Description: At long last, after endless frustration and agonizing search, the moment is perfectly timed. Detective Hon-Fu and his good friend Franco Bash, two men with their own bones to pick, lay seize to that lost but unforgotten remnant of the Syndicate: Ryuji Yamazaki. The battle is fierce, and the costs are dear. But for the sake of what is right, these two men will push to their limits-- and beyond. Yamazaki's reign of terror will be ended. He will be brought to justice, once and for all.
Do you know. How much spiced rum. It takes. To forget a transvestite hooker?
Captain Morgan, take me away.
Actually, that isn't entirely fair. Yamazaki's only gone through one bottle of rum, and that was only when the waitress couldn't get to the sake cases fast enough. "Kanpai," Yamazaki leers over a stack of small bottles and dishes, before knocking back another... whole.. bottle. In one go. He must have spent easily a couple hundred here. In American money. He must be able to see through time right now.
However, it isn't as if Yamazaki isn't used to it. He's a... career drinker, if you will. And also a career good-many-other-things, most of which is situated right in front of him in this seedy little ex-Syndicate strip joint/dive deep in downtown Southtown's crummiest regions. Well, you could say it's an ex-Syndicate place. If only because Yamazaki still frequents it. And is ex-Syndicate, and says everything and everyone else here by extension is as well.
What can he say? He likes the scenery.
Flanked on either side by giggling slightly inebriated hostesses with no more than perhaps a square foot and a half of clothing between them by a generous estimate (including the high heels..) Yamazaki is currently enjoying the night life.
"And then I says to im, 'I hate that fucking song!!' DAHAHAHAHAHAH-- .. IT'S FUNNY, LAUGH!"
Well, it's .. nervous giggling. Just a little. Hey, Yamazaki throws money around like water.
It's weird, given he doesn't have steady work anymore.
And he won't-- not for a long, long time.
Hon-Fu, renowned Interpol Agent. When necessary, a man capable of great subtlety, of fearless insinuation into the underground, of silence and subterfuge. When duty calls, a man committed to upholding the law and promoting the cause of justice, no matter how his personal feelings might interfere. A man entirely capable of self-control, when appropriate.
When necessary.
There is a sound louder than Yamazaki's laughter. A thunderous fulmination, equally that terrifying, boisterous noise. A cloud of dust and splinters accompanies it. It is a door, flying off its hinges.
"YAMAZAKI!!"
And a man, eyes widened, nunchaku clenched in fury.
The light from outside cuts through the gloom about this forsaken place, populated only by those remnants who remain in the long-settled wake of Howard's fall -- cuts through like a sword of truth through malfeasance and deceit. He sweeps in, tank top rippling over tightened muscles, sash whipping about, ignoring the other, already intimidated patrons. He stands, fearless, before his nemesis.
"At last, I've found you."
In his other hand is clenched his badge.
"Ryuji Yamazaki. You're under arrest."
Hon-Fu's voice is cool and tense, with rage barely checked.
"Surrender quietly."
A couple beats of silence pass before one of the bar's side windows explode inward, showering those inside with tiny shards of glass as a large man wearing black fatigue pants, a tight plain white tee, and a black Interpol cap rappels inside. "You're under arrest!" the huge mustachioed man bellows as he rolls into a crouch and brandishes a badge of his own, one that is plainly marked 'INTERPOL RESERVE' (those totally exist). %yInterpol Reservist Franco Bash glances around the room, taking in his partner standing in a totally badass pose and Yamazaki sitting at the table with his girls. A flash of frustration crosses the former mechanic's face as he glares at Hon-Fu and mouths, 'You were supposed to go on THREE' while holding gesturing toward the super cop with three outstretched fingers. Shaking his head curtly as he gathers himself, Bash rises out of his crouching pose and lifts his fists to his chest. "You heard the man, Ryuji. It's over."
All of a sudden, everything /stops/ in the club.
Let's get things straight--this is a former Syndicate establishment. Someone gets stabbed, the girls keep right on dancin. This joint's a little jaded. As any good club should be. But there's something a little different when a police unit comes in and declares that someone like Yamazaki is under arrest.
For the most part, Yamazaki doesn't seem to notice for a full twenty or so seconds. He's finishing his drink and his story. "Well, see, that kid--I think I wrapped the parking meter around him.. eh..." Ryuji scratches his spiky hair a bit, as if trying to remember through his alcohol induced haze. ".... like, twice? I dunno. I must've knocked like twenty bucks out that kid's five dollar ass, tho. Last time someone punches /me/ on the street... eh? What's going on? Why are you--"
Yamazaki leans up in his little front-and-center booth to the showfloor to look over his shoulder.
"What? Oh--shit, babe. It's just the cops, they think they're gonna arrest me, don't worry about it--wh--hey--HEY!!"
The massive man sort of tumbles out of his booth and faceplants in a pile of loose muscle as his girl in the blue pumps just sort of bolts for the dressing room. "S--h--Lina!! GET BACK-- ohh..." Yamazaki gathers himself up to sit on the floor, and looks back. The only thing left of Christie in the sparkle red pumps is the passion pink lipstick she left on Yamazaki's highball glass on the table. Yamazaki growls slow, a burgeoning, agonizing noise that sounds something like a washing machine being rolled slowly down a flight of stairs.
