Description: A woman with a gruff voice calls up the vagabond Abel to inform him she has some information on his past he might be interested in... if he'll meet with her. Of course, in person she's reticent and coy, so Abel might need to rough her up, but if he succeeds, then he might just get the answers he's looking for, and some direction in his currently aimless search...
This is starting to turn into a strange week for Abel. While he had planned to eventually visit Southtown due to the urging of that odd man he met named Frei, the amnesiac still wanted to take time to search for any reliable information in the bustling town of Metro. That all changed when he had gotten that strange call. Part of him keeps telling him it is some sort of trap, but at the same time could Abel ignore a chance to finally get some sort of lead that may help him remember his past?
It took a few days to let his employer know he had to step down as a bodyguard and then a ticket was purchased. He has been around for awhile now and even had taken time to stop by the YFCC like Frei had asked him to. That lead to accidentally volunteering for a charity fight that had him take on the rather interesting man named Alma. That night was a rare night where he ended up having fun. The fun didn't last.
He spent most of the day feeling tense while awaiting for the appointed time. He played out so many scenarios in his mind. He finds himself feeling he is prepared as he can be as he stalks along the harbor with hands clenching and unclenching while he tries to contain the excitement and paranoia that is welling up inside him. He isn't even sure what the person he is looking for looks like, but his gaze remains alert for anyone that starts to approach him.
Oddity is commonplace amongst those in this world who identify as fighters. As one immerses themselves in what can scant be called an underbelly - it is becoming so prominent and forthright - the bizarre and the unexpected soon pass without shock and awe. Some handle these situations by presenting a confident, bitingly sarcastic front, still others by hardening themselves completely; becoming as glaciers in an incomprehensibly vast ocean. Then there are the chosen few, the delirious minority that choose to delight in the unpleasant and the strange. The vicious, the bloodthirsty, and the berserk.
In any other place or time they would be called monsters. Opportunistic to a fault, willing to seize circumstance by the throat and strangle it into submission along with any foolish or unfortunate enough to step in their path. It seems that with the commencement of the new millennium, such dangerous beings have only begun to blossom further, as though compelled by the missteps of their savage forebears to move into a darker tomorrow. The choice that others face is whether to join them or turn away... but there is one thing most certain; that those unwilling to take their opportunities will fall.
They will fall, and they will die.
The woman shrouded in the darkness behind a nearby cluster of crates flashes startling white teeth in a grin that by all rights should be visible in the gloom. It seems a travesty that it's not. Far more acceptable, that this powerful, curiously naive man has answered her verbal beckonings. That he would take such an obvious bait speaks volumes - it tells her he possesses some kind of quality, though exactly what remains to be seen. Is this 'Abel' a heroic idiot, like so many others she has trampled of late, or could he be the earth-shatteringly competent ally that his murky background suggests?
Furthermore, how much does he even /know/?
"So--"
Her brusque tone rumbles out as he passes her by, the Ethiopian cocking her head to one side as she emerges from concealment with two broad, swaying steps. An impassive stare alights upon the rippling muscles that Abel leaves in his wake, a pink tongue slithering out to momentarily slick her upper lip as Brihan drinks her fill of this apparent powerhouse. He hasn't been around much, but he has been around precisely enough, it would seem, to warrant attention.
"You've come, my wildebeest. My bison!"
Her accent is thick, deeply African and deeply unnerving as she straightens her posture with the final barked nominative, canting her head back to stare down a broad and broken nose at the man who doubtless turns to meet her. He would indeed be fool not to. She's certainly not emitting an air of trust. Is she even trying to seem friendly? It would seem otherwise. Both hands slip into the crook of her waistband, leather gloves and jacket both creaking a welcome as she leans back with maddening nonchalance. Drawing out the moment.
"Do you even know why, I wonder?"
He figured it wouldn't take long. It was more he wondered what direction the supposed 'informant' would come from. And while he is a competant fighter that tends to do well at keeping people from getting the drop on him he mentally curses for the fact that he did not manage to spot where Brihan came from. He turns about and the scarred Frenchman may be a bit on edge, but he certainly doesn't look afraid. His jaw is set and brow furrowed as he stares at the woman in front of him for a few long moments as he listens to her babble on.
"Information for me is rare commodity." he says and things really are starting to reek of some sort of trap. He must keep himself calm and not jump to conclusions just yet. If this strange woman actually does have some sort of information or answers to his past then he cannot let it go so easily. "I want to hear what you have to say."
