Description: Tonight, in the main event....Domino vs. Vyle! Shooting Star versus the Sickness, right here at Southtown's own Boardwalk! Who will prevail in this hardcore matchup in the sands? And just what is the reason behind this impromptu match?
So much to do, so little time to do it in. There may be quite a bit going on, but Drake just can't get to the conflicts and situations on time. But for now, he's dashing off for the beach to make sure no one's seiged there... and, admittedly, to check on his own house and make sure it's still standing.
The boardwalk appears deserted for the most part, apart from what's been damaged or wrecked from the ongoing attacks. So Drake's just running through the area, bent on hitting the sands.
Beware what you wish for, for you just might get it. It's one of those things said when someone says something that can be taken in a horribly ironic (and yet still technically true) way.
Usually, however, such ironic fate is left to be dealt by agents of nature, god, or fate. Not...well, not someone who got kicked out of pro wrestling. And yet, there is Vyle, perched on top of one of the many booths on the boardwalk, narrowing his eyes at one of the rare passers on the walk as of late. He frowns....before he finally places name to face, and fame to name. Slowly, a smirk widens over his ugly, sinister visage.
Without his usual back of tricks for whatever psuedo-anarchical attacks he's been pulling to add to the chaos lately, he simply stalks Drake, moving closer and closer and trying to get within range of the fellow wrestler before he hits the beach....after all, someone could give him a hand in hitting it. Preferably face first.
Drake is content enough to continue running, and he can almost feel the shifty sand beneath his boots already. ...Only he starts to get that odd feeling. The sensation that he's being watched. His running slows down, and he starts to turn and assess his surroundings...
WHen Drake turns around, however...there's nothing. No sign of no one nowhere. At least it seems that way. Not a soul in sight for yards, and just the creak of the boardwalk itself and the rolling surf.
At least unless he looks beneath the walk and behind a set of stairs, a pair of beady looking eyes watching him, sinister smile hidden as his stalker waits for the moment to strike . And then.....
*Pikang!!* An empty soda can is suddenly kicked out from under the boardwalk? What the hell? Who did that?...could it be that Vyle is actually trying to taunt and lure Drake in, or is he just being a jerk by trying to stoke paranoia?
Drake sees nothing, and that just makes things worse. If he could see what was giving him this feeling, he'd be able to deal with it and continue his way, but... it's apparently going to be inconvenient.
And then, there's a game of kick-the-can going on.
Frustrated and impatient, Drake's hands ball into fists. "Come on out here, you!," he shouts at the open air.
However, no one comes out. Instead, just a sinister chuckle, one that echoes under the boardwalk and filters out against the sound of creaking wood and washing sea water. "Dominoooo.....come out to playyyyy-aaayyy. Dominoooooo, come out to PLAYYYY-AYYYYY!!!"
Another can is kicked out, as if just to give Drake even more of an idea where his taunter is hiding. Just who is this antangonistic creature taunting Drake? Well....it depends on whether Drake comes or stands his ground. Vyle can be whatever he wants there, as long as it means taking out what's become his feature target of the night, and he's got plans, however Drake reacts.
Drake isn't the inactive sort when confronted with what appears to be a threat. Especially a taunting one! His zeal can sometimes get the better of him, see. So when he hears a voice that sounds like it's coming from beneath the boardwalk, he rushes to the edge of the planks and simply hops down to search out his would-be tormentor.
Another chuckle comes from beneath the boardwalk, as the sound of Drake dropping down to look underneath comes. Perfect. Just what Vyle was hoping. It makes it so much easier to do something.
He continues to wait beneath, until he's sure Drake is close...closer...closer...until...."
OLE, BITCH!" Shooting out of his hidey hole, the rudo wastes no time in attacking, trying to quickly deck Drake right on the get go with a blind-side lariat. Hey...he's a heel after all, aren't sneak attacks just part and parcel with the package?
COMBATSYS: Vyle has started a fight here.
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Vyle 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Drake has joined the fight here.
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Vyle 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Drake
COMBATSYS: Drake dodges Vyle's Quick Punch.