"You know.." Yamazaki starts quietly, one massive claw that some doctors would erroneously refer to as a male hand gripping the table. He leans back, looking at the confused-looking girl on the stage. "No--no. Keep singing, darlin. This ain't gonna take long.." See, he just clearly has to explain it to these two, they're definitely not versed in women. "There is such a thing as a cock block, kids... and you just cost me /double/." Yamazaki's muscles stand out like iron cables as he slowly pulls himself to his feet.
Anecdotally, Yamazaki seems a lot taller when he's kind've angry.
The gangster steps forward slowly, his long limbs seeming ever longer with every swaying step.
He cracks his knuckles, a sound like gunshots permeating the club.
"So. Seein' as how you two greasy corn-fuckers just ruined any chance of my night having a happy ending, which one of you is gonna dress up in a short skirt, long jacket, and entertain me for the rest of it?" Yamazaki glowers, and finally looks over his shoulder, "DJ!!!" the gangster /roars/. A glass on a table near Hon Fu just falls over and shatters on the floor. "Gimme a bad ass song!! I'm about to take a long walk up some short ass, and I want the beatin' to be on a soundtrack!"
Sweet Home Alabama's about the best staff can do, in the grip of absolute terror.
Hon-Fu's whole body is trembling. The badge quivers in the air.
Is he afraid? Is he paralyzed, petrified?
"Heh heh... heh heh heh."
The agent grins, eyes glinting with a fearless resolve.
"You don't remember me, Ryuji... but I remember you."
Even in the midst of what appears to be recklessness unto madness, Hon-Fu's eyes dart briefly over to his friend Bash -- whom he tragically pre-empted -- to quirk his eyebrows toward the gangster, and he keeps talking, the intensity of the gaze he brings back to bear on Yamazaki seeking to maintain his attention. "I won't bore you with the details of our last meeting. I'm glad to say it doesn't even matter how I feel about you. You're a bad man, Yamazaki. The world would be better off without you, as you are now. Maybe there's a spark of good hiding in you somewhere, you know? Maybe. I hear you get to do a lot of digging in prison, so-- only one way to find out."
That badge, clenched white-knuckled, lowers.
"But if you like--"
It slips into his pocket, gone. No cops and robbers now.
"I'll burn away the dross."
Man to man.
Who knows where Yamazaki's gaze is, or what he's paying attention to. Hon-Fu's self-control is better than his entrance makes it seem; he can hardly believe he's even putting words together. He's seeing red. This man-- this man-- whatever his bullshitting, he knows for sure.
"Yamazaki!"
This man is pure evil.
And still, Hon-Fu keeps his cool.
"You have one last chance to give yourself up, Yamazaki. Is it worth it to fight? Look at what you see around you. Is this the life you want to protect, that you want to keep leading? Why don't you give it a rest, for once in your miserable life? Now that everything you had has collapsed around you, why don't you just put down the knife?"
If Franco can just take the time to position himself, and prepare...
They can do this.
He's waited so long.
COMBATSYS: Hon-Fu has started a fight here.
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Hon-Fu 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Hon-Fu focuses on his next action.
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Hon-Fu 0/-------/-------|
Franco's flinty-eyed stare flickers briefly to the wretched employees of this dirty hovel that passes for a club as the man who once kidnapped his son unleashes that same vile temper on these poor, if not completely innocent people. His mouth tightens into a razor thin grimace as Hon-Fu gives him the ultra-secret police sign for -I'll distract him-. Bash's black and white Adidas sneaks slide across the glass-strewn floor of the club with much more stealth than one might attribute such a large man as he positions himself closer to the drunk and disorderly bastard's back.
A multitude of images flash in the single father's mind as he readies to spring at Ryuji; his son's sleepless nights as he his haunted by nightmares, the look of doubt as Franco tells him everything will be alright, and worst of all, the fear in his eyes as he was clutched in the gangster's grip after he and Hon-Fu finally tracked down him down.
"This is for Junior you son of a bitch!" the normally mild-mannered kickboxer bellows in his slightly slurred New York accent as he lunges at Ryuji, his meaty fists glowing with crackling blue energy as they fly toward the gangster's body, his combo of hook punches seeking to fling the criminal's large frame toward his partner in justice for an attack of his own. No need to hog all the fun.
COMBATSYS: Franco has joined the fight here on the left meter side.
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Franco 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Hon-Fu
COMBATSYS: Hon-Fu has joined the fight here on the left meter side.
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Franco 0/-------/-------|
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Hon-Fu 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Yamazaki has joined the fight here.
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Franco 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Yamazaki
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Hon-Fu 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Yamazaki endures Franco's Waving Blow.
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Franco 0/-------/------=|=------\-------\0 Yamazaki
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Hon-Fu 0/-------/-------|
"Ah.. ah.. Okay. I can tell you kids have a bone to pick with me."
Yamazaki's done a lot of bad things in his life.
"What was it? Did I eat your kid? Break your girlfriend in two?"
For most people, a short sprawl with Yamazaki can be the sort of thing that haunts their nightmares forever. But for Yamazaki, it was only... eh.. ... ...was it Tuesday? .. .. nah, it was Wednesday. Definitely wednesday. ... Maybe. Urgh, Yamazaki's going to have such a hangover in the morning. Doesn't matter. If Yamazaki has his way, it'll be /every day/ for these two, for ruining his night. "!" Yamazaki snaps his fingers in recognition, as the dirty barroom music starts to fill the room. His white fangs glow green in the passing of a disco beam.
