Description: The Pride of Mother Russia clashes against the mysterious 'R' Organization's murderous Vice in a titanic struggle of brawn versus different kind of brawn. Thrills, spills, and missiles abound, as a battle of the grapplers shakes and dents the proud former-Soviet vessel the Crimson November. Victory is far from certain for either side in the struggle, but when the smoke clears, only one can remain standing! Will the power of Vice's boundless rage be a match for the passion of the Red Cyclone, or will the Cyclone pull through the storm?! ... READ THE LOG AND FIND OUT YOU LAZY BUMS!
It has been some time since the good ship Crimson November has seen a live fire scenario, but if anything counted, this most certainly did.
The storm rages all about the decrepit nuclear submarine. Kept afloat almost purely by the sheer strength of will of its Russian- formerly USSR- crew, the Crimson November hasn't been touched up since the height of the cold war. Its crew hasn't been paid properly in years, and certain parts of the ship are kept together with duct tape and vodka bottles. Nevertheless, it floats and, when necessary, it sinks.
Right now, it is floating, and a good thing too for the pair of fighters on top of it. The sky above boils with black clouds and flashes of lightning. Rain hammers down, and the waves crash against the side of the boat. This is all no problem for one man, though. A man to whom thunderstorms come as naturally as breathing, more at home in a typhoon than a hotel...
The pride of Mother Russia...
THE RED CYCLONE!
Zangief's heavy red boots provide more than enough grip on the hull of the vessel as he plants his feet down, and glares at his opponent. His hands come up, and he flexes his neck, spitting to the side. "HMPH!" He declares, apparently not at all bothered by the water plastering his red shorts to his thighs, "Surely such a /little/ woman doesn't hope to stand against me... THE RED CYCLONE!"
HALF AN HOUR AGO
A fight promoter clutching a red and black striped umbrella stands between Vice and Zangief at a nearby harbor, beleaguered as one might expect of a man explaining official rules and stipulations to a seven foot tall Russian and a bored psychopath.
"So, uh, yeah, that's--that's about it; if someone falls off, we'll send a boat out to get you, but try not to fall; gas is expensive. And also, if you--could--uh--miss? Miss, uh, Vice, why are you looking at--"
NOW
Vice has been clutching and gently, lazily twirling a red and black striped umbrella over her head to provide some shelter from the driving rain. She's pretty much been staring at Zangief for the /entire time/, maintaining eye contact with him as best as she can, the way a cobra might try to entrance its pray with nothing more than its gaze and subtly swaying movements.
Only when that last boast comes does she finally speak, and it's to say lowly: "Lucky for me, I don't wanna stand against you," as she snaps the umbrella shut and swings it back onto her shoulder.
"I'm gonna be standing /over/ you."
Her fighting stance - if hunching forward a bit and continuing to sway slightly to and fro as if ready to fall under the very weight of being can rightly be considered a stance - is adopted, with that.
COMBATSYS: Vice has started a fight here.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Vice 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Zangief has joined the fight here.
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Vice 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Zangief
Vice might be a psychopath, but 'balanced' has never really been a word many would attach to Zangief.
There aren't many people who just aren't put off by Vice's look, but Zangief is one of those, too. She might have been looking at him the whole time, but he was approaching this entire endeavor like Vice -wasn't- a psychopathic killing machine. As though he were more worried he might accidentally break her in half, than he is worried about getting hurt himself.
In fact, Zangief has been fighting long enough to know the big names, and Vice is one of them. He was genuinely exciting about facing off with her. She was an amazing grappler! Not a wrestler in the strictest sense of the word, but he knew just from watching her fights, she had a stunning amount of skill, and far more strength than was let on by her petite size. It would be interesting to see how that stacked up against his own, more traditional approach to slamming people all over the damn place.
And of course, this fight was on one of his nations submarines. The Pride of Russia is at stake!
So, he can't exactly cheerfully wish her luck in the fight. He needed to play his role to the hilt.
"Standing OVER me?!" He roars, "Perhaps you haven't heard, little woman! NOTHING STOPS THE RED CYCLONE! I'm gonna break you! GONNA BREAK YOU IN HALF! ARRRRRRRRRGH!"
And that's all the warning Vice gets. Deciding to test her defenses right from the off, the large man throws himself forwards, not holding back at all, he aims to grab Vice by the shoulder, lift her up, and crash her against his knee before he let her fall. A simple, but surprisingly effective, technique- at least, most of the time!
