather certain Vyle would of been badly steamrolled by this crimson haired monk. A man who's true power is beyond his ability to assess.. a rare find, indeed. A good thing he'll be removed from the battlefield. Two steel cables erupt from behind the four legged tank, slithering along the ground to snag either by the ankle. "Let's go." And with that, Scylla twists and begins to zoom back along the ground, dragging the pair in a suitably uncomfortable manner behind. They can be ball gagged, tied up, and whipped when they reconvene in the temporary base camp. Plenty of time for fun later!
COMBATSYS: Scylla has left the fight here.
> /////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Vyle
A snort comes from the ragged wrestler, Vyle looking out toward the tank as the cables come out to snare their quarry. Feh. "Yeah, and you'd be doing what outside that tank?" Vyle snaps back rather curtly, zipping the bag up since the rope and the like aren't needed for now it seems. No respect for people who fight in 'tankettes', it seems...but then again, Vyle is low on respect in general.
Hefting his bag up again, he looks out into the ruined yard. Smirking, he stops and digs in his bag again, pulling out a can of green spray paint. Shaking it up as Scylla drags Ichiro and Frei off, he stops by what walls haven't been broken down by the fight. "Lets send a little message to everyone, shall we?" he says snarkily, popping the can top off and leaving his scrawl. Once he's finished, he pops the top back on, bagging the can and walking back after the tank. "Wait up, Kero Kero Krappopi," he calls out as he hobbles faster.
And the message Vyle leaves?
'WHERE IS YOUR GOD NOW?' Lovely little fellow, isn't he?
Log created on 18:23:14 03/08/2009 by Vyle, and last modified on 11:43:55 03/16/2009.