"Oh, I know, I bet it was /your MOM/ that I bent--" GUAGH!
Yamazaki is (perhaps somewhat mercifully) cut short by Franco's deadly rush. One thing to note is that Franco is actually on the same scale as Yamazaki, even if the serpentine titan doesn't seem to notice. This gives their meeting a sort of cataclysmic effect as the Metro City kickboxer's fists pummel the grinning gangster's body. His entire form seems like iron that folds with unusual suppleness under Franco's blows, but Yamazaki otherwise makes very little attempt to defend himself as he stumbles around Franco towards Hon Fu, as if following along with the plan out of some perverse sense of amusement. "That limp trick shit all you got!? Let me tell you something--"
A bit of silver unfurls from Yamazaki's pocket, a butterfly knife twirling between his fingers as he quickly unfolds it with a series of harsh snaps. "Ain't nothin about protectin' some stupid life, it's about you, me, and you people understanding WHO HERE IS THE TOP DOG!!" Yamazaki cackles immediately as he stumbles forward fresh from Franco's attack, blundering into Hon Fu... before he just /explodes/ into a mind-bending explosion of limbs and knife. You see, Franco kind of just threw Yamazaki at Hon Fu. This is presumably a good tactical idea.
In much the same way that throwing a rabid pitbull at your friend is a good tactical idea.
Yamazaki cuts, and stabs, and thrusts. He's not, to tell the truth, really being very particular about where. Somewhere along the way, Jack Daniels got knifed and fell over, bleeding into a shotglass. That table is looking none too well either. After Yamazaki just tore it in half on his way through towards Hon Fu.
"TURN IT UP DJ!! I CANNOT HEAR YOU MARCUS!! TURN IT UP!!"
COMBATSYS: Hon-Fu fails to counter Sabaki no Aikuchi from Yamazaki with Kaoloon's Prediction EX.
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Franco 0/-------/------=|====---\-------\0 Yamazaki
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Hon-Fu 1/-------/=======|
Hon-Fu sees it coming a mile away.
"Heh heh h--"
It doesn't help.
"--hooooh hellllll--"
He remembers how fast this guy is. Really, he does. Who could forget such a surreal opponent: his power, his resilience, his bizarre and inhuman movements. Ryuji Yamazaki is on a different level: he's a monster. Hon-Fu accepts that. And he's hardly too proud to admit he needs the help of his friends to take down a beast like this. He's brave, not a fool.
But he is occasionally foolish.
Hon-Fu's whirling nunchaku is more than ready for Yamazaki's assault-- but not for his raw strength. It's one thing to wrap the chain of his dancing weapon against the oncoming blade, preventing Yamazaki from scoring an instant brutal strike. It's another to neatly disarm him, as the detective has done to lesser foes countless times before. In fact, Yamazaki is already in a frothing rage. Hon-Fu's eyes bulge as he instead finds /himself/ jerked about like a puppet.
"Whooaaa--"
Yamazaki may be the pitbull, but Hon-Fu's wearing the collar and leash.
Ultimately, Hon-Fu's own weapon is torn from his grasp, sending flying to embed itself in the glass frame of a table. "Gyaaahh!" That shearing blade is able to carve two deep gashes across Hon-Fu's chest, his nemesis's sheer mass driving him back and away, before Hon-Fu wildly improvises, jumping to kick off of the madman and desperately flee the encounter. Not worth it; not worth it!
He crashes through what remains of the glass table-pane through which his weapon fell, and ends up staggering to his feet picking glass out of his arm. It's still better than that knife. God, it is better.
"That hurt," Hon-Fu growls through gritted teeth, "/so much/."
A low growl escapes Franco's lips as his partner in justice is slash, gashed, and bashed by the psychotic gangster. "You're just making things worse Ryuji!" Cracking his knuckles loudly as he stalks a slow circle around the criminal, Bash smoothly snatches up a half empty beer bottle from one of the few remaining undamaged tables and drains the brew in one large gulp before letting the amber glass fall to the ground with a crash.
"Tell ya the thruth, I'm glad ya didn't surrender. I won't be able to hit ya when yer behind bars, and hittin a bum like you is just so satisfying," Franco admits as he wipes some beer foam with the forearm of his left hand. Rolling his hugely muscled shoulders as he takes a couple large steps toward Yamazaki, Franco winds up with his left arm and windmills his right fist overhand like a softball pitcher throwing a fastball. Bright cerulean energy streams off of his clenched fist as it ripples through the air in an arc towards the ground where it transfers violently into the club floor as his fist makes contact, the blue energy exploding out of the floor sending more wood and glass shrapnel busting up at regular intervals as the blast of chi zeros in on the ex-Syndicate gangster.
COMBATSYS: Yamazaki endures Franco's Zapper.
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Franco 0/-------/----===|=====--\-------\0 Yamazaki
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Hon-Fu 1/-------/=======|
After Yamazaki gets done with carving his name and probably a few of his stripper friends' names in Hon Fu's ass (he probably intended to give the chinaman to one of them as a valentine), the gangster bends his back broadly, absorbing the shock fron Hon Fu's rough kick off and fueling a hysterical frothing belly laugh, bending far enough to put some contortionists to shame. Blood spatters the floorboards around him, some of it his, and some of it belonging to his evening's new entertainment.
"Hoo!! We ain't but just getting started, General Tso!! Don't chicken out on me now!!"