COMBATSYS: Zangief successfully hits Vice with Strong Throw.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////////]
Vice 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Zangief
Before Vice knows it, her back is bent over the thick, meaty fulcrum that is Zangief's knee; the umbrella she had every intention of trying to gouge an eye out with goes tumbling from her hand with the jolt of her impact; she at least has the wherewithal to go limp and roll loosely away from him to keep the incidental damage sustained by the unguided fall to a reasonable minimum.
So she's sort of dazed and her back is tingling in a wholly uncomfortable manner, but this is hardly the first time for any of that, and it doesn't keep her from /lunging/ upright rather than simply standing. There's enough force behind it that should she make contact with the Red Cyclone, he'll be thrown to /his/ back, all while her right hand seeks his throat.
And /then/ she'll stand, to run along the length of the sub, dragging Zangief roughly the whole way; once she's reached the other end, she'll merely throw him high overhead without any great care for whether he hits the metal or the water.
There /are/ boats out there somewhere, after all.
Probably.
COMBATSYS: Zangief blocks Vice's Gore Fest.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////////////////// ]
Vice 0/-------/-----==|=------\-------\0 Zangief
Hrm, this woman is strong.
It's a surprisingly dispassionate assessment that runs through Zangief's mind as he finds himself being dragged along the hull of the ship. Not many people even -try- to throw him around, he's so big, but she's certainly giving it a good shot. The trouble is that, Zangief has been in enough fights himself to know a good technique when he sees one, and he has no intention of allowing himself to be tossed around. Though she maintains the grip on his throat longer than he would like, the man flexes his neck, and brings both arms up to wrench her arm away before she can toss him into the air, and he coughs. Cracking his neck to help ease some of the pain out of it.
"HRMPH!"
Always one to try for the unexpected, rather than try to get a hold on the woman again, the Red Cyclone suddenly /pivots/ around. Living up to his name, both arms extend out, meaty slabs of rock-hard flesh which aim to crash into the woman, and spin her around. The Red Cyclone advances with it, fully intending to be, well, cyclonic! At least she hadn't tried to make a quip or something. Losing to a woman, he could live with. He'd lost to women before. It was losing to smart-mouths that really got poor Zangief's blood boiling. Perhaps because he's such an eloquent soul himself.
"HOO-RARRRGH!"
See?
COMBATSYS: Vice interrupts Double Lariat from Zangief with Nail Bomb.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////////// ]
Vice 0/-------/---====|====---\-------\0 Zangief
And so, here in the middle of black clouds and pouring rain, a tornado approaches 'R's most dubious of administrative assistants, and all the while, Vice... does nothing. Well, more accurately, she's standing still, watching, pressing her hand to her back to try working some of the kinks out of it briefly, but this all adds up to the seeming likelihood that she'll simply stand idly by and allow herself to be swept away by the titanic force of the Red Cyclone.
Until, that is, she casually extends her right hand to grab one of his wrists.
Carried along for a revolution or two like a kid on a merry-go-round made of muscle and sinew, Vice's hand is stinging due to merely having made contact with his swiftly spinning limb, but still, she hangs on. Despite the risk of dizziness, she struggles to wrap her left, then right arms around his one, to plant her feet on the sub.
And then to bend at the knees and throw herself against his rotary momentum; her heels dig deep, slender furrows into the sub's armoured plating due to her continuing to be slowly pushed with the motion of Zangief's lariat, but eventually, impossibly... it all just about stops.
In that moment, Vice smiles wickedly up at the Russian wrestler and exhales, "If it makes you feel any better... your blood's gonna wash right off me," through her clenched teeth.
With that, she steps suddenly into Zangief, relinquishing her grip on his arm and possibly allowing the brief continuance of his spins; she will, however, arrest them once and for all by ducking past his side, wrapping both arms around his waist, then jumping high as he's wrenched up to be brought down back and shoulders first in a resounding power bomb.
As it so happens, the skies crack with thunder about when a pillar of sickly purple chi rises from the impact point.
This time, there is no amusing internal commentary.
It isn't often that Zangief finds himself fighting someone with the potential to turn his attacks against him (though it has happened more frequently than normal lately; damn you Kyo), and it was always an exciting proposition. It meant he was either in way over his head, or just in enough that he could learn something. Vice does not, however, turn his aside attack -easily-. There's a struggle there, and the ringing shock through his body when he connects with the ship does not instantly bring him low, as some FREAKY LITTLE GIRL from NESTS had managed to do in the past. No. This was painful, but it was a good pain.
