Description: That fiendish Romanian was only the accidental guardian of Shinseikasen, the Consecrating Light, and not to be the last. Even as Aranha and Wing contemplate how best to wield the incredible weapon at their disposal, the beam cannon ninkou that was to be the ultimate line of defense for Taizhou and Nirvana, the traitorous and half-mad Wakamoto emerges from a nightmare-ridden slumber to seize the girl with the troubled heart, and demand that the two trigger apocalypse. How much blood must further stain this land? Will Wing reconcile her guilt, or plunge once more into mindless fury-- and what then will be her karma? And what target will Aranha choose? There is not enough information, and not enough time. But a decision must be made, and soon.
There is the sound of a phone being placed down on the desk and then after that, Aranha spares one last glance at the monitor he was using to track Alan before he shifts his full attention to the particular monitor he was using to cycle through surveillance all throughout Taizhou.
He glances over at Wing for one moment. "And we thought getting into this place was nuts. Ninkou Automata, rioters, soldiers, assassins, crazy bitches, big fucking chi bomb..."
Aranha shakes his head before returning his attention to the monitor. "Getting out of here just might be even crazier than that. Let's see if I can exchange some favors..."
Aranha begins to dial Ji Zhou's number.
"Well-- okay-- hold on."
Wing Xiaoping, having had a few minutes to collect herself, explore the environs after their fearsome foe's disappearance, and promptly become very bored, is now seated upon the edge of the desk where Aranha is working, legs crossed alluringly (she imagines, despite the mostly full-body jumpsuit), and tapping away with furious intensity upon her PDA. With unprecedented seriousness upon her girlish, usually-sneering face, the erstwhile thugette appears to be finally doing some real research on the many Sanctum Files she received during their recent encounter.
"This super-weapon-- the 'Shinseikasen', right? The Consecrating Light, or whatever?" The Queen of the Streets glances over to her ally, raising her eyebrows slightly. "We can use this, man. Right now, we're the only ones with access to it, right? Even if someone's pursuing you, and we only have a few moments-- that's all the more reason to take action while we can."
She slides off the desk and begins to pace near the shattered window, brow furrowed in a somewhat melodramatic expression of concentration, although she really is thinking hard, really.
"But what should we blow up, while we're in charge?"
She tilts her gaze back to Aranha-- and grins, eyes narrowing.
"'Everything' comes to mind..."
Despite her usual savagery, she's joking.
Probably.
As the two begin to determine exactly what's going on, they might not notice the darkened, charred form lifting off of the ground. The elegant merchant's dress suit is in tatters from being torn up by his own bare hands, the grey streak in his hair seeming even messier from the horrors he had to endure. Thus is the price, he supposed, for going against such a horrific persona. Saa..saa.. he'd have to kill him himself in time. Even as he rises, balancing laboriously on his cane, he seems less a man and more an emaciated shadow, a rag man rising from behind the desk.
He is silent, as thoughts flit through the expanses of his skull.
the elder gods..
the suffering of this world, she enjoys.
they'll taunt him forever..
but they will pay.
these disgusting peons--
The only thing Wing will see of Wakamoto as he strikes is an encroaching black shadow in the window.
The fight, if Wing isn't quick about getting away, will be brief and silent. Silent enough that the only sound in the room is the ringing of Aranha's phone. Even standing this close to Wakamoto during the exchange is painful--there is the most curious scent emanating from the man's sleeve as he attempts to snatch Wing up in the crook of his arm by the throat.
It's a kind of nerve toxin...
"You should listen to your elders, children."
Just as Aranha gets through to Ji Zhou, hears a voice and it isn't on the other end of the line. "Fuck... Ji Zhou? I'm sorry to cut this phone conversation short but something came up just now that requires my full attention. I wanted to discuss an exchange of favors. I'll call you back if I can."(Translation: I'll call you back if I'm still conscious and living after this.)
Aranha hangs up and then finally turns to Wakamoto and sniffs. "First... How did you escape the clutches of tall, dark, and fugly? And secondly, I'm sure I would listen to my elders if said anything... and wasn't threatening me or my fr-fr- associates. So how about you back away from the lady and we can talk things out peaceful-like"
Ji Zhou, on the other end: "Wait, who the f--hey!! Don't you even think about--" *click*
"Seriously though, Aranha... I've been thinking, and--"
Alas, Wing's unprecedented cognitive efforts are to be wasted.
"--gghh!"
Focused upon her fr-- 'associate', and her own confused feelings, she never had a chance of noticing the man that emerges from the dark, having let down her guard completely. She has time only to flinch away from a flickering shadow she notices at the last moment, all at once gathered up in the dark practitioners arm, grimacing at the bizarre -- and strangely muddling, even /painful/ -- aroma that wafts up from his garment. "Gaaghh!" Only then does she cry out fully, beginning to struggle furiously for the brief moment before the scent begins to fill her mind. The girl's diminutive frame will continue to buck occasionally, as though spasming -- and her strength is surprising, of course -- but she's forced to concentrate all her will on resisting the poison that is emerging from Wakamoto's sleeve.
As long as she's this close to him, it may be all she can do...
"Gghh... Aran... ha..."
Wing, neck tensing, looking up at her once-rival with watering eyes. Her vulnerability is always fairly obvious to an experienced fighter, of course: half of her very identity is made up by the irony between her aggressive attitude and her unintimidating appearance, after all. In this moment, however -- all the more so even than before in the emotional roller-coaster that has been this 'tournament' -- Wing looks torn, uncertain, and afraid. She hasn't shared her tears with anyone but Cody Travers. Aranha-- even he doesn't know what tortured questions still unconfronted lie within her heart.
Forget being a gangster.
"Aranha..."
Forget being the best.
"Don't..."
Does she even deserve to live?
"...do anything... he says."
Her eyes-- they're really watering.
"Listen... use that weapon... and stop... whoever began all this."
Don't let their deaths be in vain.
And give her some chance--
"...Please..."
--to redeem herself.