Then someone behind him gets his attention by calling him Ryuji.
"....ehn?" Yamazaki opens one bloodshot eye wider than the other, possibly reaching the size of a dinner plate. You can literally count the veins standing out in his eyeball as he fixes it on Franco. Understand--Yamazaki is still bent all the way backwards, so he's eyeing the kickboxer upside down. Slowly, his knife snaps shut, and his hand slips back into his pocket with it. It is entirely clear in that exact moment that Franco has his full attention. He didn't like that. ".... Hitting me is satisfying? I hope you're getting off on this, big boy... cus I don't feel a /fuckin/ thing."
As if to punctuate his point, Yamazaki whirls on Franco in one moment and stops the chi explosion reverberating through the floorboards with the underside of his expensive italian boots. His hand still in his pocket, Yamazaki's free hand sways, the flashing bursts of blue chi struggling to keep pace against his weight, explosions ripping through his pant leg as he looks at Franco with that tilted, asymmetrical and thuroughly ugly expression.
"I don't think you limpwrists really get it. Ya don't. You come in here, ruin my good time, and then don't even give me the benefit of entertaining me? If you ain't gonna give it to me, I'm just gonna have to use your pointy head.." Engulfed in the blue flash of power, Yamazaki finally just leans forward, stamping Franco's blast out. The shock of Yamazaki's strength meeting that much explosive force buckles the club, ripping at Yamazaki's clothes as the now openly bleeding mercenary stalks right through the blast inexorably towards Franco.
One of the DJ's computers falls off of the desk with the force of the explosion that Yamazaki just walked through. Sweet Home Alabama comes to a crashing stop as Yamazaki's long shadow creeps over Franco when he approaches, and the soundsystems click audibly as, despite the jockey's best efforts, the track changes. "C'mere, twerp..."
Have you ever been shot by a battleship cannon?
That's about what Yamazaki's uppercut feels like.
o/` Sunshine, lollipops and rainbows, everything that's wonderful is what I feel.. o/`
COMBATSYS: Yamazaki successfully hits Franco with Yondan Drill.
- Power hit! -
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Franco 1/-======/=======|==-----\-------\0 Yamazaki
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Hon-Fu 1/-------/=======|
What follows is possibly one of the worst beatings ever committed in a strip club. There is an audible squeal from the strippers as Yamazaki cackles wildly, his arm going off like a main gun in Franco's body, knocking him right up onto the stage, shortly followed by Yamazaki, the entire booth that he /was/ sitting in a second ago, torn off of its moorings and used to smash Franco onto the underside like a bug. This is shortly before Yamazaki swings the entire piece of furniture a full 360 degrees around him--presumably with the kickboxer on the wrong side before he folds the entire mass into a narrow U shape around the stripper pole, howling the entire way.
For the record, strippers are flying /everywhere/.
"I'm gonna only tell you candyasses ONE FUCKING TIME!!" Yamazaki rages to the mass of furniture and well oiled pole. There is the sound of grinding force as Yamazaki's pocketed fist slides from his pocket. Then, becoming briefly longer than any human has a right to be, Yamazaki launches himself bodily through the entire mass of furniture, drilling the entire affair with deadly grinding chi into splinters, going through the stripper pole, and probably landing to knock down a wall at the far end of the club leading to one of the dressing rooms.
"THE NAME.. IS _YAMAZAKI_!!!!"
o/` Everything that's wonderful is sure to come your way, when you're in love to stay o/`
"--And turn that bullshit off before I make you eat it!"
Holy shit.
Hon-Fu looks up half-way through picking the rest of the glass from the table he fell through out of his arm and his jaw drops. He's seen Yamazaki fight, seen what he can do-- we've been through this. But a sight like this, well, doesn't exactly get old. Also, poor Franco.
"Uhh--"
But there is only the briefest moment of shock before pure, unbridled fury seizes the frenetic detective once again, his grip tightening about his nunchaku so intensely that his bleeding quickens. "You-- son of--"
The bastard doesn't /deserve/ to be this powerful.
"I'll tear those arms OFF!"
Spewing spittle everywhere, Hon-Fu rushes at the monster's back without a moment more to spare, moving as quickly as he can -- even if it is too late -- to his friend and ally's rescue.
"YAMAZAKIIIIII!"
Well, someone was listening.
What emerges is a veritable torrent of flame, a swirling maelstrom of rage and destruction. Admittedly, in comparison to the havoc that the living nightmare before them has already wreaked, the remaining conscious strippers are unlikely to be impressed (though, in this /particular/ case, impressing strippers does not happen to be Hon-Fu's objective), but the ferocity of the incensed detective cannot be discounted. Drawing from deep within him, every last reserve all at once engaged, adrenaline streaming through his veins, Hon-Fu's whirling nunchaku creates such a heated wind about it that by the time he has reached Yamazaki he appears to himself be a tornado of flame, only the shadow of a man visible through it.
A small end-table is swept up in his wake. Hon-Fu promptly kicks it forcefully at the back of Yamazaki's head, his leg briefly emerging from his own curtain of fire.
"EAT /THIS/!"
That blurring nunchaku aims to crack repeatedly against his foe's skull, as Hon-Fu plows bodily into the hulking man, seeking to absorb him into that painful storm.