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Vyle 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Drake
Drake was expecting to find a psychopath agent of one of the raging groups attacking Southtown. He expected someone over the top, someone sinister, yet certifiably insane. Drake was not expecting what he sees. Crazy's one thing, but dayumn.
Purple eyes go huge as a full-on attack is launched. By pure reflex, Drake weaves low and to the side, allowing the attack to breeze by narrowly. He whirls around to face his attacker, a single eyebrow quirked high enough to launch clean off his forehead. "What the Hell are you?"
Pause.
Screw that! Probably an assassin!
Drake surges ahead, launching into the air and twisting his body over. His left leg is extended in a flying sidekick, aimed to peg his assailant in the head.
COMBATSYS: Drake successfully hits Vyle with Quick Kick.
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Vyle 0/-------/------=|=------\-------\0 Drake
Well, Drake was half right. Vyle's not quite there...but he was on his way there, which is partially why he was even bothering here. Unfortunately, haste makes waste, and in his eagerness to go for the surprise attack, he underestimated his mark, his lariat weaved away from and leaving the rudo stumbling. Turning around, he comes in just in time to see the kick flying into his head.
Reeling back, Vyle stumbles into one of the pillars supporting the boardwalk, glowering at Drake. "Me...Oh, I'm sure you've seen me around. But...you know I don't feel like really introducing myself here. SO how about you kindly die before I have to bother, huh?"
Suddenly, he's bounding off the pillar he had fallen into, flipping over under the low cieling of the underneath and pumping his legs in rapid stomps straight toward Drake's face.
COMBATSYS: Drake blocks Vyle's Riot Stampede.
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Vyle 0/-------/------=|==-----\-------\0 Drake
Well, that's that! This guy's an assassin! Drake's sure of it! So that means he needs to deal with him quickly and efficiently.
But he's taken a moment too long to process this information. His attacker has launched into another maneuver, and Drake throws his arms up defensively before his face. The kicks ram against the forearms, digging his boots into the sand a bit.
Though Drake means to reverse the situation, given a moment's opportunity. When Vyle lands before him, Drake's immediately going for a lock-up, ideally to remove his guard and leave his torso vulnerable. The torso which he seeks to obliterate with a series of rapid knee-strikes.
Wham. Wham. Wham. Wham.
Following this punishment, Drake will simply hoist his prety upside-down into the air, ala vertical suplex. With a quick hop and a torque, it becomes a suplex powerslam, meaning to slam Vyle to the ground and crush him under his own weight before rolling off quickly.
COMBATSYS: Vyle counters Flashbang from Drake with Antidote.
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Vyle 0/-------/-----==|===----\-------\0 Drake
Unfortunately, when Drake locks up with his attacker, that's when he'll find out that he's made a bit of a mistake.
For one thing, he's built very much like a wrestler just like he is. And secondly, he mirrors the collar and elbow tie perfectly. And finally, when the knee strikes come, they...well, don't. Knees meet knees as Vyle blocks and stems off the strikes. And when the attempted vertical suplex comes? It's blocked much the same way, leg hooking and keeping his body from being lifted over the man known as Domino's head. "Surprised?" he asks, before he suddenly twists, turning the grapple into a throat and body clutch, one hand across Drake's chest and over one shoulder, the other gripping his leg as if for an Exploder.
However, rather than a toss over, he lifts...and drops to a seat, dragging Drake down into a jawbreaker/spine drop combo with rattling impact.
Truly surprising. Drake's not encountered another person skilled in wrestling finesse since... well, since he fought with Zangief in Spain. But the reversal of the situation in whole, there was no way to prepare for it. He's dropped. It hurts.
"AUGH!"
Breaking away, Drake twists onto hands and feet in a crouch, now glowering at Vyle. Without giving a vocal response, he gives his regards by means of suddenly moving in. Attempting to grab Vyle by the mohawk, his right knee thrusts upwards to drive against his face to drive him upwards, before the hand drives him back down to the sand on his head.
COMBATSYS: Vyle blocks Drake's Rapid Grapple.