"...Aranha..."
She closes her eyes, still grimacing against the toxin.
She doesn't even know what she's doing anymore. She doesn't understand anything there: who she is supposed to be, what she is supposed to do, what's right or wrong by any standard. But--
She can't go on like this.
As she has before.
"Deplorable little mewling brats."
Wakamoto's grip is fast upon the dimunitive chinese girl as he hefts her into the warmth of his coat. He leans on his cane heavily as he does so, which Aranha might recognize if he focuses on it long enough--it's the same cane that Operations Director Hiretsu was using during the first Jinchuu tournament. At some point, it seems that Wakamoto got ahold of that particular ninkou. A few of the markings seem to be newer than what he might be familiar with, however...
"Young man, I will assure you.." Wakamoto all but purrs out, "The only reason we are talking at all is because this girl will be living the rest of her short miserable life in a room with no windows and lined with knives if we don't."
Balthazar's Myrrh. Even at distance, Aranha can taste it on the air. For some reason, Wakamoto seems unaffected by it, but the taste is numbing to the tongue. It's doubtful that Wing can even feel the unspent tears in her eyes now...
"But at least you rugrats understand the idea, unlike most."
He twitches, and grins. His gaze seems vacant, as if to wander. Even now it doesn't seem like he's really all fully there, as if working on autopilot more than anything else. One has to wonder what exactly was done to him. "Now... you strike me as a MiSERaBLe HypOcritE--who understands the way of business. If you do everything I say, you'll get your little girlfriend back.."
He pauses, thoughtfully...
His right eye is tearing up, notably. Except it's from blood. And it's not from the poison.
"...I thought you americans didn't like them this young," he asides, hefting Wing's weight just a touch.
"...One supposes it doesn't matter. SufFer Me this--we don't have much time. And--" he points at the calamity in the distance from the window, viewable even now--the weapon Katsuten being lifted from a gutted Nenzhao. "...that is going to be your target. Or I'll feed you this little one's HeART. Understand?"
"I find it kinda odd how you're turning your back on the Shouten. If anyone is a hypocrite in this room..." Wing excluded for the time being as a mental aside, "I'd say it was you." The smell and taste begin to get to him and it begins to take every bit of will power within himself to not let it show that it is affecting him in such away.
"Even still, while you do make an interesting proposal I have to say no deal. It's either shoot that, and we all could blow the hell up or you kill her. Either way she dies. I'd like to choose option three."
Aranha looks at the environment before his hand glows blue with gathered chi and glances toward the control panel of the Shinseikasen. "You back off of her or else I make that control panel nice and useless."
Wing doesn't understand. She doesn't understand anything here.
Now, at least, she has something simple to do with herself: seek to resist whatever it is that is emerging from Wakamoto's sleeve, a cloying scent that numbs her limbs and clouds her mind. As for what is at stake on a grander stage, she can make little comment.
As for what is at stake, however, in her own soul--
"...Keith..."
That -- though she has no words for it -- she better understands.
"...d... don't..."
Her little body spasms again, teeth clenched, eyes tightly shut.
"...you don't... need to..."
That she understands -- and that he's still trying to protect her.
"...I..."
Even given her change in attitude toward him over the course of these days, her approach here is strikingly different. Yet she leaves no clues, can offer no explanation here, as to what has come over her. There is only the fiercest of resistance in her body, and the despair hidden behind the lids of her eyes.
Where did she pick up his name, anyway?
Marou considers the idea. His wicked cheshire grin only grows longer as Aranha offers his rebuttal, his counter-offer. Marou has about him the air of a man whom simply delights in tense situations like these.
The shouten, hrn?
"Now who told you about that.." he wonders.
"Has Jinzo been at play, again?"
He takes a step towards Aranha, his eerie wandering gaze not exactly focused on Aranha, but the middle distance. "Keith," he says chidingly, picking up the cue from Wing seamlessly. "I'm glad we're negotiating. But use that head of yours. I'm only doing what's in your best interests. Think of it as a simplicity. I'm going to allow you to choose--" He pauses, a nervous twitch breaking the length between them-- "--how this one dies. Explosives might not kill her you know. But, do you know about this myrrh of mine? An aerosol by any other name, but it was based off of a toy I found in.. hrpmh... Kagero's weapons cache, a paralytic strong enough to affect a fighter, based off of a lotus that grew in our noble leader's very backyard. It seems that when you combine it with a nerve agent, it works just the same as anything else you can imagine. Oh--you've probably never seen someone become victimized by prolonged exposure to this formulation, have you..? It's quite gruesome."
"Bleeding, crying, swelling, involuntary spasms... you soil yourself in the end as you die from asphyxia, it would seem. It's quite dirty, a foul way to go. That's why I'm glad it has the scent of that fragrant lotus."
"In the end," Wakamoto finally decides, "As a profiteer and a priest, I can tell you: The Shouten is about choice." He hums. "Dear..." he speaks this time to Wing. "I don't guess someone like you would have much time left. Your tongue is already getting too fat, love. Ah, shh, shh.. don't be a hero now."
"TeLL the BOy hoW BaDLY you DoN'T WAnT to die."
Choices, choices.
"The Katsuten is enough to level a fucking city. I think concern over whether or not she let alone we is pretty legitimate."
Aranha given a choice between what's basically a friend dies or a rocks fall we all die scenario. Time is running out and he finds himself growling. It's clear Marou's not going to let go of Wing unless he /makes/ him.
Aranha whips his arm at the panel, a spider web of chi just barely missing it. The hope is that Aranha's web will draw his attention away from him for just an instant while he suddenly puts on a burst of speed before suddenly appearing right next to him with an elbow his face.
"You presented what pretty much amounts to suicide as the better option. Fuck. That."
COMBATSYS: Aranha has started a fight here.
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Aranha 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Wakamoto has joined the fight here.
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Aranha 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Wakamoto
Wing is at her limit.
