Description: The only inevitability in life is that if a choice is made, consequences arise. Sometimes people choose... and sometimes they're the harbingers of consequence instead. Two warriors stand between the light and the dark, where one can step toward the twilight, or toward the dawn. When Hell's messengers themselves arrive to bring effect back to cause, in what direction will they step? What, ultimately, is worth protecting?
You'd think this place would basically take care of itself, considering how many volunteer man hours and charity dollars go into it. When Alma put the Young Fighters' Community Center together he probably didn't expect it to take off the way it has, into something more than just a gym where the curiously powerful Taiyo High crowd can beat each other senseless and then get a soda. Even through the devastation of the gang wars that left much of Southtown a smoking crater, like a phoenix the YFCC has re-emerged. In some way through the efforts of people like Alma who simply will not let it die.
Well, and people like Frei, who toil behind the scenes as well. Case in point: this tournament Alma has devised resulted in a surprising windfall of paperwork that needed to be filled out: purchase orders, consent forms, releases, and all the other rot that people like Ken Masters have an army of perfect clone female secretaries to handle. And even though he's sitting at the big wooden front desk of the place, smiling at people as they walk through and wave at him, the (of late) sword-wielding sage doesn't seem to mind all that much. Paperwork can, if you let it, slip you into a sort of daze where everything but the rote motion of filling information into a form fades into the background and you slip into a quiet, velvety peaceful mental twilight. Your mind can wander, and it does.
This may be why that when Frei gets to the bottom of the stack, he actually sort of dazedly wonders to himself where the place to stamp and sign this form is on such a tiny piece of paper before realizing it's an envelope. Picking it up and glancing at it a moment, he blinks a few times and then reaches for a letter opener, slitting the top and withdrawing a piece of -- sigh -- pink paper with the careful writing of one Alma Towazu all over it.
For a moment Frei just holds it in front of him, staring at it, brushing his long bangs out of his eyes. Eventually, he simply sighs and says, mostly to himself: "At least it wasn't on YFCC letterhead."
The letter gets put back down on the table and Frei leans back in the desk chair, letting his gaze move to the door, and to the orange-red sunset outside. So, Adel is coming here? To meet with Alma. The very notion of this perfect storm of silly consequences makes Frei flash back to the past six months of his life. Why did he accept an invitation to be part of Adel's initiative? Was it to satisfy a need to support Alma and remember Jiro? To avenge the deaths of... well, himself, twenty-seven times over? To watch over the (in a way) newly-born Kula Diamond, or the suddenly hardened Ichiro Oe? The webs of responsibility and consequence flicker through his thoughts, and surprisingly he feels his hand drop to the side of the chair, running his fingers over the cloth-wrapped hilt of the blunted sword that's been his companion now for half a year. What's in store now? Where is this path that Frei's set himself on going to lead?
Forward. Silly Frei. All paths lead forward. It's a deceptively simple lesson, that takes some a lifetime to actually grasp. The real choice just comes in what sort of steps one wishes to take, in understanding the consequence, the direction, more than the ideal behind it. Ideals are easy, and worth little on their own - whether born of hate, of love, of greed, of paranoia, of compassion, it is the steps taken because of what one holds in their heart that defines lives. Often, defines much more than one's own life in an echo, a ripple that spreads outwards in all directions, touching countless other currents, seen and unseen. It was this realization, or some facsimile thereof, that spawned the young Bernstein's steps, strides of revolution and defiance, of strength and certainty; steps that were immeasurably different from those taken by his father, and his father's father. .... yet remarkably, so very similar to the betrayals and hungry ambition of the past. Even so...
The Devil, they say, is in the details. These details are not just accents to the path, but in many cases... define it. Multiplers, exponents, taking similar acts and entirely changing their impact and consequence. So many he knows, and has seen, are fighters. Yet the outcome of these fights, and the reasons for lifting their fists in the first place, is hard to limit to even a handful of motivations. It is similarly minded, yet quite different warriors who make up even the proactive Initiative, the independent brotherhood with power to threaten even the greatest of the world's syndicates, particularly now, fractured in the wake of their covetous war over Southtown's streets, its people and wealth.
Focused has been Adelheid's gaze of late, the Prince of War intent on crafting a weapon capable of cleaving whatever he aligns it with, yet with each further, obsession-inspiring step, it is essential not to forget the things that brought him to that point. Things such as the spirit espoused by Alma Towazu, the distant respect and friendship that exists between the two young warriors. Once he gets the message, he comes. Of course he does. The massive battleship is lost somewhere overhead, the paramilitary leader dressed in black jeans and a tight silver shirt, a leather jacket around his shoulders, no sign of the role he's adopted other than bearing. The sheer grace with which the lithe blonde moves, augmented by power his frame should not possess. It doesn't take the accomplished Prince long to realize that Alma is not here, or to find his comrade reading the note left by the wandering Towazu. Initially wordless, a light brow rises towards Frei, and a wry sort of half-smile cracks on Adel's mouth, "I should have known he'd get distracted. Appointments are not Alma's strong suit."
SEVERAL HOURS AGO
'P-Please tell your friend to s-stop looking at me like that...!'
