Description: The flamboyant Frenchman thought he could just put the past behind him, forget all about a certain Saturday Night Fight involving Nahid, Marisol O'Connell and a 'woman' by the name of Ashley Crimson. Nope. Months later, Ash is sent the bill for damages incurred. Entirely unwilling to accept this outrage, the flamewielder marches his butt down to the closest SNF Office and gets to meet the great Ken Masters. And punch him. Set his boardroom on fire. Ruin his birthday shirt. Even though Ash loses, at least he doesn't have to pay up!
Just when everything seems perfect, something always has to go wrong.
Enter flashback...
The start of New Year was wonderful indeed. He spent the night in celebration, and then Ash Crimson - a flamewielding enigma of a man from France - awoke early. Rolling his secret cot away and storing it neatly in the closet, he busied himself with breakfast preparations. Shenwoo left sometime before noon, so the man plopped down on the couch, alone, eating toast and scrambled eggs, channel surfing through various soaps until the discovery of long forgotten favourite program.
Two hours later, once he had caught up on all the twists and turns he had missed, Ash went to collect the mail. Therein, he found an interesting letter... Which was not actually a letter at all. It was a bill, disguised as a letter, and it was from a certain onsen he fought at nearly two months prior. Frowning, the Frenchman briefly scanned the document, then he folded it up, placed the bill in a jacket pocket, showered, and marched on down to here, Southtown's business district. He was looking for a local Saturday Night Fight office.
Ash Crimson is a man who hates to pay his way, for the record. He's a moocher, and general lay-about good-for-nothing. ... But this time, the Frenchman is right. He shouldn't have to shell out a single yen for this. It's not his fault that certain individuals did not properly handle his file, and that the financial branch mucked up with their payment. He's only here to set the record straight: Ash fought, and it's their job to cover damages! Or in the onsen's case, the loss of customers due to his fighting in the women's side of the baths! *cough*
Back to the present...
Wrapped up in his warm winter jacket, white woolen scarf twisted around his neck as if it were some sort of floofy cravat, the platinum blonde-haired, freckle-faced fighter looks rather unhappy. He found the office. The bill is set on the counter in front of him, and he's frowning at the receptionist. "Saa, cherie... I already told you, the fight was back in November." Do they not keep records of this here? Geese Howard has really let his franchise slide!
Oh wait, he was told that Ken Masters (Who?) was the new owner. What a bother. If it weren't for the daunting bill, Ash would just go back home and return to his ass-groove on the sofa for more chillaxing.
There's a bit of a commotion coming from the back office, sounds of muffled laughs, and murmurs of intrest. The receptionist however doesn't seem to be taking any of Ash's excuses, obviously trying to decide on if she should call security or not on the man. "The only fights we have from that month are with Miss Ashley Crimson, Nahid, and Miss Marisol O'Connell." She seems to be looking over various records from that point, only to shake her head slightly at Ash. "I'm sorry Mister Crimson, there really isn't much I can do. According to the documentation, you interfered with a fight, and if you had been registered as a combatant for that event, then you of course would be excluded from any liability or bills."
The door to the back office opens up and Ken steps out, nodding towards the 'suits' who remain behind, only to make his way towards the reception desk, waving slightly at Ash and the receptionist. "Everything going okay?"
There's a faint tic to the corner of his eye at the name 'Ashley'. He hates it. Hates it with a passion. So much that it threatens to consume his entire being! The Frenchman's jaw locks, teeth aching in protest as he grinds the molars forcefully together. A particular thought runs through his mind right now as he listens to the receptionist's further explanation: Is there /seriously/ anyone else on this goddamn planet named 'Ashley Crimson'?! The stupidity of the entire situation means that Ash LOSES IT--okay, no. He actually just exhales a snort of laughter.
"Ahaha," The giggles are sarcastic, but still somehow his usual lilting trill, "Fine, if that's what the official record states... Would it be possible to check the file on this 'Miss Ashley Crimson'?" Reaching up, he tangles long fingers in his hair, tugging gently at the strands in annoyance... That's right about when the door opens, and this new individual walks in. Sky blue eyes travel from the receptionist to Ken, and the flamewielder's head cants to the side. Who's that? Her boss?
FANTASTIC.
Ash doesn't realise that he's speaking with Ken Masters himself, but he knows where the authority is in the room - the Frenchman would be able to tell even if the other blonde walked in from the outside, as his clothes are more expensive. Ash smiles in a way that suggests he is forcing himself to remain calm, or perhaps not. It's hard to tell. "Bonjour, monsieur. I apologise if you were interrupted." Note: Crimson is not sorry, because maybe with this, the issue will get sorted. He's being polite.
