Description: Deepest darkness lurks atop Bantiankong, where secrets lie sealed and nightmares stalk. In the heated moments after his last confrontation, partnerless and stalked by a formidable adversary, Keith 'Aranha' Mason, in his rush for those secrets, stumbles instead upon a nightmare. But the invisible hands that have so toyed with her show mercy upon Wing Xiaoping, whose defiant will has been broken by the weight of her own sins, and guide her to the one man who it seems can save her-- and whom, in this instant, she is fated to save. Whether born of desperation or 'the principles of love', as their sinister foe would suggest, one fact remains: the Queen of the Streets and the Dancing Spider, once erstwhile rivals, possess teamwork of an undeniable strength. And if there is any light that can illuminate the shadows surrounding these events, or even those that yet dwell within our heroes' hearts... perhaps it is that. (Winners: Aranha and Wing)
He had found the note purely by chance. A stroll through the rainy, war-torn streets of Taizhou one evening had seen him come upon the battleground between the loyalists and the dissolutionists. Steaming, partially cooled magma. A massive crack in the ground. Scorch marks. A burial pyre for the tanks of the People's Liberation Army of China. Blood running in rivulets of runoff rain water.
Needless to say, it had been a lovely afternoon. But the coat, discarded, lying like a forgotten child in the streets, had drawn his eye.
From there, he had been shown to Wakamoto. The head of the dissolutionists. He had been welcomed. Wakamoto knew of him. Knew him as the Inquisitor of Kagero. Knew he would be a grand asset in splitting from Kagero. But Saint Casimir Sudou had not come to this place to speak of loyalty and treachery.
He had come to baptize Marou Wakamoto.
The waters of the baptism, however, had not run clean when they touched upon the man's brow.
Likely on the way up, all through the building, could Aranha, and anyone else within the lower bits of the chemical storehouse, hear the screams. They were maddening screams, screams that haunted the nightmares of Hell itself. Tortured, defiled, raped.
And yet, the scene of the penthouse is almost a serene one. Two men, one supine, one standing. Both silhouetted against the floor-to-wall windows and sliding glass doors that lead to the balcony. The room is dark except for the dim light from outside, and the blue glow of the computer monitors in the corner.. It has begun to rain. Lightning flashes occassionally, rumbling the windows.
And the tall, tall figure of the Inquisitor of Kagero sings. A fine tenor.
"Before last night, my heart was gray..." o/~
His back is to the entry.
Aranha heard the tortured agonized screams as he ran upwards. They gave him shivers down his spine as they brought to mind his battles with Marise, the Devil of Koga. And while he didn't want face that type of thing here and now, he had no other choice. In for a penny, in for a pound.
The moment Aranha arrives on the Penthouse floor, the blue glow emanating from his body fades and the afterimages trailing him fade out of existence. It was the first time he ever pushed himself that hard, moving that fast for an extended period of time.
The ex-second story man leaned on the door frame as he caught his breath looked over his shoulder occasionally to see whether or not Kula has caught up with him. He didn't have much faith that Alan would be able to hold her very long. He was already in a bad way when Aranha had taken off.
Aranha gave himself the opportunity to take one final breath before looking inside. After all, he wasn't going to let this fleeting moment that his team mate go to waste if he had any say over it.
Then he sees it. He sees the shadowy figure standing over the body of Wakamoto the lighting seeming to conspire against any ability to get a clear look at the Inquisitor but the body of Wakamoto is in plain view. And Aranha mouthes a couple of swear words under his breath the moment he takes in the entire scene. Looks like his already bad day is about to get worse.
Wing is beyond thought.
Her despair had crystallized into defiant rage in the face of the massive monstrosity she had faced and, with the aid of her benumbed companion, smashed into submission. Yet while the girl no longer lives in denial of the void widening inside her, a bully's superficial posturing perhaps enough of a bulwark against mere insecurity but no shelter for the soul against the guilt of murder, neither has she collapsed into apathy. Her return to the Sanctum might have been bleary-eyed, and she might have abandoned Travers to tugging that ridiculous sword out of the sand in her continued confusion, but when she lay upon her bunk alone, her eyes did not have the vacancy of the night before. Wing Xiaoping, once the would-be Queen of the Streets, was thinking seriously for once-- about what her ambitions mattered, and what they meant-- and what she really wanted.
She doesn't care about Ryouhara and his dream, or the respect of his minions, however much they might dwarf her in power. She doesn't care about Tsang and his China, either. She doesn't particularly care about the weaklings who have suffered, but still, that craving she once had to be recognized seems, at least in this moment, to have turned to ash. In silence, without struggle, she slowly, methodically, sought out one thing that seemed real, that seemed pure, that she valued.
It was then her phone rang.
And now-- she runs.
Every time spittle clogs her throat, every time she stumbles and flails for the railing, the bloody images return to her mind's eye, and the single flashing thought, of the fate that awaits him, spurs her burning legs to greater efforts. On and on she runs, up flight after flight of stairs, and as a cooling numbness of a runner's high begins to soothe her agony, Wing feels as though she is shedding her sin, that in this agonizing purgatory there is a strange redemption-- or at least a satisfaction, in doing something she is certain of.
She's come all this way.