Vice is basically draped over Mature's shoulders, using her for support as if the act of standing is too much for her Orochi-addled body. She's also leering something fierce at the stuttering man trying his damndest to inform Rugal Bernstein's secretaries of the enormity of Mature's deeds a few weeks earlier.
"Y'know," she lazily says after rolling her head around on her shoulders, "if we're pay Swishy a visit, we should probably give 'im a note first..."
NOW
A shower of roofing tiles, plaster and dust falls suddenly between Adelheid. Also, a body, with 'HI ALMA/DROPPING IN/LOVE, V+M' carved across its bared back in three lines.
The note's sender is not so far away, either, as evidenced by the tooth-baring Vice, who's peering down through the hole at the two Einherjars. Her serial killer's smile begins to recede once she sees that Alma isn't actually /down/ there, though once her flicking eyes have set on Adelheid, it's reassert.
"Baaaaby boy," she greets.
SEVERAL HOURS AGO
"It's just what she -does-," Mature explains, glancing over her shoulder in such a way as to brush her cheek against the dangling Vice's. She reaches up to run a manicured hand through the other woman's hair, comfortingly. No homo. "Don't worry about it. We'll handle this," she says, with a derisive snort. "You may go."
NOW
Mature is standing on the roof near Vice, smoking a cigarette in a long holder. "I still think we could have just left a very stern phone call," she says, with a rather elaborate and dramatic sigh. The fingers of her free hand flex, with the sound of knives being unsheathed. "Now we've wasted that perfectly good entrance."
Alright then. Let's break this down.
The world likes a good cinematic entrance, so of course Adelheid is entering and speaking his greeting just as Frei is lowering the letter from his gaze and starting to lean back, so that the muscular blond is the first thing Frei really sees once he starts paying attention again. Despite himself, he gives the Prince a sort of tired, what-can-you-do smile and sits up in the chair. "Well, you know. He probably saw a kitten in a burning b--"
0.00s: The ceiling cracks and stuff falls on the ground.
0.25s: Bodies fall onto the floor afterwards.
0.50s: Frei's face twists into a stunned D:
0.75s: He starts standing up.
1.00s: Time starts again.
"...building," he finishes, eyes tracking Vice, then Mature, and then Vice's use of the built-in Lock On feature to target Adelheid. Never mind the note carved into the guy's back, since... well, Alma's not here. But boy, this is not turning out the way he expected his day to go. Reaching behind him, the white-haired fighter picks up the blue lacquered scabbard at his side and holds it tightly in one hand, looking at the combo secretary/enforcer divas of 'R' Organization.
Having nothing to focus on that makes any sense, he instead looks at Mature and says, "The Community Center is no smoking." Good work, Frei. Very intimidating.
COMBATSYS: Vice has started a fight here on the left meter side.
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Vice 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Adelheid has joined the fight here on the right meter side.
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Vice 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Adelheid
COMBATSYS: Frei has joined the fight here on the right meter side.
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Vice 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Frei
> //////////////////////////////]
|=------\-------\0 Adelheid
COMBATSYS: Mature has joined the fight here on the left meter side.
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Mature 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Frei
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Vice 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Adelheid
See, there's just not a time for, 'Alma /is/ a sucker for hot pussy' with what happens next. Really, the world should be grateful. Because let's face it, puns are the leading cause of deforestation and even radioactive fallout. In the same extended second that Frei forms a stunned, alarmed face and multiple !!!'s flicker above his head, the Prince of War twists in a sharp rotation to face away from the swordsman, and takes in the grisly site before him. His own expression, formed AMAZINGLY in the same moment, is a deep scowl, a fire that touches his seemingly otherworldly crimson eyes, projecting an intensity that one would not expect in the very young. At least, if one were not Vice or Mature. They've seen the young Bernstein fight, they've seen him grow. They can certainly sense the surge of chi within him, and would be /acutely/ aware of the differences between the mastermind of R's errant heir, and the typical teenager.
It's something that goes far beyond talent or heritage... it's a variation of the spirit, in attitude and intent. Where one gawks, the other acts, brutally and efficiently, without hesitation surging towards the secretaries. He doesn't wait for them to drop in, or spend time lamenting the dead. It doesn't distract him from what he knows happens now. As he ascends through the crushed ceiling, Adel leaves Alma's office behind, inverting in a sudden motion that focuses most of his force behind one booted foot, a potentially abrupt end to Vice's predatory grin.... or just a reason to enhance it, it's hard to know with the violent secretary. Regardless, bootheel carries ample force as Adelheid all but rockets up through the breach, his other, heavy motorcycle boot crashing around in a descending arc that carries with it a tremendous gout of dark, cloudy energy, a reaving cloud of harsh-edged windshear that threatens as much, if not more than the kicks themselves. Of course, the secondary intent is to clear a landing spot on the roof. There's no need to shout an order to Frei: the monk may not be the same /kind/ of veteran that the harshly forged Bernstein is... but he'll know what to do.
COMBATSYS: Vice endures Adelheid's Grosse Stob.
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Mature 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Frei
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Vice 0/-------/-----==|==-----\-------\0 Adelheid
"Yeah, Em," Vice says with a sidelong look at Mature. "No smo--"
Adelheid /kicking her in the face/ puts a stop to speech for a second, but when his boot comes away, he'll see that her smile does not abate, even with blood tracing the lines betwen her teeth, now.
