Description: Rugal Bernstein and his mercenaries arrive to take control of the Howard-owned news subsidiary and broadcast center, only to face opposition from the unlikeliest of sources. A long-simmered betrayal, the sacrifice of a stray dog, and the unsheathing of a weapon forged from the legacy of the Suiryuu....
First - Establish footholds; bases of operation within Southtown from which the war can be orchestrated. The YFCC and Gedo were targets. One fell, the other... well, it was close. The Syndicate had gotten there faster than anticipated. And they weren't messing around. Geese Howard himself was drawn to the YFCC to keep the invasion from setting up shop there. But at least they had Gedo.
With that out of the way, it was time to lock the city down. Any holdings of the Syndicate were targetted. Media and telecom stations were a high priority target. Properties of Howard Enterprises, they were used for broadcasting the plight of Southtown to the rest of the world. They were also in control of a lot of the radiowaves, bandwidth, and other means of communication within the city. They needed to get shut down. Smaller, more tightly organized, 'R' was able to move forces around the battlefield much quicker than the other major cartels trying to occupy the city. The off-shore base in the form of the not-too-distant Black Noah meant that the 'R' faction was never far from their own main base of operations.
Thus when the decision to drop the hammer on the news station came, Rugal decided to handle it. NESTS and Shadaloo diverted some of their forces to Rugal's command and the operation was put in motion. The strike came swiftly and with minimal warning. On multiple fronts, crack teams have stormed the studio, locking down and securing various locations in a mad blitz to overwhelm the building before anyone can hope to organize a response.
The News Room at the heart of the studio was the final nut to crack. As sounds of gunfire and violence explode throughout the building, the doors leading into the room are blown off their hinges. Through the plume of smoke that lingers steps Rugal Bernstein himself. Suit coated, confident, he moves in to survey the situation. Get this over with quickly and lock the building down, the units invading were told. They need to secure the building before Geese can muster a response... "See if there's anyone hiding in the side rooms," Bernstein directs the smart alecky Alan. "Get any people left behind locked up with the rest."
Alan R. B. is here! Alan R. B. looks amazing! He keeps just out of Rugal's arm's reach out of reflex, hands in his pockets, Nat Sherman black and gold hanging from his mouth. He's not entirely invested in Southtown's fate - it's a pretty good place to move product, but he has better contacts in Europe and the States. You know, people who speak /English/. Still, even he knows not to say no to Rugal, even if he doesn't say yes with the proper deference.
"Side rooms. Right, great, the punk job." He immediately turns around, already smirking, to tell another "R" goon to do exactly what Rugal told him to do, but that goon completely ignores him. He and his buddy crack a mean joke as they brush past Alan, and he blinks after them, mentally writing those names down. Yeah, he'll probably beat the hell out of those guys later, when they're not /busy./
At least glad that Rodem isn't here to eat his body, Alan ducks into a side office, and sets about kicking tables over in a desultory fashion, keeping his hands in his pockets. He pauses when he passes a mirror, fixes the lightning bolt in his hair with his electric fingers, and makes the double-gun salute at his own reflection. A single bright spark jumps off his teeth, just like he practiced.
Lookin' slick.
Yes, the 'R' Organization is a tightly run ship. At least, in the figurative sense. In the literal sense, Adelheid would argue that the Black Noah should have been scrapped for salvage as a derelict years ago. A decaying relic of wars long past, projecting the tortured ghosts of so much violence into the future. At the helm is Rugal, a madman with no shortage of power and insight into the arts of war and terror. But while the surgical strike was perfectly plotted to prevent Southtown's defenders from even noticing it had happened until Bernstein had Howard's propoganda machine by the balls, there was no planning for backlash from within the vast cartel itself.
That handy, mobile fortress that Rugal is counting on to launch further operations? At this very moment, the Noah is heading out to sea. Far, far, FAR out to sea.
~~ "Take the ship west, to the safe harbor in Northern China. The Syndicate is tracking us with their own forces, we cannot risk the ship. Cut all radio communication, the bands to the mainland have been compromised. Change frequency to 4883.84 in accordance with emergency protocols and await further orders from my father." .... on a band the elder Bernstein doesn't even know, aside from its existence in an obscure, never-instituted series of emergency parameters established during one of his more paranoid moments. "Accept no incoming transmissions on /any/ other band. Once you're in position lock down the ship and swap to only essential systems." The authority given to him over 'R' finally comes with a clear price: a charge which will not become apparent until Rugal gets the proverbial statement his son runs up. His own, smaller, stealthier craft, purchased with funds and channels normally reserved for /oppressing/ the world, is boarded and launched for Southtown shortly after Adelheid's father departs. Meaning that the Black Noah itself already has an ample head start on his intended return - the radio silence may get a bit confounding any time now. The only business left to conclude before he leaves 'home' for what is intended to be the last time, is a full-scale data dump. Every bit of information is copied. Anything encrypted or inaccessible? Well, that's physically yanked, the media brought with him directly. Way to screw up your most vital data by making it too hard to access, /RUGAL/.
There's not much time. But time enough to recruit a Stray Dog or two. And then it's on to the station, a broadcast center that Adel means to turn to his own devices - aims that are liable to sit well with /either/ faction currently vying for Southtown. Their entrance is from the opposite end of the towering structure, Jiro and the prodigal Bernstein breaking in from the roof, after grappling over from an adjacent highrise. Notably stealthier than the assault going on below, the pair see little resistance indeed - and it helps that the rebellious warrior knows precisely where his father is headed, and has studied the floorplan... inside and out.
Dressed in black, accented with silver, the young Bernstein wears a uniform that isn't one of R's at all. His booted footfalls come steadily, and Rugal would sense his presence even before he fleads the way into the heart of the newscenter, not long at all after Rugal busts in and exercises his massive strength all over the weak's faces, figuratively speaking. It's an important gambit, but the real victory is already secure, and yet to be discovered....
"I see you've secured the station already. Good. There's been a change of plans, I've got a broadcast to make." Giving false orders to Rugal's underlings is one thing. But now the crimson-eyed youth gives a mandate to his father, with smoothness as if he's been doing it his whole life. Rather than simply preparing for this moment.
"If you're smart you'll step aside, and let me help the rest of these monsters tear each other apart." He was born a warrior, bred a warrior, trained from the moment he could throw a punch convincingly. He is what he has been forged to be: bu
but such a blade is an ever-loaded gun, and Rugal has not been the one aiming it for quite some time.
He will pause just inside the doorway, eye to eye with his elder should the gaze be held.
This is quite the situation. While Adelheid had the whole advanced technology thing going, Jiro had been sitting in the sidelines within the ship, just waiting to get in on the action of trying to deal with the situation. When they had to take the other route, Jiro had some assistance with dealing with the sights of where to go. Even if Adelheid knew the routes, Jiro wanted extra confirmation from his strays. After all, getting spotted would not had been good. So if there was a chance, it was lessened with the animals running amuck nearby. Likely chasing one another or going for a hotdog stand nearby.
Climbing along the highrises, Jiro, along with Adelheid, break in from the roof. The Stray Dog is actually... not in their uniform. There is a bit of unease at the thought of wearing a uniform to represent an organization. He still carries the suburban look with a hood over his face, obscuring his frame.
The station's secured. Good. Jiro looks towards the two, and then his head lifts up towards Rugal. Well, this is quite interesting. A frown accompanies forth. They are going to have to make the broadcast. He already -knows- Rugal won't let them through without a fight.
Jiro's stance is tensed, but he doesn't press on. Restraint in action.
Dealing with several things simultaneously is all part and parcel to running a criminal empire like 'R'. Negotiating or intimidating buys of weapons, securing sites for manufacturing of whatever drug the foolish world population just can't seem to get enough of lately, studying the fighters around the world for abilities and techniques worthwhile, smacking Alan around a little, and countless other daily minutia are always handled with the same level of controlled composure.
Thus it is that in the midst of this operation, the elder Bernstein remains calm. Reports coming in from other places in the station indicate that there is some resistence being encountered. The different units are moving to neutralize it. It isn't enough to worry about. Once the News Room is locked down, he'll simply make the rounds and mop up any of the fighters giving his team any trouble. It's nothing to get excited about.
Additional reports are broadcast to the device in the tyrant's ear. The Black Noah, aging leviathan of the sea, can't be reached. The frequencies aren't getting any responses. "Get any men that can be spared checking the building for jamming devices." the man calmly utters to two of the soldiers standing behind him. Another voice barks over the communications channels. Apparently some dumbass unloaded the dog pound into the neighborhood. Something about mobbing a hotdog stand. Rugal doesn't really care to know how that's relevant. "...deal with it." he mutters, his mind straying elsewhere.
He's already turning before his son enters, facing him instantly. "What are you doing here?" he asks, his voice gruff, impatient. The boy is a powerful resource, but he wasn't needed for this operation. Deviating from plans in a time of war is dangerous and definitely not what he had authorized. The answer comes soon enough. A change of plans? Since when is he-
The crimelord is silent for the longest moment, his mind processing the youth's words. Issuing orders, telling /him/ what to do if he's smart... The man's upper lip twitches, just shy of being pulled back into a snarl. "You aren't the one issuing commands here..." His voice is steady but only barely so. "And definitely not to me. You've come a long ways, but you're not ready for this. Consider your next action very. Carefully."
It's then that the young man at Adel's side is noticed. Noticed and recognized. "Alan, get rid of the stray." Rugal commands without any further consideration given Jiro.
COMBATSYS: Adelheid has started a fight here on the left meter side.
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Adelheid 0/-------/------=|
COMBATSYS: Rugal has joined the fight here on the right meter side.
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Adelheid 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Rugal
COMBATSYS: Alan has joined the fight here on the right meter side.
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Adelheid 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Alan
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|-------\-------\0 Rugal
COMBATSYS: Jiro has joined the fight here on the left meter side.