What is assuredly the most violent and painful moment of Franco Bash's life seems to pass in slow motion as Yamazaki (Not Ryuji NEVER Ryuji!) sends the large kickboxer tumbling onto the main stage with a jackhammer blow to his midsection that rings out like John Henry driving steel.
Franco barely hears the grotesque twisting of wood and steel as the gangster tears the booth loose and... well, let's just say that Franco doesn't really remember what happens next. His brain does the ex-mechanic a solid and sort of edits the rest out with the blessed release of shock.
"......"
"........."
"..........hnnggh..." Franco groans as he begins to stir, his entire body on fire with pain as something deep within him manages to rouse himself from unconcsciousness. Something masocistic to be sure. Franco's body appears to be covered in either blood or scraps of fabric, but little else. It is a good thing he landed in the dressing room because he's not very decent at the moment.
Bash writhes once more before deciding that it just hurts too damn much to move at this point, hopefully his adreniline will kick back in momentarily because there's no way he's leaving Hon-Fu alone with that monster for much longer, not if there's still breath in his lungs, which, despite Yamazaki's best efforts there is. Barely.
COMBATSYS: Franco gains composure.
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Franco 1/--=====/=======|==-----\-------\0 Yamazaki
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Hon-Fu 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Yamazaki fails to interrupt Exploding Goro from Hon-Fu with Sadomazo.
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Franco 1/--=====/=======|====---\-------\0 Yamazaki
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Hon-Fu 0/-------/-------|
Yamazaki whoops and hollers, his frame lurching back as he reaches up slowly and shrieks, spraying spittle everywhere as he slings his skull around with wild abandon over his handiwork. "Now that's what I'm talking about! You cotton snorting short bus riding beanhead freakjobs better realize what a party is before you step into my shower!!" He rants, halfway between roaring and seething as he stands. Mercifully, the somewhat misplaced track is cut rather quickly, sometime after Yamazaki threatens to make the DJ eat his own soundsystem. It's gonna be a bit before he gets his setup back though, which leaves Yamazaki without anything to jam to.
The gangster points violently at Franco, somewhere behind the wall, "You're under Yamazaki's arrest now! You got the right to be creamed again if you even dream about moving!! I gotta go make your partner eat his own haircut!!"
CRASH! A table breaks over Yamazaki's back. "Hello! e_e"
"You finally got somethin' for me, Pez Dispenser!?" Yamazaki snarls, turning around to face the firestorm, "GIVE IT TO ME--guh!!" At that point, the criminal is just thuroughly thrashed full on in the face with nunchaku-based justice, finally and for once actually seeming like he even notices the beatings these two have been unloading on him since they got here. Well--to be fair, it seems like he might finally be enjoying himself, by that logic. But more importantly, he isn't walking through the beatings and the fire to grip Hon Fu's head. Instead, he's being knocked over what's left of the tables in the area and crushing them beneath his weight.
And perhaps even more importantly than the previous two items, Yamazaki has been set on fire. "YEEAAHHH!!"
Yeah.
"Yeah."
Yeah!
"YEAH!!"
Hon-Fu, incredibly sexy and stylish haircut fluttering in the passing breeze from his own attack, echoes Yamazaki's own exultant cry without intending to, pumping his nunchaku-clenching fist in the air as he does a little, uh, what appears to be a little victory dance. "Take that! You ass! See this end of my nunchaku!?" He waves it at Yamazaki's collasped frame. "This end is for your mother! And this end!?" He shifts his grip, nimbly flipping the nunchaku in the air to catch the other side, whereupon he gestures passionately at his foe with the other.
"ALSO FOR YOUR MOTHER!"
He's a real gem of the police department.
"WHHHUUUUUUAH!"
Thrilling with the intensity of his rage, brimming with fearless confidence and clearly ignoring the deep wounds he's already suffered, Hon-Fu trembles with rising spirit, his eyes twitching obsessively. Now. Now is the time for great justice. He knows Franco survived that insane blow, no matter how terrible, knows it in his bones.
"Get up, Yamazaki!"
Hon-Fu's glare is as righteous his flame.
"I'm gonna cook your goose!"
What?
COMBATSYS: Hon-Fu enters a trance-like state.
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Franco 1/--=====/=======|====---\-------\0 Yamazaki
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Hon-Fu 0/-------/------=|
A pair of half-naked strippers peek out from behind an overturned vanity laying a couple feet from the motionless kickboxing Interpol Reserve officer. 'Is he dead?' they wonder fearfully. One of the strippers, the brave one apparently, leans forward and reaches over the upturned piece of furniture, hesitantly poking at Franco's shoulder. 'It seems like he's dead,' she whispers, looking back at her mascara-smeared compatriot.
"Not... yet lady..." Franco replies between a wracking cough as he grabs the woman's prodding wrist before she can yelp and snatch it back. "...but I'm workin' on it," he adds with a pained wink as he releases the topless woman's wrist and slowly pushes himself to his feet.
"Uhh... sorry about the show ladies," Franco apologizes with a smirk as he acknowledges his torn and tattered clothing that doesn't leave much to the imagination. "I don't see anything in here in my size."
But enough flirting, back to business. "Huh... Nice job Hon-Fu," Franco says with a grin as he survays the almost unrecognizably destroyed club. "Looks like yer on fire... Yamazaki," No sense in provoking the man further. "Lemme help you with that pal," he sneers as he passes by the DJ whose set-up is amazingly not totally destroyed. "Play somethin for me DJ, I trust yer taste." Not surprisingly Franco's tastes seem to run along the lines of strip club fare.