Maybe she's never done anything useful before in her life. Maybe she's always been a burden to everyone-- and maybe her shame at that only made her all the more so. Even if she has not consciously come to these conclusions, or even if she couldn't -- or wouldn't -- really articulate them, she no longer denies how they weigh upon her heart here, confronted with the real.
But she's going to save him.
"Aranha!"
He deserves to live.
It'll be perhaps a half-minute or so after the parkour artist enters the room. Saint will have some alone time with him before the diminutive thugette bursts onto the scene. But burst onto the scene she will, and when she does it will be gasping, panting, red-faced, with a hand upon the door's knob, eyes widened with intensity. She will not comprehend the scene. But she will understand that Aranha, for now, is alright.
And though, breathlessly, she will trail off--
"...I..."
She's smiling again, for the first time since she last saw him.
There is a coffin in this room.
It's difficult to see at first, due to the position that Aranha enters the room at relevant to Saint. The coffin - a rather finely crafted cherrywood affair - sits at the tall man's feet, lying down. Suspiciously, it's more or less parallel with the supine form of Wakamoto. Saint is facing this coffin, and, waving his cane as though a conductor in an orchestra, he continues to sing. The words seem very incongruous with the setting.
"Is the fighting over? I've lost track. Like a wave, it all comes back..."
In fact, since Aranha doesn't say anything, Saint doesn't seem to notice him, or chooses not to. Because the man never turns around. He just... sings. Almost eerie, given the screams beforehand. Those screams that reverberated down the entire building. Did Wakamoto make those screams? He must have.
But that isn't to say nothing happens while Aranha and Saint stand there. There seems to be an... energy about the penthouse room. A little hum. You can feel it, between your ears. Every so often, a noise - children laughing, children crying, a mother hushing a child, indistinct voices, yelling without words, terrified screams. Every so often, a vision - a movement at the corner of the eye, gone when looked at. The silhouette of something distorting into a grotesque vision of a human being. Blood. Dismembered body parts.
Something is wrong in this room.
And then Wing busts in, and Saint stops singing.
Turning slowly, the man from Romania regards the two intruders in the room silently for a moment. His eyes are so squinty it is hard to actually -see- his eyes. Further, that derby perched atop his head helps to shadow his face in the dimly lit room. Only the occassional bolt of lightning illuminates the white-haired man.
He is smiling.
"Ah, hello! I am sorry, I did not see you there," the man says, Romanian accent prevalent. "I was busy entertaining my guests. Oh, please don't be frightened. The man next to me is not dead, merely... recovering. The Shouten, you see? He is not dishonored, merely misguided. So were I to kill him, I would be dishonored, no? And then..." he casts his gloved hands to the side, in a wide shrug.
"But listen to me, prattle on, prattle on! You two are in an interesting place, if I may say so! Do you have... a purpose?" He asks, and for a moment, his eye, his left one, is visible. His eyes are red.
Yes... Aranha finds himself in yet another horror movie set up. If everything wasn't so damn creepy, from the singing to the coffin and even the damn lightning storm that occasionally bathes the penthouse in light, he'd point how cliche it was. Of course, the one thing the Dancing Spider probably wouldn't point out is that, black guys have a low percentage of probability of getting out of situations like this as well.
Instead Aranha focuses on the one positive, the reunion with his sister in arms. "Wing? What are you doing, here? How did you get past, her?"
He then pauses to regard the person standing near the coffin. "I'm familiar with the Shouten. As for my business, I heard something interesting was here. I'm not sure what it is but I'm damn sure I'll know it when I find it." Why lie? His presence alone plus the abandonment of the building makes it obvious what his particular goals are.
He doesn't know anything about Wakamoto. He doesn't know about the schism happening within Kagero. For all Aranha knows, Wakamoto could be one of the people who was trying to investigate this location who ran afoul of Saint. But he does know that he should prepare for a fight.
Any other day, Wing would flip out first and ask questions later.
But she has been pushed beyond the point where being forced to confront matters beyond her understanding elicits only spiteful fury. That the events taking place here are beyond her knowledge, or even her intelligence, has been rammed down her throat to the point that at worst she can only be resigned to it. It is thus that in a rare moment of cool-headedness, the girl who has burst onto the scene regards the altogether creepy situation with a flat expression, brow furrowing but otherwise failing to react.
Of course she has no idea what's going on. When has she ever, in Taizhou?
"Get past who?" is the first thing Wing says. She'd barely internalized the blood-stains, and didn't stop to do anything but curse when she found that the elevator was either occupied or out of service. Out of blind luck -- or perhaps the cunning timing of the message sent her -- she both arrived after Kula had been otherwise engaged and Alan had begun to course with the energy of the Burning Blood, but before Vice was to descend upon him. Thus she is here, thus she is still alive, and thus she has no idea what the hell Aranha is talking about. "I got a message that you were here, and in trouble." She shakes her PDA at Aranha for emphasis, with the map of the chemical facility still emblazoned upon its screen, before slipping it into the pocket of her white and black jumpsuit (which now happens to be lacking a midriff, though whatever would be revealed of Wing's slim belly is mostly obscured by hastily wrapped white bandages). "I'm a little past asking questions at this point. I didn't want to take the chance. And... well..."
Shouten, huh. Interesting, huh. She's vaguely curious, but.
"I'm sorry," she says, somewhat shockingly, her tone suddenly awkward. The rush of seeing Aranha safe now past, Wing's eyes take on a girlish tinge of nervousness. "Th-- there's a lot I don't understand here. Uh... Aranha... the things I've done since we last talked... I..."