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Jiro 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Alan
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Adelheid 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Rugal
Alan enters the room just after Adelheid's ultimatum is passed, holding a wacky-looking piece of machinery. "Yeah, hey, didn't find anyone hidin' out anywhere, but get a load of this goddamn thing? What'd'ya think... it..." The boxer abruptly gets a sense of the atmosphere, looking from Rugal to Adelheid, only glancing briefly at Jiro. It's just Jiro.
Alan tosses the thing behind him, tucks his hands into his vest pockets, and leans back. He's never been nearly as good at respecting Adelheid. "/Boy,/ have you cracked? Nice suit, good style an' all, but come on. Think about what you're doing." The blonde (the sexiest one, obviously) shakes his head, and when he pulls his hands out of his pockets, the iron rings are on his fingers.
Now Alan remembers why he prefers working out of Rugal's immediate sights, organizing deals on the more personal level. It burns just a little to once again be sent on the garbage job, but again, definitely not the time or place to be sassing the boss. It's a delicate situation, even he can be brought to care about that. Electricity crackles on Alan's skin as he clicks his rings together, once, twice, and springs forward, moving with ridiculous speed to get in Jiro's face, sneering.
"What's your name again? George?" Sparks trail off his knuckles as he goes right for the chest, stepping into the blow.
COMBATSYS: Adelheid has left the fight here.
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Jiro 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Alan
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|-------\-------\0 Rugal
COMBATSYS: Jiro dodges Alan's Hook Punch.
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Jiro 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Alan
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Adelheid 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Rugal
When he arrives near Adelheid's side, his eyes shift towards Rugal, already having the feeling that this is going to get really hectic. But then, when Alan shows up with some strange device, Jiro keeps an eye at what he pocketed. Now, this is very interesting indeed. Locking onto Alan himself, Jiro actually keeps the hood over his head, comfortable with silhoutting his face.
With the electricity crackling into Alan's hands, Jiro waits for the man to come forth with the incoming punch.
As that knuckle moves towards Jiro, the young man takes his right leg and he steps -towards- Alan, but over to an angle to let the knuckle pass him. The sparks scorch near his face, but doesn't hit the mark.
Instead....
A left leg immediately snaps out like a viper. Launched upward and out, it seems to give a rough strike towards Alan's exposed abdomen while he's driving that fist still.
"Doesn't matter."
Really, Rugal is just ungrateful. Here he is worrying about a myriad multitude of minutia, and all Adelheid is trying to do is take it off his hands. Navigation concerns, all that turmoil over whether the base personnell are performing properly, right down to slapping Alan R.B. around a little. Heck, he can just delegate that task right down to Jiro. Rugal's been wasting /so/ much time and energy, it's just not wise or efficient. The sudden shift to the elder Bernstein's demeanor is what makes this all worthwhile. The stunned look of realization on his face, the tense anger that rises within him - a force of chaos that the young warrior finds all too predictable in his monolithic father figure, "Consider it good advice, then." Comes the acquiescence that isn't, Adel 'backing off' of issuing orders, for something that is perhaps altogether /more/ insulting.
"Take this henchclown!" He barks to Jiro as Alan charges on Rugal's orders, encouraging the conflict even as he paces towards his father, flanking around to the opposite side, "Come now, not ready for this? We both know how ready I am has been keeping you up at night. Consider my next actions carefully? Oh, I assure you, I've been considering my actions for some time now, and better than you have at that. What is my alternative, anyway? Stand down? We both know forgiveness isn't your strong suit, and we both know that /any/ advantage I am going to have... I only have now." Yes, he's thought this through - whether in his own mind or not, the platinum blonde has it alllll figured out. Right down to what Rugal would do if he did change his mind /now/, "Being strangled in my sleep isn't the way I plan to go, /Father/!" And with that the Prince of War is in motion.
It's an all-out charge, borrowing from Rugal's repotoire in the age-old fairness of turnabout, a shearing wave of wind whipping up about him as he shoulder-charges the mighty crimelord, using his body as a makeshift missile, the warhead erupting outwards in a lance of purest silver, arcing edges dancing sharply in an attempt to impale Rugal right out of the gate, and blast him backwards.
"It doesn't matter /how/ good you are when you've already /lost/!!!" Ominous words. Perhaps with ample meaning behind them?
COMBATSYS: Rugal dodges Adelheid's Barrier Crash.
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Jiro 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Alan
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Adelheid 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Rugal
COMBATSYS: Alan fails to interrupt Light Kick from Jiro with Dynamo Grip.
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Jiro 0/-------/------=|===----\-------\0 Alan
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Adelheid 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Rugal
Adelheid says, "Yea"
"Henchclown? Really?" Alan starts to recover from the missed punch, bringing his other hand in behind Jiro's foot, crackling with powerrrrr. "I'm at least an agent. That's two levels up-pfugh!" Unfortunately, he's mistimed it, and Jiro's foot buries itself right into his ribs. He snaps away, grimacing, and rubs at his side.
"Heh... that all you can bring to the table?" The blonde boxer fixes his shades, pulls a fresh cigarette out of his vest pocket, and lights it up with a snap. "Make me a better offer!" His wit is a bit less sharp than usual, because this is definitely not the usual situation. Jiro only gets half his attention - Alan keeps glancing over toward Rugal and Adelheid. From his perspective, all this dropped out of nowhere. His usual calm veneer cracks, just a little, worry around his eyes. Things couldn't stay easy forever, huh?
The tyrant's single human eye glares at his progeny, but his thoughts are racing. The communications blackout with the Black Noah, possibly even the presence of resistance elsewhere in the facility... his son's doing? The defiance he sees is not new but the openness of it definitely is. He's right though. His father saw it in him the last time they sparred how far the young man had come. He was ready for something - he had sensed that for some time - but /this/?
There is no turning back. In lifting his hand well over a year ago, Adelheid had already crossed the point of no return. "Ambition is an admireable Bernstein trait." the suited crimelord growls, hands tightening. "But it must be tempered with timing." He stands up straight and tall, his left arm at his side, his right arm raised as he adopts the opening stance of the elaborate Bernstein style of fighting.
The timing is admireable though. Striking when Rugal's hand was already extended in driving portions of this war on Southtown forward. One might even consider it insidious were it not for the right reasons. "Your advantage?!" the man exclaims. "Your advantage was in patience, boy. If you had only waited..." He was to be the failsafe. The guarentee that the Bernstein legacy continued even if Rugal's quest for immortality failed. To inherit an empire of crime, blood money, and corruption he never wanted was to be his fate. Assuming his father didn't end him preemptly in one of his paranoid fits; of course there's a need to account for that.
But Adelheid is not waiting now, as evidenced by his charge forward, his signiture wind-shearing chi whipped to a bladed menace in the process. The attack is fearsome in its spead, forcing the elder fighter to whip to the side at the last moment, smashing a table from his side with his hip, sending papers flying into a small cloud before being torn to confetti by Adelheid's chi.
Drawing his arm back, the man growls, not even noticing the thin slashes in the fabric of his expensive coat.
Alan and Jiro's exchange goes completely untracked as Rugal charges through the brief cover allotted by the flurry of shreaded paper. A charge to grab Adelheid across the chest with a sweeping arm and HURL him bodily across the room into or through the opposite wall depending on just how well it holds up to punishment. "Get out of my sight!!"
COMBATSYS: Adelheid just-defends Rugal's Medium Throw!
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Jiro 0/-------/------=|===----\-------\0 Alan
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Adelheid 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Rugal
Narrowing his eyes at Adelheid, Jiro grunts at him dismissively, "Let's not bark the orders. Thanks!" Now, it's time for Alan to receive his full and individed attention. This could be something that is very bad for Alan, considering Jiro's experience. Yet, the young man is -not- going to discredit the fighter that he is dealing with.
After all, Alan seems to be a strong person with the ability to allow chi to let chi flow in him. That is a feat that Jiro still desires to be able to do. But likely never will. When the boxer only gives Jiro half of his attention, the young man merely steps towards Alan, not minding the fact that he's been insulted.
Why? Jiro is aiming to reach for his wrist while his attention is focused on other matters.
COMBATSYS: Jiro successfully hits Alan with Combo Grapple.
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Jiro 0/-------/-----==|=======\-------\1 Alan
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Adelheid 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Rugal
The moment that Jiro that Jiro gets the grasp at Alan's wrist, he yanks the inattentive fighter towards his direction before his left foot snaps out with a round house at Alan's chest and then Jiro immediately the right arm in place of the left to keep a hold of the arm while the right arm lifts up and then the elbow drives down to snap at the back of Alan's neck.
"Pay attention who you are fighting."
FWOOSH! Papers go rushing everywhere, the intended newscast lost to the ripping winds of Adelheid's unhesitating onslaught. But Rugal is nothing if not always prepared, and that paranoia not ruling him is not a gamble that the Prince of War is comfortable putting his money on, "Weren't you listening?" Adel inquires, as Rugal's vicelike grip clenches into his chest, and he's sent whipping through the air. This is where the boy's training, his raw /talent/, really shines through though: where the power he's been honing these past months rushes to the fore, and he throws his arms out wide, a veritable explosion of energy rushing to him, through him, even as he wheels with his momentum and touches down - lightly - as if landing in a graceful crouch.... against the far wall. Suspended there, it is a passing moment in which gravity seems to cease to exist. To the Prince of War, the entire room tips so that he's suddenly leaping back /up/ at Rugal! ... in reality, it's a breakneck flash that crosses the distance right back the way he came.
"This IS my time!!" The young warrior whips about, leading with a firm knee aligned squarely with his father's face, a blow that would break the nose of most, and likely shatter the skull of half of his minions. Adel doesn't intend to stop there, however. If he has his way, the first impact will be followed by a whipping aerial roundhouse that would plant the heavy heel of his combat boot into the side of Rugal's skull, and then his entire form would shift its momentum yet again: backflipping abruptly, with a blurring motion away from his quarry, accompanied by a tremendous arc of cleaving, grey-silver power, unleashed with point-blank force intent on ripping the elder Bernstein asunder.
If only it were so easy.
COMBATSYS: Adelheid successfully hits Rugal with Grosse Stob.