His hands clench again and stay that way for now. Muscles tense and the man remains where he stands. He looks ready to snap into action in a moment's notice if he needs to be. He does his best not to show how conflicted he is feeling right now and that stern gaze remains locked on Brihan as he waits for an answer.
"Patience."
The single word echoes through the nighttime air, spoken with a sudden force punctuated by a fierce snort. Even the subtlest motion from this woman proclaims her clearly for what she is; a beast held within its own cage. It seems she is content to maintain her captivity for the moment, however, still drawing each second out for what it is worth. She may be milking this man as much as she is testing him - pushing to see how long he will wait, to see how far he will go in capturing what must assuredly be a dream. Amnesia? Is that what the dark grapevine has proclaimed? What fun.
"I hear it's a virtue, and I'm sure the people I've spoken to wouldn't be lying to me..." She draws out the small talk with what she imagines is all the patience of a skilled surgeon, and yet as she pauses her foot begins to tap against the ground, the toe of her sneaker thrumming a desperate beat against the unyielding stone. She's more like an upstart boxer testing an opponent, jabbing and weaving yet raring to go. Blood rushing, heart pumping. It's almost visible how she forces it down, as she begins to pace before the Frenchman.
"There's always a catch though, isn't there? The tongues of liars are no different to those who speak gospel; everybody wants something, my wildebeest," she curls her lips around Abel's apparent nickname, as though savouring it, "We're all rampant, waiting for our moment, to snatch what we desire for ourselves. Aren't we?" Drawing to a halt, by no mere happenstance now within striking distance of the burly man, she leans faintly toward him with a leer, eyes boring into his own. Hers are oddly soulless. Lifeless for all the life in her words; as though she ultimately doesn't /care/. Doesn't feel.
"The question I have for you, is what do you want? Deep down? Do you want answers?"
It seems like he isn't the only one seeming to have a hard time controlling himself. Though where his is keeping nerves calm this woman obviously comes off more as a predator ready to pounce. Her actions and the way she carries herself would certainly intimidate a good amount of people, but Abel is a man that already has little to lose and alot to gain as he pushes forward in looking for answers. "Patience seems like something we both lack."
He steps forward to close the distance between both he and Brihan even more as he looks downwards at the shorter fighter. His gaze is locked with hers while attempting to show she can pace and act like a predator alls he wants. "Even if it is something I would not be proud of I want to know who I was." he tells her while taking a deep breath and he leans downwards to where he is almost uncomfortably close while never flinching or blinking once. "If you have answers then I will appreciate any information given, but know this......if you wish to hinder me at all I am not as nice of guy as you might think I am."
Brihan appears to find more than a modicum of amusement in the man's reply, her leer distorting, twisting upward into a broad slash of a grin. Teeth stand vibrantly bright against the darkness of her flesh, as jarring as the rumble of laughter from within the Ethiopian's breast. She does not appear in the least dissuaded by the size difference between them; forty pounds and a formidable cluster of inches are of little concern. Were their spirits better attuned to one another, the thickly muscled (ex?) bouncer would doubtless be feeling an unerring amount of energy bottled within the woman. She puts little more effort into hiding that than she does in /not/ laughing in Abel's face.
So she at least doesn't explode with chi as she does with laughter.
"Proud?" She spits out, uncaring of the moist flecks that emerge upon the heated wave of her breath, before closing her wide mouth with an abrupt snap. Animalistic and cruel, those formerly dead eyes now blaze with something other than mirth - though it is enjoyment of a sort, in the manner of a crowing victor. At such proximity it's impossible to miss such cold jubilance. "Wildebeest, it is possible to take pride in a great many things, both beautiful and terrible. Do you think I am not 'proud'?"
Her head cants upward, chin lifting and bringing their faces yet closer together, her ugly nose coming so close to brushing against his own. Below the veil of sight, her hands have shifted, setting to her hips as she draws herself up to match the Frenchman's height as best she is able. Whatever she might be, her question answers itself most admirably in the set of her sturdy frame. Though to know anything of this pleasant brute before her, and not feel cowed by even his quietest threat... she must possess something more than mere pride.
Or is this information worth so much that she would risk everything?