Glancing back once again to the seated woman, as if daring her to say otherwise, Ash explains things simply, "It would seem that there's been a mistake somewhere... Staff are under the impression that I'm a woman, so whenever I fight, the bills for damages incurred are sent to me." Flicking his hand out, finely-manicured black nails catch the light. Ash admires them for a moment, "I'm being treated as if I were an invader of my own matches." He would still really like to see that file, by the way.
"No, I had just finished that meeting, so its quite all right." Ken leans over the receptionists shoulder, glancing over the very information she is, only to scratch his head in confusion and glance up at Ash. "Well, Miss...ter Crimson, it seems that there might have been a bit of a mixup with with this. However, you'll still have to pay it, and then submit a form 1052-H, which will let Billing know that you are disputing the charges and would like a refund, and then they'll have to go and review the tapes, conduct a couple of interviews, and then issue a refund which.. could take about three to five business days, unless there is a holiday before that."
Ken continues to look over the information, then glances up at Ash, seeming rather confused by things. "Well.. ummm.. Either someone really made a big mistake, or you recently had the operation.." He scratches the back of his head as he tries to make sense of this, only to notice that there's a notation about coffee and women's baths. "..Ooookay... It seems that when Geese ran things.. he didn't really have his people make sure to keep proper notations.. Well.. I'll have to make sure that's being taken care of now.."
At new and improved suggestion, Ash soon has a hand in his face, rubbing the cutely upturned nose. When his irritation builds further, pinching the faintly freckled bridge, the man counts his breaths backwards from ten until one. Shenanigans. He calls /SHENANIGANS/! This all sounds like far more effort than he ever expected, especially considering whose mistake it was. The Frenchman cannot even begin to fathom who would make a system so pointlessly complicated, but, "Oui oui, fine." He says with a note of acceptance, relieved to leave this ridiculousness behind, even if he has to pay for it...
Then Ken has to go and blow it by sticking not only a foot in his mouth, but the whole goddamn leg.
"Pardonnez-moi?"
In the midst of turning, the Frenchman is halfway done his smooth pivot, interrupted by the sudden desire to stand rooted to the spot. As a result, he loses his balance briefly, taking a step to the side and swaying with shock. Operation?! His pale face reddens, "How rude." Whatever else Ken has to say falls upon deaf ears for now. Ash straightens with dignity, adjusting his white scarf and possibly seizing the upper hand. Recognition finally dawns upon him.
Sizing up the American - Ken looks a lot slimmer than in photos - the flamewielder smiles coldly, "I have a better idea." From the pockets of his jacket where he had stored the bill earlier, Ash now removes two fingerless leather gloves, "How about a little gamble? If you win, I'll pay and submit that H20 form," Uhhhh, what? "But if I win, then I want an apology, and will not pay a single cent." Sounds like a fair deal, so he thinks. And far more simple, as well as fun! Fighting Ken Masters should make this entire outing feel less like a waste of time.
"Really?" Ken seems to look at the frenchman, trying to decide just if this is really worth it or not. "I didn't mean to offend you. It was a joke.. But if you're really dead set on this.. Who am I to turn down a challange?" He grins slightly as he rolls up his sleeves on his shirt, only to make his way past the reception desk. "Of course, we cannot fight in here, now can we?" He moves through the office until he's in a large enough conference room for the two of them to move around just fine.
There's a slight grin from the man, especially as he leaps up onto the conference table, waiting for the frenchman to help kick things off. "Let's do this."
COMBATSYS: Ken has started a fight here on the right meter side.
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Ken 0/-------/------=|
COMBATSYS: Ash has joined the fight here on the left meter side.
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Ash 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Ken
A joke? You don't go around implying that someone had a sex change for the sake of humour, that's just classless.
Classless like Ken's middle name.
Yeah. Take that.
With the challenge issued and accepted, he's a little surprised that it will be taking place here, in the building itself... But the American has disposable income. Ken can easily replace anything damaged within the hour; fixing this problem with the bill and onsen would take only one signature! Such power! And yet Ash honestly isn't that much in awe - he's French nobility, after all.
Tugging on his gloves, the flamewielder unloops his scarf, winter jacket soon following. He folding both items up neatly, and they're set aside at the receptionist's desk. She blinks in surprise, but has no time to protest; Ash is trailing after Ken, his manner of movement distinctly feminine - shut up. In no time at all, both participants arrive at the conference room. The Frenchman places a hand on his hip, "Wouldn't fighting on that be a bit unstable?" He means the table, which is nodded at.