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Vyle 0/-------/-----==|===----\-------\0 Drake
Rising up after his successful counter, Vyle turns and smirks, grinning at the now glowering Domino. "What? I thought from those pants, you were used to being someone's bitch," he says, grinning. When the attempted grab for his hair comes, the luchador pulls away, giving up a few strands and his hands blocking the knee that comes before it does serious damage.
Pulling away, he quickly shifts, trying to grab at the knee offered, and get a cradle underneath the knee to pull his mark into a sudden heel hold. One seeing to do some serious damage, as if he manages it, he'll wrench as hard on it as he can. Not to submit, but to injure. Yep, he's out for blood.
COMBATSYS: Drake counters Improvised Throw from Vyle with Star Breaker.
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Vyle 0/-------/--=====|=====--\-------\0 Drake
Drake intends to just ignore the taunting. It's bothersome, but... he'd rather not, y'know, die or anything. So what happens? Finesse meets finesse.
Drake's knee is grabbed, and it begins to be redirected. Drake, however, allows himself to flow with the motion, drifting right back into his own control. Rather than dropping down into a painful heel hold, he falls to a knelt position. His hands don't remain idle, however. As he turns and drops, his left arm reaches around to hook behind Vyle's neck, pulling an improvised snapmare while his balance and momentum is invested in his attack. Thus, Vyle is flipped over, and his back crashes against an upturned knee. And while he's dealing with a fresh dose of pain, Drake simply drives his elbow heavily against Vyle's unprotected midsection.
Finally, his left hand sets under Vyle's chin, the other hand to his leg. Both crank downwards in a rack hold as Drake scowls. "Who sent you, freak!?"
Well, hell. That's not exactly what Vyle was hoping to get.
His idea of turning Drake over into the heel hold hits a snag as Drake rolls through, and instead hits a snapmare, one that sends Vyle overwith a sudden joke as he lands onto Drake's knee almost like a lungblower. And the additional elbow? That's just insult upon injury, one that leaves Vyle groaning even as he's kept in a bracing hold, almost like an upright camel clutch.
"Nnghh...sent me...you think....I did this on orders....you jackass?" he says with a strained laugh. It's true, this is hardly on orders. It's more...proactive threat management in a way. Building a resume for his prospective employer. "Anyways....why should I be revealing anything....to someone who's gonna be dead soon?" he says defiantly back, arms reaching for not the hand's pulling his head back...but for Drake's own head. His body twists and turns, trying to roll off and away from the knee, in hopes of using that momentum to turn the tables and get a nice hold on his foe's head.
His aim? The classic Dragon Sleeper, of course.
COMBATSYS: Vyle successfully hits Drake with Strong Throw.
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Vyle 0/-------/-======|=======\-------\0 Drake
And suddenly, they're switching submission holds. "Grrrk..!" Wracked and stretched, Drake's caught in the dragon sleeper, yanking on the arm fervently. Finding no success there, and quite unable to respond for obvious reasons, he begins thrusting an elbow backwards to hammer into him repeatedly to soften up the hold. Given that, he tries again to yank forward on the restricting arm, hoping he's both distracted and softened Vyle enough to flip him over and just slam him down against the sand.
COMBATSYS: Drake successfully hits Vyle with Improvised Grapple.
- Power hit! -
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Vyle 1/------=/=======|=======\-------\1 Drake
It doesn't seem Vyle has the Dragon Sleeper locked on quite tight enough, as Drake manages to wriggle about enough to hammer his elbow back into him, causing the poisonous one to loosen the hold enough for his arm to be locked back in retaliation. And with the flip, Vyle finds himself driven down onto the sand beneath the boardwalk.
"GHHHHHnnn...." Groaning and hissing, the wrestler scrambles, trying to make for room out from underneath the boardwalk. "Nhhh...nn...you little...once I get a hold of you..." he grunts...buying time, or...
COMBATSYS: Vyle gains composure.
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Vyle 1/-------/=======|=======\-------\1 Drake
Drake picks himself up and snuffs at the air indignantly, seeing his opponent taking a moment's downtime. "You're outmatched," he remarks. "If you're lookin' for someone to kill, you picked the wrong warrior."
That said, Drake moves in and launches a firm sidekick at the man's midsection, hoping to double him over. Following this, he snaps a quick axe kick at the back of his head to floor him again.