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Jiro 0/-------/-----==|=======\-------\1 Alan
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Adelheid 0/-------/-----==|===----\-------\0 Rugal
"You lettin' your homunculus talk to you like that, Adelheid?" Alan chuckles at Jiro's blatant sass at Adel - if he said that to Rugal he'd probably get fed some bricks or something more inventive, who knows. Still, he's busy wondering, you know, if he has to get a new job or something. He has his own connections, he can coast solo for a bit until he links up with something--
Fingers slide gently onto his wrist?! Jiro yanks Alan close right after he glances back again, and he pays for it. After the last hit, he's left down on a knee, stars flashing before his eyes. This is ridiculous. His left hand braces himself, while his right arm is left relaxed. This is important. "Heh... sorry. Hard to pay attention to someone as exciting as a lump of clay. You need a little zazz."
Alan slouches a bit as he relaxes his right side as hard as he can, just letting the electric chi flow into his arm. In no time at all, electricity is roaring around his fist.
"OVERCHARGE!" Alan drops to the right, rolls in closer, and springs up, slamming his fist in a wide arc right for Jiro's chest. Lightning crackles everywhere, intersecting the papers flying about and burning them to ash in instants.
COMBATSYS: Jiro endures Alan's Overcharge.
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Jiro 0/-------/-======|-------\-------\0 Alan
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Adelheid 0/-------/-----==|===----\-------\0 Rugal
After slamming Alan towards the ground, Jiro stares at the fighter while he lies against the ground. He notices the left hand bracing itself for something while the other remains relaxed. Jiro is noticing something odd planning to happen. Now, when Alan finally lets the electrical chi flow in the arm, Jiro immediately launches towards Alan.
There are times when Jiro prefers to handle things with finesse. However, there are also times when Jiro takes things with brute force with no regards to personal safety. The latter is much apparent when Jiro steps right into the strike into the descending Alan as he springs towards his direction. The fist strikes Jiro, yet it doesn't knock the wind out. However, the electrical surge does tear into Jiro, searing against him and causing the body to illuminate. His hair stands and his pupils nearly burn off from the looks of it.
Yet, Jiro is so close that he drives himself further to close the distance between himself and Alan. With the range so close, Jiro immediately slams the right fist out, aiming to ignite his hand with the Ankoku flames in the manifestation of the scarlet blaze. Fueled by the fury, Jiro seeks to burn the blazing wrath onto Alan as the fist grinds against the ground.
While grinding towards the ground, the fist launches straight up towards Alan's chin, aiming to knock him off-course while he is still within that diving vicinity.
"BURNING HELL!"
Disobedience escalated into open rebellion. Rugal always feared he would see it eventually. The war on Southtown is put from his mind. The annoyances of the other affairs concerning this invasion no longer matter. Geese might smirk in amusement to find the elder Bernstein forced to deal with the self-same issues Rock has presented for some years now but that similarity only extends so far. Rock hasn't marshalled an army.
Adelheid's recovery in mid-air is flawless. A combination of energy use and precision control over the flight of his body across the distance has him landing against even the uncertain surface of the wall without the slightest problem. "Hn." Rugal grunts even as he draws back his arms from the eager lunge. In other times, he would be impressed. Here it's only added aggravation.
The youth explodes back across the room. His shout heralding his determination, the triumph of all his preparation coming to fruition here and now, and in that moment strikes his father. The knee collides with Rugal's forehead, staggering the man back a step, the heel to follow catching him before he can recover to fend off the combination.
The final backflip stops the man just before he would have lunged back to counter strike, slashing into his chest with that sharp edge of wind-energy. Gale-like, cleaving force sends Rugal stumbling back two steps. "You fool!" His hand lifts, wiping across his torso before he observes the faint touch of red left by the bleeding gash beneath his clothing. "What will you do after this? You have no allies. Without my protection, the rest will consume you alive!!"
He gestures toward Jiro with his left hand, his right hand occupied in the act of shrugging his suit coat to the floor. "Is that the sort you think will help you carve out your own existence?" He holds his ground then, not chosing to close the distance between him and the young man. He's preparing, scrutinizing, opening not just his cybernetic eye to the situation but his living one as well. The corner of his mouth curls up just slightly. "No... you wouldn't overplay your hand like that..." His son is no fool. Overly ambitious, yes, in sealing his fate here and now. But not a fool.
COMBATSYS: Rugal calculates his next move.
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Jiro 0/-------/--=====|-------\-------\0 Alan
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Adelheid 0/-------/-----==|===----\-------\0 Rugal
The assault is executed, and predictably, weathered by his elder. But Adelheid is not the sort to act on impulse, one step at a time. Not in the broader sense, and not here and now. He lands with precision a short span away, crouching lithely on the top of a sturdy desk, his landing sending subtle tremors outwards, shifting notes and folders as more debris crash to the floor, the youth's crimson eyes steady on his father. No allies? Rugal's /protection/? There's a wry smirk, no sign of the discomfort or hesitation that the Lord of War might be hoping to instill in his progeny. No, simply the calm amusement that belies the fact that the elder Bernstein is doing little now except boisterously voicing his own ignorance. How little he knew of what was to come, and what had already come to pass. But that is a card that falls in Adelheid's favor, and he doesn't immediately set his father straight.
"You are right about one thing. There are many who would wish to tear me apart just for being related to you. But most of those have already /tried/, father. Failed. But you forget that those same groups, and /more/.... will be all over you like sharks in a frenzy once they smell the blood in the water." Rugal prepares, he knows well that look in his father's eyes. Knows well that the fight has only just begun, and that it is an uphill climb he strives to make. But it is now that it must be made, for it is now that matters.. that gives him the opportunity to put events in motion that will further elevate his momentum, and avert the course that Rugal forsees.
"Kasagi?" Adel echoes, not even looking towards the conflict between father's henchman and son's unlikely ally, "Surely you are aware that even the coarsest iron can be forged into steel. Tempered to an edge that cleaves the mightiest armour. These fighters are listless, divided, lost in a culture of decadence and fear. But they can be honed, they can be taught, and together.... such a force is unstoppable. A true craftsman leaves /no/ wood uncarved!!" The Prince of War's booted foot lashes out, the black-clad Bernstein sending forth a wave of roiling silver that glistens in tandem with the metallic ornamentation on his still pristine uniform. The desk is split, Adelheid vaulting back off it, as a lance of pure chi races its windtorn path towards his father, "I am /LEGION/, and were every force at my disposal arrayed against you today, you would STILL have no idea what I hold in my hand!! What comes for ALL THOSE LIKE YOU!!"
COMBATSYS: Rugal blocks Adelheid's Reppukyaku.
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Jiro 0/-------/--=====|-------\-------\0 Alan
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Adelheid 0/-------/------=|====---\-------\0 Rugal
COMBATSYS: Jiro successfully hits Alan with Burning Hell.
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Jiro 1/-------/=======|======-\-------\0 Alan
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Adelheid 0/-------/------=|====---\-------\0 Rugal
The time spent holding his ground gives his son a chance to speak; to respond to Rugal's declarations of the dire fate that awaits him now that he's decided to strike out on his own. "You have fought their minions yet not faced the monsters at the helm in the same capacity..." Rugal replies, his voice calmer now, more composed, his mind calculating. Speeds, forces, momentums, masses all factored in as he prepares his next move. "But now you want to count yourself among them? So be it." His voice a growl, his temper slowly building along with the power he begins to draw upon.
"I wonder if these fighters you think to combine into a force realize the costs of their... loyalty?" Another gesture toward Jiro, "Does he know what it means to be my enemy? To be an enemy of that psychopath, Vega? Does he not know his friends, his family, every tie he has in this world will be put at risk? You may turn him into a machine to fight, but he can't be everywhere at once..." Rugal chuckles, "Too bad his associates don't know the price he's volunteering for them to pay!"
The silver energy bursts through the desk, sending wooden shrapnel flying in every direction while enroute toward Rugal. Adel will sense it by then - the retaliation to come as Rugal storms forward, crashing through the swath of chi, allowing to ripple across his arms and shread the white shirt covering his torso in the process. Momentum, born not purely of muscle but of power that should have been left untouched, bears the elder Bernstein forward on a crushing collision force toward his son. Anything in the way is smashed aside; chairs sent flying, a shelf of reals splintered in two, as Rugal rages directly for his prodigal son.
"Your legion means nothing if its leader falls here!!" He aims to plow into the boy, hooking him in his arm on his hell-bent drive across the news room straight for the wall that had, moments prior, served as a launching point for Adelheid. This time, there will be no doubt about its collapse should Rugal succeed in smashing Adelheid through the half-foot of wood, plaster, and sound proofing boards.
Alan R. B. can always tell when someone just ate a punch to the chest. He can always tell, and it's always a bad sign. This is really just not the boxer's day.
Jiro forms blazing uppercut.
Alan's shades spin to the side, bouncing off the Reppuken and then just atomizing against Rugal's charge. A cigarette case, knocked out of Alan's pocket, whizzes to the other side and springs open against a wall, throwing black-and-golds everywhere (the case survives, it's tougher than Alan himself). The boxer, meanwhile, is launched back hard, slamming into a camera, which crumples beneath him. The front of his vest is burned away, and more patches are burned on the blue shirt beneath, electricity crackling on the exposed skin beneath. Slowly, Alan pulls himself out of the wreck, rolling back and pulling the vest off.
Normally, he makes a crack at this point about how expensive his clothes are. Probably joins it with a sass about the other person being poor, so on and so forth. His eyes narrow at Jiro and Adelheid as he wipes blood from his mouth with his ruined vest, and flings it down. Today, his livelihood, his ability to bury himself in the now to avoid his past is being threatened. Alan stretches his fingers out, closes them back into fists - knuckles popping - and his form blurs.
He comes into focus three times as he moves toward Jiro, disgustingly fast. Once, jumping off the wrecked camera. Again, hand against the ceiling, pushing back down. One last time, right next to Jiro, hooking around him. Then, he's everywhere, running in a rapid circle around Jiro, fists flying high and low.
COMBATSYS: Rugal successfully hits Adelheid with God Press.