Straining against the neurotoxin, her mind is as befogged as her heart is unsure. For all the sincerity of her offer of self-sacrifice, Wing Xiaoping does /not/ want to die. Neither, however, does she want to go on as she has, not after all that she has endured and experienced. Something changed for good in that blasted wasteland, when she collapsed by a wounded Cody's side. Yet how that change is to be reconciled with Wing's nature has yet to be decided. As it is, her confusion is only compounded by her swimming thoughts, the diminutive gangster shivering, teeth grit, in Wakamoto's dangerous embrace.
She can't concentrate on breaking free. Not only because of the poison, but because she also doesn't want to break free: she deserves this, she feels acutely-- and more ambiguously, an inarticulable sense that this sacrifice will make Eagle and Yuri's deaths meaningful. And yet what is she to do, when Aranha will not accept her sacrifice? Her endless rage still boils within her, as it ever does; the value she has placed on her partnership with Aranha, and the trauma she's experienced, haven't changed her fundamentally untamed character. But it has been turned inward, hatefully, by her inability to countenance her own crimes. What she has suffered has been grave enough to turn the tide of even her own fury. But--
The older man's whisper tickles her numbing neck.
Another force might shift that tide again.
At Wakamoto's broken voice, Wing's eyes, clenched shut, snap wide open in horror.
"Aaaaaaaaahhh!"
Suddenly, piercingly, she screams, wails, in hatred and disgust. Whether it is at him, at herself, at the very world, is impossible to tell. But Wakamoto's disturbing proximity, more even than the prospect of meeting her fate at his hands, is what pushes her over the edge. She can no longer stand to be so close. Finally, what she otherwise would have done minutes ago erupts as though torn from her: a mindless, spiteful defiance.
Frankly, an earlier Wing might have died here, acting instinctively to free herself and foolishly exposing herself in the process, relying too heavily on that berserker rage. As it is, Wing's behavior now is perhaps now different in the end-- but almost accidentally, her timing is better. For given how affected by the toxin she seemed to be (and is), her explosion of fury is unprecedented-- and it happily coincides with Aranha's own attack.
Still, she is incredibly vulnerable during this escape. Only Aranha's initial distracting manuever may give her a chance to escape unscathed. As it is, Wing hardly cares. Still wailing, with a burst of startling strength she twists to throw Wakamoto away, right toward the charging Aranha, before hurling herself flailing to the ground to roll away. At best, with yet more intuitive teamwork, she'll set Wakamoto up to fall at her partner's hands. At worst--
She's tougher than she used to be, and than she knows.
She may yet survive.
But to what end--
This remains unclear.
COMBATSYS: Wing has joined the fight here.
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Aranha 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Wing
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Wakamoto 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Wing successfully hits Wakamoto with Strong Throw.
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Aranha 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Wing
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Wakamoto 0/-------/------=|
COMBATSYS: Wakamoto blocks Aranha's Spin Kick.
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Aranha 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Wing
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Wakamoto 0/-------/------=|
Simple dears.
As far as Wakamoto is concerned, suicide is in fact the better option. After all, torching everything is better than the voices boiling inside his skull, isn't it? After all, did they not burn the fields to keep the barbarians from taking a thing? Is that not intrinsically patriotic? A high priest could tell that much.
Besides, the simpler fact is--
Sometimes there's worse existences than to die.
The profiteer's eyes don't as much follow Aranha's webbing action as they do roll into the back of his head. Wakamoto bends at an odd angle as he's thrown away in the midst of his distraction by Wing, hitting the ground face-first before twisting at an odd angle, careening towards Aranha---before a steel disc interjects itself between the two of them, its surface resonating as it functions as a shield to block the blow, tumbling end over end before burying itself in the far wall.
"Ho... such naughty children.."
Wakamoto straightens slowly. You can hear the bones of his back cracking.
"...I suppose you won't be reasoned with, then. Come, come. That's fine enough as it is." Eh? "Let me introduce you to some of the bounty you could have shared!"
He twists the head of his cane, and seals light up down its length, as the cane splits, revealing more intricate sealwork underneath the head. Slowly, the disc that imbedded itself into the wall.. unroots, flickering slightly as it begins to spin, hovering in midair. "The hunter killer ninkou, the Rasenjin...and to think, Ryouhara was going to just abuse these for his silly games. Luckily.. I found better uses for them," Wakamoto crows.
Sawing through the walls, more of the discs saw through the walls, burrowing into view.
"I assume you know what happens to naughty children, don't you?"
Wakamoto taps his cane on the ground once.
The razor discs, floating eerily in the air, advance slow on Aranha and Wing.
"They. get. spanked."
COMBATSYS: Wakamoto has joined the fight here as a boss!
WAKAMOTO
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Aranha 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Wing
COMBATSYS: Aranha dodges Wakamoto's Rasenjin Bougyo.
WAKAMOTO
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0|---------------|------------===
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Aranha 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Wing
Aranha's elbow collides just before he can make contact with Wakamoto growling. He watches as the body uncurls in a way that shouldn't be possible and he shudders inwardly. Then Aranha hears something from Wakamoto lips that gives him even more reason to growl.
Each word, reminds him of his parents how they gave him a majority of his scars. How they beat him and his sisters within an inch of their lives day after day. How his parents drove his older sister to suicide from the abuse visited upon her.
His lips form into a cruel sadistic grin and then the metallic discs burrow into view and Aranha moves into action leaping over the metal disc in a spinning twist avoiding it as he shouts towards Wing. "Be careful! Those things will hurt a lot! Let's shut this cock sucking piece of shit example of bad parenting up!"
After that he comes in fast whirling around with a glowing blue roundhouse following it with a chi-enhanced spinning spinning jump kick, and spinning around so his back faces Wakamoto just for an instant before he flips backward driving a final blue chi kick down upon his head.
COMBATSYS: Aranha has joined the fight here on the top side.
WAKAMOTO
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Aranha 0|-------|-------
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Wing 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Wakamoto successfully hits Wing with Rasenjin Bougyo.