"--king. Hey, baby boy."
The 'R' Organization's one woman crime spree grabs at Adelheid's ankle to try preventing him from descending under his own power, and if she gets a grip on him she'll leap from the roof with the young blonde in tow. Along the way, her hands will shift downwards to clutch him about the waist, so that he can be slammed into the floor, cracking tile and sending up a pillar of purple chi.
"
"Oh," Mature says to Frei. "Sorry." A coy smile, and she flicks the cigarette down onto the dead body on the floor. It sizzles the pallid corpse-skin as it's stubbed out. The Orochi assassin tucks herself into a somersault and flips down onto the ground below, rising with a laugh as she begins to sweep her arms back and forth in a horizontal motion. Faster and faster and faster and... soon the air itself is torn apart by her strokes, and she sidesteps briefly before lunging in for the kill toward Frei's chest.
COMBATSYS: Frei just-defends Mature's Deicide!
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Mature 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Frei
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Vice 0/-------/------=|==-----\-------\0 Adelheid
Okay, that was just... there really is a look on Frei's face that is a weird combination of 'what the hell is going on' and 'THEY ARE GOING TO BREAK THE LOBBY GOD DAMNIT' as Vice and Mature go at it... well, and the teensiest bit of detached amusement at the whirling dervish calling the Prince of War 'baby boy' which is pretty damned funny, all things considered. Still, something about being in the YFCC when there's kids around tends to downshift him into Serious Defender Mode with relative speed. Case in point: Mature is coming right at him, and Frei has very little time to react given the woman's considerable speed and power, but with an almost lazy sort of motion he snaps up the scabbard in his hand and, turning it sideways, slams it into Mature's grip before she can make it, the air around the two fighters pushing outwards as her momentum and kinetic force stop dead in their tracks.
Bringing the sheathed weapon back, Frei slips the blue cords around the end onto his belt, putting the weapon in place, and looks at the woman who just attacked him, then past her for a second to Adel and Vice. Who ARE these people? "I don't know who you are or what you want," he says in an almost tired tone, "but take it outside. I'm super tired of people breaking stuff in our lobby, thank you."
To emphasize this point, he then quickly draws the katana at his side and attempts to, with one swift stroke, send Mature flying out the front door. The weapon has no edge, blunted down... it's a bit like being hit with a very dense aluminum baseball bat instead of cut by a sword, and Frei's not a physical powerhouse by any means, but it still will sting just a wee bit if it connects.
COMBATSYS: Vice successfully hits Adelheid with Nail Bomb.
- Power hit! -
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Mature 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Frei
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Vice 0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0 Adelheid
Contrary to Frei's concerns, Adelheid isn't really focused on the state of the YFCC lobby, or the location of the brawl. It's just a building, and his concerns? They're pretty much centered on the murderous duo that have already claimed one life, and certainly wouldn't hesitate to add to that total if given the opportunity. In the end, he'd just assume wreck Alma's office and lobby than he would push them back out onto the street. That said? He'd just assume /not/ wreck it with his own back.
Adelheid appears to make an impressive battering ram as he's slammed right back down the way he came, notably enlarging the gaping hole in the Center's not-fragile roof and adding cracks in the flooring to boot, once he meets it after an alarmingly forceful descent. A resounding fwoom sounds as his shoulderblades come in contact with the unforgiving ground, the explosion of chi blasting him aside. No stranger to pain, or Vice's nefarious fighting style, he's back on his game in the same instant, however. Tumbling to the side, one hand slams to the ground, one knee impacts the flooring harshly. Adel grits his teeth, narrows his eyes, focuses the pain into something productive. He draws on it, on the adrenaline, on the sheer audacity of his father's most notable (now that he's gone) minions. In an instant, his other foot is planted, and he launches from three-point crouch straight back in for Vice. He doesn't have her bloodlust, doesn't have her rage.
.... the spirit of the Prince of War runs so cold, it's ice. So cold it burns. Smooth as glass, placid yet always dangerous. It's an intensity that's focused outwards, as deadly as any fire. Gloved fingers seek to close on Vice's neck, a heavy boot simultaneously loops forward to find her ankles. Muscles in his arms would tense, and should his grip be found, Vice would first be jerked forward.... just an unbalancing maneuver, a prelude to /slamming/ her with all his strength back into the side of the adjacent staircase, his only greeting a gutteral, focusing roar.
COMBATSYS: Adelheid successfully hits Vice with Medium Throw.
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Mature 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Frei
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Vice 0/-------/---====|=====--\-------\0 Adelheid
"What," Vice hisses after recovering from bone-jarring impact, "no kiss hello? Tch--"
One of the secretary-assassin's arms sweeps up to dislodge Adelheid's hand from her throat, and then she drops her shoulder and charges with all the speed and momentum of a runaway train packed into no more than a foot or two of actual movement.
Maybe /this/ will get one of the combatants outside.
COMBATSYS: Mature just-defends Frei's Power Strike!
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Mature 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Frei
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Vice 0/-------/---====|=====--\-------\0 Adelheid
"--didn't we teach you any /manners/?"