"As I said, my burly friend," she rejoins with a smirk, still doing nothing to escape their close confines, "There is something each of us desires. We can play nice with one another, or we can bash our heads together like beasts! But if you /truly/ want what I have, perhaps you should try playing to my rules, instead of your own? Do you really think I will respond to threats, wildebeest? Do I seem like the sort of woman who will buckle and beg?" Questions. So many questions.
"I think you a few things, but none are exactly complimentary." is the response he gives when asked the question of pride. She may be having a good time in this, but he seems to want to just get to the point and he is finding himself not liking this woman more by the moment. He isn't even quite sure if he can even call her a woman. Some sort of monster in human form is a better description in his mind. He does at least keep himself calm for the moment and does not strike.
He doesn't seem quite ready to play by whatever rules she has set up within her twisted mind fully just yet, but he at least seems willing to listen for now. "Just say what you want. I don't think either of us feel like wasting time." Then again he might be wrong. She seems to be enjoying herself and how she seems to be ruffling the feathers of the Frenchman instead of giving him the information that he wants. His extent of backing off is pretty much a grunt and he pushes forward to sort of push her away with his forehead as he takes a step back. "Out with it, woman."
Insults, however veiled they may be, draw a harsh, barking laugh from the Ethiopian. Her spirits indeed seem to be unusually high - but there is something more than mere bluff in those dark eyes. Whether she possesses the information Abel seeks, or simply believes she does, it would appear that her sly demeanour is in aid of more than petty amusement. This woman, this creature, is utterly certain of herself and her importance to the Frenchman.
"Speak for yourself," she rumbles with a dark chuckle at the implication she is 'wasting time'. Time isn't something that Brihan considers in short supply. She is the very picture of jubilant, confrontational patience up until the instant that Abel's forehead comes forward. Intent on not giving ground, there is a thudding impact that resounds more than it reasonably should against a skull that feels astoundingly thick and heavy; despite being marred here and there in the tissue of long-healed wounds. "Oh ho... I /see/..."
It comes out with the sibilance of a snake as Brihan eases backward, flashing ivory-white teeth as she watches Abel with suddenly wild eyes. The dull blaze becomes a supernova, as a hand lifts from her hip to brush against her forehead, barely touching the point of collision - making a point more than tending to any pain. Her grin spreads a touch wider still, and then--
"Let us take off the gloves, my /BEAST/!!"
Her shriek is inhuman, a harpy's fierce caterwaul that rends the quiet night air. It is unnerving, and possibly distracting; a hazard indeed as the dark-skinned woman hurls herself forward to bring her skull back into proximity with her prey-in-denial. She moves so fast, it seems, as to become a blur - but the true nature of her motion becomes clear an instant before collision...
Energy bleeds from her skin, a searing filthy orange glow burbling from the flesh to erupt in a ripping swathe against Abel's face. She's strong enough without it; the ultimate effect is a blow far more potent than it should be. Brihan's confidence may be well-grounded.
"A-haHAHAHA!! Out enough for you?!"
Which doesn't make her any less insane.
COMBATSYS: Brihan has started a fight here.
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Brihan 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Abel has joined the fight here.
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Brihan 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Abel
COMBATSYS: Brihan successfully hits Abel with Giant.
- Power hit! -
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Brihan 0/-------/-----==|==-----\-------\0 Abel
He shouldn't be surprised that he probably pressed the wrong buttons. She seemed ready to strike ever since he saw her and the fact he was being confrontational about it all probably didn't help. At this point he doesn't really care. He feels like this was all a waste of time. This woman was probably bluffing, but that just leaves him wondering who she really is and if she works for Shadaloo. Though he is pretty sure if she did she would have made it a point to mention that.
Even as she goes to strike right for his face the Frenchman doesn't flinch. He actually looks like he is ready to just step forward right into the blow. It seems he will just be getting more scars this fight as he feels that impact slam into him. It staggers him and actually stops his forward momentum as he takes a moment to regain his footing. He shakes it off and raises a hand up to wipe the blood coming out of the corner of his mouth. "No." is the simple response he gives to her.
That is when he dashes forward and he brings one of his own fists forward. There is no fancy energy to it, but there is plenty of brute force of the blow that seems to be a strike that will be followed by him pivoting to deliver a backhand afterwards. He then quickly grasps for the woman before using his momentum to lift her off the ground as he twists back around and falls to the ground to slam her hard into the ground. If she wants a fight he is going to give her one. Maybe once she is beaten down she will be more apt to give him information.