WAKAMOTO
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0|---------------|---------======
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Aranha 0|-------|-------
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Wing 0/-------/-----==|
Wing's scrambling does not take her far enough.
She rolls to her feet with a shaken grimace, several stray bangs of her tied-back hair pulling loose to fall about her face as she twists her head up to stare with horror at the old man she managed, finally, to throw away. Still shuddering from the toxin, she does, however, seem to have escaped in time to avoid permanent damage; no blood tears from her eyes, despite the lingering benumbing effects. But it is clearly difficult for her to rise, and not only because of her lack of composure.
"Keith--!"
She blinks, mind clearing enough to realize she's started using his real name without even knowing it, and flashing back to her perusing of her PDA only minutes before. There was a lot more public information on the participants than she had expected, though she hadn't gotten a chance to look herself up. Still, the vehemence of his words surprises even Wing. Whatever's going on, it's more than just Aranha's righteous fury here. Something's eating the capoerista.
Normally, rage of any brand would resonate with Wing, as Cody's brutality did before. But she's simply too disoriented at this point to fully grasp what is occurring-- and her evasion of Wakamoto's assault is compromised as a result. Just as she begins to stagger to her feet, the razor sharp discs blur about her; she cries out as, despite Aranha's warning, their cutting blade shear dangerously toward her, driving her back as she does her very best to evade. Her lack of readiness is evident. Lines of blood slash along her midriff and through her jumpsuit, tearing through her sleeves and leggings as she plunges to the ground again.
"Damn-- son of a--!"
But it's what it takes to bring that fury to a boil again.
Cutting through the fog, a debilitated Wing nevertheless surges shouting to her feet, energy gathering in her fist. Though driven away, and instinctively lacking any desire to approach Wakamoto again -- particularly while the toxin remains in her system -- Wing is compelled to attack, and the wave of invisible force she projects into the air from her fist, sweeping up a smashed desk and chair in its path, ripping decorations from the walls and shards of glass from the shattered window, aims a deadly maelstrom at Wakamoto, competing with his own blades.
"I'M... NOT..."
Screw you, old man.
"...A CHILD!"
You're not her real father.
COMBATSYS: Wing has joined the fight here in the center.
WAKAMOTO
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Aranha 0|-------|-------
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Wing 0|-------|-======
COMBATSYS: Wakamoto blocks Aranha's Aggressive Dance.
WAKAMOTO
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0|---------------|--------=======
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Aranha 0|-------|-------
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Wing 0|-------|-======
COMBATSYS: Wing successfully hits Wakamoto with Dragonforce.
WAKAMOTO
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0|---------------|----===========
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Aranha 0|-------|-------
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Wing 0|-------|=======
The whirling blades have a peculiar property. Once they get close enough to you, they don't simply do their damage and move past. No, as they flash past Wing, slicing her open, the blades eerily stop in the air, repositioning themselves. Inexorably, the serrated blades drift towards her once again...
A flash of light appears on the ground, forming a circle across the grounds. Lights trail slowly around in circles as Wakamoto leans on his cane, regarding the two. The energy creeps around, trailing into a space in front of Wakamoto, forming four points. The profiteer taps a closer node with his cane idly, just before lifting it to absorb the damage from Aranha's flashy kicking blows. "Struck a nerve, have I?" The profiteer chides idly, before he's simply blown away by a wave of invisible force, knocking him against the desk and almost over it.
"Hnph," he mutters, peeling himself off the desk. These two are troublesome. "Enough," he mutters, standing, and swpeeing out a sleeve. He slings a /wave/ of the deadly gas into the air, curling towards Aranha. The air is choking, numbing... poisonous.
COMBATSYS: Aranha blocks Wakamoto's Balthazar's Myrrh.
WAKAMOTO
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0|---------------|--=============
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Aranha 0|-------|-----==
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Wing 0|-------|=======
Aranha can see him releasing that toxin again. He felt the effects from afar and he saw the effect it had on Wing. He realized he didn't have much time to act so he acted fast. He reached into his pocket pulling out a bandana as he dove low hoping the combination of being below most of the bad air and the act of quickly tying a bandana over his face would offer at least a little protection. He knew it wouldn't keep it all out but if it bought him a little time he would need to make the best of it.
But while he's low he doesn't have much he can do other than kick out at the side of Wakamoto's leg.
He doesn't verbally respond to the struck nerve comment but the hateful gaze is enough of a confirmmation.
COMBATSYS: Aranha has joined the fight here on the right meter side.
WAKAMOTO
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Aranha 0/-------/-----==|
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Wing 0|-------|=======
"Gaaahh!"
Still hounded by those spinning blades, there's no way Wing can remain where she is. She can only watch as Wakamoto attempts to douse Aranha with the same poison with which he transfixed her, for she is forced to react to her pursuers, staggering almost drunkenly out of their back. But she is steeling her mind against the aftereffects of the poison, and her rage, finding expression, aids to clear her heart of troubles. Gritting her teeth, she rushes away from the blades and toward Wakamoto's opposite side; though her movements remain haphazard, they are no longer any real detriment to her already by nature wild assaults. She is swift enough, at least, to swoop in toward the mad old man's other flank.
"Give it up, you damn fool!" she snarls. "We don't have time for you!"
Who knows what approaches? Only now does that thought resurface, now that Wing's rationality is returning. As Aranha strikes low, Wing strikes high, aiding in the overall impact of his sweeping kick by seeking to topple Wakamoto with a powerful, blurring palm strike to his chest, screaming as she attempts to tear the breath from his very lungs.
But even as she obeys her fury, her mind, revived, begins to race again.
"Yo," she shouts over to her partner, "what about the weapon!?"
Can they really afford to be fighting again, here, now?
Isn't there still a decision they have to come to...?
COMBATSYS: Wing has joined the fight here on the left meter side.
WAKAMOTO
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0|---------------|--=============
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Wing 1/-------/=======|==-----\-------\0 Aranha
COMBATSYS: Wakamoto blocks Aranha's Medium Kick.