Frei's strike is a good idea, one supposes, but it's really child's play for someone as quick and lithe as Mature to spin into the blow and deflect it, easily, with a swing of the hand that hits the sword as though it too were metal. "Now, now. That's not very nice," Mature chides him, gently, as she reaches for his throat.
COMBATSYS: Mature successfully hits Frei with Backlash.
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Mature 0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0 Frei
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Vice 0/-------/--=====|======-\-------\0 Adelheid
Grasping the man's throat, she laughs brightly as her sharp fingers dig into his skin, constricting his windpipe as she hurls him behind her and sends him skidding upon a hard impact with the floor.
Hm. That was pretty slick. And by the time Frei is managing to resheathe his weapon and prepare for what's coming, Mature's already in his personal space and leaving him very little in the way of things to do. That the 'R' woman is a better fighter than he is at the moment is not in much question; she's quite experienced and Frei is operating under a substantial handicap as it is. It's little surprise that she can get her grip, as the white-haired fighter tries his damndest to twist his upper torso out of her path and can't quite manage it in time. The cruel irony of it all is that Frei, who had been attempting to send Mature out the door, instead gets tossed right into the entryway himself, slamming into the (thankfully reinforced) glass doors with a loud *SLAM!* noise. The glass cracks but doesn't give... the same probably can't be said of Frei, who slides to the floor bonelessly before managing to pull himself standing again.
"I take it... you know these guys...?" he bites out at Adelheid, looking at the head of the Initiative for confirmation that he doesn't really need. So they followed him here, or tracked him here... either way, part of him is saying: it's Alma and Adel that have, unwittingly or not, put everyone here in danger... a fact punctuated by the sight of volunteer workers behind him expertly corraling the little ones into the gym rooms down below, or the classrooms... places they'll be safe. But as he stands, readjusting his grip on the blade, Frei shakes his head to dismiss his own thoughts. They're not to blame, and even if they were, looking at it that way doesn't change the reality of the situation. All he can do at the moment is fight the enemy in front of him to the best of his ability.
"Either way... I guess this is just a little accidental taste of what I signed on for, isn't it?" He turns back to Mature in a ready stance, hand hovering over the hilt of his weapon, the battou-style stance of his family's sword style. Handicapped he might be; giving up, he's not. "That all you got?"
COMBATSYS: Frei focuses on his next action.
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Mature 0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0 Frei
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Vice 0/-------/--=====|======-\-------\0 Adelheid
COMBATSYS: Adelheid parries Vice's Mayhem!
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Mature 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Frei
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Vice 0/-------/--=====|======-\-------\0 Adelheid
All that force, all that violent inhibition. It's something that the Prince of War has been, well, rather overexposed to. Between his father and Vice, it's safe to say that his training regimen involved a lot more battery and endurance trials than it did pushups - though those were, of course, wise to sneak in on his own time, to better prepare himself to weather the inevitable gauntlet. Throughout the near decade of harrowing, however, the strength with Adel's own blood has burned to the fore. Not the otherworldly, corrupting force of Orochi (at least, he would hope), but the honed edge of a weapon thoroughly conceived... but wielded by a hand that Rugal did not understand as well as he had hoped.
In the same instant that Vice erupts forward, that killer instinct is cued in her prey. It's not a match of hunter and quarry, not anymore. Somewhere along the line, the fear disappeared. It was what inspired Rugal to consider killing his progeny, it's what likely scares him now. It's what keeps Vice from breaking through the youth's walls now, "/Your/ manners?" He counters, and as Vice bursts into the space he had stood, Adelheid twists, all but sliding gracefully in a newly reoriented reverse motion, immediately leaping in at the Orochi assassin, preferably before she can even right her charge, "Didn't you hear? I /passed/." His heritage, his father's empire. The things the Bernstein clan values most. Not only will the Prince of War willingly throw it away.... he's glad to stomp it into the ground given half a chance.
His palm snaps out, unconcerned if action mutes his words. Fingers seek an ironclad grip around Vice's very skull, seeking to dig painfully into her face, haul her off the ground, and summarily blast her away with a tumultuous blast of rending, silvery edges which would be erupting point blank from that clenching palm, aligned to blast the redhead right into the hardened outer wall of the community center. "Agents of my father. They weren't expecting me, though. Just keep her busy, this won't take long." Confidence is certainly not something Adelheid lacks... and he was quite capable of reading the signs Vice and Mature displayed upon their entrance. Which just gives him more questions for Towazu, really.
COMBATSYS: Adelheid successfully hits Vice with Scorpion Deathlock EX.
- Power hit! -
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Mature 0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0 Frei
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Vice 1/-------/=======|=======\-------\1 Adelheid
Vice's head actually kind of lolls forward as she goes limp in the her-sized indentation of the community center's wall.
"Mature," she hisses as she tries to set eyes that refuse to focus properly on on her fellow secretary's part of the fight. "stop /playin'/ with him--he's probably Swish's sweetheart." She steps forward, takes another, stumbles, nearly falls... then catches herself and manages to remain upright. Strands of mussed hair are pushed back, inadvertantly streaking her own freely flowly blood across the upper part of her face.
"Here," she forces out before crouching, then springing forward with agility that belies the difficulties she was just having with merely standing upright. "don't worry, sweetie--I got your back."