COMBATSYS: Drake successfully hits Vyle with Light Kick.
- Power hit! -
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Vyle 1/-----==/=======|=======\-------\1 Drake
Perhaps Vyle has. Despite his strategies, Drake seems to be managing to hit all the right spots on the luchador, for maximum damage. The kick, to take an example, hits dead on into Vyle, striking him right in the solar plexus, and causing his eyes to go wide. "NGHhhhhh...."
And the follow-up axe kick is enough to drive him down into the sands again, limp and heavily dazed at this point. "Ughhgnhhgh....."
Gritting his teeth, even as he finds the world swirling, his face sets dead into a vicious scowl. "You...." Suddenly, he pushes himself up with all of his strength, rising up to his knees and looking up to drake. One might expect a witty, insulting response...but instead, he just spits. That's right, spits....a noxious, poisonous looking green cloud of something nasty right toward Drake's face, that is.
COMBATSYS: Vyle successfully hits Drake with Venom Breath.
- Power hit! -
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Vyle 1/----===/=======|=======\=------\1 Drake
Perhaps Drake spoke too soon. Or perhaps he just didn't expect a sudden explosion of GROSS in his face. PUFF! Right there in his face! Drake recoils sharply, hands feverishly wiping at what's suddenly assailed him. And now? His modeling good looks are stained! "BASTARD!," he rages as he desperately wipes at his face. He eases back a few steps, hoping to clear up most of the gunk to keep fighting.
COMBATSYS: Drake gains composure.
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Vyle 1/----===/=======|=======\-------\1 Drake
Now that's the stuff.
It always does Vyle's black heart good to see his patented Venom strike flush, the poison mist marring Drake's face and the nasty work being done inside the tear ducts, nasal passages, and pores as it burns. "Poor baby, I guess you won't be getting that movie deal, will you?" he taunts, mockingly rubbing his eyes as if crying.
"C'mon...where's all that 'outmatched' *&$# you were talking, huh? Huh?" he taunts, gritting his teeth as he seems to get his momentum, goading Drake on further as he steps back and forth in the sand just out from underneath that boardwalk.
COMBATSYS: Vyle focuses on his next action.
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Vyle 1/----===/=======|=======\-------\1 Drake
Drake continues wiping at his eyes, but feels well enough to at least -look- now. Hearing the taunts and jeers, he turns sharply aside. Scanning, scanning, scanning... aha.
Drake ducks down and grabs a chunk of boardwalk previously destroyed. He spins around to face him again, only this time suddenly chucking a length of wood at him. "EAT THIS!"
COMBATSYS: Vyle overcomes Thrown Object from Drake with Thrown Object.
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Vyle 1/----===/=======|=======\-------\1 Drake
Vyle snorts, laughing and quickly picking up his own piece of driftwood when Drake does the same. "HHhhhaaaaahhhhh!!!" he shouts, turning once before tossing it out to meet the chunk of boardwalk. Drake's shot is knocked out of the air...while Vyle's lumber continues to fly, slightly encombered but still seemingly on target toward the Domino.
"Sorry, diet, why don't you go ahead and eat *#$& for the both of us?"
COMBATSYS: Vyle successfully hits Drake with Thrown Object.
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Vyle 1/----===/=======|=======\=------\1 Drake
Thwack. Things have really turned around on Drake, it seems, since that irritating gunk has gotten on his face. It burns, it irritates, and it bloody well distracts! So now partially blinded, still trying to deal with it, he's struck by the chunk of wood. Crack. Now dazed, Drake decides to rush forth and attempt catching him off guard. The distance is closed rapidly, ending with Drake going for a forward headlock under his right arm and promptly dropping back to deliver a DDT.
COMBATSYS: Vyle counters Quick Throw from Drake with Improvised Throw.
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Vyle 1/---====/=======|=======\===----\1 Drake
The momentum officially shifted, and Drake still under the effect of the Venom Breath, Vyle seems perfectly at ease, especially as the flying driftwood cracks into Drake and sends him off balance even further.