"Anyway, about that fire, this should help put it out!" Franco growls as he clenches both fists above his head and brings those massive meathooks down toward Yamazaki's prone form in the form of a massive double-hammerblow just as Hammer To Fall by Queen starts playing over the sound system. Good job DJ. If the double axe-handle smash hits Franco will quickly reverse the direction of his fists to fling Yamazaki into the air amid a large cyclone of chi that should help propel him toward and maybe even THROUGH the roof of the club.
COMBATSYS: Franco successfully hits Yamazaki with Megaton Scruncher.
- Power hit! -
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Franco 0/-------/--=====|=======\-------\0 Yamazaki
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Hon-Fu 0/-------/------=|
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Franco 0/-------/--=====|=======\-------\0 Yamazaki
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Hon-Fu 0/-------/------=|
Yamazaki tears a table in half with one claw.
"Th hell'd you say, powder puff!?"
Howling, the mercenary isn't much for witty commentary anymore as he's currently on fire. More conflagration than man at this point, Yamazaki's stomping around the immediate vicinity like a raving maniac or possibly Godzilla. He's doing less focused destruction as moreover just breaking anything that gets in his way. Tables, chairs, booths, walls, patrons, doesn't really matter what at this point.
"I LOVE THIS GAME!! C'mere!!" Wait, that's not Hon Fu. That's just--*punch* "augh!!" A rubbernecker got too close, and goes sliding into a TV. It's mayhem and pandemonium out there!
Fortunately, before the storm of fists and claws gets over to Hon Fu, a somewhat distressingly naked Franco manages to catch Yamazaki in the shoulders, stumbling the titan and ruining his moment in addition to the scenery of the club. Crumpling beneath the force, Franco just blows Yamazaki clear into the ceiling with the force of a typhoon. One that shatters the entire thing and shoots Yamazaki into the night sky.
...
...where'd he go?
Did he run away agai--
"FUCK YOUR BASH!"
Ripping a whole 'nother section of roof out, Yamazaki comes down from the sky hand-first onto Franco's head, as if to get a good grip on his skull and drive him face-first into the carpet to get a good whiff of the kind of cigarettes mobsters smoke. See--keep in mind, Yamazaki's vise of a hand is quite large enough to grip Bash by pretty much anything he wants. Be lucky he's only going for the head. The gangster lands, his body sizzling.
".... Thought I told you to sit still," Yamazaki seethes.
COMBATSYS: Yamazaki successfully hits Franco with Guillotine.
[ \\\ < > ///////// ]
Franco 1/--=====/=======|==-----\-------\0 Yamazaki
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Hon-Fu 0/-------/------=|
Whoa.
"Not bad, buddy!"
Hon-Fu's eyes are wide, his simmering fury actually somewhat forgotten when he sees the glorious kickboxer emerge from the darkness to literally explode into their distracted adversary -- quietly, the detective credits his own insults -- a cyclone of energy tearing him into the sky. The Chinaman's affirmative comment echoes through the silence, otherwise marred only by a shingle falling.
"Well, uh-- we may have--"
Nope.
"--shit!"
He doesn't waste the time to see what happens to his friend. Hon-Fu is already moving. He won't get there in time to intervene, but every moment counts; however this ends, he will relentlessly seek to seize the momentum, plowing into the currently-occupied beast of a man with every ounce of energy he possesses.
"Gyaaaaahh!"
Nunchaku quickly whirl out to hammer into the giant's sides as soon as he hits the ground, Hon-Fu twisting artfully with the motion, a graceful and sinuous movement--
"Bastard!!"
--to plow his forehead toward Yamazaki's face.
"Che....I told you, you're under arrest."
One hand still in pocket, Yamazaki's got Franco's head pinned down with his other. For the first part, landing on your face with 200+ pounds of Yamazaki behind it isn't going to feel good to start with, especially seeing as how Yamazaki's grip is tight like he's trying to jelly some toast with your grey matter. The maniac pants, slow and restless. "See... I thought you'd know who's the real law around these parts."
Black energy crawls down Yamazaki's free arm.
"Papa spank."
And then the gangster explodes on top of Franco, the ground and carpet shredding to pieces beneath him. Cocking one leg back, Yamazaki drives in. The aim is just to use that guy's skull as a football he's trying to put through some goalposts. Hey, those two patrons will do. "HOLD STILL," he yells after! Don't move or it'll mess up his shot!!
Franco turns toward his partner and shoots him a grin that is amazingly still pearly white despite every other inch of his naked body being covered in blood. "We better get up to the roof bef-" Hold that thought. Franco's words are suddenly muffled by a gnarly claw-like hand as Yamazaki finishes plummeting through the roof and back to earth. He DID tell him to sit still.
Franco sails between the two patrons who are dumb enough to still be standing around in this warzone. Skidding to a stop, Franco groans softly for a second, but doesn't /actually/ look any worse for ware... mostly because he already looked like he got hit by a train. Looks can be deceiving though. That hurt like hell.
"Hnng... I'm not done yet Yamazaki. I'll never stop... until yer brought to justice... Never." Using every last ounce of his energy to drag himself to his feet, Franco steadies himself on a nearby broken table, his legs seeming unwilling to support his weight. "I ain't goin down until I see you apprehended.
COMBATSYS: Franco focuses on his next action.