The other person whose back she might have? Frei's, because that's where she's leaping, the hem of her suit-dress fluttering as she orients her legs towards the young sage's neck.
"You heard her, dear," Mature coos to Frei. "Playtime is over." She doesn't seem eager to take on Adelheid, yet, and would rather get his little friend out of the way with all haste first. Moving almost too fast to be clearly perceptible, Mature channels her Orochi blood forth into a surge of speed and strength. Whirling into a somersault, she cackles madly as inertia hurtles her forward in a spinning diagonal arc upward, razor-sharp fingers flexed and due to impact with Frei's chest.
COMBATSYS: Frei just-defends Mature's Sacrilege!
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Mature 0/-------/-------|====---\-------\0 Frei
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Vice 0/-------/------=|=======\-------\1 Adelheid
COMBATSYS: Frei fails to counter Negative Gain from Vice with Zanshin EX.
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Mature 0/-------/-------|=======\=====--\1 Frei
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Vice 0/-------/------=|=======\-------\1 Adelheid
Well, he kinda deserved that, Frei did. In his defense, though, he's not totally unprepared for what happens. Sadly, not all of it... but it could have been significantly worse. The green-eyed gaze is tracking Mature, which is both a blessing and a curse. As the blonde hurls herself at Frei, cackling, he watches her fly overhead, narrowing his gaze. It's an awkward angle, but there's a point where it could just about be interrupted... there.
Right before her clawing attack would land, Mature feels a hand close around her wrist. The sage looks up at her with a serious expression, still holding lightly onto her arm in Bullet Time, saying lightly, "I'll get to you in a moment," before directing her toward the ground. It's not an attack; just a redirecting of Mature's momentum to make it pass by himself. And then, to turn and acknowledge Adel...
...to see Vice coming right at him.
Instincts and trained reflexes kick in; whatever sword skills he's picked up to use continue to work on some subconscious level, and Frei knows that what he needs to do is dive into the attack and hope he comes out the other side safely. One hand grips the hilt of the sword, his pupils dilate as he tries to keep his battle awareness high...
That, of course, is when Vice's grip circles around his neck painfully.
As soon as her legs have cinched shut around Frei, Vice grabs a handful of Frei's hair, tracks Mature's movement, then flashes her fellow secretary a smile - like, almost a normal person's smile, blood aside.
And then she flips backwards, carrying Frei along with her; she does not stop until the young sage's head has collided with the floor loudly enough to shake the ceiling tiles the next floor down and possibly alert the kids that /something/ worth note is occuring in the lobby. She /keeps/ doing this, each revolution coming quicker than the last until she and he are just a circular blur moving through the lobby like a wheel of destruction. For the last, she actually sort of slows down, rising higher than any of the last somersaults to carry Frei nearly to the ceiling.
"Tell Alma," she hisses as they hang there near the lights for an eternal moment, "tell Alma we said 'hi'."
And then they hurtle to the ground, bowing the floor beneath them and leaving her perched over the sage's prone form. Perched and smiling ravenously up towards Adelheid.
Frei literally bounces off the floor, back arched, eyes staring up at the ceiling and sort of dully watching Vice wander off to new things to keep her attention. Had he not fended off Mature, it's unlikely that his eyes would even be open at this point, and he really doesn't even get up for a moment, too stunned to have his faculties come to him. When he does get up, it's by slamming the sheathed katana into the cracked floor with a loud *THUD* and then hauling himself upright in a disjointed sort of fashion, like a zombie, slumped forward. Hoo boy.
Mature may not be in a hurry to engage Adelheid, but well, her landing point places her between the young Bernstein, and Frei and Vice. It's a brutal display, when the raging portion of the duo meets the monk, and for a moment, Rugal's promise to hurt those who stood with Adelheid flashes through his mind. It's quickly forced aside, however: not fair to Frei, and certainly not a benefit now. The swordsman is no rank amateur, he's fought in countless battles, he's a veteran of Southtown's invasion. The wages of war are nothing new to Frei, and the best way to ensure that they both endure this latest engagement... is to fight.
Perhaps the blonde secretary's attention will be on her deviant compatriot, perhaps not. Either way the Prince of War's speed is nigh-blurring, his force similar to Vice's own forward momentum towards him moments before. The technique, however, is one that Adel inherited directly from his father, one of the most fearsome in the hybridized Bernstein martial art: he leaps into the air, feet barely off the ground, both hands lurching with the lunge, seeking a firm purchase on Mature's neck and dress. At that point? Both would rocket forward, leaving their space and flying a brief, air-ripping and gravity defying flight across the lobby, not ending until the deceptively calm, equally sadistic part of the Orochi duo's back forms the detonating warhead to the makeshift missile, a final shockwave that no one would envy.
Vice stalks off after leaving Frei laying; she even does it on two legs instead of all fours, despite what certain behaviors might lead those unfamiliar with her to think. She isn't actually heading for the Prince of War, though, not yet; she's going deeper into the Community Center, towards the stairs. All along the way, she clears her throat a few times, spits up globs of blood, that kind of thing; she's taken a hell of a pounding so far.
She's looking for weapons, really, but she stops when she comes across something better: a small boy hiding in the crevice between the stairwell and the floor.