-* CRITICAL HIT! *-
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////// ]
Jiro 1/-------/=======|======-\-------\0 Alan
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////// ]
Adelheid 0/-------/=======|=======\-------\1 Rugal
COMBATSYS: Jiro fails to counter Storm Front from Alan with Dead End.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////// ]
Jiro 1/----===/=======|=======\-------\0 Alan
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////// ]
Adelheid 0/-------/=======|=======\-------\1 Rugal
This is quite the situation. Jiro had been waiting for Alan to come forth at him. He already made his point to the older man that he isn't playing around. Jiro is here to get the job done and take him out fast. Not only that, but Jiro wants what he caught in his pocket. He isn't sure -what- that device is, but... he needs to take him out anyway and obtain it. May as well have a back-up plan, right?
The knuckles are moving towards Jiro's frame at a disgusting rate. That is when Jiro is attempting to stop him right here and there with a nice kick towards the gut and a nice Stray Dog Stun---denied.
The first fist strikes him against the cheek, sending him twisting over to the other side. And then, the next fist moves down towards his back. As the impact strikes his back, he grunts and he is caught leaning forward. That is when the final fist comes.
It hooks around towards his face, catching him cold and the young man immediately starts flying across the air. A grunt echos forth before he spins around in mid-air. Twisting into a halt, Jiro crashes onto the ground with a skid...
"Che..."
"That is where you are wrong. You do not know every fight I've fought, every enemy I've turned to an ally.... every fool I've sent home bloody." Adelheid remains unimpressed with Rugal's assertions, though certainly... the times of save haven for any of them are long past. Or so it would appear. He senses his father's anger, the Prince of War remaining cool under that pressure, levelheaded as he gazes intently at the onrushing freight train. But all the planning in the world does him little good as Rugal's speed trumps it by just a hair - he weaves, but in the end it's into the grip, stronger than he anticipated, fueled by Rugal's rage... and he's crushed soundly into the suddenly fragile-seeming wall, shrapnel erupting outwards as drywall, particle board, some foamy gunk meant to keep the place well insulated... and even a particularly tangible piece of the stud wall simply crumble, blasting Adelheid through the command center and out into the anchor room, tumbling across the darkened auditorium-with-no-audience and smashing hard into the anchor desk, his head rebounding off the half-marble structure - which does not shift much at all.
"Nngh." If he expected to come out of this without a scratch, well, then he /would/ be a fool. No, the prodigious Bernstein simply draws a deep breath into his ragged lungs, forcing air back through his suddenly aching body, as he shakes his head brisky, sending bits of broken wall all around him as the rest of the barrier falls down behind him. He's not nearly lucky enough for it to bury his father, however, "You say that... as if there was any concern for human life in the first place. Innocence... is innocence... you either stand up, or you watch it be torn down... cowering is not... protecting what matters to you in the first place!!" That lesson took some time for him to learn, but it's something he's fairly certain of.
His spirit centers itself, his dark eyes burn like embers as he pushes back to his feet, shaking off the impact as best he can, and grinning a little behind a trickle of blood leaking from his lips, "Too long has that been the policy you madmen have counted on. To be able to arbitrarily wield your power and hope that no one would stand up beyond your target. That fear of what you could do would keep us sedated, docile, divided... impotent. But /I/ know what you can do. I know what each and every one of you can do. Kill me here?" Adelheid out and out laughs at his father, laughs off a blow that would have cowed him not two years ago.
"It will take a lot better than /that/."
COMBATSYS: Adelheid gains composure.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////// ]
Jiro 0/-------/----===|=======\-------\0 Alan
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////// ]
Adelheid 0/-------/-======|=======\-------\1 Rugal
For Alan, speed is as much of a weapon as his actual physical power. He doesn't have a particular skill at gathering electricity, it's more than that - electricity flows through him without even asking. It takes more effort for him to /stop/ swirling with chi than it does to let it dance. To let it in. This is the first time he's fought seriously in...
...this is the first time he's ever fought seriously.
The punches come fast and furious, until Alan suddenly disengages, jumping back... and already charging ahead. He can't just trust in his boss to make everything better, things are pretty crazy right now. "Ha ha! Hey! Looks like you should've kept me distracted!" His hands go limp again, arms dragging behind him, letting even more chi build itself up. "You like this? Eh? How's my /undivided goddamn attention?!/"
Alan comes to Jiro's downed form, leads with his foot, and tries to punt him up into the air - then his arms explode into motion. In the space of four seconds, he punches... maybe around fifty times, flooding the air with electric fist afterimages like some kind of beautiful flower blossom where every petal is a punch.
"Back off my bank--!"
COMBATSYS: Alan successfully hits Jiro with Voltaic Barrage.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///// ]
Jiro 0/-------/-======|======-\-------\0 Alan
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////// ]
Adelheid 0/-------/-======|=======\-------\1 Rugal
"...Finally." Jiro states as he gets up. While the young man is incredibly injured in this battle, Jiro is finally glad that Alan is getting serious. Why? Jiro wants to see what this guy can do at his full potential. That means that Jiro can finally get serious. As for how Jiro likes it?
"About damn time."
That is when he comes down towards Jiro's form. The young man immediately tries to move away, but he is caught by the foot and he is launched into the air. His bdy hunches over with a grunt and then he is caught by the multitude of punches that are striking him. A hiss echos forth from Jiro as he is sent flying back against the wall. A grunt is given by the time he bounces off of the wall.
...Then he lands back onto his feet. Snarling under his breath, Jiro hunches low and then he lifts himself back up. Next, Jiro sprints towards Alan, finally deciding to use this moment to finally deal with Alan. Now that he is ready, he'll take the aggressive stance.
He launches towards Alan, drawing his fist out to slam against Alan's cheek.
Rugal's charge is slow to stop as what was once a wall is rendered into a pile of rubble courtesy of his son's body being driven through it. Black dress shoes slide for a few feet as all that forward momentum is drawn back, the elder Bernstein not quite as light on his feet as his agile son. But control is regained in due course. Against another foe; were he fighting in a tournament or facing down one of his infinite list of enemies, such a crushing blow would have been satisfying. Here, it serves as merely another step toward a grim goal. All these years he had raising and training the boy to be the perfect enemy to others. A fearsome fighter, second only to his father.
In the end, he had unwittingly crafted his perfect rival. The one best equipped to fight him. One who knew how he thought on every level, knew how he fought and how to contend with it. Assets, force of presence... the boy was growing up to be Rugal's perfect challenge. And now the father must slay the son. An unfitting end to such great potential. But open rebellion cannot be forgiven. There is no going back to the way things were before.
And the boy is right. Men like Rugal rule with fear. And where fear doesn't work, money is always a good back up. And failing that, extermination of those who would be obsticles. Dusting his tattered dress shirt idly of the wall's debris, Rugal gazes across the distance between him and his son. "That fear... is what keeps dogs like the one you brought with you alive. It keeps them from starting wars against forces they cannot even begin to comprehend. It keeps them out. of. my. way."
He turns then, at last surveying the battle between Alan and the Kasagi youth. "And if they don't hold that fear..." Rugal continues, "It means they haven't been broken enough. They don't understand the depths of futility their pathetic bold stand places them in. But those who chose to stand with you... they WILL find themselves shattered. Your forces will be scattered to the wind!"
The crimelord explodes back toward Jiro, determined to make his point. With a fraction of the power he had brought to bear against Adelheid, he aims to rip Jiro up off the ground with one crushing right hand around the boy's. With one fluid motion, he'll flip Jiro to the ground, maintaining that grip on his arm as he twists the limb in a direction it isn't even supposed to go. The solid sole of his shoe will be driven into Jiro's ribcage. And then Rugal will complete the entire sequence by hurling Jiro off toward Adelheid, "Let him be the first of many casualties to come!"
A grim goal indeed. But let's face it, Rugal could have simply taken Adelheid's very good advice and peacefully left Howard's media holdings to his errant son and would-be canine compatriot. Instead, there's bitter battle. ... not that Adel would have anticipated any other ending. Jiro's trouble with the 'R' underling, however... that is a surprise. Perhaps more preparation, training, instruction would have helped... but time was one commodity they did not have remaining in great amounts, this station had to be theirs, or it would belong to the invaders. To darken the news, or spread their own lies over ready-made airwaves to a populace already gripped about the throat by terror. Where Rugal is ready to end this tonight, however... the Prince of War sees only a beginning. There is no turning back, but it has been such a long time since he longed for that option.
"The futility is to curl up, to wait for the random deaths, for the selfish to /take/ what they want on the backs of others!" Adelheid protests, "Jiro! Heads up, let's TAKE HIM." The shouted warning may not be enough, with the force and fervor with which the elder Bernstein rushes for Kasagi, but if Adelheid has his way, it will be Rugal who pays the price for underestimating the pair. He charges, footfalls coming faster, and faster, his heavily booted feet seeming to barely touch the ground as the young Bernstein all but blurs forward, rushing in at his father's rear flank.
"We have /been/ scattered, soon it will be YOU who knows fear! More than you could ever conjure alone in the darkness on that tub you call home!!" It's never really been 'home' for Adel. A big, gaping void is that area of his life, at least up until now. Whatever the outcome, he will make his stand, and while preparation and time would have seen a force Rugal could not possibly best... he will make do with what he has.
Launching himself into the air, the prodigious Bernstein seeks to palm his patriarch's skull before Rugal can fully recover from the launched offensive, a flexing heave of his arm meant to /explode/ the elder Bernstein backwards in a point-blank column of artillery-force windshear, erupting in punishing lances all but /through/ his head, with force that has been amplified intensely since they last fought. Each step of the way, whether still outmatched or not... the platinum blonde will stride harder, further, until he finally surpasses the tyrant he has served for too long.
Until then it behooves them to remind Rugal Bernstein of just one thing: They do not stand alone.
COMBATSYS: Jiro successfully hits Alan with Aggressive Strike.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ]
Jiro 0/-------/=======|=======\==-----\1 Alan
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////// ]
Adelheid 0/-------/-======|=======\-------\1 Rugal
Smack. Alan is still charging ahead, fists still blazing with electricity, pulling his arms back for a clap of thunder. He sees the fist coming too late, and tries to twist out of the way, only managing to get cracked.