[ \\\\\ < > ///////// ]
Franco 1/--=====/=======|==-----\-------\0 Yamazaki
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Hon-Fu 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Franco prepares to take his last stand against Yamazaki!
[ \\\\\ < > ///////// ]
Franco 1/--=====/=======|==-----\-------\0 Yamazaki
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Hon-Fu 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Yamazaki endures Hon-Fu's Headbutt Exit.
[ \\\\\ < > ////// ]
Franco 1/--=====/=======|===----\-------\0 Yamazaki
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Hon-Fu 0/-------/------=|
"Hoo..." Yamazaki stands quickly to his full height, one hand sliding back into his pocket as he rolls the shoulder of one long arm in its socket, the sound of cracking, popping bone audible even over the music as the gangster limbers up. He slings the blood off of his hand with a fast whipping motion, and his arm seems to extend much longer than it actually is in the process.
Hon Fu's on top of him immediately, slamming his skull into Yamazaki's, and driving the gangster's head all the way back until his spine cracks too--yeah, you can /hear/ his individual vertebrae pop. But Yamazaki doesn't move further from that point. "H--hurk..."
"H--Ehehe.."
By now, for all of the asskicking the gangster's been unloading, his upper torso and the strained lines of his muscle shirt as a veritable nightmare to any applicable dry cleaning. "HA!!" he barks harshly, as he manages to see past the blood on his own forehead. Franco.. still manages to stand after having his jaw folded like origami. "Surprised you twerps don't bust up like valentine's day candy, for all the love taps you been handing out!! Heh heh... you two ladies last a little longer, I might have to pay you to stick around after the /show!/"
Suddenly, there is the rush of wind as Yamazaki rights himself and attempts to scoop Hon Fu bodily off of the ground with one hand, point him towards Franco, and then ram the chinaman into the ground like a tent peg using only the broad, cut dome of his skull. It's much similar to a large caliber artillery shell. In that his skull shares properties with metal. And that there is a massive explosion at the end. "NOW SIDDOWN!"
COMBATSYS: Hon-Fu blocks Yamazaki's Bomb Headbutt.
[ \\\\\ < > ///// ]
Franco 1/--=====/=======|===----\-------\0 Yamazaki
[ \\\\\\\\\\ <
Hon-Fu 0/-------/---====|
Silence.
A moment of silence, please.
The dust is settling. They are frozen in place, like dancers dipped at the end of a tango, locked in a tense, unforgettable embrace. The sound of glass tinkling; wood faintly splintering; the ceiling above creaking in protest. And then, silence.
And then--
"No."
Hon-Fu, legs trembling, eyes blood-shot.
Spittle flecks his lips. His whole body is quaking. But he is standing, his forehead pressed against Yamazaki's, somehow supporting the bestial man's mighty weight. The nunchaku-wielding detective looks like he might collapse at any moment, and yet-- that look in his eyes--
"N... Never."
He gasps it out, with shuddering breath.
And then he smiles, because--
"Ever."
He may have already succeeded.
For his inexplicable resistance may have captured Yamazaki's attention for just long enough. By the time the monstrous titan realizes what has happened, Hon-Fu will already be moving, seeking to /force/ the man's attention him now. Nunchaku blazing, like a furious stallion the detective launches into him, wailing in more ways than one.
"HUUUUAAAAAH!"
It's an assault, but it's also a distraction...
Franco Bash is fearsome sight. Naked as he is and covered in blood, most of it his own, there is an almost primal, rebirth-like nature about the Hell's Kitchen native as he pulls upon the very last dregs of strength within his body, forcing the energy into his limbs, willing himself to rush forward with a speed that seems unnatural for such a thick beast of a man.
"Hnnnnngggrrrraaaah!" Bash growls gutturally as his best friend stands toe to toe with the psychotic gangster that they came to stop; and as Hon-Fu attempts to press Yamazaki closer and closer Franco quickly closes what distance is left, quickly unleashing a pair of powerful uppercuts with the aim of launching Yamazaki into the air once more, though this time not out onto the roof.
If he is able to get the equally large man aloft yet again, Bash will quickly unleash three savage straight punches as he bull rushes forward, striking Yamazaki before he is able to finish his descent and cap off the entire barrage with a spinning back kick that utilizes every ounce of power in the kickboxer's thickly muscled tree trunk legs.
Were one able to see into the flurry of motion he might see streaks of water running from the large fighter's eyes; justice is at hand, if this last final push hits its mark his son will once again be able to sleep at night, the monster caged safely in his cell.
COMBATSYS: Yamazaki fails to reflect Fire Stallion from Hon-Fu with Bai Gaeshi and is struck by Horsemen of the Apocalypse from Hon-Fu and Franco.
[ \\\\\ < > ]
Franco 0/-------/------=|=======\-------\0 Yamazaki
[ \\\\\\\\ <
Hon-Fu 0/-------/----===|
COMBATSYS: Yamazaki can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\ <
Franco 0/-------/------=|
[ \\\\\\\\ <
Hon-Fu 0/-------/----===|
"..ehn?"
Yamazaki raises an eyebrow.
First off, you have to understand the concept of 'magnitude.' Yamazaki's jaw, at full distension, is probably large enough to eat Hon Fu's head. Not to mention Yamazaki's skull has been run over by cars before with little notice. Now imagine every vein and corded muscle in that shark-like head, neck and jaw standing out. His hair rises in agitated fins from the panic of the battle, and the force of the headbutt. A headbutt that could--and has--shattered concrete before trivially. Now imagine a man, grinning bloodily, holding his ground against all of Yamazaki's weight.