"Hey," she murmurs, managing to sound for all the world like a caring, compassionate human being for the moment. "Hey, kid--it's okay. C'mere. Let's go for a ride, huh?"
Predictably, the boy shrinks away; this leads to Vice reaching in, grabbing one of his wrists, and dragging him out forcefully with a putupon sigh. She does not walk, but runs a few steps with the child in toe, slinging him out of that sidehall and into the lobby so that he can be sent screaming at Adelheid's back.
"God," she complains as she leans in the entryway - out of necessity more than casual comfort. "So fuckin' glad I don't have to deal with kids anymore..."
COMBATSYS: Mature interrupts God Press from Adelheid with Metal Massacre.
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Mature 1/-------/=======|=======\=====--\1 Frei
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Vice 0/-------/------=|=======\=------\1 Adelheid
Mature is just too quick. Adelheid's power is impressive, to be sure, but despite his connecting with an initial hit, he is unable to gain purchase on the slippery, elusive sociopath. She grins, her red lipstick marred by darker blood on her cut lower lip. "They grow up so fast," she murmurs to the young Bernstein, licking up the blood before slapping his hands away with a quick strike.
There's an audible 'shnk' as she flexes her fingers, nails glinting with menace as she begins a lightning-fast salvo of horizontal strikes with her knife-like fingertips, aiming to slice deeply into Adelheid's chest.
From the haze of blood running down his face and the sheer, stupid, dizzying impact of having been slammed into the floor at piledriver level, Frei emerges, leaning forward on his weapon for support. Muzzily, his internal monologue floats in random directions. Is he alright? Is Adel alright? What did that woman mean when she said 'Say hi to Alma for me'? Can I get through this okay? It's a selfish sort of thing, focused internally, but let's face it, that sort of thing is expected after taking a serious beating.
What he really opens his eyes to, though, when his senses come back to him, and he's not floating in a sea of aftershock, is Vice hurling an innocent child through the air as a weapon.
Someone watching Frei from the outside would notice the obvious effect on him; his body tenses, his pupils dilate. And for all the time he's spent here it's the first time someone's laid a real finger on a child. The closest anyone came was Seishirou, and even his minor trick resulted in Frei becoming so defensive he almost attacked the ninja then and there. Nobody's ever actually used one as a WEAPON before. They've always been kept safe. Risk was averted. And now Vice has shattered that, at least for the first time Frei's presence. But instead of fury, his teeth gnash and tears form at the corner of his eyes. Rather than fury, he feels regret and shame. Unable to protect his charges... his emotions make his body want to slump, to hit the ground, to give up.
'What a pity,' resonates a voice in Frei's head, and Frei's head alone. 'I had thought you worthy, but perhaps I was wrong.'
His eyes widen, his breath catches, but other than that there's no *outward* sign of this internal monologue. And indeed, what transpires within takes place in a time quite different from the normal flow from past to present. Nanoseconds stretch into full minutes as, in a sea of black, Frei stares at a sinuous dragon with scales of cobalt blue, the sound of thunder resonating in the distance.
'I can't protect them,' he mutters, shaking his head. 'I couldn't save Jiro, I couldn't save Kula. They need... heroes. Other people. Not me.'
The dragon's eyes, already lizard-like, narrow to slits. 'So you would see justice undone? Simply because you think yourself too weak to mete it out? You have forgotten yourself. You have searched for who you are and, finding the answer, ignore it.'
Do the job in front of you. Wasn't that what he resolved? Is being nearly defeated enough to crack that shell? Will it make him waver? Instead, Frei's hands grip the blade in front of him. 'Then give me the power to do it. Show me the way. Don't let me do it alone.'
The laugh is like the sound of thunder. 'Then I will lend you my strength. Prove that it is not a mistake.'
Frei's head comes up. His eyes snap open, locked onto Vice like a targetting laser. His hand grips the hilt at his side, and rather inexplicably, lightning suddenly crackles around his form, grounding itself in the floor like a miniature storm. Wordlessly, he steps forward...
...and vanishes.
What moves across the floor toward Vice is not a human being but a mass of electric energy in the shape of a human being, crossing the distance with speed that Frei personally could never have, and a mere step from her it resolves back into a human form, a furious Frei already drawing his blade to slam the blunted edge into Vice's stomach with force that literally shatters the air around the two if it hits anything, the impact causing a moment of terrible, unexpected vacuum that draws her close for a second hit, while Frei hisses at her with terrible intensity, "_Leave_ _the_ _children_ _ALONE_!"
COMBATSYS: Vice successfully hits Adelheid with Thrown Object.
- Power hit! -
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Mature 1/-------/=======|=------\-------\0 Frei
[ \\\\\ < > /////////////////// ]
Vice 0/-------/----===|=======\===----\1 Adelheid
Mature. The flipside of Vice, unpredictable in entirely different ways, with her own style. While less brazenly wrathful, there is something decidedly terrifying in the outwardly controlled assassin, though this, too... is something that Adel had to come to terms with, to ever break (or dare to break) the hold Rugal had over him. Of course, not /fearing/ someone is a poor technique for it not /hurting/ when razorlike nails rip into one's chest. His shirt is torn in bloody streaks as the punishing flurry drives homes, reversing his technique into a painful series of haphazard, backpedaling steps. At least Mature is the more likely of the two to wash her hands.