He doesn't have any last parting shots as he spins out of his momentum, twisting toward the wall. But inside, he's furious. He's going to pass out, he can feel it coming on from his experience picking fights he has no business picking. The worst part is knowing that now he'll have no idea which way the tide is turning, when he wakes up. Bernstein on Bernstein, and he's going to miss it unfold.
He's cracked in the face, spinning toward the wall. He has an instant before he smashes down, both hands lashing up, thrust out at Jiro. He doesn't snap his fingers as he usually does, instead just forcing it out. Most of the electricity built up in his body crashes out in a wave.
His face hits the green screen used for weather reports, and he's out, slowly sliding down.
COMBATSYS: Alan can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////// ]
Jiro 0/-------/=======|=======\-------\1 Rugal
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Adelheid 0/-------/-======|
COMBATSYS: Alan successfully hits Jiro with Thunder Storm.
-* CRITICAL HIT! *-
[ \\\\\ < > //////////////////////// ]
Jiro 1/---====/=======|=======\-------\1 Rugal
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Adelheid 0/-------/-======|
COMBATSYS: Jiro fails to counter Combo Grapple from Rugal with Dead End.
[ < > //////////////////////// ]
Jiro 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|=======\==-----\1 Rugal
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Adelheid 0/-------/-======|
COMBATSYS: Jiro can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////// ]
Adelheid 0/-------/-======|=======\==-----\1 Rugal
This is probably the climatic moment. There is a bit of satisfaction in Jiro when he notices he slams that fist right into Alan's face. His eyes narrow as he snarls at the man. "Hrmph..." Now, his eyes shift over towards Rugal. He actually stands ready to take Rugal when he comes for him. He heard Adelheid telling him to get ready. That is why Jiro is ready.
Until....
The resounding storm of thunder engulfs him from behind, nailing him point blank in the back. "Arrgggghhhhh!!!!" Jiro hisses off, then he collapses onto his back with a grunt. And then, Jiro notices Rugal getting closer.
The Stray Dog immediately brings his foot out towards Rugal. Yet, Rugal is able to grab Jiro's foot instead. Bad move. Why? Well, Jro does receive that flip over towards the ground, smashed against the side of the pavement. And then, Jiro's leg is twisted in the direction it is _NOT_ supposed to, causing him to scream in pain.
The boot strikes against Jiros ribcage and he is hurled towards Adelheid, immediately losing consciousness.
COMBATSYS: Rugal interrupts Scorpion Deathlock from Adelheid with Genocide Heaven.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////// ]
Adelheid 1/---====/=======|===----\-------\0 Rugal
Matters of war leave little chance for everything to go as intended. The entire concept is a messy affair where even the best made plans can crumble due to unexpected developments. The exchange of blows between Jiro and Alan barely registered in Rugal's mind as he fixated soley upon his rebellious offspring. That was, of course, until he decided to make a point of what he thought about the younger Bernstein's choice in allies.
Adelheid's shouts of encouragement notwithstanding, the Kasagi boy is overwhelmed by the two pronged attack. Alan's power smashes into Jiro before he finds himself torn off his feet by Rugal's firm grip before being dismantaled against the floor and ultimately hurled, dead weight, toward the incoming Adelheid without any further consideration given. Alan may not be sure of where things stand as he collapses; what the fate of 'R' will be or which of the Bernsteins will claim victory in this exchange. But for the Tyrant of the origanization, there is no doubt, no question. Only certainty withn that burns as hot or cold as his mood swings.
By the time Rugal has fully turned, however, Adelheid is in his face. His words were heard, his declarations absorbed. But even still, the veteran fighter can't comprehend it. What madness possessed his boy to make him take this action? There is no time to think about it as that hand comes rushing in to seize hold of his face. A muffled grunt is uttered; a surprise at the speed with which Adelheid had closed the distance between them... in more ways than one.
His hand rises quickly however, a right crushing fist slamming the younger blonde's arm down from his face just as that surge of piercing wind chi is unleashed. The blast crashes into his chest, shreading the pressed, bloodied white shirt in the process, but spares him a degree of the pain meant for him. The defense was merely an opening strike, however - a prelude to a more punishing counter attack.
By the time anyone would be in a position to realize his intent it would be too late. His right foot archs up in a tight, fierce kick targeting Adelheid's chest. A narrow band of slashing chi follows in the wake of the blow as the elder Bernstein pushes off into a second such strike with his left leg. A third follows from his right as the man slashes into Adelheid with a third blow all in the space of an eyeblink. An aerial turn has him planting his chi empowered heel into the side of Adelheid's head with enough force to drive him backward.
Landing, Rugal doesn't hesitate, starting forward after Adelheid as if he had no intention of letting up now. "You were to be among my greatest triumphs," he growls, ignoring the torn and tattered state of his suit, his inhuman eye flaring to life in the dead socket of his skull. "And now you're to be my greatest /disappointment/..."
The end result of the onslaught is not entirely a surprise. Jiro is not ready to take on Rugal and Alan at once, to say the least... but then, neither is Adel. Really, enraging Rugal makes the brutality of the sudden turn almost predictable... but sometimes, a boy can't help but hold onto the heroic best case scenario. No matter. Life with the Lord of War has taught Adelheid one thing above all others: always cover your ass. Always have a contingency plan. In this case the contingency plan happens to be the hijacking of this station's broadcasting equipment, on a rather literal level. The transmission array is stripped, all the fancy 'ULTRA DOPPLER 4000 HD' radar gear left bare like hubcaps in the hood. The newsroom, as the battle turned nasty, became far more useless than it had been before. The immediate tell is the static that comes over so many of the screens. The platinum blonde smirks slightly, and scans from display to display.
Once he lands, at least. It's a somewhat pleasant way to wake up, though, that waited-for white noise. How did he get /here/? ... oh right. Blood runs freely down his face, a gash torn in his head, a bloody welt rising on his chest, his uniform shorn. The defiant attack all but melted in the tidal wave of Rugal Bernstein's opposing force. Launched up, up, crashing off the ceiling and bouncing to the ground, the young warrior skids and crashes full on into a bank of monitors, which sizzle with the impact and die. Really, it's all too easy to chalk up the looting to that single act of violence. Ouch.
Every synapse fires, demands that he run, that he get out of there, mission accomplished. The building, this battle, doesn't really matter anymore. Not really, "You never could see the bigger picture." The boy observes, though half of it is half-hacked, half-laughed out in a bit of a bloodspray as he picks himself out of the rubble.
But stand he does, flexing an arm by his side as he flanks around, moving towards where Kasagi fell, "You've already failed in your objective, and we've succeeded in ours. And if you think that I'm already beaten..." Adelheid tries to steady his stance, recentering his attention, gathering up the power filling him once more, "You forget all too quickly!" Still, he doesn't attack. Instead, he triggers a sturdy radio on his belt, "Prepare for egress, exit zone is hot. Scan for target Omega and initiate local engagement protocol, urban parameters. Standby to fire on my orders."
COMBATSYS: Adelheid focuses on his next action.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////////// ]
Adelheid 1/---====/=======|===----\-------\0 Rugal
The ground quivers as the heavens churn inside the fans of dual turbines.
A shadow emcompasses the media building as if the burgeoning night spat out a segment of itself to milk the coming dusk. Its source is a massive machine in the sky easily rivalling the size of that building. All matte black nickel alloys make the descendant thing seem a huge barracuda swimming free from the clouds, trails of white streaming off of its channels and seams as it descends coming from a place of 'no existence' to a revolutionary birth over the seat of history's report.
Its rotors beat the air in diffuse, precise and to the lay, confusing patterns that dissolve much of the noise associated with it. Still then, it is testament to the intimacy of this arcane system and its speed that its movements are enough to vibrate the coffee in a nearby cup.
He idly watches a screen hanging from a framework just to his side.
/!\ Powering up main batteries.
The thrumming pulse is like God's heartbeat.
Steam pouring from every crevice in the parlor, he leaves the work at the bridge to much of the crew he's assembled to run this massive machine, instead troubling himself only at the bench of a grand piano deep in the belly of this nameless ship. He lifts his head as if awoken from a daze, the crane of his neck following his gaze only moments prior, reaching up to tap the comm systems attached to the monitor until he gets tone. The bridge reports in ambiently. "We have visual from the surveillance network," some crewman or another reports. "We're getting lock on Omega now."
On the monitor, a preliminary thermal image breaches his screen, a reticule surrounding and focusing on the larger of the two standing targets, with the greek symbol "OMEGA" hovering over it, along with several passes of tertiary data.
"aa." If he'd had his way, he'd have Riko hack the entire building, broadcast, and then burn the thing to cinders. Unfortunately.. He switches channels, transmitting to the ground party. "We're live scanning. Approaching range for egress. Weapons are ETL 11 seconds," he commits, doing the math in his head. ".... all secondary weapons reaching full charge. Have you thought of a name for the ship yet?" he asks simply.
The voice, echoing over Adelheid's belt radio, is unmistakably Seishirou's.
COMBATSYS: SkyNoah has joined the fight here.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////////// ]
Adelheid 1/---====/=======|===----\-------\0 Rugal
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
SkyNoah 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: SkyNoah gathers SkyNoah's will.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////////// ]
Adelheid 1/---====/=======|===----\-------\0 Rugal
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
SkyNoah 0/-------/---====|
Through the wreckage of the newsroom Rugal strikes forward, shoving tables, chairs, filing cabinets out of his way on his path toward where the boy landed. In his mind he's already thinking about how he will have to finish it now. How he will have no choice but to grip the boy and take his life. It's been some years since he had his own father bronzed. His aging offended him; it reminded him of his own advancing years. His only recourse had been to encase his father in molten bronze and preserve him against the passage of time forever more. When he did it he hadn't felt even the slightest sting of regret or remorse.