Did you know that Ash's power manifests as green flames? Fire and wood don't generally get along. His smile turns wickedly dangerous, "I hope you don't mind if I go first," The type to take initiative and seize every opportunity, the freckle-faced fighter suddenly has a fist-full of what appears to be bubbling wax, "I am the guest here, after all." The way he casts the flames down is truly listless, as though this isn't worth taking seriously... but the Frenchman is actually testing the waters, and lighting the table on fire while Ken standing on it. Will he escape?!
COMBATSYS: Ash successfully hits Ken with Ventose.
-* WILD HIT! *-
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Ash 0/-------/------=|====---\-------\0 Ken
The shirt seemed expensive, it really did. That's because it was, and it was a gift from Ken's wife for his birthday. This is not making the blonde champion a happy camper as he glances quickly tries his best to put the green flames out, only to lose his shirt entirely in the process. The table is quickly ablaze, but easily doused by the sprinkler system which is now heavily producing water, drenching the two combatants.
Of course, Ken isn't going to take this sort of insult lying down, moving towards the side of the room and grabbing a chair, which he then rushes towards Ash with, flinging it towards the frenchman with a bit of force.
COMBATSYS: Ash dodges Ken's Thrown Object.
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Ash 0/-------/------=|====---\-------\0 Ken
It would seem that in his haste, a certain Frenchman neglected to take into account the mandetory safety measures that all modern office buildings possess. This is not an issue because his chi is flammable, and water snuffs that right out - he just has an eventual walk through the /goddamn cold/ to look forward to. Getting drenched is not the proper way to stay warm! Ash may possibly be hanging around far longer than originally anticipated, much to the chargin of the receptionist, I'm sure.
... Actually, there's no maybe or probably about it. That's exactly what he's going to do.
Ash guides both hands back through his long hair, slicking it to his head. For now, he appears distinctly masculine, casting aside the headband carelessly, but to the corner, where it will most likely survive their battle. "Ahaha, see, what did I tell you?" Indicating the smoking remains of the table that had once supported Ken, the flamewielder laughs and laughs pleasantly, interrupted only when there's a chair flung at his face.
Blue eyes, cold and devoid of the jovial nature the man otherwise projects, narrow critically. Swiftly calculating speed of throw versus reaction time, Ash chooses to move. He puts a foot to the seat in front of him and shoves off, spring away and up to the ceiling. Grabbing onto a convenient light fixture, this saves him from the shattering splinters of wood that shower the entrance where he had once stood. The freckle-faced flamewielder lands moments later.
"I think my tie is ruined." He plucks at his light blue dress shirt, clinging to fair skin underneath uncomfortably. The tie itself is similarly soaked, and one of his favourites, black with white polka dots. "Ahhh~hhh. What a bother." Wait a minute, this whole thing was your idea, what are you saying, Ash, you jerkface? Eyeing black fingernails with deceptive calm, the flaring of his aura is almost palpable. "Monsieur Masters," A pause. "Do you have a hair dryer?"
COMBATSYS: Ash focuses on his next action.
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Ash 0/-------/-======|====---\-------\0 Ken
%Also soaking wet, Ken doesn't seem to mind this as he grins towards Ash, noticing the unusual calmness that is giving off. "Nope. No hairdryers, but I do have something that might help dry that pretty little head of yours.."
A deep breath is given from Ken as he suddenly rushes towards Ash, making his way across the rubble of what was once a rather beautiful table, only to leap into the air with his leg extended, moving to bring it down upon the top of his head.
COMBATSYS: Ash fails to interrupt Medium Kick from Ken with Nivose.
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Ash 0/-------/-======|====---\-------\0 Ken
You know, kicking someone in the head doesn't actually help them dry off. Ken really has no concept of the basics of evaporation chemistry. What else is that little brain missing? Such a grievous lack of knowledge would explain the shoddy filing thing, or whatever it is. An idiot designed those policies.
Back to the matter at hand, the Frenchman has a few tricks up his sleeve to handily deal with an incoming foot. Unfortunately, in the midst of repositioning himself, twist-turning and presenting his back, the heel crashes into Ash's skull instead. The fair-haired fighter is sent to the floor, pitched hard onto his hands and knees, and there's this brutal throbbing in his noggin. It feels almost like the beginnings of a migraine. Not fun!