Jaw clenches as the pain sinks in, blood leaking swiftly despite the resilient musculature of the lithe Bernstein, though his immediate response is delayed by the distracting wail of an airborne child. Adelheid twists, aligns his arms as if mostly on instinct, and then the collision occurs. It looks nasty, at first, with the force that the Orochi secretary hurled the boy, the Prince of War launched right off his feet by the sheer irresistable nastiness of mass x velocity. It might help to fuel Frei's little supercharge, but soon it becomes clear that it's not quite as is seems: all of the force was transferred to the young Bernstein, who acted as a sort of crumple zone to preserve the five-star crash rating, focused on the safety of the child, even if the boy wasn't in a proper carseat. The kid is rolled off the fallen Adelheid, who pushes up from a crushed lower section of stair railing and nods towards the nearest door, "Run. Don't look back." The boy does as he's instructed, and the blonde Bernstein?
For every pulse of chi that fuels Frei, that forges the monk's desire to fight on, another pulses to life in Adel's hands, now outstretched, fingers clutching at the air. Luminescent, fluctuating spheres of rampant blue-white light coalesce into being in an instant, their charge tangible even to those not trained in the arts. It's that much power, focused in a matter of instants, and then slammed together at the meeting of his hands as arms sweep forward. It projects a wave, tall and wide and coruscating with terrible energy across the distance between Adelheid and Mature, synergistically applied to correspond to Frei's all-out assault. Muscles tense behind the obliterating wave, which, much to Alma's chagrin, rips the tiled floor all but /apart/ as it passes, blasting debris outwards in its wake. Does this count as 'hi'?
COMBATSYS: Frei successfully hits Vice with Ansatsujin - Soukai.
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Mature 1/-------/=======|=------\-------\0 Frei
[ \\\\\ < > ////////////////////// ]
Vice 0/-------/-----==|=======\=------\1 Adelheid
In the airless void around she and Frei, Vice's body is stiff, straightened upright, and most of all wracked with agony. Save for a few minute twitches as electric chi plays across her muscles, she does not /cannot/ move in that moment.
Until, anyway, she just about collapses, buckling nearly to her knees.
"Shoul--shouldn'ta been--in the way--" she hisses back to Frei before weakly shoving him away. She tries to curl her fist up to strike him in turn, but her muscles will not reply; she tries to lunge, to kick, to do /anything/, but even standing is agonizing. Spitting flecks of blood upon the ground, she does manage to drag herself across the lobby floor, step after hard-fought step bringing her to--past Adelheid. The scintillating traces of chi still lingering in the air kind of set her hair on end, but her everything being broken is a little bit more notable just now.
She doesn't stop until she's reached Mature. Only /then/ does she let herself fall, trying to grab ahold of the blonde's shoulders along the way to keep herself from actually hitting the ground. Hard going, possibly, given that by the time she makes it there it'll be just after ridiculously large chi projections, but she's kind of a taker.
"Kill the little one for me," will be weakly, raspily forced out once--if she comes to rest.
COMBATSYS: Vice takes no action.
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Mature 1/----===/=======|=------\-------\0 Frei
> ////////////////// ]
|=======\===----\1 Adelheid
COMBATSYS: Vice can no longer fight.
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Mature 1/----===/=======|=------\-------\0 Frei
> ////////////////// ]
|=======\===----\1 Adelheid
COMBATSYS: Mature blocks Adelheid's Kaiser Wave.
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Mature 1/----===/=======|=------\-------\0 Frei
[ \\\\\ < > ////////////////// ]
Vice 0/-------/----===|=======\===----\1 Adelheid
Adelheid's chi assault is impressive, at least, but Mature is fast, Mature is strong, and Mature is very good at acting defensively. She's sparred with the -big- Bernstein enough times to know how this kind of thing works. Block! Block! Block! Vice on her shoulders! Wait.
Mature glances over her shoulder at the other woman. "It's a little hard for me to operate with you -clinging- like that, but I'll do my best." And ~operate~ she does, fingers acting as horrific scalpels as she rushes toward Frei, Vice in tow clinging to her back. With a horrible, icy laugh she swings her razor-sharp hands at the sword-wielding man, horizontal and diagonal strikes at neck and shoulders before a final vertical slice that cuts the very air, forming a projectile from the displaced breezes that sails like an axe-blade toward Frei's chest.
COMBATSYS: Frei blocks Mature's Nocturnal Lights.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////// ]
Mature 0/-------/------=|====---\-------\0 Frei
> ////////////////// ]
|=======\===----\1 Adelheid
Furious though Frei's assault may have been, it touched something strange and fleeting in terms of power; he feels the blunted blade connect twice with Vice's body and recoils back from her sluggishly, only just managing to get the sword back in the scabbard. Whatever that was took a lot out of him, just like the other times this has happened. His brain, doing the background work, processes that this was the dragon-god of the East, the blue dragon Seiryuu, associated with storms and lightning, but beyond that, he finds himself thinking instead of the boy, looking to see him running after Adel has saved him, and the fight literally sags out of his body at that, energy exhaling in the form of relief.