This is differen thtough. He goes not after his predecesor but his own offspring. And he means to kill him. Furious at having been forced into this situation, he kicks through a wooden shelf, sending reels and tapes flying, unleashing an indecipherable growl of anger. If there were words there, they would be impossible to distinguish. To think this day had come at last. The moustasched tyrant mutters something repeatedly beneath his breath as his single eye settles on where the young man landed. "...forgive me..." Whispered apology meant for the ears of one long since dead.
But instead of a broken form he finds Adelheid rising once again in spite the condition of his body. The fight not yet out of him even after what he had endured thus far. The static of the monitors goes unnoticed. The smoke rising from a computer bank at his side irrelevant. All he fixates on is the platinum blonde standing before him. So he isn't finished yet. He hasn't had enough. He should've known. He is a Bernstein after all.
Adelheid speaks of his objective and a brief flash of confusion literally works its way across Rugal's experssion, as if he had entirely forgotten why he had come to be standing in this forsaken newsroom in the first place. The mission that brought him to the ground of betrayal mattered so little to him now that he dismisses it immediately. He grunts, having slowed his advance now that the young Prince was standing still.
That's when Adelheid flips on the radio at his belt and speaks to someone else entirely. The action freezes the crimelord in his steps. What was this? What did the young man have planned now? "You of all people..." his tone is dark with murder in his voice, "...should know better than to bluff at a time like this..." And that's when he becomes aware of the chatter in his own ear-radio. He hadn't paid the slightest attention to the noise of the reports coming from elsewhere in the building from the moment this altercation began. They were irrelvant gnats that had no bearing on the coup taking place in the heart of the building.
It would be possible to see the change in his expression as those 'gnats' suddenly have something very important to impart. Something about the clouds... no... something coming out of the clouds. Seishirou's voice echoes from the radio. Rugal would never have forgotten it after his confrontations with the Ryouhara ninja well over a year ago. 'Have you thought of a name for the ship yet?'
Adelheid Bernstein. Isn't. Bluffing.
"You..." the sound of his voice a mixture of facination and exasperation. Of all the damnable kids a parent could end up with and he had to have one that was just /this/ resourceful. It would have been fine had he not evolved an entirely concept of 'moralty' than his father was hoping for. But no, instead Rugal is stuck with this! The man clenches his hands tightly, his arms partially bent at the elbow, his forearms trembling. His teeth grit, his jaw set, the man begins to radiate with unwholesome energy. Power he only begun to tap into when he threw his son through the wall.
The room resonates with it. Loose items rattle as if evidence of an incoming earthquake and ebony energy swirls at the feet of the man who, stretching forth his hand to claim immortalty, became host to a small portion of a sealed demon. A spirit of vengeance fills his vision with red, the tattered ends of his coat whipped about by invisible currents. It becomes much more clear then, what his son had done. And in that realization comes only more confusion, more paranoia. How had all this happened under his eye? How had it gone unnoticed? "I made you...!" he roars as his power grows. "Everything you are. Everything you have. Your ability to fight, to reason, to plan, to think are mine. You're my flesh and blood, boy!! I molded you, guided you, trained you. If you have power it is because I gave it to you! If you have wisdom and forsight it is because..."
His voice fades. No. The boy's acumen didn't come from him. That atribute, above all others, the Prince of War inherited from the mother he never knew. A guttural roar errupts from the monster's lungs as he basks in that sensation of fury overwhelming him. "RAAAAAGH!!!"
COMBATSYS: Rugal gathers his will.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////////// ]
Adelheid 1/---====/=======|======-\-------\0 Rugal
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
SkyNoah 0/-------/---====|
The eye for the little things, the quiet edges, perhaps Rugal does possess that same analytical capacity. But if so, it is directed in an entirely different direction: a direction that the intended heir (or 'failsafe') has studied himself for some time now. Perhaps it is a cruelly edged echo of what Adelheid's unknown matriarch would have thought of the elder Bernstein's willing descent into madness... but whatever the source, genetics or simple cause and effect exponent, the last thing the Prince of War is going to do is lay down and die now, "Standby. Full spectrum scanning, subject is amassing power." The response is almost mechanical, steel plated over ice. Rugal rages, seeks the break through, and then likely break bones. ... if Adel is lucky.
The youth observes the coming storm in the moments in which it gathers, as Rugal brings that darkly fervent energy all to himself. It tastes sour now, as it always has, to the bloodline's newest chi prodigy. But then, a legacy such as Rugal's rings loudly indeed, even without the lingering taint of demonic hunger. The sound of the aerial battlestation eases Adel's mind, at least to some degree. Not so much as the assurances from Ryouhara regarding the vessel's readyness, and his father's subsequent reaction, however, "Grapples on the outside of the building, go." Jiro is manhandled abruptly to his feet, and given a shove. Worst case, he'll at least flop over a bit more out of the way, through an open door. Walk it off, skipper!
... let's just say Adel's own training has often been rather uncompromising, but then Rugal would remember that stalwart thought process. Jiro has to move, because let's face it... Jiro has to move. He steadies his stance before the battered Stray Dog, all attention once more on Rugal, "I tried to tell you." It's as apologetic as he'll get. The simple words layered with volumes of discontent and disapproval. It's not that 'Dad' never had any hold over his intended heir... but that softness was forced out of the platinum blonde's decision making some time ago. He's just not going to stand for it anymore.
His hair whips up, the Prince of War's crimson eyes all but burning, a funhouse mirror of hurricane intensity standing in stark contrast to the malevolent energies refracting through the shocked 'R' overlord, "You gave me incentive. To do what was demanded of me - to drag myself up, every time. To be better than you with none of the shortcuts. But what you never expected is exactly what has been happening. I've been doing it. Maybe I'm not a match for you alone..." But he's going to try, silver fire erupting down his arms, as he sweeps his arm outwards, drawing up a tremendous gale of brilliantly rippling energy, "But I already told you it /DOESN'T MATTER/! What you built? This is in SPITE of you!!" The air before Adelheid violently displaces, more ill-fated broadcasting equipment exploding to crackling shrapnel this way and that, "Main batteries fire on target!"
In the end, it comes down to this. Both with every opportunity to walk away... and neither willing to consider it. Instead, Adelheid orders a prototype weapon to begin firing into the building he's standing in.
This is what we call confidence in engineering, and the expertise of the ship's choice crew - carefully groomed and trained from the soldiers Rugal periodically weaned out of 'R' for some variety of weakness. His son always had a knack for handling executions, didn't he? Now they help skew the playing field once more, unforseen intervention from an unusual source indeed.
Adelheid says, "You..." the sound of his voice a mixture of facination and exasperation. Of all the damnable kids a parent could end up with and he had to have one that was just /this/ resourceful. It would have been fine had he not evolved an entirely concept of 'moralty' than his father was hoping for. But no, instead Rugal is stuck with this! The man clenches his hands tightly, his arms partially bent at the elbow, his forearms trembling. His teeth grit, his jaw set, the man begins to radiate with unwholesome energy. Power he only begun to tap into when he threw his son through the wall."
Come now.
It's not entirely a prototype, is it? This nameless ship had its start, somewhat poetically, in the middle of the sea during the warlike times of Rugal's invasion of the proleteriat's Jinchuu tournament. The ship's engineering group is no stranger to building ships, albeit one that sets sail in the sky and holds school with angels instead of dolphins is a sight no man in the world has ever seen.
Until now.
The boy sits at the piano, not as a master composer might, but as a man whom simply found a comfortable place to sit. He ambiently listens to the overhead radio feed from the bridge. His intervention was, depressingly, not entirely needed at this juncture. There was already a team of gunners aboard the airship, most of them indeed ex-"R", and many of them tersely instructed by his own engineers. Autonomy was the goal--an ability to operate freely without control. But as long as Adelheid was on the ground, his group still nascent, his expertise was needed for only one weapon.
His fingers brushed the keys of the piano very slightly as he rests his back across the shelf.
The ship was in a poor position to fire that primary weapon, not that it entirely mattered, given the strength of it is outside of the set target parameters for the mission, but amongst its bevy of main weapons.. well, there were a few solutions the Kagero shihaisha had implemented.
The ship labors a little higher into the air as its weapons batteries held tight, with the onboard communications channels abuzz with activity. From ports all over the ship, black lines spread out and fall around the building, detailing a network of cables to the ship. Already, an extraction team was being lowered in their customary all-black, taking into hand the captain's orders with the prior knowledge that one man is already down, information in no small part owed to Ryouhara's agents, if not Adelheid's direction. Jiro will be collected, whether he's standing or not. But it complicates the situation further. As said, with that many men at or around the building, releasing the full brunt of the ship's artillery would be plainly dangerous.
But the full brunt is not necessary.
Green lines of arcane light stab down from the ship, focusing on the grounds below.
"Area painted," a man up on the bridge declares.
Seishirou doesn't need to say a word.
Ports open on starboard and port belly of the ship, and twin black cannons crackle with electric power, before even the subdued but everpresent thrum of the ship's airborne engines is broken with the thundering crack of force discharge, spreading curtains of black smoke from the mouths of those cannons. The shot is never actually seen--not by anyone who would be standing on the street, mystified by the sight above, anyway. The only thing that can be detected, is the ceiling being shot open in two foot long incursions, carving through mortar and steel like butter, rocking the building to its core.
The Hiryuudan II, based off of a prelimninary extreme long range assault design aboard the Suiryuu. Not a prototype. An improvement. Since those days, the Ryouhara engineer has perfected his arts.
Like twin fingers of god, the massive flaming artillery shells pass within inches of people without injury, searing through. They carve through room after room, endlessly calculating, the god's bullet shivering as it makes every correction for impact adjustment in stages, obeying a remote compensation protocol. And homing in on the massive blast of silver that the prince of war unleashed. Homing in on the source of spectral energy--and using it as a fine destination lock.
That fine destination being some iteration or another of Rugal's face.
Energy homing. Ryouhara technology at its finest.