Coughing, blinking away the stars and blackness that temporary clouds his vision, the Frenchman eases himself back onto his feet. His movements are catlike, and standing again, rubbing the bump under his blonde hair, the fruity, flamboyant fighter shrugs with good-nature, "Well, it's good to see that you're not planning on hanging back and throwings things at me." Because then Crimson would just have to prove that his flames are strong enough to overcome ANY sprinkler system... As well as expensive shirts. Ha ha.
"Of course not. That'd be rather rude of me." Ken rolls his shoulders, wincing slightly at his slightly pinkened flesh, and the fact that one of his favorite shirts is now completely ruined. "God, Eliza's going to /kill/ me for messing that shirt up.." He doesn't waste anymore time however, rushing towards Ash once again, quickly sending a jab towards his pretty little nose.
COMBATSYS: Ash blocks Ken's Jab Punch.
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Ash 0/-------/=======|====---\-------\0 Ken
Smiling faintly at the dismay, Ash must suppress the urge to laugh outloud. He does not need to wonder who this Eliza is - as a man, the Francophone already knows. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned when a shirt is ruined--I really have no idea where I'm going with this. To further stifle his giggles, the effeminate flamewielder lifts long fingers to his mouth and presses thin lips to white teeth. The expression eventually widens into a grin as Ken charges at him.
"You're not trying hard enough, Monsieur Masters." He knowingly observes, a coy note twisting that voice that sounds oh so annoying condescending and sing-song. Meeting the punch with his left hand, the knuckles connect near harmlessly with his palm in a damp 'smack'. If he's able, Ash pulls the American in, leaning towards the other man with a creepy, "If you don't play for keeps, I'll easily beat you." He wants to be entertained, and is curious of the American's skill. The Frenchman has never seen Ken fight before, so try not to disappoint him, hm?
Pushing back and away, it is followed by a sudden reverse in motion. The lean fighter surges forwards, the knee of his thin leg brandished and ready to find it's place buried in the American's abdomen. Quit going for his face, the strike seems to say, because Ash is vain and not fond of bruises marking his perfect visage.
COMBATSYS: Ken parries Ash's Light Kick!
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Ash 0/-------/=======|=====--\-------\0 Ken
"Oh? That's all you wanted to say?" Ken grins as he easily leans to the side, watching the kick sail effortlessly past him. "Too slow there Ashley." He grins slightly as he suddenly rushes forward once again towards Ash, this time, he's got something in mind.
As Ken nears Ash, there is a slight change in his motions, his right hand suddenly springing to life with chi, looking as if it were ablaze with fire. "You're not the only person who likes to play with fire, 'ya know?" It's at that point he suddenly drops down low, twisting his body as if he were about to uppercut the poor frenchman, but sadly, its worse then that.
"SHORYUKEN!"
COMBATSYS: Ash dodges Ken's Shoryuken EX.
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Ash 0/-------/=======|====---\-------\0 Ken
Ash misses.
An unfavourable outcome to any attack, the suffocating, overwhelming feeling of denial and self-dissatisfaction surfaces. He will need to rectify this later.
Landing with a short slide on slippery floor, the Frenchman thankfully comes to a halt before crashing into a chair, or the charred remains of what was once a very nice, but unappreciated, table. Ken, the person who jumped on said table, likely does not bemoan such loss in light of his callous disregard for personal property, yet his ruined shirt is an issue... Ah, rich people are so funny.
The type to frequently maintain control in any situation, it is not the remark that he is slow which provokes the flash of anger, but more that Crimson is called 'Ashley'. Jovial, polite pretenses (or maybe he actually was genuine, who knows) are dropped momentarily, smile lost to a toothy sneer. He tosses his head pridefully, brushing wet hair knocked askew back into its rightful place. From where the Frenchman continues to stand, 'Shoryuken' looks far worse than some simple, paltry uppercut... But Ken can't even hit the broad-side of a barn.
"What are you aiming at, ahahaha!" The slender fighter leans back, hands on his narrow hips. Ken's fist flashes by his face, but disturbs nary a pale hair on the Frenchman's head.
As he descends, the American may find himself in a bit of trouble. Sprinklers are useless; despite their continual shower of water upon the two men's heads, veridant flames burn brightly, writhing in the flamewielder's hands. "But you're the only one getting burned." His arm thrusts out to catch the other blonde by the face and introduce him to a world of blazing pain. Don't you /ever/ call him that name again!
Afterwards, the rage flees from his body, and Ash lazily relaxes, pocketing one hand and itching his freckled nose with the other.