Mature has no such issues, however, and when she suddenly hurls herself at Frei, he has very little he can do to mount a serious defense; arms come up, and the blonde's sharp nails dig into flesh, making trails of red lines, but the assault is blunted, kept from hitting too many vulnerable spots. This is not the same as 'succesfully repelled', though; it's impossible for Frei to leave that scenario without some damage, and it shows.
Pushing himself back from Mature with all his strength, Frei looks between her and Adel, and then simply leans forward, eyes wide. A toll was taken... he's not in good shape to do anything at the moment, and so instead he leans forward, taking deep breaths. "Sorry... Adel..." he murmurs, gritting his teeth.
COMBATSYS: Frei takes no action.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////// ]
Mature 0/-------/------=|====---\-------\0 Frei
> ////////////////// ]
|=======\===----\1 Adelheid
Standing up at /all/ under the assault launched on Frei by both Vice and Mature is impressive... from anyone. Adelheid shakes his head, "You've nothing to be sorry for." The monk is assured calmly, even as Vice slumps from Mature's shoulders with the newest offensive. Crimson eyes level on the other blonde considering, and a slight, predatory quirk comes to the Prince of War's lips, mirrored in his eyes, "You are not the hunters, here, Mature." The young warrior intones evenly, "If you are wise, you will take a message back to my father. Remind him that I left his employ without striking at what is his, when I could have done him great harm. Advise him to turn his.... remaining eye elsewhere. I suggest you leave."
The young Bernstein's expression becomes somewhat wolfish, as he advances towards Mature, gesturing for Frei to step back, though aside from the circulating energy within him, surging strong yet controlled, the eye of a hurricane.... he takes no immediate action, "While you can still walk."
COMBATSYS: Adelheid calculates his next move.
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Mature 0/-------/------=|====---\-------\0 Frei
> ///////////////// ]
|=======\===----\1 Adelheid
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////// ]
Mature 0/-------/------=|====---\-------\0 Frei
> ///////////////// ]
|=======\===----\1 Adelheid
"You overestimate yourself, little one," Mature says, with a little grin. "But given the lucky hits you seem to have landed on my companion, here, I imagine we shall leave you be -- for now." She pauses to survey the damage she and Vice have done to both parties, as well as to the center itself. Her smile grows wider.
"This had little to do with you. Unfortunately, our visit seems ill-timed. Tell Alma," she sneers haughtily, "that in all this organizing, he ought keep his dainty hands off that which belongs to "R". This is his only warning. Next time, it won't just be us. And it won't be nearly this cordial." Blowing a kiss to the younger Bernstein, she glances over at Frei, watching the blood seep down over his body and into his clothes. "You should probably patch your friend up, Adelheid. Ta!" And with that, she's zipping out the hole in the ceiling with Vice in tow, super-speed enabling her to leap effortlessly high and far out of sight.
COMBATSYS: Mature has left the fight here.
> //////// ]
|====---\-------\0 Frei
> ///////////////// ]
|=======\===----\1 Adelheid
"Hey," Vice weakly hisses as the pair rises through the roof, "let's get a couple'a squishy interns an' some booze an' make a party outta the med bay time, huh?"
"Don't think it will be just Alma next time, either." Adelheid responds coolly, eyeing the duo's egress dubiously. Part of him, a large part, doesn't want to let them go at all. There's a body on the floor, a terrified boy, and who knows how many scared volunteers and lesser fighters. But there's also a batterred teammate, and plenty of collateral damage that could still be inflicted. No, this is not the time... or the place, "Or that pushing this issue will make R in any way /safer/." Instead of pursuing the Orochi assassins, the Prince of War steps towards Frei, offering a still steady arm to the wounded monk, "Are you alright? That was an impressive show."
The congratulations are sincere, despite Frei's condition. After all, Adelheid knows exactly who they were up against.
Even if he had the energy to do more than look at Mature through bangs falling into his eyes, Frei wouldn't have a way to respond. Lucky hits... she probably has a point. Only a sudden burst of emotion-fueled rage let him land the hit he did... Adel is the far bigger threat, and were he not here there's a very real possibility that he'd be lying in a pool of his own blood face-down as a message to Alma, Adel, or both. He was very fortunate.
Which is probably why, once she's left the building, he does sort of topple forward, palms down on the broken ground. Shards of tile dig into his hands, but he doesn't really notice; much as Vice did before, he coughs up a little blood. Apparently there's some bravado in him yet. It's a good bit before he replies to Adel, wiping a hand across his mouth and frowning. Eventually he teeters back and sits against the cracked wall and looks up, both at Adel and the students and volunteers emerging from the safe areas.
"I don't know what's going on, there," he admits, part sad, part frustrated, part simply confused. "It's happened before, but I'm not much closer to understanding it. She was right, though... I got lucky." There's a pause, before he shakes his head and looks up. "Thank you, Adel...heid," he finishes, deciding he maybe isn't at the right point to call the Prince of War by a nickname.
Then he processes the destruction, and just sighs. "Man, could adamantium be real? If it were... we could rebuild the lobby made out of it. Maybe it'd stay... in one piece for once."
Log created on 20:53:21 01/28/2010 by Frei, and last modified on 22:51:01 02/06/2010.