A very good pain!
Zangief rolls, and clambers up to one knee before he straightens himself up.
Both hands come together, and he actually smiles. A broad, toothy grin underneath his beard. The mans eyes are just a little crazed, as he focuses on Vice more fully. "You have talent!" He roars, "The good kind! You get in close! You use /chi/." Just a hint of distaste, "But nobody is perfect, dah? Is alright." He speaks as though talking to an old friend as he adds, "I use it too sometimes, but is not a good habit, yes? NOW!" One heavy boot crashes into the hull of the ship, denting it, and then the second. Somewhere, the poor fight organizer sobs. This was going to be expensive.
"COME AT ME LITTLE WOMAN! COME! I, ZANGIEF, THE UNSTOPPABLE RED CYCLONE WILL SHOW YOU WHAT REAL WRESTLINGK IS ALL ABOUT!!!"
COMBATSYS: Zangief gathers his will.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////////////////////// ]
Vice 0/-------/----===|=======\-------\1 Zangief
Vice's teeth are bared too, as Zangief speaks, but her grin is less jovial and boisterous and more of a prelude to attempted homicide.
"The subtle burn eatin' at your insides, your back bitching 'cause you're daring to stand upright," she hisses as her eyes flick between his pillar-like legs, "you tell /me/ how good it is, you bulbous sack'a crap."
She is given pause by her own words; a small shiver runs through her body and her everpresent inner-fire intensifies for just a moment. Once that moment passes, she considers: as massive and sturdy as Zangief no doubt is, trying to up-end him /now/ would be an uphill affair. Doable, but probably not worth the effort.
Also, she promised him, and moreover, /herself/, a hint of his blood.
So when she lunges towards him this time, there's no attempt to tackle him to the ground, nor to raise him high; instead, she's aiming to wrap her legs around his tree-trunk like torso for stability, and to put them at eye-level with one another.
And then she'll dig her nails right in against his throat and rake sharply downwards, seeking to leave ugly gashes behind before dislodging herself and pushing off of him with both feet planted against his chest.
COMBATSYS: Zangief fails to interrupt Death Blow from Vice with Aerial Russian Slam.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////////// ]
Vice 0/-------/---====|===----\-------\0 Zangief
Vice comes jumping in for Zangief, just as he had hoped she would!
Vice wraps her legs around Zangief, just as he hoped she wouldn't!
The large man had made a snatch for the woman as she came forward, the trouble is, Vice is -fast-. Faster than he had judged her to be, at any rate. The huge Russian had grabbed nothing but air, which was entirely not what he had planned, in truth. There's a moment of delightful confusion on his features as he looks down at the woman who has wrapped herself around his torso, one eyebrow raised in a rather quizzical expression.
Then she starts ripping up his chest.
By the time the woman has pulled away, she's certainly taken the chunk she wanted to out of the Red Cyclone, who is now just that little bit more red than he generally liked to be. He actually looks angry now, though (not so much with her, in truth, but in his own inability to keep up).
There's no words, though. Just a deep snarl. A rumbling, angry noise. She'd devolved into name-calling.
He wasn't going to let that go lightly. He was going to have to -beat- some respect into her!
Crouched a few feet away from Zangief following her narrow escape from his terrifying clutches, Vice is keeping herself steady on the rocking sub with her left hand.
Her right, meanwhile, is pressed to her forehead to be dragged slowly downwards, streaking her face with the Red Cyclone's blood as she keeps her eyes trained up on him. This, along with allowing her to exult in the momentum of the fight so far, gives her a moment to catch her breath, and given how ardently she's been putting her strength directly against his so far, it's a welcome break.
She is upright again afterwards, or at least as near to it as she's going to get; rather than throwing herself at him at full speed this time, though, she stalks deliberately forward as her hands both clench; rain and simple physics both lead to blood running from between her fingers as she fakes this way or that on her approach to try getting the Russian powerhouse to commit to some direction in what's /probably/ a fruitless endeavour, but one she has to try regardless.
It won't matter too much, really; when she finally does strike, it's just just a short hop forward and a jab aimed directly at the center of his chest to hopefully stagger him a little.
Mature would almost be proud; she came >< close to applying something like finesse.
COMBATSYS: Zangief endures Vice's Medium Punch.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////// ]
Vice 0/-------/--=====|====---\-------\0 Zangief
Zangief, meanwhile, has given up on finesse. Finesse is for /losers/.