COMBATSYS: Ken just-defends Ash's Brumaire!
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Ash 0/-------/=======|====---\-------\0 Ken
Ken grins slightly as the second stage fire prevention system suddenly kicks in, as the two of them are covered in a soft foam which also protrudes from the sprinkler system, neatly putting out the flames on Ash's hands, letting Ken land harmlessly. Of course, the US Champion isn't going to really let this go, as he suddenly brings his right leg up, moving to plant his knee firmly into the frenchman's abdomen.
COMBATSYS: Ken successfully hits Ash with Aggressive Strike.
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Ash 1/------=/=======|====---\-------\0 Ken
That was... rather anticlimactic! So he doesn't adopt such a leisurely stance - it's not possible, given the circumstances. Allow me to amend the previous statement: One moment ago, arm outstretched, he was ready to deliver the hurt. Now, there's a tendril of smoke lifting from his fingertips, and the Frenchman is covered in foam, much like everything else in the room. He can't see! And augh, goddamn. Ash sneezes, unable to cover his mouth lest he wind up with a mouthful of the stuff.
To further inconvenience him, the slighter man is also no longer aware of where his opponent is, lacking any true sense of placement in his shock; it makes defensive maneuvers difficult. The knee plants itself firmly into his abdomen, and the flamewielder is winded temporarily, breath forced from his lungs. He curls instinctively, trying to absorb as much of the impact thereafter, blindly fumbling to push roughly away and recover with a wheeze and another, "Achoo!"
Ash shakes his head and tries to clear away as much of the foam from his face as he possibly can... But it's too much effort for him, so the man eventually gives up. As long as he's able to see again, what does anything else matter? The Frenchman lunges, the same fist from before pulled back and then punching. All that bubbly gunk will not save Ken from his face-seeking fist-missile! Flee now! ... Aw man, his hair feels sticky and gross, clinging to his face and neck.
COMBATSYS: Ken fails to interrupt Medium Punch from Ash with Shoryuken.
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Ash 1/------=/=======|=====--\-------\0 Ken
The foam is slippery, yes, but it did serve a purpose in saving Ken's face from becoming extra-crispy, and in the end, thats all that really matters. Of course, he does have a slight advantage now. Well, he did have an advantage until he decided to rush in once more, allowing his fist to ignite with chi. As Ken rises up with his famed Shoryuken, there is an unplesant sensation, as if somewhere, a million voices cried out in terror, and then were silenced. Of course, it could also be the fist that is now firmly planted in his face, causing him to fall backwards into the foamy mess that was once a conference room. Man, it really is a pain in the ass to stand back up after falling in this stuff.
With that, he is vindicated. Socking Ken in the mouth isn't quite the same as lighting his face on fire, but Ash isn't picky. The American has got his just deserves, whatever the means, for calling the flamewielder 'Ashley'.
Drawing back, the Frenchman wipes at his face again, clearing more of the substance away so he doesn't have to breathe in the dull, artificial arouma. It makes him, "ACHOO!" Ash sneezes again, stomping his foot at the same time. He rubs his dainty nose with the only part of one leather glove that isn't covered in foam: The wrist. In hindsight, going along with an indoor fight and not thinking things through first was a very bad idea. Almost as bad as fighting Hakan!
... Ash is never going to think of that again.
"I'd tell you to get up, Monsieur Masters, but are you even able?" The Frenchman sounds rather congested. Is he allergic to the foam? Or has he sneezed himself into stuffiness? "Oh well, no matter." Ash concludes with a nonchalant shrug. He just attempts to stomp on Ken, bringing all of that slight weight down onto the other man's stomach. "This works just fine for me."
COMBATSYS: Ash successfully hits Ken with Medium Kick.
Glancing Blow
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Ash 1/-----==/=======|======-\-------\0 Ken
Ken doesn't have time to sit there and accept Ash's kick laying down, well, he kind of has to since he's laying down at the moment, but thats beside the point. Barely rolling away, Ken winces as the foot comes down along his back, doing his best to at least get into a position to where he can try to once again even things out. He spins his body around, trying to bring his right leg against the back of Ash's legs, making the poor frenchman wallow in the muck on the ground alongside him.
COMBATSYS: Ken successfully hits Ash with Medium Kick.
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Ash 1/---====/=======|======-\-------\0 Ken
Nooooo, he doesn't want to play in the muck! It's gross down there!