She can't. She just can't. This isn't the time.
"...well... I don't care about winning anymore."
She swallows, and looks toward Saint's menacing form. Only now does the creepy ambiance seem obviously to be emerging from this man. Her throat dries, even as a bead of sweat coalesces upon her brow. The faintest scream fleets chillingly past her ears. But she forges on.
"Whoever this man is... whatever's happening... I've got your back."
Wing realizes she is trembling, and in a sudden flash of anger -- for a person cannot change all at once -- her fists clench, white-knuckled, and her gaze upon Saint becomes a glare, the obvious culprit for stirring that much detested feeling within her: fear. As ever, the heady antidote of rage dilutes that.
"So... you don't have shit to worry about now!"
And she grins fiercely, unaware that she has gone from flushed to pale.
"That's /my/ purpose."
Of course it's cliche. That doesn't make it any less dangerous, however.
Saint seems content to allow the two to talk. In fact even as Wing talks, he gestures with a gloved hand, as if saying, 'oh, please, don't let me stop you!'. Really rather polite, this man standing over the unconscious form of Wakamoto, next to a coffin, is. His cane comes down, and presses to the plush carpeting, and he settles both hands on top of it, leaning slightly on the finely appointed accessory. His smiling visage simply looks back and forth between Aranha and Wing, seeming quite fascinated by what the two are saying.
Oh, and then attention is turned back to him. Aranha declares his intentions, and Saint makes an 'ah' noise, nodding his head a few times, as if expecting that answer. "I see, I see." Wing asserts her... loyalty? devotion?... to Aranha, and Saint nods again. Then, lifting his hands and tucking the cane under one arm, he claps his hands once. "Well! That... certainly doesn't help much, does it? Ha ha, no, I'm afraid not. Hm, something interesting in here, I wonder, I wonder, what could that be?"
The Inquisitor takes a look around the penthouse, as if truly searching for this thing that Aranha calls interesting. The squinty-eyed gaze lands on Wakamoto, then the coffin behind him, then towards the computers. And then Saint merely shrugs. "I do not know. I simply came to see if this man was worthy. So if you mean /here/ contained something interesting, well... I do not know. Or if you mean you meant to find something interesting -happening- here, an interesting event, well now..."
Saint places his hand on top of his derby, adjusting it a little. His eyes seem to be a little more open, as an altogether not-very-friendly, piercing red-eyed gaze settles on Aranha and Wing. He's still smiling, however. Rather cheerfully, at that.
When Wing shakes the PDA at him, his lips form into a grin simultaneously with a joke forming in his head. With wryness of tone, the words take flight from his lips."Heh. Big Brother is watching me. And it's nice to know he's on my side for a change."
Aranha may not know what's going on but if he lets Saint walk out with the unconscious body before he personally has a talk with him, the chance to find out more information about Taizhou, and possibly this building may slip from his grasp.
The red eyed gaze of the Inquisitor cut through the capoeirista and it only convinces him that he isn't going to investigate this place further without a fight. Might as well take the first strike.
Aranha walks closer to Saint and then he makes his move, swinging out a back heel before quickly following with a side-kick.
COMBATSYS: Aranha has started a fight here on the left meter side.
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Aranha 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Saint has joined the fight here on the right meter side.
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Aranha 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Saint
COMBATSYS: Wing has joined the fight here on the left meter side.
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Aranha 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Saint
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Wing 0/-------/-------|
It was inevitable, after all.
Beneath the veneer of rage, a raw determination pulses in Wing's heart. Its power is its own vulnerability, like the sentiments of a sister for her brother, or a mother for her children. But this new feeling, whether in fact one of family or not, and whatever it could in another situation become, is in this moment a strength. A sense of certainty she is otherwise unfamiliar with permeates her being. It is not the 'certainty' of her superiority complex when she regards a fallen adversary or a frail victim-- at least, not in the sense that it does not obscure its own shameful, fragile origins. On the contrary, Wing's own need -- her own fear, even -- is bare to her.
She doesn't want to lose him: the only person with whom she's ever been honest.
So she is desperate. But in the same breath, she is assured; assured that she would not want to turn around and walk out of this room and still live. Perhaps these sensations will pass; perhaps her guilt will not always cut as it does now. But in this moment, Wing, even subconsciously, cannot envision an existence for herself where she does not make a stand here, no matter the rightness of Aranha's actions.
And so she is afraid. The fear is implied.
"Hhhruuuaaaahhhh!"
It just ceases to be relevant.
Boiling up from within her, her fury cuts through anything else that might shackle her; with a powerful war cry shattering the silence, the tiny warrior rushes at an angle, aiming to dart past the two men and find an opening so as to assist. But the unusual firmness of her resolve steels the girl's gaze in a manner that mitigates, for now, her penchant for succumbing to complete berserk. On the contrary, displaying startling agility, Wing speeds back the rune-inscribed desk and dashes up one of the shadowed walls, with a burst of speed running momentarily along the glass-paned doors to the balcony, her sneakers making loud squeaks as the windows shudder under her weight. And at the final chance that her momentum will allow, Wing leaps off of the wall she's been running up and plunges toward Saint from the opposite angle as Aranha, spiraling into what becomes an upside-down aerial snap kick that would slam her foot on the top of the Romanian's head. As she descends, she will attempt to spiral, still upside-down though turning as she goes, into a series of two more spinning kicks, before tucking into a roll right before she would otherwise face-plant onto the ground.