WAKAMOTO
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0|---------------|--=============
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Wing 1/-------/=======|==-----\-------\0 Aranha
COMBATSYS: Wakamoto fails to interrupt Strong Punch from Wing with Kimon Bougyo.
WAKAMOTO
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0|---------------|---============
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Wing 1/-------/=======|==-----\-------\0 Aranha
"There's never enough time for suffering, is there? What a shame--"
Wakamoto snaps his cane out to stop Aranha's swept leg, at once seeming to go an excellent job of fending the young boy off with his cane, but a horrible job of multitasking. With his cane firmly planted in the ground against Aranha's leg, his eye tracks Aranha. "You know.." the profiteer begins, "back in the day, people of my class and rank were seen as miserable, repugnant individuals. The world has changed since then, has it not? Now.. it is the fools and the samurai who are seen as weak and pointless--"
Wakamoto glares, as Wing interrupts.
"I hate it when the children interrupt. So impatient--"
He taps his cane against the desk, and a flashing blue energy field cuts through the air, similar to some of the fields used around the perimeters of Nirvana and deep within the Forge itself. However.. well--his timing is slightly off, and the profiteer is hit by the palm strike to his chest. Unfortunately, when he steps back on his heel, he simply doesn't seem to move that much, bracing against the desk, though it does an admirable job of knocking the air from his lungs. "an--CACK--miserable...interrupting a history lesson.."
He /hates/ it when they do that!
Unfortunately, it seems like the energy field stays up.
Aranha's leg gets deflected by the position of the cane. With a grunt he pulls back his leg and plants his hands on the ground before sweeping the ground an inch away from the leg before elevating himself into a vertical position of a handstand and then lashing out with a rapid series of kicks upon his head.
He rather not talk when he is so guided by his rage. He's also less likely to make stupid mistakes while he is raging.
"Ugh..."
It's no use. Wing can tell fury when she sees it. She's a little surprised, but it's clear that Aranha is beyond reasoning with now. So, what-- is she supposed to be the brains of this operation? But it's not as though she knows how to operate the cannon. Or who to target-- though by the restless spirit of ODB, she plans on blowing /something/ up before this is all over--
Well, the point is moot, now. The two them manage to wrong-foot Wakamoto sufficiently that the old profiteer can't catch his assailant with the field he summons forth, but it does trap the two of them closer. The girl has a sinking feeling, given that her recent experience with proximity to Wakamoto didn't serve her too well, but if Aranha is wrapped up in this fight, then she's got no choice but to end this bastard quickly.
"History lesson, huh?"
Sadly, Wakamoto has found likely the least accessible audience for a lecture on the history of the Japanese merchant class. Wing is sneering about as sneerily as a tiny girl can as she dives forward, hurling herself behind Wakamoto in an effort to get up close and personal in the midst of Aranha's own assault.
"I've got a lesson for you, you creep--"
And, while still low, she aims a sliding sweep kick of her own, again interchanging body targets with her partner: while Aranha attacks high, this time, Wing attacks low, throwing all possible force into taking Wakamoto down and rendering him as vulnerable as possible to the capoerista's strikes.
"/You're/ fuckin' history!"
COMBATSYS: Wing has joined the fight here on the top side.
WAKAMOTO
[ |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
0|---------------|---============
[ ||||||||||||||||||||| ]
Wing 1|-------|=======
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Aranha 0/-------/------=|
COMBATSYS: Wakamoto blocks Aranha's Inverted Flurry.
WAKAMOTO
[ |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
0|---------------|--=============
[ ||||||||||||||||||||| ]
Wing 1|-------|=======
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Aranha 0/-------/------=|
COMBATSYS: Wakamoto blocks Wing's Light Kick.
WAKAMOTO
[ ||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
0|---------------|-==============
[ ||||||||||||||||||||| ]
Wing 1|-------|=======
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Aranha 0/-------/------=|
Wakamoto looks up slowly.
It seems the american rogue has lost his hat. How unfortunate. As much as Wakamoto might be a poor one to judge sanity right now, the boy is making it awfully clear he's operating off of some vengeance protocol rooted deep within his mind. Wakamoto so hates to interfere in family affairs.
Straightening, Wakamoto leans on his cane as the two attack him from different angles again, this time both closing in on him. Wakamoto frowns. "Am I..?" He steps forward into the attack pattern, stopping Wing's attack cold by twisting his cane the other way against her leg, his other arm flipping up high to shield himself against the flurry of blows from Aranha's inverted flurry of kicks, the acrobatics causing him to fold a touch.
"You.. teach me? What do you presume to teach? Impetuousness and impatience?"
Invoking the four points array on the head of his cane, Wakamoto chuckles.
"Let me assist you."
WARNING: IKIZUKURI-KAI LINKED AND INITIALIZED. DETACHING MAIN FIELD FROM EMITTER.
The words flash on the screen built into the desk behind Wakamoto, along with four fields of effect: The current field is just in front of Wing.
Wing.. will become distinctly aware of the air being lighter around her as it's charged with chi. And then slwly, there is a distinct hum. The space around her, the edges of Aranha's clothing, and the Kimon field behind her are the victim of over 80 slicing strokes of white chi in an instant. The field dissintegrates almost instantly as it contains the chaotic resonance.
Aranha's kicks eventually stop and he eventually stops and draws his legs in as he pulls back two steps on his hands. He then shoots his legs towards Wakamoto's waist. After that he twists his hips and attempts to launch him away from desk.
He wears a grim look in his eyes as he rights himself back up to his feet. He then dances, swaying to music in his head. But if his eyes are any indication there is no smile on his lips or in his heart.
COMBATSYS: Wakamoto successfully hits Wing with I ki zu ku ri.
WAKAMOTO
[ ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
1|-------------==|===============
[ ||||||||| ]
Wing 2|<<<<<<<|<<<<<<<
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Aranha 0/-------/------=|
Wing never saw it coming.