This is dissolving very quickly into some horrible comedy routine. After Ash stomps on the American's back, the other man somehow still manages to sweep out the flamewielder's legs from underneath. His flails are truly for naught, as there's nothing to grab onto, and so he falls into the foam, landing quite hard on his rump with a spluttered, "Putain de merde!" ... That is not very polite language, Crimson! Where are your manners!?
"Tch." Leaning to the side, Ash gingerly rubs his abused bottom, which is tender and not worth further mention. Just know that it hurts! "Les carottes sont cuites." Flame retardant or not, he'll have no trouble getting up soon. The foam is suddenly exploded away from him, a good chunk of it even disintegrated. The walls are splattered everywhere, and he's not done.
The remaining dampness evaporates from his clothes and hair, the vapors visible, lifting off him. What foam is left is pushed away, leaving Ash looking mostly fresh, if a little soggy. Snakes of wax-like green encase their creator within a fiery, protective pillar, "Sans culottes. J'espere que vous bruler en enfer. Au revoir!" His head falls gracefully back, blue eyes vanishing beneath pale lids, and it begins. If the wave of conflagration were to be further described as it descends upon Ken, it's just... fire crazy-go-nuts.
COMBATSYS: Ken blocks Ash's Sans-Culottes.
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Ash 0/-------/-------|=======\-------\1 Ken
And this is where Ken decides its best to roll around in the foam for as long as possible while the pyschotic pretty boy rains down firey death upon his poor American head. Thankfully, he manages to only catch slight burns here and there, and while its as completely lackluster in elegance, it works, and once more prevents him from becoming extra-crispy, which he truly and sincerely does not want.
Of course, Ken hasn't had much luck in keeping himself off the ground, so he might as well try to change that. Slowly climbing to his feet, he once more rushes the french pyro, throwing a heavy kick towards his face. "Didn't your parents ever teach you not to play with fire?!"
COMBATSYS: Ash dodges Ken's Fierce Kick.
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Ash 0/-------/-------|======-\-------\0 Ken
Was it too soon? Ash prefers to play his trump card at the very end, but perhaps he underestimated his opponent. The American's quick thinking - it's actually rather insightful - earns a measure of the flamewielder's respect.
Eventually, the dance of verdant chaos comes to a close, so thin arms fall to his sides and blue eyes return with a peculiar flicker, as though they had just changed colour. He frowns at the mention of 'parents', offended once again, sighing with exasperation. "Tut tut, Monsieur Masters, you're just going to have more to apologise for."
In order to avoid the rushing, Shoryuken-loving man, Ash pins himself to the wall, his penetrating stare following Ken while he sails on by with a heavy foot. Provided that his back is still turned, the opportunist will take that chance, dishonourable though the action may be. He lances out with a furious combo of punches, a swift knee to the solar plexus and final uppercut, meant to slam sturdy knuckles into the man's chin.
Left overextended, upon success or failure, Ash shakes out the fist and checks his nails. It seems none of them are broken. Splaying a hand across his chest, the Frenchman smiles in relief.
COMBATSYS: Ken interrupts Vendemiaire from Ash with Hadouken.
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Ash 0/-------/----===|=======\-------\1 Ken
It's really hard to get the drop on someone when you're rushing through a whole room filled with foam and broken parts of what was once a conference room, so maybe Ash will keep that in mind for next time. Of course, Ken on the other hand hears this coming, only to turn and face towards the man, feeling the slight sting of his attacks. He barely has enough time to pull away slightly from the furious assault, quickly bringing his hands to his side, and thrusting forward a blue ball of chi at his would be attacker. "HADOUKEN!"
His entire body committed to hitting every inch of the American that can be reached, a long time has passed since Ash has been privy to this. Eyes widening with surprise, until he's blasted away mid-strike, the flamewielder sees not Ken Masters, but the vagabond, Ryu. He somersaults rather acrobatically on the foamy floor, pushing off into a low crouch, clutching his stomach. The man's mind works quickly, formulating many theories about this individual, and settling upon the most logical: They likely trained together, Ryu seems far stronger. He's also way more polite.
But there's only one way to truly find out.
Suddenly, this entire match is far more interesting than originally thought.
"Aha..." Breathless at first, as Ash gathers himself, his laughter rings out far more clearly, "Ahahahahaha!" Has the Frenchman gone mad? Not exactly. His brow furrows with concentration shortly after, flexing both hands with their long, expertly manicured nails, "Let me see more of your power, Monsieur Masters. All that there is." He will do his best to prepare, drawing upon his own strength of will, the fire ignites around him once more. Ash Crimson does not attack, but waits to see if his request shall be answered.