"What's wrong...not so hot anymore?" he asks, even as the headlock is put on him. After all, he's gone through this counter countless times over before. Not one he's known for, but he's pulled it out before when he was booked up against a heavy DDT user. Wrapping his arms around Drake's waist, he braces, keeping himself from being pulled down, and instead utilizing his own leverage. "Rrahhh!!"
Lifting up with back, leg, and neck strength, he turns Drake over, bringing him over head and bridging as he drives the fellow wrestler down with a textbook Northern Light's suplex. He doesn't hold the bridge for long, having no need to pin his foe. Just hurt him, you know.
Landing with a heavy grunt, Drake sprawls for a second. He's officially hurting at this point... but there's no chance he's going to back down. No chance at all. Not until he can't move any more! Becaue, well, if he -does- give in? This guy's looking for a kill.
Not on Domino. Too much still to do.
R%Drake twists with a growl, suddenly pivoting to snap a sharp, harsh spinning hook kick at his head to jar his opponent...
COMBATSYS: Vyle fails to counter Total Eclipse from Drake with Relapse.
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Vyle 0/-------/=======|-------\-------\0 Drake
COMBATSYS: Vyle can no longer fight.
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Drake 0/-------/-------|
Following the lead-in kick strike, Drake grabs ahold of his attack and locks his neck between his legs. His arms then hook around Vyle's midsection to hoist up upside-down. Vyle, in his professional wrestling experience, should recognize this hold. A piledriver is about to happen.
That, however, is put on hold. Drake's arms suddenly crank down in a grinding bearhug, allowing the blood to rush to Vyle's head. The pressure ramps on further and further until his arms will simply go no further. That's the pressure they lock on.
But that's when the second phase of the Total Eclipse kicks in. He doesn't simply drop down to deliver the blow. He leaps into the air in a series of forward flips. The thrust of the jump is enough to barrel clean through the boardwalk above with Vyle, the speed of the flips picking up steadily on the increase. On their descent, the momentum has stacked enough to blur the two together into a single swirl of motion.
The boardwalk is met again, driving Vyle through the planks to the ground below once more. The hit is finally delivered, backed by the elevation of the jump, the shattering speed of the flips, and their combined bodyweights.
It seemed that Vyle was on the same wavelength. When Drake went for a back kick, so did Vyle, with designs to knock Drake into the air for his own trump card.
Sadly, it seems that Vyle, despite his brilliant planning, was just a hair off, and instead, he finds himself kicked and clipped back, stunned. "Ghhnnn..." And that spells his doom, when Drake manages to lock on the bearhug. "NGhh...get...off...mmm...." he doesn't finish, however, as the big spiraling flight, sending them both flipping end over end, brings him over. "GHHHaaaaaaaaaa-"
Finally, his head is driven into the boardwalk, shattering it and sending them both straight through into the ground, Vyle feeling the whole effects as she's spiked into the sand. "GH....." And....that's all she wrote, the would be stalker utterly KOed once he's released, unmoving as he slumps to the ground.
Drake hops back from his downed assailant, teeth grit and eyes narrowed. Twitching, but narrowed. He has to wash that irritant out, stat. But first, he notices Vyle isn't moving any more. Since this was obviously another wrestler? Something has to be done.
"THAT'S WHAT YOU GET!," shouts Drake. He bends over, peering down at him. "You can't step up to me and expect to walk away! You're outt'a your mind, fool! You! Got! Served!"
The last three words are punctuated with his hand cutting downwards in that you-can't-see-me sort've way.
Hype duly made for no one's sake but his own, Drake staggers back a little. Thaaat was enough showboating. And not his usual style, at that! But after spitting in his face? He felt it was deserved! But.. yeah. Green gunk to wash off. "Home best be standing...," he grumbles, turning to meander away from his attacker towards his beach house.
As for Vyle...well....somehow, the performance aspect was nice and fulfilled. Not that it's going to be much comfort for him when he wakes up and realized he got his ass kicked.
Congratualtions, Domino, you just made Vyle's #*$* List. Expect to see him again, even more pissed than before.
COMBATSYS: Drake has ended the fight here.
Log created on 20:20:07 05/06/2009 by Vyle, and last modified on 01:44:24 05/12/2009.