Her furious effort to assist Aranha in the venting of his rage goes horribly awry as she steps into a trap that may well have been awaiting her all along. Those spinning discs which her constant movements have hitherto evaded drive her, in part, too close to the man whose proximity so disgusts her. In so doing, they drive her into blades of an altogether different nature-- against which she has no experience, and no defense. Her instincts do not fail her completely: she senses the attack coming, as her hackles rise with the growing, humming, palpable intensity. But hurling herself away from Wakamoto, her natural response, is the wrong angle of approach. If she had thrown herself to the floor, perhaps she might have emerged unscathed.
As it is, her piercing scream cuts like the knives themselves.
She's been injured worse before -- see recorded images of her staggering around with two javelins sticking out of her -- but never quite so badly all at once. She is very nearly flayed, the tens of cuts lacerating her skin sewing a sickening quilt about her diminuitive frame, her white stolen jumpsuit shredding with her flesh. Reaching up to protect her eyes and face, she practically curls into the fetal position as her only defense, thrown back from Wakamoto. Falling to her knees, still bent in on herself, she does not remove her bloodied hands from her face even once the attack ceases, as though what she cannot see cannot exist. Like--
"Fuck... fuck...!"
--well, a child.
"You... bastard...!"
Coughing, shivering, Wing does her utmost to gather herself, focusing as ever on the growing intensity of her own fury, not in the least inspired by humiliation. At this desperate juncture, she has no other resort but her old tricks. Still--
"Don't you... fuck with me!"
As she rises to her feet on quivering legs, more than her pride is at stake.
She will ensure this mission's success. She will ensure Aranha's survival.
She'll redeem her past actions. She'll become more than what she seems to be.
Because she's the real deal.
COMBATSYS: Wing has joined the fight here in the center.
WAKAMOTO
[ ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
1|-------------==|===============
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Aranha 0/-------/------=|
[ ||||||||| ]
Wing 2|<<<<<<<|<<<<<<<
COMBATSYS: Wing gains composure.
WAKAMOTO
[ ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
1|-------------==|===============
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Aranha 0/-------/------=|
[ |||||||||||| ]
Wing 1|-======|=======
COMBATSYS: Wakamoto dodges Aranha's Strong Throw.
WAKAMOTO
[ ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
1|-------------==|===============
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Aranha 0/-------/------=|
[ |||||||||||| ]
Wing 1|-======|=======
"Well, well. Look at that."
Fresh blood coats the desk in a thick, syrupy blanket, the only parts of the desk clean being the ones that Wakamoto was conveniently standing in front of. Messy business, that--in the midst of dabbing excess from his face with a shredded handkerchief, Wakamoto steps on Aranha's feet as Aranha attempts to throw him away. The profiteer lands on his feet, heavily, off to the side of the killing field, which eventually slows, and stops, mercifully at some point before Wing ends up like a few of those tanks on the edge of Taizhou City, looking like diced onions.
Those trails of light follow along towards Wakamoto, the four-point array of lights whirling in front of him, stopping only when he strikes his cane down on the rightmost point, causing the flickering energy to dim. Whatever he's using to control the ninkou in this room, it's not the desk, and it seems like the quadrants that activated just now is controlled in direct relation to his own body.
Somewhat unsettlingly, the idea occurs that you might all be standing in a scything field controlled by a madman.
"You see, children... you had a chance, and then you decided to discard it, based on the idea that the unknown is better than the known." His eyes flick over Wing absently. "A laudible goal, if you were to consider the late Ryouhara's gospels as fact. Unfortunately, in your case, I would call it a little short-sighted."
Wakamoto grins lopsided at Aranha. "Now look at you. Sweating and panting, as you run the cage, forced to watch your friend cut to ribbons. A powerless warrior, manipulated by forces they cannot fully comprehend. Do you think that by dancing around a little bit, by showing me your serious face, that it will undo the choice that you made?"
Wakamoto grins, swaying a little.
"HeeH.... hoW DoES regret TAsTE?"
COMBATSYS: Wakamoto gathers his will.
WAKAMOTO
[ ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
1|------=========|===============
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Aranha 0/-------/------=|
[ |||||||||||| ]
Wing 1|-======|=======
Aranha continues to dance as he shifts to and fro. His movements while smooth and constant tend to be slightly different each time to the observant eye. His weight shifted differently, his torso moving slightly different from the last step in ginga.
He doesn't verbally respond to the goading. No. Talking needless invites mistakes. He's learned that fact the hard way too many times. All that he's focused on right now is the man before him, the job he has to do, to knock him down... The gum flapping, revenge, and saving their own bacon comes after.
He has yet to land a solid blow on Wakamoto and he intends to fix that. After all, one can't begin a journey unless they've taken the first step.
He lashes out with a kick with the instep of his foot in an attempt to smack Wakamoto's cane aside and open his guard, he then quickly tilts over with one hand on the ground as he attempts to snap down a kick with the other foot right on the side of the head.
Wing shudders, but gritting her teeth against agony and blocking out the sight of her own gore, she rises to her full, inconspicuous height, stepping forward. If Aranha isn't going to be dissuaded by Wakamoto's jeers, neither will she. Particularly not now.
"Ffffffff--"
Not when she's this pissed.
Again, relentlessly, she hurls herself forward, flipping spectacularly through the air to slide toward Wakamoto's opposite flank, once again acting in half-instinctive concert with her ally. She torques to the side as she does and unfolds into rolling low kicks, each sweeping out swiftly to cut at Wakamoto's legs once more. Once again, she goes low and Aranha aims high--
This time, though, it really is just a coincidence.
Her body strains against the effort, but her mind is once again steeled--
And her fury can countenance nothing less.
COMBATSYS: Wakamoto blocks Aranha's Snap Kick.
WAKAMOTO
[ ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
1|----===========|===============
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Aranha 0/-------/------=|
[ |||||||||| ]
Wing 1|-======|=======
COMBATSYS: Wing successfully hits Wakamoto with Crane Kickin' It Old Skool.