COMBATSYS: Ash gathers his will.
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Ash 0/-------/=======|======-\-------\0 Ken
"Oh? Is that really what you want?"
"Oh? Is that really what you want?" Ken closes his eyes as he takes a deep breath, resting his arms at his side. It doesn't take long however for him to slowly enter a meditive state, his chi slowly starting to climb, causing his aura to truly be felt...
COMBATSYS: Ken enters a meditative state.
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Ash 0/-------/=======|=======\-------\1 Ken
Is such a request entirely unheard of these days? Ash has an intense interest in the world's top fighters, and with Masters' popularity, presence and the thought that he just may have trained with Ryu, he qualifies. That means the Frenchman is drawn to the American now like a moth to flame, but wise and wary is he, for Crimson does not enjoy being burned. He does not intend to accept whatever's in store without resisting.
Nothing comes, and that is disappointing. Maybe he'll have to do more to provoke the desired outcome? It should be enough for the incorrigible Frenchman - look at how easy it was to convince Masters to fight him in the first place!
The stance, far different in that the American does not turn his very will into strength, is observed, and then the flamewielder springs forwards, leaping with his hand seeking the other. His intention is not to punch his opponent, but snag an arm and force it to the man's back. Ash's leg lifts high in order to be placed between shoulder blades, and he'll drive Ken straight into the murky floor, chest-down, from there, "Ahaha, I'd suggest picking up the pace a bit, lest you bore me."
COMBATSYS: Ash successfully hits Ken with Quick Throw.
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Ash 0/-------/=======|=======\-------\1 Ken
There is barely any resistence from Ken as Ash slams him into the floor, only to open his eyes at the last moment. "You really want to see? All right." He manages to pull himself away from the fruity-frenchman, his eyes slowly starting to show that he's finally starting to feel a true reason to bring this fight to a close. It doesn't take long for him to climb to his feet, and when he does, thats when poor Ash will finally notice what he's up to.
His right fist slowly starts to glow, especially when he rushes towards Ash, dropping down low and finally unleashing his most powerful attack. Not one, not two, but three, that's right, three consecutive full strength shoryukens, all intent on leaving Frenchie feeling the burn. "SHORYUU REPPA!"
COMBATSYS: Ash effortlessly blocks Ken's Shouryuu Reppa.
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Ash 1/-------/=======|==-----\-------\0 Ken
With the arm in hand, the following event plays out far too easily for the flamewielder's liking. He's immediately suspicious, pupils narrowed in shrewd calculation. When Ken pulls away and Ash lets him go, the flamboyant fighter prepares himself for what the other intends on being the end to their scuffle. The Frenchman will not succumb. He waits to defend against whatever may come, planting his feet firmly on the floor. This is just as he wished, now.
The glowing fist earns the quirk of one pencil-thin eyebrow, and... Burn, did you say? It is not felt. Ash erects a sudden shield of bright green flames, and while each 'Shoryuken' uppercut threatens to break his defenses, backing the younger man to the far wall, he is left relatively unharmed.
As Ken is still airborne, the Frenchman gazes up through his short lashes. "Is that it?" He wonders outloud, and a smirk fixes itself quite firmly on his freckled face. So he was right all along. The verdant shield is sucked inward, back to his palms, collected into a pulsing, burning ball. Ash, his movements halfhearted and overconfident, casts the orb away at the falling American, intending on catching him before the man reaches the ground. Hopefully this won't set off the sprinklers again!
COMBATSYS: Ken auto-guards Ash's Ventose!
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Ash 1/-------/=======|==-----\-------\0 Ken
Aww, poor Ash, of course you can't set Ken on fire again. It's just not going to be allowed. Especially since Ken is already preparing himself for whatever Frenchie has in store for him. The flames harmlessly trickle against his skin, as he moves down towards the ground, quickly extending his right leg once more, trying to strike Ash in the same exact place he did earlier on. The very top of the poor mans skull.
COMBATSYS: Ash blocks Ken's Medium Kick.
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Ash 1/------=/=======|==-----\-------\0 Ken
You know what? No. Stop that. He's already suffering from the beginnings of a rather nasty noggin-ache and would prefer that it isn't made worse by a boot to the skull.
Turning his targetted head to the side, exposing pale neck and sweeping away long platinum strands of hair, Ash catches the heel at his shoulder, then coldly pushes the American away. With the strike denied, the Frenchman looks upon Ken with a side-long glance, his smile strange and mysterious, perhaps even a little bit creepy.