Both hands stretch out as Vice starts dancing around, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" He roars, and he is suddenly running forward to meet her, "HOLD STILL! DAMN YOU!"
Then she punches him.
But of course, that isn't enough to slow down the Red Cyclone. It's a /strong/ punch, and it definitely leaves a bruise, but Zangief is hopped up on rage and pain right now. Nothing is going to stop him from his goal of crushing Vice. A goal he sets about to with the technique that had made his career.
Both arms come sweeping around, aiming to draw Vice up against him. If he can manage to hold onto her for a moment, the woman will find herself being manhandled in a way that is anything but elegant, until her head is positioned directly between his legs...
And he LEAPS up into the air!
If all goes according to plan, Vice will be treated to a moment of almost weightlessness, crushed against the meaty thighs of the worlds finest wrestler. Until that moment of glorious impact, where he aims to break the armor of the submarine using only Vice's skull.
Naturally, in the finest cinematic spirit, this will be accompanied by a bolt of lightning. But it is just lightning and crashing thunder. Zangief having remarkably little use for the flashy energy so many other fighters relied on.
COMBATSYS: Vice endures Zangief's Screw Piledriver.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////// ]
Vice 0/-------/=======|======-\-------\0 Zangief
YEARS AGO
Mr. Watanabe, the man who lived next door to Vice when she was a 'bored housewife dabbling in the dark side of occult' as opposed to 'a total psychopath' is standing before she, his wife, and a couple of other pairs of neighbors in a velour robe that's open to display the nothing worn beneath it, as well as a cow skull helmet purchased from a local costume store.
Also, he's clutching an athame and waving a goblet sloshing with red wine about while slurring, "Okay--'kay, since the lotto said it's my--uh--my turn t' lead th' mass... le's... le's all come up an' start with the anti-sacraments this week..."
Despite(or, well, maybe because of) his wobbling drunkenness, he still manages to flash an unmistakably lecherous eye to the women in the room as he says 'anti-sacraments'.
NOW
It's not the /first/ time that Vice's head has been caught between an unfamiliar man's thighs, and now just as pretty much ever, she's not such a great fan of the feeling. There just isn't a whole lot she can /do/ about it, save for bracing for impact.
Once she's fallen from Zangief's grasp to lay on her front, she begins to push herself up out of the dent that the two are now standing in and blinking against the blurriness that's dominating her vision now.
"You got any/more/--" she begins to rasp before turning her head and spitting out a mouthful of blood, "--where that came from? What happened to /breaking/ me?"
She drops her shoulder as she breaks into a locomotive sprint intended to slam the bone right into Zangief's midsection and possibly knock him flat on his back.
"'Red Cyclone' my ass!"
COMBATSYS: Vice successfully hits Zangief with Mayhem.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////// ]
Vice 1/------=/=======|=======\-------\1 Zangief
Why are they always mouthy?
Zangief /knows/ that hurt. She's bleeding! Some people might be able to ride with a Screw Piledriver and not be hurt, but surely the blood meant he was doing his job. The trouble was, it is so difficult to be certain of things like that. He didn't seem to be capable of really making this woman /admit/ it. Zangief has always relied on his brute strength to see him through, but Vice was keeping up with him, and really hammering him at the same time. It was an incredibly frustrating experience.
The woman's blow does send him stumbling back, the slippery surface helps to put him on his back, but, he's not going to stay down for long. He still had too much to prove!
The leap up is surprisingly acrobatic for Zangief, the Red Cyclone springs on his hands, literally throwing himself up into the air, and bringing one big heavy Russian boot down with him, aiming to crash it into the top of Vice's head. If he manages that, his other hand will come up just as fast, and he'll aim to grab the woman by the chin, and swing her up and over. Not really aiming to pack power into it, but just throw her away from him, the full length of the ship, to buy him the space he needed. If he was judging her right... she didn't excel at range, and he would be in a better position to respond if he could force her to rush him again. He wouldn't misjudge her speed again, if he could help it!
COMBATSYS: Zangief successfully hits Vice with Combo Throw.
Glancing Blow
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////// ]
Vice 1/-----==/=======|=======\=------\1 Zangief
The boot alone would have dropped Vice right back onto the hull if it wasn't for Zangief snagging her by the chin at the last moment; this is a blessing in disguise for the 'R' Organization's living crime spree, as her tenacity is put on full display by her managing to turn herself through the air with graceful acuity so that she slides smoothly backwards along her feet upon landing, rather than crashing painfully.