Perfected, indeed: the aerial behemoth proves its capabilities by gracefully executing a rather challenging order. The Suiryuu's legacy was one of inspiration, engineering insight, and sheer infamy. Adelheid doesn't look up, even as the ship brings more of its formidable weapons online, even as the half-chi reactor hums eagerly in the back of his mind.
"This is the thriving evolution of that which you would have crushed, or squandered." The power in those Rugal chose to assault, proven once already.... now threatening to unravel more finely laid plans on the elder Bernstein's own homefront. What was it Adelheid said?
Blood in the water. Sections of roof cave in on every floor, the structure of the building shifting tangibly, audibly with the sharp impact of the twin lances. It's a dull rumble from above, for the blink of an eye. Behind tensed muscles, Adelheid focuses his own chi, seeking to blast all of his force forward, even as the impossible weapon takes a giant-sized synchronous sniper shot at Rugal's helpfully broadcast position.
COMBATSYS: Rugal blocks Adelheid and SkyNoah's Fire from Olympus.
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Adelheid 1/-----==/=======|=======\====---\1 Rugal
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SkyNoah 0/-------/-----==|
A storm of onyx colored flame rages around Rugal's legs. His hands, clenched tightly, bleed red acidic chi from between his fingers. His suit jacket deteriorates beyond recognition, reduced to ash. The muscles beneath the tattered white dress shirt seem to expand, ripping through the fabric, the few clasped buttons still over his chest popping off in turn as the man churns power through him that is beyond his control. It has been years since he had surrendered himself to this so completely. The riot. A wholescale loss of logic or reason.
A rational man would order a retreat. That the 'R' contingent that arrived with him is outgunned goes without saying. That they may be outnumbered depends entirely on the size of the Sky Noah's serving crew. Prudence suggests a tactical fall back to gather proper intell and regroup. His own carrier beyond his reach, his support infrastructure pulled out from under him. Only a madman would stand and fight as the roof of the building is torn asunder by the twin streams of artillary.
Rugal doesn't budge an inch. Not as the area round him becomes impossible to see through, hidden by a cloud of debris, dust, smoke, and churning chi. Not as his own son launches an explosion of chi - the Kaiser's technique stolen by the Bernsteins - straight for ground zero. Mighty arms raise up, crossing over in front of him as Rugal hunkers down just before being completely lost to sight.
Seconds pass before there's any sign of motion beyond the cloud of sulfur and the smell of scorched flesh. Seconds before Rugal explodes from the epicenter of destruction, charging directly for the young man who would take his stand against his father here and now. The Tyrant of War bears the marks of the assault. His torso has been rendered completely bare, the dress shirt long since gone and even the muscle shirt he had on beneath - one of the many he has always worn religiously - is gone, leaving his chest bare. Four marks cut across his chisled body. Four scars, as if some beast had clawed its way into his flesh years ago. And as he bolts forward, his right hand rests at the start of them, his fingers spaced perfectly apart to match the lines cut so many years ago when in desperation he tore into his own chest to bite back the Orochi's influence. Even now his fingers sink in, as if to repeat the same act a second time.
His arms and shoulders are bleeding, evidence of the damage caused by the storm that fell upon him. His pants left with a gaping hole over his left knee. His left hand trails, that ascidic red chi pouring out from between his finger tips as he barrels toward his son. "YOU WOULD SPITE ME?! A GOD!?" The ebony flames following his wake, a tidal wave of pending destruction hellbound toward the young prodigy. "Is that it?! Do you seek slay the unkillable to start a legacy of your own?!"
It would be as if all the demons of hell were unleashed upon the young man should he be caught up in the storm of destruction exploding toward him. A torrent of chi of a dozon varities: acidic, flames, wind, lightning, and the pitch black heart of the void itself would be brought to bear amid a flury of bone crushing punches, slams, kicks, headbutts, choking grips, and limb twisting locks designed to inflict pain beyond that which most men could even hope to survive. To call it anything resembling technique would be to confuse a bestial slaughter with a well practiced kata.
"Against me, there can only be OBLIVION!"
COMBATSYS: Adelheid stops Omega Destruction from Rugal with Dark Barrier.
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Adelheid 1/-----==/=======|-------\-------\0 Rugal
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SkyNoah 0/-------/-----==|
The chaotic conflux of energy and matter holds Adelheid's attention. He shields himself from the dust and loose debris, though it is a pale reflection indeed to the defense offered up by the elder Bernstein. There is a reason why men like Rugal are not easy to simply remove, or even actively oppose. Bleeding, but far from broken, Rugal weathers the onslaught with impressive resilience... and clearly, no small measure of indignant outrage. There were two possibilities: get the drop on Rugal and take the fight from him suddenly and abruptly. Or piss him off. The latter was, at least as far as Adel could figure, the vastly more likely outcome. The dust hasn't even got a chance to clear before Rugal is in motion again, the 'R' overlord blasting through everything left in (strewn about) his path, that dark power unmistakeable.
It's the one thing of which Adelheid has heard little. Rugal Bernstein's own personal store of godlike anger. But he has had the chance to sense it, the quiet niggling of poisoned prey. One thing Rugal is right about: he has raised a predator. One totally alien to himself. The young warrior sees this dark rage as a weakness, a shackle on who his father could be. ... an unending compromise. Hardly fit of the ideals to which the platinum blonde ascribes. Kill him? He could have blown to Black Noah out of the water. He could have shelled this building without a word. He could have focused enough might here to be certain of felling Rugal.
Still no concept of the larger picture, "No." The answer is incomplete, distracted and cut off by the tumult of raging Rugal that rushes forward channeling all that brutal power.
He knows what follows that charge, he knows how each explosion of energy feels. Where the feet and fists will fall perhaps even before his enraged father does. He braces his shoulder, presses one hand out before him, and all of his own inner chi surges forth, rushing into a shimmering grey shield of darkly crackling windshear, a swirling barrier fluctuating to full intensity just before the lither Bernstein's splayed palm. Rugal's force crashes forward in a violent wave, and its met by its diametric opposite. Stalwart, defiant strength, forced forth with gritted jaw, every muscle in the boy's body tensing as all that gathered force explodes /outwards/, the ceiling above shredded, the floor below ripped asunder, reinforced construction turning suddenly to dust as the much-feared Bernstein technique disperses the force with explosive result.
The Prince of War is all but launched into a backwards leap, the radio kept active, "If I wanted you dead, you would be dead." Ah, the much-considered crooked portrait of Rugal ambush and murder plot, "I am just interest in -stopping- all of this." A small ambition, right? Sometimes, it's all about the tools one applies, "Ryouhara. Keep firing." Exhausted, injured, and faced with a side of his father that he'd just as soon forget, Adelheid seems determined to push just that much farther, "He can't keep this up."
So Adel likely can't, either. That's beside the point. The young warrior carefully seeks stable footing in the rapidly crumbling newsroom. This is going to piss Rugal off even more.
All aboard the bridge, voices ring out from the crew. "Ah! Direct hit!" one of the newer troops mentions. "How's our weapons?" A voice eased and calm, emanates from the lower engine room. "We got a power spike in the control systems from firing the main cannons. We're compensating now, and you should get a handy boost of power," he offers, one hand touching the side of his earprice comm.
A peculiar chain hangs from his wrist, a steel half-crescent hung from the silver bangle there.
But then, everything in the control room falls silent when Rugal is.. still standing underneath the blast of Hiryuudan II. And even worse, seems to be gaining a massive energy spike, told by only the single warning light on the front of the deck, a system aboard the ship capable of reacting to the kind of energy the elder Bernstein is putting out.
"He's getting ready!! Massive power spike detected!"
A voice clicks in over the overhead mic, and a voice issues a simple order. "He isn't going to fall to the Hiryuudan alone. Anchor all port lines, cut starboard lines and bring the ship around. We're going to use.. 'that weapon'."
The bridge falls silent for some time.
Adelheid's radio crackles.
"Captain, we're going to full engagement distance."
Reticules hold on the building and the thermal imaging of the entire thing as the ship thrums heavily, the massive swordfish of the sky turning, airing half its cables and lengthening the other lines, turbines twisting to rotate the ship in the air slowly, until the belly of the fore clamshells open, allowing a single cannon to be lowered down on hydraulic strutwork. THe nose of the ship hovers just a way over the building. Channels along the side light up.
Seishirou's voice iterates over the radio next, in easy tones.
"I've dealt with your father before," he reminds Adelheid. "Hold out for... 13 seconds."
Every light on the ship dims as the ship beats the sky, a deep pulse dimming every light on the ship. Except the light growing in the howl of the cannon. Seishirou slings a leg over the pianist's bench, puts the slim and calloused fingers of an engineer's hand to the piano keys.
He begins.. to play.
COMBATSYS: SkyNoah calculates SkyNoah's next move.
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Adelheid 1/-----==/=======|-------\-------\0 Rugal
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SkyNoah 0/-------/-----==|
Like a juggernaut, Rugal storms forward - a living example of human might at its most terrible combined with the unholy forces that should have been left alone. Swing after swing explodes into the barrier created by his son. Ebony energy, moving in Rugal's wake, slams into the shield before being redirected into the walls at the boy's side, immolating them immediately. Acidic, red chi splashes against the barrier, unleashed from Rugal's hands as he continues to try and crush his way through that which cannot be broken.
He should know; the barrier in his path is the boy's own variation on his own dreaded technique. Just one of the talents passed down from father to son: the Dark Barrier. Lightning crashes against the wall of wind before fizzling out only to be followed by the screeching sound of vorpal edged energy that would have been used to rend the boy had Rugal broken through. The entire area around Adelheid is destroyed, burned, scorched, or melted, but beyond driving his son back a few steps, the full fury of the onslaught fails to achieve its intended effect.
By the time Rugal stops, his arms are covered in his own blood; the damage caused by his striking against the unbreakable force entirely unfelt as he unleashed all the built rage and fury. The final swing comes in the form of a standing haymaker punch into which he throws his all, stumbling into a step in the process even as the Prince of War is no longer in his path. A grunt of frustration is heard as the dust settles around him, the tall German leaning forward, his right arm hanging in front of him as he glares toward the figure responsible for all this frustration.