She's certainly not holding back, anyway.
COMBATSYS: Aranha successfully hits Saint with Strong Kick.
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Aranha 0/-------/-------|==-----\-------\0 Saint
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Wing 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Wing successfully hits Saint with Crane Kickin' It Old Skool.
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Aranha 0/-------/-------|===----\-------\0 Saint
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Wing 0/-------/-------|
In truth, Saint was fully willing to answer questions without a fight. Oh, maybe /certain/ questions would require a bit of proof as to the two's intentions and resolve. So perhaps this is just getting that out of the way to begin with! But whatever the case is, Aranha and Wing attack. And perhaps Saint just wasn't ready, or perhaps he doesn't bother to move. Either way, he gets kicked. Twice. Aranha's is a little more simplistic, and it knocks the rail-thin body of the Inquisitor to one side, staggering. Then Wing comes the other direction and kicks him back the other way, stepping forward a few times under forced momentum. It's about then that the two would notice that the coffin has a chain, which is wrapped around Saint's left arm. What that means, well. Who knows?
"H... ha ha ha! I see, so you attack people in search of your 'something interesting'? Or do you feel I have information to give you I will only part with if I am... convinced? Ha ha ha ha ha!" Saint laughs in the face of pain. Quite literally, he seems to enjoy this a lot. His cane is raised, then, and gripped in both hands. A small *chik* noise, and then the cane splits in two and the handles pull apart, revealing blades, two of them. "Let me return the treatment in kind, then!"
And with that, he's after Aranha first. Stepping forward, the mad Inquisitor seeks to slice across Aranha's middle with a shallow cut - only a feint, really, for the real attack, which comes as the other blade is raised, and the pommel of the short sword is attempted to be crashed into the underside of Aranha's chin. Psycho energy would EXPLODE in the man's skull after that, and a memory, an impression, would come over him. The feeling of a spike, being driven through one's head - though it's only a fake impression, a fake pain, it still hurts like the real thing.
As the shock of the pain ravages Aranha, he would be thrown to the ground with a simple hip toss.
COMBATSYS: Aranha blocks Saint's Heretic's Fork EX.
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Aranha 0/-------/----===|===----\-------\0 Saint
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Wing 0/-------/-------|
Aranha flinches slightly at the feint but doesn't offer much response to Saint until the real attack comes. He tilts his body away from Saint as a hand comes up to deflect the pommel. The moment his hand makes contact he feels the sensation of a spike slamming through his hand. He can just barely bite back a scream of agony. Aranha is no stranger to pain. Each scar that covers his body is a testament to that fact. However the pain from just deflecting the attack hits him in a way he just simply is not used to. The explosive energy rattles him slightly and he can understand why those screams were made on his way up.
He steps back for a moment to regain his bearings and then he responds. "Actually it's the fact that my plans changed somewhat." He's not going to elaborate further on that point but he takes a moment to regard Wing. "Be careful with this guy. This ain't the garden variety of energy. Hit him hard and fast. We can't give him a chance to get himself together."
He then proceeds to fulfill his part of the bargain attempting to swing a blue chi roundhouse for the Inquisitor's head, following it up with a spinning jump kick and then turning his back to him so that he can finish it with a blue chi back flip kick to drive his foot down upon Saint's head.
Two swords, for two opponents.
Wing's fury does not cool at the sight of the weapon: she has seen more than her share of blades in the past weeks. But while Saint might be focusing his attention on Aranha, the presence of that second weapon is nevertheless able to keep the girl at bay after she rolls away from the impact of her spinning kicks. Getting to a crouch, the girl's eyes narrow, waiting for an opportunity where she's least likely to be cut to ribbons before she can do any good.
Once her ally begins his counter-attack, issuing advice as he does, the erstwhile Queen of the Streets nods quickly and steps in, not throwing herself as bodily into the assault as before but nevertheless seriously trying to keep up the pressure. Bobbing and weaving, the little assailant thrusts out with a series of claw-like palm strikes, aiming for Saint's side and back. Ideally, she'll land a blow to the kidneys and take some of the fight out of this masochistic nightmare. But she'll settle for not being stabbed while she attacks.
"If you're chained to that damn coffin--"
As long as she can talk some trash in the interim.
"--why don't you do the world a favor and just climb into it!?"
Whatever Aranha's plans are-- well, he can tell her later.
After they win.
COMBATSYS: Saint blocks Aranha's Aggressive Dance.
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Aranha 0/-------/---====|====---\-------\0 Saint
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Wing 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Saint fails to interrupt Strong Punch from Wing with Love's Eldritch Ichor.
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Aranha 0/-------/---====|======-\-------\0 Saint
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Wing 0/-------/------=|
"Oh?" Saint asks as Aranha steps away from him after the psycho energy stab, muttering about a change of plans. Saint seems to regard this 'change' with some curiosity, but no explanation is forthcoming. Well, he doesn't care, anyway. To him, he merely is engaging in a bit of sport. He isn't quite trying to do his best, here, and he doesn't seem to actually care about getting hit. At least, not much. Aranha explains his strategy, and the Inquisitor merely shrugs, laughing a little. "A fine idea!" He comments on the strategy, seemingly not very convinced he's in much danger.