You can understand why Yamazaki is slightly perplexed.
As Hon Fu tries to knock Yamazaki off balance, the gangster leaps back, "Hrngh!" And fianlly just whips a claw out. His hand blurring at the same speed as the officer's nunchaku, he grips the business end of Hon Fu's flaming nunchaku with a flexed arm, his hand crackling with that same metal grinding force as it clashes with Hon Fu's stallionfire. "Don't get cocky, pea-nuts, you ain't got what it takes to take what I got," he growls. "Me, on the other hand--well, let's see what you got, smallfrie--BURP!!"
All of a sudden Yamazaki gets punched right into the air by not one, but two (it takes two fierce uppercuts, for the record, to get Yamazaki to leave the ground this time) monster uppercuts, his body drifting heavily in the air as suddenly he's introduced to a whole world of hurt. "Wh--what?!" The gangster shrieks haggardly, finally realizing exactly how tired he is of these two yahoos. "You wanna go!? LET'S GO!! COME ON!!" He's assaulted on both sides, flaming nunchucks and brutal fists wearing him down on both sides. But the brawler doesn't take it lying down--no. Yamazaki flails out in a massive dust wave of unfocused force, punching at either one of them with blurring hands that seem a little too fast and too long to really be human as he kicks up a massive dust cloud in the middle of the club (mostly composed of stripper glitter and mortar dust) as the corona of a massive orgy of violence against.. well, sadly, more of the surrounding enviroment than the two assailants.
At some point, Yamazaki may have in fact even punched himself in the face, that's how many punches were thrown in the last few seconds of what is now officially, to the gangster, one 'damn good time.'
Presumably, some time later, Yamazaki might be drug out of the club, fighting against a pair of handcuffs the whole way. "WHAT!! This isn't the end of me! It's not a party unless someone gets arrested, you fucks! --HEY--YOU JUST WAIT FOR ME!! GET YOUR HAND OFF MY HEAD--NRGH!"
By the time Yamazaki is being drug out of the club, Hon-Fu, thoroughly bloodied -- and having still missed a stray piece of glass stuck in his arm -- is leaning upon the sole remaining couch in the place, miraculously having only had the upholstery ripped up rather than being completely splintered into non-existence like literally all the other furniture in the room. Benches, tables, tableware, the stripper pole-- all mangled and ruined. It's a wasteland, and Hon-Fu, his blood-stained and still slightly smoking nunchuks dangling from one foot, the leather folder that contains his badge draped over his eyes, is grinning.
Grinning big.
Idly, as he hears Yamazaki's shouts, he plucks the badge from his eyes and glances over, waggling his eyebrows. Casually he lurches to his feet, managing somehow not to wince as he hears his bones crack, and looks up over to the raving gangster.
"Enjoy prison, Ryuji," he calls cheerful. "Hell with training wheels, you know."
And then, still looking Yamazaki in the eyes--
"CHAKOW!"
He begins to dance.
He is dancing, right at Yamazaki, while humming loudly to himself.
"Ba-bow-bow-BOOWWW-bow-bow-bow-BOWWWW--"
He calls it the Fuck Yamazaki Dance.
He's been practicing for this day.
"So that's the Fuck Yamazaki Dance you've been talking about huh?" Franco Bash rumbles as he walks up behind his partner in justice. The large kickboxer is still covered in blood, but the gore covering his face has since been wiped away and cleaned out of his mustache.
"Ya know, it might be the blood loss talking," he says with his teeth clenched around a victory cigar as he cinches a sheer pink robe lined with pink leopard print fur over his body, "But that was even better than I thought it was going to be. You've been practicing." So he did manage to find something in his size in the dressing room after all. The robe only hangs down to about mid-thigh, but it just wouldn't be decent to walk out in front of the gathering reporters outside naked.
”Let's go partner. I think we deserve a few brews and well, looks like someone trashed this dive,” Franco says with a triumphant grin. This day was a long time coming.
"Hey--HEY--" Yamazaki bursts halfway out of the police cruiser, waving one of the massive gray 'soaking blocks' (or more colloquially, 'mittens') the agents have slapped over his hands to keep him from tearing the car in half from behind his back, probably an ample safety measure, given that Yamazaki has snapped handcuffs in half before. Luckily you can't see the gestures he's making from inside them.
"Don't you call me Ryuji! I'll feed you to the fucking sharks you--OHH! OH!!" He's dancing now! "FUCK YOUR DANCE HON FU! HEY--" At this point two agents are stuffing him into the car with all four hands. "FUCK YOUR DANCE!! I'LL DO YOUR DANCE IN YOUR ASS! IN YOUR ASS, MOTHERFUCKER!! Don't think I forgot about you Pigpen!! I've got a whole list of shit I'm gonna do to you when I get out! DO YOU WANT TO SEE--"
"He's going for his pocket!!"
"Taze him!"
"ARGH--feels like your grandma did when I was--"
"AGAIN o_O"
"AUuuuugh!!"
The car slowly gets on its way, with Yamazaki raging the whole way, and rocking the car periodically while doing so. Between tazes.
Log created on 00:53:42 10/11/2010 by Hon-Fu, and last modified on 23:26:15 10/24/2010.