WAKAMOTO
[ ||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
1|--=============|===============
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Aranha 0/-------/------=|
[ |||||||||| ]
Wing 1|=======|=======
COMBATSYS: Wing has joined the fight here on the left meter side.
WAKAMOTO
[ ||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
1|--=============|===============
[ \\\\\\\\\\ < > ////////////////////////// ]
Wing 1/=======/=======|=------\-------\0 Aranha
"You know, you people are very poor conversation," Wakamoto notes.
The Rasenjin were temporary effects, minor versions of the same ninkou that Ryouhara intended to use, the side effect of Wakamoto's tinkering. Normally, they'd be fully capable of following someone across the city. Now, they're simply embedded in the wall. A terrible, terrible shame. After a moment of being growled at, Wakamoto is simply forced to frown as he's attacked again. It's almost tragic, the suffering he's about to inflict.
But then... that was his imperative, wasn't it?
That's what children need, after all. Love.
Marou Wakamoto puffs idly. "Fine, I can see you people aren't the intellectual types."
"Maybe I'll just polish your skulls and have conversations with those instead!"
Wakamoto engages the four point array seal on the top of his cane. The desk flashes. "REITERATE INITIATION SEQUENCE. RIGHT PORTION." At this point, the ground itself is starting to get torn up, this time re-engaging in a different point, slightly overlapping the previous position--the directions that array seems to reference are directly relative to Wakamoto, it seems. Long, guttering carves open in the air as Ikizukuri fills the air with a legion of whiteflash.
Wakamoto would take this moment explain the origins of the name Ikizukuri.
Unfortunately, he's not talking to you. So there.
Imagine his surprise when Wing slides up behind him a second later using the cover granted by what is probably going to be an extreme amount of blood from Aranha if he's not really quick about it, finally and mercifully knocking the war profiteer on his ass, hitting the ground like a lead doll. He does an excellent job of keeping hold of his cane--
But now you're just hurting his feelings--
See if he ever tries to make a deal with you people again.
COMBATSYS: Aranha endures Wakamoto's I ki zu ku ri!
WAKAMOTO
[ |||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
1|================|===============
[ \\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////// ]
Wing 1/=======/=======|=======\-------\1 Aranha
All the taunts... The references to parental discipline... While Aranha is brought to an end. The rage of the young black man begins to manifest in the form of glowing blue with angry wisps of chi is emitted from his form. Aranha's dance suddenly comes to a screeching halt.
There is a white flash and the slicing begins. But as that flash occurs, Aranha realizes something. His lack of success has come from doing things during this fight that formulaic and stereotypical to capoeira. If he wants to put Wakamoto down, he's going to need to one do something that first is so un-capoeira-like that it will come as a surprise, and secondly he's going to need to trust his ally. Trust. That's the one thing Aranha has always had trouble with and only now starting to now get a handle on.
Aranha charges through the field and is sliced up by it as he runs through before suddenly darting from his flank to the point in front of Wakamoto.
"Hey Wing! Hit the targets!"
And then he gets to work with a sudden jump as he bounces from wall and desks bouncing to and fro as he delivers chi enhanced kick after chi enhanced kick in a variety of locations on the profiteer's body leaving glowing blue spider webs on each of his hit locations and leaving it to Wing to make the best of the identified targets.
It is a mistake to believe that Aranha even in his rage is stupid and if all goes well, this will be yet more proof of that.
At last, he calls upon her.
And Wing is ready. Her own fury is at a fever pitch. For all Wakamoto's tricks, their teamwork, as it had with their enemy before him, has repeatedly exposed his vulnerability. Now, at last, they are purposely capitalizing upon what has been pushing their adversary to the limit: deliberately, Aranha crafts his assault so as to incorporate Wing's own. This time, however, there will be no varying up of their targets, no splitting of their force. This time, their impacts, though seperate, will be as one.
This time, they strike together.
"Yeah."
Wing's fierce, blood-streaked grin.
"You got it."
Her fists, shining gold.
She blurs forward, her roll having taken her again to Wakamoto's flank. With the intensity of Aranha's assault, and his courageous plowing through of the same wave of blades that felled her before, she may even be able to get the jump on Wakamoto, aware as he must be of her presence. Coming from the side thusly, her first strike will be a snapping phoenix hand, her arm reversing in on itself in a trapping mantis strike, aiming with precision for each of Aranha's glowing targets.
And then both fists will blur.
It's an endless stream of rapid strikes, the girl heedlessly unbalancing herself to hammer home upon each of the blue web markers; the more targets appear, the more choices Wing has upon which to strike. And choose she does, and not so predictably-- the golden glow that now suffuses her, that usually internalized chi, manifests itself as glowing afterimages, blitzing Wakamoto all the more fiercely.
"If you're so fuckin' smart, old man--"
One last target.
"--you'd know by now--"
One last punch.
"--TO GET THE FUCK OUT!"
And with it, with all the ragged, torn, raging girl's remaining strength, she thrusts out, screaming, in an effort to literally blast Wakamoto right out the great shattered window behind him, dust raining from the ceiling with the raw intensity of her attack.
Do what you want. She's not afraid.
Come on.
Bring the pain.
COMBATSYS: Aranha and Wing successfully hit Wakamoto with Bring the Pain.
WAKAMOTO
[ |||||| ]
1|================|===============
[ \\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////// ]
Wing 0/-------/----===|-------\-------\0 Aranha
He can still get on top of the situation here.
The rugrats weren't too bright--his Ikizukuri cutting field has been dicing them up like cucumbers. One or two more wrong moves, and they'll be as supple as kittens. Unfortunately, these are Wakamoto's musings in the postmortem. Admittedly, they are a little dated.
Each of this so-called 'Keith's' acrobatic kicks launch the profiteer inexorably in different directions. Finally, the levee of that impassable steel wall of a cane breaks. The sudden change in Aranha's patterns break his concentration. He misses one attack, and it seems to be enough--the rest seem to come from everywhere. If there's one thing about these brats.. he has to admit, they are quite quick when they need to be.