And then Aranha's foot is in play again, slamming against the side of Saint's head. The albino turns with the kick some, seeming to make the kick impact less. Though that doesn't mean he doesn't stagger a little bit. Even a bit of blood is spit from the man's mouth onto that very fine carpeting. The next flip kick is dealt with a little more fluently, with the chained arm raising to block against the kick that was meant for his head. Of course that ties up one arm, leaving only one to deal with Wing. The blade comes out, in fact, as Wing tries to attack -- and seems to miss, sliding past her harmlessly while the claw-palms slam into his side and back, making the tall Inquisitor stagger away from the two.
He's laughing again, of course.
"Not bad, not bad! You two understand some of the principles of love, I see," he says. What the hell does love mean in this instance? Who knows? But he sure as hell doesn't seem all /that/ hurt. "Hmm... were I to climb into the coffin, miss, I wouldn't be able to answer your questions! Besides..." A lightning bolt strikes outside, illuminating the dim room. His red eyes flash a moment. "You wouldn't like what happens when I'm in the coffin."
'Principles of love?' Wait, wha?
The capoeirista riases an eyebrow at that, but that is the only reaction of confusion that the capoeirista allows himself. He can't afford to mess this up. He has both Alan down there and Wing up here, putting their faith in him when in his eyes, he feels that they both have a reason not to. It makes him all the more willing to fight harder. It's just like he fought Eiji harder for the sake of his team mates who had faith in his ability to change when he gave them a reason not to.
The capoeirista's eyes focus in on Saint as moves to the other side of the adversary coming in with an elbow and then dropping low scissor his legs about the Inquisitor's and then bring him down and hopefully enable Wing to take advantage of this by hitting him while he's down.
And here it was starting to seem like nothing could shake Wing up.
"Pr-- principles of--"
Sputtering, the girl appears genuinely shocked, almost lowering her guard as she takes a step back, forgetting immediately just how close she came to being hacked by that narrow blade. The sinister Romanian's actual implication is uncertain, of course, but the word itself seems to bewilder Wing, as if stirring up a possibility otherwise beyond her comprehension.
If there were a word she was least likely to use, in any context...
"Wh-- What're you talking about, man?"
Only then does Wing realize her face has begun to grow hot, conveniently giving her an outlet into ever-clarifying frustration and anger, her fists clenching and guard raising again. Still, perhaps it is a sign of that determination beyond berserk rage that her focus returns quickly enough, and she doesn't waste time arguing or protesting.
"Friggin' asshole," are words enough for her.
And she just spits in derision at his last comment, partly to hide how she's forced to avert her gaze from his red eyes as they flash in the lightning, hoping the return of beaded sweat upon her brow, or her nervous swallowing, isn't too obvious. "Yeah," she mutters, "I might be bored." But her heart isn't in it anymore, so it's a good thing that Aranha leaps to the offensive, inspiring her to attack herself. Seeing instinctively what he's trying to do, Wing leaps high, crying out valiantly, in part to shake off her own malaise. But whether or not Saint actually drops, the kung fu rebel will attempt to drive her foot down hard in a fierce stomp, sacrificing defense to thrust with all possible force at either his fallen form or his standing frame, depending.
COMBATSYS: Aranha successfully hits Saint with Kick Combo.
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Aranha 0/-------/---====|=====--\-------\0 Saint
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Wing 0/-------/------=|
COMBATSYS: Saint endures Wing's Light Kick!
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Aranha 0/-------/---====|=======\-------\0 Saint
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Wing 0/-------/------=|
Ah, if only he had time for a sermon! What a lovely scene it would make, right here, in the middle of this lovely decor to be able to preach to two who seemed like they might understand what love really meant. Really, what /God's/ love meant! These two were certainly familiar enough with it, after all. But alas, they neither seem inclined to let him talk, nor does he feel like he should merely stand there and preach as he's beaten. ...Though, he will need to remember that latter idea.
Aranha's feets are in play once more, though this time with an added elbow. Saint attempts to juke out of the way, but too sluggish, the elbow hits, distracting him with pain - and more laughing - and then he ends up on the ground, cackling. Wing's foot comes crashing down next-- and oh my. While the foot does hit Saint, rather handily too, stomping down on his chest, the Inquisitor seems ready for it. Feet kip up and seek to wrap around Wing's waist, and with that, seeks to pull the Queen of the Streets into a throw.
If successful, Saint will roll with the motion, ending up in a crouched over position over Wing - with the pommel of his blade slamming down into Wing's stomach. If that hits, oh my, but the psycho power will once more explode, and this time the fake memory inherent with the attack will be implanted, and Wing will feel as though several dozen blazing hot pokers are being rammed into her - possibly into THROUGH her.
Aranha slides away the moment he drops Saint to the ground. Capoeiristas prefer to make their takedowns in out affairs and considering that Wing was coming down for a landing, it was definitely in his best interest to /move./ In a way, it works out for him. It gets him out of the move quickly and gets him ready for a response as needed. The problem is nothing comes his way.
As he watches Saint attempt to pull Wing down to the ground but there's something about the readiness in Saint's eyes that puts the capoeirista on full alert and he shouts to Wing, "Look out!"