Adelheid speaks but Rugal's expression does not suggest he's listening as he catches his breath in the quiet between two explosive storms of colliding forces. Slowly the man's chin lowers, his attention turning to his bared chest, toward the scar clawed into his flesh so many years ago. The four parallel marks are bleeding, an old wound reopened. "Heh..." the man grunts, a mixture of exhausted bewilderment and morbid amusement at the blood seeping from the scars. "Heh... heh..."
The time he had clawed himself to break Orochi's grip on his mind; having gone Omega in his battle against Kyo and lost, the vengeful god possessing him had tried to end it all by detonating the Black Noah and taking everyone responsible for the failure to the depths of the sea. The pain of the self-inflicted wound was just enough for him to regain his own will, just enough to prevent the end he had always feared.
And here he is again, lost in the all-consuming spirit of vengeance against his betraying son. But what is revenge if it comes at the cost of everything else? A rare moment of clarity brings the tyrant of 'R' to a stop, his right hand lifting to plant against the bleeding scars. Slowly the wounds begin to close as the man within slowly starts to regain control. "Is that so." he states, lifting his eyes toward the young man standing before him. It seems he was listening after all. "A prodigal son of a monster and a renown terrorist are out to change the world?" His voice, horse at first, slowly regains its strength as he stands up straighter.
Seishirou's voice echoes over the radio and Rugal falls silent. "So be it." he spits blood to the side. He takes a step back, hands unclasped, taking in a deeper breath now that he is back up to his full height. His mouth curls into a grim smirk as he exhales again, slowly winning the war against the mind-consuming forces within, slowly forcing himself to exercise the more prudent choice when facing aerial bombardment and his son's own practiced techniques at once.
"Go out and fight your war. You only have the forces of the entire world against you..." He chuckles again, taking another step back, left hand lifting to his ear, "Pull out." he barks the two word command to his men throughout the building. The losses have been severe but there's no logic in prolonging it. No victory to be obtained where his son controls the sky. His foot comes down next to the fallen Alan. "Heh." He did hold his own against Jiro and his power as a fighter had proven useful in the past. No sense in leaving him to be rounded up by this new force for. Cautiously, Rugal grips the American boxer's ankle and hefts him up with ease before glancing up toward the now-visible sky, the ship that occupies it, and the cannon at its belly, "What's it to be? Are you ready to start your fledgling regime out with more deaths?"
COMBATSYS: Rugal draws upon forbidden power.
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Adelheid 1/-----==/=======|=------\-------\0 Rugal
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SkyNoah 0/-------/-----==|
It's a barrage that might not stop at simply killing Adelheid. Were he less prepared, that might indeed be the end of the story. That blood would be his own, perhaps flowing in greater intensity still. The flaring power is opposed until it dissipates, until the younger Bernstein is clear. Ryouhara realigns the engineering masterpiece overhead, and Rugal... against the odds, Rugal burns through his rage into clear sight. At least, relatively speaking. Good to know the Lord of War has the gist of it, now. Perhaps it is simply an inevitable endpoint for the conflicting emotions beneath, fueling the corrupted overlord of R to these heights of anger and strength. Perhaps it's just the slow buildup of energy in the battleship's main cannon. Impossible to tell, and as hurt as his father (primarily metaphorically speaking) appears to be, it's far too late to allow empathy to make him second-guess the climactic desertion. It's been coming for a long time, and for all Adelheid knows? Rugal is just pissed he didn't notice until now.
"Funny how things turn out, isn't it? A 'terrorist' who begins to expose all of you for what you are, and the weapon you tried to craft for your own hand." Adelheid taps the radio at his belt, "Hold your fire." He informs, after a moment's hesitation. He watches his father for just that extra, passing instant, considers it. He could sprint for the detaching cables, level this building, perhaps strafe most of the block. Try to end this. But the costs are both unpredictable, and already high. It is not a call the Prince of War will make.
"The world will simply have to change." Adelheid replies, meeting his father's ire steadily as he steps back, back, towards a half blown-out access stair to the roof above, "Haven't you always told me how weak and malleable, succeptible to emotion and suggestion people are?" He inquires, finding his breath, finding his voice... and clearly moving to take his leave, "There'll be another time for this, and if you're smart.... you'll walk away from this sea of corrupt pirahna, stay where you find the Noah." Advice similar to what began this battle, as Adelheid slams a fist through the door, blasting the half-broken thing off its hinges, and out of his way, "You've all decided to loosen Geese Howard's stranglehold, but what you all failed to foresee was how to re-clasp that fist. Things are about to get very bad for all of you."
The concern, if it was ever there, fades quickly. The man in the scorched black and silver suit steps back into the stairwell, and taps his radio once more, "I'm coming up, we're leaving. Prepare to retract all cables, we're heading for safe perimeter."
It's a decision in contrast to the welling power he senses, to the anger boiling in his own blood, in the storm that rushes throughout him. Exposed to the full fury of the elder Bernstein's murderous onslaught, all he wants is to throw himself forward, order the strike, throw all caution to the wind and let his own life - and all the collatoral - hang in the balance. He is battered, but strong still - the energy courses to the fore, threatening to boil over in answering call.... but the voice is pushed away. For now.
Letting Rugal go may come back to haunt him, sure. But not everything is easy, and it's a reality he's going to need to be getting used to. He knows his father will be back - there's no other path once his pride issues its input. Another time, perhaps a better barter to make with the proverbial Devil. Assuming exceedingly good luck is never a wise investment, however. So the retreat is colored with the grey scrape with both victory and death. At least they have their hardware problem solved.
Adelheid speaks no more words as he takes the tactical withdrawal offered... there will be time enough, and more than enough words, soon enough.
COMBATSYS: Adelheid gains composure.
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Adelheid 1/------=/=======|=------\-------\0 Rugal
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SkyNoah 0/-------/-----==|
A subtle melody was begun.
The engineer was of no particular exception regarding skill as a pianist, but this piano, a grand whose frame is cut from ceylon ebony and maple, was forged by his own hand. An instrument like any other, perfectly tuned and precise in every calculable way. You cannot make something and then, through that process, not understand it. So it is no irony that perhaps the harmony that Ryouhara weaves on those whitewood keys is the most haunting he will ever compose, and he does so nearly without thinking.
The ship hovers, opening stabilizer charges near the rear of the ship. Though the meaning remains infirm, anyone with an imagination to be stricken by that great black thing in the sky could determine its purpose; the energy seething in the barrel of that skyborne dreadnought's eye demands release. It would do so in fashions that would endanger the ship herself, if she should fire 'that' weapon without being secured.
The gunners among the crew can do nothing, only noticing their primary target, and watch the meters rise as the weapon charges.
Ryouhara continues to play, the movements of limbs and lengths growing more vigorous, more precise as he rises from the depths of his sorrowous lament to a fusing crescendo, a torrential anger of boiling pretense that, should it have been of the sea, would have leapt from its confines and swept the land clean. He rouses, the weapon's charge reaching its peak... Yet, had Adelheid waited only a few moments more to issue that order, he would have been speaking to the aftermath of the lancing beam.
The cannon's energy is already draining away into a heat haze around the ship as the young man finishes the composition, his fingertips gracing the keys for ever agonizing lengths until the last note of the abbreviated song dances in the air, leaving a hole where it was left unfinished. A shame.
"...But it is bad luck, I suppose," Ryouhara reasons, absently shutting the fine lanquered cover over the ivories, "to use her before she is truly christened."
"Let the captain have his peace," Ryouhara issues to the engine room, "withdraw the extraction crews, and prepare to go to stealth altitude."
The bridge is silent as they work panels, executing the will of the prince.
A cease fire is struck for now and the father and son are left staring across the short distance toward each other. The room around them is in ruins; evidence of the catastrophic power at play as the two battled forth and the young man displayed one of the cards he had managed to keep secret all this time. "Heh," Bernstein grunts, lowering Alan slightly, the American boxer having served is purpose as a human shield for the time being. "And you think the Ryouhara will stay loyal to you..." His mouth curls up at one corner, the faint edge of a smirk. "He has his own ambitions, that one. Don't be so confident they will always stay so conveniently in line with yours... You have simply brought a weapon into the world... a weapon that every force that exists will be seeking to seize. Time will tell if you can withstand them all..."
Alan is shifted as Rugal hefts the younger man over his shoulder like a sack. Debris from the collapsing ceiling rain down around him as Adelheid clears the path to the stairwell, sending dust up into a small cloud near the elder Bernstein. The prognostication regarding the affairs in Southtown is heard but given no verbal response. The younger blonde speaks prudently of the probable collapse to come. Violent, selfish cartels can only unite in a common purpose for so long. The warning he gives the boy about Seishirou applies to his own transient alliances several times over. A fact his paranoid mind is well aware of. Preparing and positioning himself properly to take advantage of that collapse had been in the plans all along; plans that have been horribly derailed by this betrayal.
Rugal's left hand tightens, creating a wet, squishy sound with the blood dripping between his clenched fingers. Letting things end this way; opting for tactical repositioning instead of forcing the conflict to run to its inevitable violent, fatal conclusion one way or another... it troubles him to have fallen back to this course. Is it because it's his son? Would any other man alive stand before him and be in a position to pull back until another time? Teeth grit as the battered man holds his ground, his body slowly knitting itself of grevious injuries gouged into his flesh even as he stands, his mind raging at this uncertainty that clouds it.
"The world is going to change indeed." he swears beneath his breath. But will it be the change his son forsees or another, grimmer destiny that awaits? He turns to leave as Adelheid vanishes from sight, the last of the ceiling in the room caving in as the rumble of the ship above vibrates it beyond its ability to stay in place. It's time to find his damned ship. It's time to see how this new presence in the war changes everything. The others... they have just cause to be afraid.
The boy is a Bernstein after all. He is not to be taken lightly.
COMBATSYS: Rugal has left the fight here.
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Adelheid 1/------=/=======|==-----\-------\0 SkyNoah
Log created on 22:52:28 03/09/2009 by Adelheid, and last modified on 07:58:29 05/02/2009.