It annoys him to no end, how his flames do not cause the intended harm, but this maddening display does not compare to times in past where he couldn't even hit his opponent. Guiding his arms around in a wide circle, fully taking advantage of their forced distance, at the very epicentre, he is creating yet more bubbleflame. With one failure, one success, and another in-between, this shall be the tie-breaker.
Soon, what started off as a mere miniscule ball of flame grows to enormous proportions. The green-tinted glow cast upon his sharp features makes the Frenchman look eerie and possessed. "Catch." He says, ushering the sphere off. It is slow at first, but once rolling, the writhing orb of energy just goes for broke, devouring the space which separates them, and all that interferes.
COMBATSYS: Ash successfully hits Ken with Thermidor.
~~ Alluring Hit! ~~
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Ash 0/-------/-------|=====--\-------\0 Ken
Of course, it hurts. It hurts a lot, and Ken is not happy, especially since he's left wearing almost nothing but a smile. This means war, it truly does, and Ken is about to unleash a world of hurt upon Frenchie. He suddenly rushes forward, ducking down low once more to throw an uppercut towards the mans jaw, only to continue on from there, unleashing kick after powerful kick of pure and devistating pain, and to top it all off, while waiting for a brief moment of hesitation on Ash's part, and thats when he really lets the poor man have it, unleashing a powerful flaming shoryuken, the flames trailing all the way up into the air alongside him. "SHINRYUU KEN!"
COMBATSYS: Ken successfully hits Ash with Shinryuu Ken+.
[ < > //////////// ]
Ash 0/-------/---====|-------\-------\0 Ken
Here, he has no regrets. ... Except the fact that Ash will now probably be expected to uphold his end of the bargain and pay that bill, followed by filling out form 2348502h--whatever. Certainly a pain in the ass, but Shenwoo will unknowingly cover the expense and the Frenchman will see to the rest. This is why you never allow a freeloading moocher access to ANY bank account, even if he does cook and tend to other menial chores around the apartment.
As his flames collide, proving that the American is in no way impervious, what comes next is exactly what should've happened earlier! The flamewielder tries to get the hell out of dodge, however, the first uppercut hits not his jaw, but grazes Ash's face in his attempt to escape. He is then pulled into a barrage of kicks, once after another, leaving him fiercely battered. Shoulders slouching, the grand finale steals his will to fight, and he is lifted by fist and flame.
Crashing down shortly after, rolling, stopping and gingerly pushing himself up, Ash turns his head. The lean man thoughtfully considers giving his all in one final strike, to perhaps end this on his own terms... But walking away still achieves the same goal. He snorts with laughter, light and musical, and sits, arm on the seat of a nearby chair, "And so it ends." His shoulders roll casually, and the man's tone seems cheerful enough, "I'm tired." Ash yawns.
COMBATSYS: Ash takes no action.
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Ken 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Ash can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Ken 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Ken has ended the fight here.
A lone pinkened arm rises up as Ken wipes his forehead, wincing violently at just how tender his flesh really is. "How much did your bill say you had to pay?" He grins as he walks over to Ash, holding his hand out to him in a sign of good sportsmanship. "'Cuz, I really doubt it'll be as much as what the repair bills for this place are going to be. So. I'll tell you what. For giving me one heck of a fight..." He lifts his other hand to run through his throughly messed up hair, "Consider it taken care of. You'll just have to remember to give me another good fight some time. Just.. make sure you don't set a birthday present from my wife on fire? Okay?"
His blue eyes flash in a blink, but eventually, Ash's mouth cracks in a pleased smile. He's actually quite content with that arrangement, and it was all entertaining enough. Next time, should that day ever come, perhaps he will be more successful, and possibly less dickish.
Accepting the hand and pulling himself back to his feet for the umteenth time, the Frenchman says, "I'll leave the bill where it is, with your receptionist." He can't actually recall how much the total was now; Ash's memory is decidedly very terrible. Not so bad that he has to wear a nametag, but when people, places and things are evaluated based on how much they pique his interest, everything else falls to the wayside.
"It was fun, Monsieur Masters. I'll do my best not to set anymore gifts on fire, but maybe if you want to fight me again, it would be wise not to wear them." Giggling girlishly, he heads to the conference room door, "Until then!" And Ash departs for the lobby, collecting his jacket and scarf, combing out remaining bits of foam from his hair with those long fingers. Crimson will truly leave when he's dry, so he won't be freezing to death on the way home.
Log created on 23:39:07 01/01/2011 by Ash, and last modified on 13:05:48 10/21/2014.