Regardless of whether or not Wing is capable of heeding his warning or even if she even chooses to heed it at all, Aranha whips his arm out as he spins sending a blue chi spider web at Saint.
As he releases the web he prays, implores it to cling on to Saint's body. He never had control over whether his chi web clung or it just impacted on his targets but if there was ever a time that Aranha needed his web to cling, it was /now./
COMBATSYS: Wing blocks Saint's Liber Ivonis.
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Aranha 0/-------/---====|=======\-------\1 Saint
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Wing 0/-------/--=====|
It's sheer agony.
There is nothing Wing can do to prevent Saint from seizing the advantage the moment her hit lands; she can only snarl in frustration as the bizarre man's legs wrap around her waist and send her bodily to the ground on her back, ending up in a tangle with the mad preacher above. Still, out of indignation if nothing else, the girl keeps her wits about her, managing to repress the deeply unsettling sensation of being this close to the man. Despite her prone and precarious position, when the pommel of the man's blade swiftly launches down, the Queen of the Streets manages, just barely, to slip the palm of her hand underneath where it would have impacted. Half from reflexes, half from sheer luck, she partially mitigates the force of the blow.
She cannot imagine what it would have felt like otherwise.
"Aaaaahn!"
Crying out loudly in pain, she kicks out violently, body spasming as she feels her flesh rent from her bones, somehow managing to maintain her grip on the man's weapon even as her confused and overwhelmed psyche is encouraged to believe she is undergoing incredible torment. A direct hit surely would have ripped the breath from her lungs, if not fully crushed her will to fight; she has come to know the pain of physical cuts, but this assault upon her memories is utterly beyond her ken. At once terrified, when Wing's eyes open she reacts to this insanity the only way she knows.
"You /bastard/!"
Roaring defiantly, the girl rears up and, forehead sheathed in a shimmering chi, hints of gold as she leaves afterimages of her head trailing behind, seeks to headbutt Saint furiously in the face, quite possibly at the exact moment -- or slightly after -- Aranha's attack is intended to impact.
COMBATSYS: Aranha successfully hits Saint with Web Shot.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////// ]
Aranha 0/-------/-======|=======\==-----\1 Saint
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Wing 0/-------/---====|
COMBATSYS: Saint fails to interrupt Taiga Style from Wing with Wake the Sleeping God.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //// ]
Aranha 0/-------/-======|==-----\-------\0 Saint
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Wing 0/-------/-======|
COMBATSYS: Aranha has left the fight here.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Wing 0/-------/-======|
COMBATSYS: Wing has ended the fight here.
Saint's unusual method of attack with his legs seems successful, as Wing has little choice but to get grappled. Thrown onto her back with the preacher on top, he thrusts the blade down, pommel first... and has it blocked! Technically it doesn't quite matter where he touches a person, the psycho energy he radiates will affect a person anyhow. But the ability to brace, to tense, to /reject/... that was the important part here. Wing denied his attack its effectiveness not only physically but mentally as well, and staved off some of the power. This causes him to laugh. "Ha ha ha! Not bad, not bad, I'm getting more and more interested as this goes on. Perhaps, young lady, I should show you the truth of God's love?"
Passing the short blade to his other hand, Saint then raises that hand towards his mouth. He uses his teeth to pull off the glove hiding the hand and- Wing would be treated to the rather grotesque sight of why Saint wears gloves. They have been burnt. They have been broken. His pinky doesn't look like it ever healed correctly. There's a big patch of scar tissue through the middle of the hand where likely something like a stake was probably driven through it.
And he tries to touch her with this hand.
Fortunately, Aranha's blue spider web of chi DOES manage to cling this time. It impacts across the side of his body where his ungloved hand is. Though he still only needs to really touch Wing, and thus can just drop the weight of the hand down onto her - it still misses, because there's Wing's head, impacting with his face. Saint cries out with a loud grunt... and his hand touches the ground.
It's hard to say whether his hand missing Wing and touching the ground or the sudden bolt of lightning that is indeed very close is responsible for the ensuing damage. But all at once, every single window in the penthouse /shatters/ with a defeaning roar of glass breaking. Mirrors crack. Even the computer monitors in the corner shatter. To be fair, the lightning bolt -did- strike awfully close... ...but immediately after the shock to the windows, there's a fleeting moment of distant screams, crying, visions of blood...
Wing more than likely just dodged a big ol' bullet right there.
After that, Saint seems to groan again, and untenses, as if coming down off a particularly hurtful spasm of pain. He then collapses backwards, back leaning up against a wall, and laughs. Just a touch. "My, my, I never expected you two to be able to give me this much trouble. I should endeavor not to take you lightly next time." With that, the two shortblades in his gloved hand are let go, falling to the floor with a clatter. For the moment his webbed hand can't move, but he raises the other gloved hand in a gesture of surrender. "I had no wish to fight you in the first place, but you've certainly proven I need not hold anything back. I suppose I have no choice in the matter at the moment, either... so. Are you going to beat me to unconsciousness, or ask me a question?"
Aranha's eyes widen in response to the many things that happen in rapid succession. Surprise that he managed to will his web to cling onto his target when from previous experience, he had trouble determining whether or not it would cling. Horror at the deformity of Saint's grotesque hand.