Once again, she's crouching with a hand braced against the ship for stability, but the blood streaking her face is her own this time; it doesn't dampen the smile that comes to cross her lips any, she being who she is; the intoxicating mixture of pain and blood, hers and his both, all mingling in the air between them and the clashes of flesh on flesh... it's a joyful time for the secretary/assassin.
So that's why she endeavours to keep the good times rolling by stalking a few steps forward, hopping a foot or two more, then snapping her right arm in against her chest before flicking it out towards the towering Russian.
A long, strong length of fabric coloured identically to her grey sleeves winds out, seeking an arm a leg, his neck... anything. Should she get a grip on him, she'll wrench back to yank Zangief through the air towards herself, smiling viciously all the while.
COMBATSYS: Zangief endures Vice's Deicide.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////// ]
Vice 1/----===/=======|=======\===----\1 Zangief
Zangief doesn't even try to avoid the sleeve; quite the opposite, in fact. He raises his arm, and thrusts it forwards, letting the sleeve tangle around him, and drag him forwards. It's quite disturbing, really. Vice could likely /feel/ the massive shoulder crunching as it is torn out of its socket in a brutal and powerful motion. Just too much stress placed on his body, he's starting to lose it.
But he isn't. Backing. Down.
No, like two hundred tons of Russian Fury, Zangief is actually throwing himself into the motion, letting himself be drawn right up towards Vice. This may, perhaps, be the least wise of Vice's maneuvers in the struggle thus far.
Because he just doesn't stop. Ripping his own shoulder back into place, Zangief aims to literally flatten Vice as he barrels over her, and that Big Red Boot of his comes lashing up again, aiming to smash into her stomach and bring her up into the air, where he will, hopefully, grab her with both hands...
COMBATSYS: Vice fails to interrupt Ultimate Atomic Buster from Zangief with Withering Surface.
- Power fail! -
*KNOCKED AWAY*
[ \\\\ < > //////// ]
Vice 0/-------/--=====|-------\-------\0 Zangief
COMBATSYS: Vice can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\ <
Zangief 0/-------/-------|
The Red Cyclone grabs her in those meaty hands, one by the neck, the other by a leg, and he suddenly brings her down /hard/ on his knee, far harder than the blow which had begun the fight, but, unlike that moment, he doesn't let go, instead, he throws her high, high into the air with a shout of, "ULTIMATE!"
Demonstrating the full extent of his absurd strength, Zangief literally jumps up after her, grabbing the unfortunate 'secretary', and bringing her between his legs, the motion of the screw piledriver pales in comparison as he brings her down face first into the submarine, a bellowing, "ATOMIC!" Echoes with the force of the impact, audible even over the roar of the storm and the rumbling of the submarine beneath them...
As though summoned by some ancient Communist spirit, the force of the word brings a missile SHOOTING out of the machine, but, Zangief just isn't finished with Vice yet. His ultimate combo, the pinnacle of the art of the finest Wrestler on the planet, has him scooping her up as the missile shoots into the air...
"BUUUUUUUUSTEEEEEEEEEEEER!"
And that shouted cry is the echo as he suplexes her once, twice, three times across the full length of the ship, denting the vessel with each impact, before finally just throwing her back up into the air. For a moment, she is silhouetted against that terrifying soviet-era Weapon of Mass Destruction...
And then the missile roars away into the sky, and she is descending. The Red Cyclone left panting for breath from the sheer exertion, the effort it had taken to finally finish it.
For a moment, Vice is silhouetted against a missile that /probably/ should not have been there.
In the next, she's falling against its ascending form, draped unconsciously over it and held fast only by her unconscious instincts towards survival being sufficient to make her grip its cylindrical bulk as it screams into the stormy sky.
When she wakes up bloodied, bruised, and broken all over a few hours later on the back of this thing as it drifts fuel-lessly through the ocean, she'll probably be trying to get in touch with the promoter(or the promoter's assistant, if the promoter is too shell-shocked from her umbrella thieving to take her calls) to set up another engagement with the Red Cyclone.
And then she'll call someone from 'R' to do a pick up, and maybe salvage the missile, just in case.
And then, she'll probably abuse or drug Cody, depending on where her mood takes her.
It'll be a decent enough end to a decent enough day.
COMBATSYS: Zangief has ended the fight here.
Log created on 14:46:52 01/18/2010 by Zangief, and last modified on 17:30:25 01/18/2010.