Covered in the translucent blue targets, Wakamoto spits blood angrily.
"I should thank the priest for leaving me such miserable scraps to feed off of--"
Wing moves in immediately after, following each of Aranha's kicks with blows of her own in a grisly game of hopscotch riddled over his body, knocking the profiteer against the mirrored glass with force enough to engage the arcane protections upon them, rupturing the lock and throwing the slides wide. Though it is nigh impossible to break this particular glass, Wakamoto is yet still forced onto the balcony that lays just beyond, to the pitch black night sky. "ENOUGH--!!" Wakamoto all but shrieks, trying to catch Wing by the throat on the end of his cane and throw her back inside the office, knocking her over the desk.
But for those given measures.. it's a touch too late. Wakamoto is already off balance, his feet clearing the floor. Shit--shit!! He's been beaten. "... At least.." Wakamoto groans...
"I can still...bargain in suffering."
The profiteer does the only thing he can do in this situation--draw a small kitbashed remote control from his sleeve, and hit a single button on it. Wing, if she was successfully thrown over the desk, might notice that the rich ebony finish of the desk is a facade--a covering. It's apparently been recovered several times. She'll notice why as several machined turrets pop out from dropped tapestries over the walls. They are ugly improvised things, not of Ryouhara manufacture and purely mechanical in nature. No less than six angry red laser pointers fix on targets in proximity to the desk. In that context, the desk is less a desk and more a sacrifical altar. You see, historically, Wakamoto's always described himself as a high priest of the Shouten doctrine. But every doctrine requires blood, doesn't it?
Each turret is basically a glorified robotic harness for an assault rifle.
The desk is an altar in sacrifice to Wakamoto's favored god; Avtomat Kalashnikova 47.
Though, oh--slight correction.
There is one more thing Wakamoto can do.
Shriek, cackling the whole way down the side of Bantiankong Chemicals.
COMBATSYS: Wakamoto can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\\\ < > /////////////// ]
Wing 0/-------/----===|-------\-------\0 Aranha
COMBATSYS: Wakamoto successfully hits Wing with 1947 Was A Good Year.
-+- CALCULATED HIT -+-
[ < > /////////////// ]
Wing 1/-----==/=======|-------\-------\0 Aranha
Wing stands with fist trembling wildly, her pupils dots, her grin feral.
"Heh... old man..."
And this time, she feels no remorse.
"You're just another life."
Ironic, really.
Shuddering with adrenaline and fatigue, bleeding from a thousand cuts, Wing watches with unabashed glee as the mad Wakamoto explodes through what remains of the windowpane, the wily profiteer having given his last lecture. She had been willing to give up her life. She was ready to sacrifice everything. She's not sure how it ended up like this; she's not even sure why she was so confused before. Once again consumed in the fog of war, everything makes sense. Or, at least, everything is equally nonsense, and therefore worthy of her wrath.
"Heh... ha ha ha!"
The tremulous would-be gangster turns grinning to her ally.
"Gonna be hard for him to talk down to us from the ground fl--"
The bullets silence her.
Wing's lips part in shock, her gaze growing vacant. The raging berserker fades from her petite frame, and what it leaves behind is, all at once and once again, a terrible confused little girl. The weapons spray almost random, but more than enough find their target. Three rip through her sliced-up abdomen-- as she doubles over, clasping her little palms to the wounds and eyes widening in abject shock even as the light within them begins to dim, one shot pierces her shoulder and another slams into her opposite arm. She is fortunate that these last fling her to the ground, spinning her to her knees as the rest fly by. Even before the magazines empty, though, Wing is, insanely, attempting to rise to her feet, too baffled to comprehend what's just happened to her.
Brows knitting, with the last of her strength, she looks over her shoulder, and as she gazes up at her only friend, confusion and fear are supplanted by an indescribable sorrow.
"...K...eith..."
A trail of blood dribbles from her thin lips.
"...I'm... sorry."
With aching slowness, her eyes return to the shattered window, and a sky that once seemed full of promise. Wing Xiaoping can hardly remember those days. Nothing flashes through her mind; nothing emerges to the forefront. Nothing, in fact, clamors to take precedence in her mind over this moment. It does not occur to her to reflect on her karma, or on atonement, or on what might have been. She does not regret her past crimes, or forgiveness unsought, or oaths left unfulfilled. No, just--
"F..."
Her tightening jaw.
"...fuck..."
COMBATSYS: Wing takes no action.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Aranha 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Wing can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Aranha 0/-------/-------|
But even the last of her pride--
"...this..."
--can't keep her alive.
Wing Xiaoping, would-be Queen of the Streets, sinks forward from her knees, and does not stir.
There is little time.
A decision must be made, and soon.
As Wing drives Wakamoto back, he slips to the side and then watches as the profiteer teeters on the edge. In that moment Aranha sees a few things slip from his grasp. The chance to truly tell off Wakamoto, especially for the all the things he said about being naughty and how close to home it. Especially since it was the abuse from his parents that drove his sister to suicide and him personally to homicide. He watches as his chance to find out what truly is going on slips from his grasp.
In the moment that is all forgotten when shots ring out. He can only watch helpless as Wing spontaneously gains more holes than swiss cheese. He becomes desperate ripping down curtains to staunch the bleeding with makeshift bandages and clothing.
When he's done his attempt at battlefield medicine, he rises to his feet and runs to the monitors and curses. He wants to fire it the weapon but simply put he has no idea where Shiraha is, the people who have it and no idea where he can put the players in relationship to where Katsuten is. When it comes down to it. He simpily just doesn't have neither the time nor the information to put the weapon to good use and so it remains unfired as he carries Wing out and attempts to find a hospital for her, before he is undone by own wounds.
COMBATSYS: Aranha has ended the fight here.
Log created on 22:41:30 07/08/2010 by Wing, and last modified on 17:14:32 07/31/2010.