Aranha's flinches away when the lightning and the hand touch the ground at the same time. He doesn't quite recover from his shock because the shattering windows following swiftly after don't give him much of a chance to. He looks up and his jaw and his heart drops the moment he sees the monitors in the corner shattered. Any information that it could've contained possibly lost unless it was all part of a single intranet. Aranha just didn't have the luxury of time to check.
"Not a question. Questions." Carefully emphasizing the plural. "Actually, I wanted to ask unconscious guy over there some questions and I figured that if you took him away, my opportunity to ask them would vanish, but since you're up now, I might as well ask you some. Let's see... Who are you? Who is he?" He looks over to the unconscious body on the floor. "What /were/ your plans for him? This is just to start. I have plenty more to ask, trust me."
COMBATSYS: Aranha takes no action.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //// ]
Aranha 0/-------/-======|==-----\-------\0 Saint
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Wing 0/-------/-======|
As ever, Wing's disadvantage is her main advantage.
Fury blinds her to reality. Only in the ensuing moments after her forehead has collided powerfully with the sinister Romanian's face does she understand: the sound of thunder was not, in fact, the reverberations in her skull, but an honest-to-goodness sky-splitting lightning bolt that has blasted in the windows, shrouding them in shattered glass; that hand that just barely missed her is a sickening farce, the victim of some corrupt and vile past event, and far more disturbing in appearance than any typical deformation has a right to be; and the reason Saint missed was entirely Aranha's doing.
The invidious sensations produced by her adversary's psychic assault, though felt as though from a distance, nevertheless cause Wing's little heart to skip a beat. She shudders as she struggles to her feet, though continues to glare with gritted teeth as the man previous atop her staggers away. "Yeah, right, 'God's love'," she half-mutters, half-snarls. "How about I show you my foot up your ass, freakin' pervert..." Still, as he drops his weapons, seemingly defeated, she risks a sidelong glance at Aranha, and as she reaches up to wipe a bead of sweat from her brow with the back of her hand, she nods once, eyes expressing a rare moment of genuine gratefulness. For all her faults, she's no fool: this man's power is clearly otherworldly. And as her partner's saving web concretely demonstrated--
"Heh..."
They only succeeded because of their teamwork.
"Ask your questions, man," the lady gangster says with a hint of wryness as she turns to survey the damage, squinting at shattered windows and destroyed monitors. "But once you're finished..."
She looks back to Saint, girlish face grim, brow furrowing.
"I say we obliterate him."
She tries to sound tough, and almost succeeds-- and a month ago, perhaps, she would have, even if her appearance automatically short-circuits all attempts at such intimidation. But Wing's voice shakes slightly, a small but noticable hint of unease. It could perhaps be put down to Saint's unsettling presence. In reality, however, a briefly forgotten hollow expands within her as she says those words. Even if this man is as evil as he feels, and even if his destruction would be one deed Wing truly would want to take credit for--
Does she really have it in her to kill again?
COMBATSYS: Wing takes no action.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //// ]
Aranha 0/-------/-======|==-----\-------\0 Saint
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Wing 0/-------/-======|
"Oh, of course, I did not mean to limit you; my knowledge is yours, ask away!" Saint says, leaning almost casually now against the wall he's propped up against. The arm still isn't moving just yet, the web clinging. But the web is fading, none the less. Impossibly, the man is smiling as if they hadn't just been engaged in a brief, though violent struggle. It's all quite casual to this priest. Briefly, his eyes seem to slide over towards Wing, despite the fact his eyes can't actually be seen. It's an effect not unlike when one is wearing darkly tinted shades; you just sort of know their attention is on you. His smile only widens a little at her snarled insinuations. In fact the threat against his life seems to not even jar him. As if he doesn't really care.
"My, that is a lot of questions!" Saint says. "For while you only asked three, they imply so much. Well, then, I suppose I should start with me. I am Saint Casimir Sudou. A priest from Romania, and Inquisitor for the organization Kagero," he mentions. Then, his free hand lifts and it slides into his suit coat. Assuming he isn't immediately hit for this, he'll pull out a PDA, and flips it open. "You've a phone, yes? The technology here is so wonderful. I'm at a loss on how to do such things, most of the time, but I believe I have this well figured out! A moment, if you like."
A few thumb presses, and then if Aranha and Wing were carrying phones, they would beep. The Taizhou file system, available to anyone within the city, has just registered new access for them both. "The man there is Marou Wakamoto, a logistics man for Kagero's money. He was leading a sort of, hm... how you say, split within the organization? Our esteemed leader is presumed dead, and Wakamoto wished to take things over for himself."
"As for what I wished to do with him... why, nothing! I came here to see if he was worthy of leading Kagero. I baptized him. The waters did not run clean."
Aranha pulls out his cell phone when Saint pulls out his. He can't help but smile at how much easier the technology makes information gathering. He takes a few moments to look over the sanctum files before returning his sights to the Inquisitor of Kagero.
"That answered those questions and then some. Now let's see... Tell me about this place. My source told me that this place was significant. She said, 'I became strong enough to face him, to meet him in Huangyan, at what would remain of the Bantiankong Chemicals Building.'" He pauses as he finishes quoting Li Hua. "What is the importance of this place. This building."
Wing frowns thoughtfully, attempting to look intelligent as she briefly examines the data that has been sent her, furrowing her brow most diligently at her PDA. Quickly, however, she becomes bored, and telling herself she'll read it later, sheathes the phone and begins squinting at the arcane scrawl that used to bind together the windows that Saint's terrible discharge had destroyed. Picking her away through the shattered glass, Wing ignores the two men for the moment, eyeing the muted decor with what she imagines to be an interior decorator's eye.