COMBATSYS: Brihan blocks Abel's Change of Direction.
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Brihan 0/-------/---====|==-----\-------\0 Abel
Blood in the water. The sight of crimson splashing from her opponent's lips so early in this encounter draws a long, excited hiss from Brihan, her teeth bearing now like the fangs of a shark as she retracts from her abrupt headbutt with a dynamic full-body movement that sends her a full pace backward. Her arms snap into accustomed positions about her torso, loose but ready - something akin to a lower, wider boxer's stance. And she remains in motion; sinuously thrashing in a tight back-and-forth motion, head bobbing on her neck. It should be an unnatural, bizarre motion, and yet it seems to suit her.
"Then let us communicate more!" Her urging comes in a thick drawl, her accent only more apparent now that she allows adrenaline to consume her. Abel's lunging retort is met by that infuriating grin, and a faint broadening of the arms as Brihan twists her torso. His strike lands against a turning cheek, a grazing blow - made more satisfying as she is caught out by the backhand. Her arms are closing however, as he moves in to grasp her, and the Ethiopian seems to shift like oil in his grasp.
"I'll be happy..." It comes out with a grunt, her body convulsing a moment before she strikes the ground, the release sending her all but bouncing from the harbourside. She lands in a wary half-crouch, bruised and breathing hard, but otherwise every bit as bright-eyed and confident. "To tell you my deepest, darkest secrets--" In a frantic motion she lurches forward, almost stumbling back into range, body swaying deceptively before a leg thrashes upward, bearing the heel of one expensive sneaker into play.
"/If/ you can BEAT ME!!" Spittle froths at her lips as she pushes through her extended leg, striving to catch Abel in the face or throat and bear him down into the ground. It's as much a stomp as a kick; but with her full body weight behind it, the blow is as powerful as it is ponderous.
COMBATSYS: Abel interrupts Fierce Kick from Brihan with EX Tornado Throw EX.
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Brihan 1/-------/=======|=====--\-------\0 Abel
While Brihan seems to be driven into a further frenzy the Frenchman seems to find himself able to keep control and not fully give in. This woman packs quite a punch and it looks like she is very adept at controlling the energy within her even when worked up like this. His eyes narrow and he takes a deep breath as he recovers quickly from his failed attempt to ground the woman. Instead he watches her movements and he does not give a verbal response to the woman. He needs to concentrate on her attacks. Not her mouth. That is unless of course she is trying to bite him. Given how she is acting that might just happen.
He makes not attempt to get out of the way when she comes in for that kick and he steps forward again as he comes at an angle to where the foot slams into a shoulder before he reaches up to grab that leg with an arm. He thrusts his other hand forward and it ends up grabbing Brihan right by the breast where he just twists and squeezes while lifting her up. He then starts to twirl her about at such a force it almost looks like they are turning into a mini dervish before he releases as he throws her downwards onto the ground. "Enough talk. You wanted a fight then you got one. Now shut up and let me see if do more than talk a good game."
Tendons strain and leather creaks beneath the grappling hands of Abel. Brihan's gaze darts instantly to the side as he relocates, her body rendered unable to reciprocate this awareness under the dire circumstance; such brutal tactics against a trained technician are not the wisest of choices. But although her lips curl into a sneer, the woman does not seem entirely displeased, feeding on the burst of rage that creeps through her being at the realisation of just /where/ this man has gripped her. It hurts like hell; and how apt that is...
That big mouth is put to use only in a wordless, empassioned yell as Brihan is dragged, agonised, into that aerial hurricane. She hits the ground with a virulent sputter, spitting and coughing a fragrant mixture of blood, saliva and her evening's meal into the cracked stone. Forcing herself upright with a brutal earthbound punch, she swings to face Abel, fluids still dripping down her chin but teeth borne wide and otherwise gleaming.
"You really are an animal, aren't you?"
The question contains within it a note of glee, the woman's anger and pain only driving her to dizzying new heights of some sinister ecstasy. With a stamp of a foot she soars to her feet, stance even looser now, fingers twitching as they form quivering half-fists. She tarries a moment, taking several circling steps, before a hand pulls back across her mouth, flicking away bloody bile and vomit. Pace, pace, pace; she continues to hover, somewhere between lion and vulture.
"I wonder, though," she mutters thickly, tightening her raised hand with a crack of protesting bone and sinew, then thrusting it forward with a motion so rapid that more of that filthy chi spills forth, brewing in a rageful torrent about bare knuckles. "How much /more/ of the rumour is true? Show me your muscle, wildebeest! All of it!!" The other hand thrusts forward with the final exclamation, joining the other in generating a burst of tainted energy. But this time it does not simply broil before her; spinning around itself then /hammering/ forward in an indistinct pillar of force, spreading like literal wildfire through the air as it seeks to encompass the amnesiac.
COMBATSYS: Brihan successfully hits Abel with Hypervelocity.
- Power hit! -
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Brihan 1/----===/=======|=======\-------\1 Abel
He had hoped to have made the woman think twice about proceeding with this this fight, but as he expected he might only get her to stop if he can knock her out. It also seems like she doesn't really listen well given how despite the strike she still seems to feel like talking. If it is meant to distract it seems to be doing a good enough job. As annoyed as he is getting he is doing his best to keep himself from giving in to his own urges of violence. They are usually easier to contain, but something about this woman is really just rubbing him the wrong way.
He also should have just pressed the attack. He gave her too much time to recover and it may be something he regrets. It also gives him a rather problematic blast of energy he finds himself trying avoid. He really has no time to get out of the way so he does his best to grit his teeth and use his arms to protect himself. The blast is more than he expected, though. It bowls him over and the Frenchman is taken off his feet from the force of the blast.
"I don't think so." he says while closing his eyes a moment as he gets up to a knee and takes a deep breath. The urges are getting harder to control. He needs a moment to collect himself and keep at bay. If he wants to get through this he has a feeling he needs to remain calm if he can. He draws himself to his full height once again and gets in his fighting stance once again. "The less satisfaction you get the better."
COMBATSYS: Abel gains composure.
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Brihan 1/----===/=======|=======\-------\0 Abel
There's something about this power Brihan wields; it's furious, but it's invasive. Though Abel may not have the right makeup to truly appreciate the more insidious effects, in many ways it's worse - it opposes the very core of his being, seeks to tear and destroy at the most rudimentary level. An extension of the woman's will and yet more besides, the personification of the force that drives her own unbalanced ferocity. This thing, whatever it is, cannot and will not exist alongside the Frenchman.
"You don't /think/ enough," Brihan snaps from behind her forthright fists, all but growling as she straightens her posture and starts forward at a lope. One hand retreats close to her chin, maintaining the semblance of a guard as the other only extends further with the opening of that fist. Abel's moment to gather himself is all he will receive; as she comes fast upon the last word he speaks, teeth bared in what is now more snarl than grin, reaching for his face with fingers that seem as talons...
"Let's CRACK YOUR HEAD OPEN AND TAKE A LOOK!!"
Screaming, spitting, and horrible, the dark woman seizes for a grasp that is less damaging than it initially appears - almost tender compared to her prior ministrations, though the sensation of another's palm consuming one's face is far from comfortable. But as her deathly yell dies, in its wake comes a veritable flood of surging energy, searing rust-toned chi coursing down her arm before exploding into a maelstrom centred on Abel's face. But if it finds purchase, this is only the beginning...
Within a second, a thrashing, filthy orange orb surrounds the pair of powerhouse warriors, the harbourside quaking beneath them, splintering and cracking. The very ocean bubbles at its edge, drawn inexorably toward the epicentre that Abel has become as nature itself seems to respond unfavourably at Brihan's very command. All the while, her battle-hardened, red-rimmed stare remains fixated on the man's own eyes - left bare between her fingers.
When the storm subsides, it is only because she loses purchase, gasping and hissing to recover her wits as the haze of her power begins to dim around them, the amnesiac allowed to fall as her quivering hand pulls away.
COMBATSYS: Abel endures Brihan's Black Hole.
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Brihan 0/-------/-----==|=======\===----\1 Abel
It is a power that makes him feel uneasy. He is not afraid of it, but it seems to be something that just makes him feel less in control of himself just by watching the woman weild it in such a manner. He has to just take her down somehow. He just needs to find a good opening or a weakness to exploit. Unlike what she is saying it might be that he is thinking in the wrong way. Overanalyzing things when a more simple approach might just prove to do him better.
"BRING IT ON!" he roars back finally as he steps right forward and it seems he might just have stopped thinking because he drives his head right into that grasping hand and is engulfed in the powerful blast as he grins teeth and does his best to keep his ground. His body is wracked with pain and even his insides are feeling as they are being ravaged by all the energy that is being released by the woman. This was not a good plan at all, but desperate men often not care about the best choices and as the energy surges through him he feels himself lose focus and there is a stirring deep down in him.