"Mn," she grunts, hinting at deep insights she'd like to have.
She'll keep her ears open, in case they talk about anything she understands or the Romanian starts acting sketchy -- sketch/ier/; what is this 'baptism' shit? -- but for the moment she fails to participate, meandering over to the damaged computer networks instead.
As to that question... Saint shrugs. "I do not know."
The webbing comes free, and hand moves his hand again. The disfigured one. He flexes the fingers, giving them a wiggle (truly not a very keeping-you-with-your-lunch sight) and then he pulls his discarded glove back on, to make it less freaky. Somewhat. "Ah, but I suppose I can make a guess. After all, you now know that Marou Wakamoto was the man attempting to lead the dissolutionists. He was in this building, using it as an operations center. As I seem to recall... the Ryouhara also was here often, though I never saw why. And before the monitors were destroyed, they did display almost the entire city. Such a thing does not get set up in a few days; infrastructure of that nature takes many man hours, no?"
Now, standing up and stretching his arms above his head, Saint collects the pieces of his cane - and snaps them back together, to make a whole cane once more. "My advice would be to search the building yourself. After all, what can I tell you you cannot see with your eyes about this building? From what I know, you have access to the penthouse, and thus you have access to the entire building, yes?" Another smile, and then a doff of his cap. "I will be leaving now, I believe. That is, unless you intend to obliterate me?" His eyes track over towards Wing, and for the moment, the priest doesn't move from his spot. After all, they -do- have that right... even if by the law file he just gave them, they would be punished.
He seems not to care either way, just smiling.
"You know. You've been very helpful but one last question." He personally turns to the remaining monitors as he moves see what he can find out. "What do you know of Katsuten? Do you know where it's located? I personally don't like the idea of my caramel colored kiester becoming crispy."
He doesn't make a move to stop Saint's exit. Figuring out the significance of this location and keeping himself from blowing up are the most pressing of his concerns. "Wing, if you want to get one last shot in feel free. I won't stop you just try not to kill him. I don't need another reason for Zhou Ji or the 46ers to be on my ass. And quite frankly I have more important things to do besides having my feet make love to his face. First and foremost of which is surviving."
A few taps on his own cell phone and Wing will find a few more sfiles on her phone.
"Urgh..."
Wing flinches, jerking her gaze back to Saint, and bares her teeth.
"...son of a..."
Every nerve sings with tension. Her hackles raise, eyes narrowing into slits, as she regards this all-too-dangerous man. If she has any opportunity to remove from existence, this is it. If she encounters him later on, and he deigns to assault her, she has little confidence in her chances, given the sheer power at his disposal. He is a threat to be eliminated. One whose very presence is a reminder of the disgraceful sentiment that yet lurks within her, as it does all mortals: fear.
There is nothing she loathes more.
And yet--
"Whatever."
Spitefully, shoulders hunched, the girl turns away.
"I don't care anymore."
Perhaps there are worse things in this world than being insignificant.
"...I'm not gonna get you in trouble."
The last words are mumbled, not half as defiant as the ones preceding them. She shoves her hands into the pockets of her jumpsuit, only shooting the new information Aranha has sent her the quickest of glances before stowing it away again. The reasons why don't matter to her. Any excuse not to destroy this man, somehow, now seems good enough. Even if she has said otherwise--
"Just... get the hell out of here, man."
Wing has enough blood on her hands.
"Before I... change my mind."
Lowering her chin, the girl obscures that her gaze has softened, turning her fierce snarl into a rictus grimace of secret pain, and steps away from the door.
"Katsuten?" Saint asks, and tilts his head. He actually seems to think about it, too, as if perhaps hearing it distantly but unsure. Ultimately, the answer is the same as the one he just gave: he shrugs. "I've never heard of it. Nor do I know where it might be. Though, like the Chemicals building, there must be some building that has some significance, no?" The priest shrugs, and then turns his attention onto Wing again, to see if she's decided his fate. Aranha gives her permission to hit, though not kill him, and the 'Mad Kindness' just stands there, hands on his cane, leaning lightly on it. Once she dismisses him, however, the priest laughs a little. "Well, then, I suppose I shall be on my way in truth, then!"
Turning to the door, the man strides to it, and the chain attached to his wrist tugs on the coffin. The strangest damn thing happens, though, as the chain draws taut: the coffin becomes ethereal, and light as a feather. It just... glides across the ground, making no noise at all, even going so far as to pass through a couch as if it weren't there. Saint seems to not even pay it mind. That is, until he stops just at the doorway. "Oh... one more thing."
He raises his PDA, and a few thumb taps later, one more file is uploaded to the other two's digital devices. A glance is cast over his shoulder, smiling widely. "I truly do not know everything there is to know, but I do recall this file may be of interest to you. And now, with that, I bid you good day!"
And the man leaves. Just as the rain outside begins to really pour down, with none of the windows left to protect against the weather.
COMBATSYS: Saint has left the fight here.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Aranha 0/-------/-======|
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Wing 0/-------/-======|
Log created on 21:47:34 06/13/2010 by Wing, and last modified on 01:03:59 06/23/2010.