Even as that energy dies down and the grip is released, Abel only slumps forward and yet keeps on his feet even though his legs look like they want to give out on him. He almost looks as if he just passed out upright until there is a twitch and the Frenchman straightens up and stares right at Brihan. His expression blue eyes gone and replaced by giant white eyes without pupils and black around the edges. He says nothing, but if the woman even can be somewhat in tune of the energies of others there is a massive swirl of confusion and rage coming from the man. A power that he can't seem to unleash like Brihan so there is only one thing he can do. He lurches forward and goes to slam into Brihan and tackle her to the ground.
COMBATSYS: Abel successfully hits Brihan with Breathless EX.
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Brihan 1/------=/=======|=------\-------\0 Abel
His full weight slams into Brihan and drags the woman to the ground and soon she finds herself being hefted up as he stands only to be tossed up onto his shoulders where he begins to spin her about once again. "Hrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" he lets out a scream that echos through the harbor as he tosses the woman high into the air and awaits her fall back towards the ground. That is only meant with a kick right between her legs as hands grip her shoulders and keep her from ever reaching soild ground. He twirls her about again and with another loud yell he goes rolling about across the ground with her before releasing and sending her careening right into a wall of one of the warehouses.
Breathing heavily he slowly gets to his feet afterwards. The rage subsiding as his eyes have returned to normal. The haziness fades as the pain is starting to be felt through his body. He looks ready to keel over right then and there, but he manages to keep standing. He is too tired for words at the moment. He just remains ready in case Brihan somehow manages to get up after that.
"That's it..."
Brihan's voice is barely a whisper, hoarse and coarse in the depth of her ravaged throat. She can taste it - the fury, the thunder, the satisfaction of what is yet to come. The tackle bears her to the unforgiving ground, and the breath leaves her lungs explosively, the throb spreading in her strangled bosom as Abel collapses atop her, the entire enviable weight of his form crushing and grinding her own. She is scooped up all too easily, launched as if she were weightless, and though the world becomes a passing blur - the image of his eyes stays with her.
"/That's it/!"
Somehow she croaks it out in the second that passes in the cold night air, before his foot all but obliterates her pelvis, ripping the sensitive flesh beneath her capris, setting her body aflame in such a way as it may not have been before. He is everything she was told he would be. And yet so different from the others... an abomination well-disguised. But how can she think on this through such pain - such ANGER? The culmination of his artistic destruction leaves her quite literally embedded in a warehouse wall, mortar exploding around the Ethiopian, brickwork dripping and dribbling from the subsequent hole. It's deep enough that she clings there for a moment, limply hanging at the precipice before tumbling to the floor.
She lands with a heavy thump, and lies still.
"A... ha... haha..."
Until laughter begins to echo through the air. Breathless indeed, barely audible as it begins, soon enough it gains maniac intensity. A large, rough hand claps down in the rubble, the women forcing herself upright through the sound of her own horrific intensity. Soon enough she stands, red-streaked head flung back, each retching ululation of her throat scattering another insane syllable into the lamplit gloom.
"HAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!"
Suddenly it is bitten off, blood-spattered teeth gnashing together as Brihan bows forward, bent of back and wild of eye as she stares upon her fatigued opponent. She is clearly bruised, battered, broken - barely standing - and yet somehow lit up from within by that pulsing, gruesome energy. Swathes of dirty orange begin to stir from her flesh, billowing out around her as she hauls in seething breaths. Halting, but gaining momentum, she begins to utter words between them.
"But... not.... enough... /little/... /BISON/!!"
Roaring the last, ichor spraying from her mouth, Brihan is one instant there and the next gone. A mess of blazing chi is left in her wake, an almost comical smoke cloud left behind. It would be laughable if not for the ferociously buckled shape that appears hunkered down before Abel, divorced from all humanity, white teeth flashing and expansive forehead aflame with energy. The apparition springs as though from the earth itself, corkscrewing from the spiderwebbed bricks as the forbidding woman launches herself into a single, devastating headbutt, bringing that explosive head upward for one last collision with Abel's nose.
Any lesser being might be dead already; there is scant time to react, before her bony protrusion would bury cartilage in brain. But this is no mere pup she fights, whether or not he realises it himself. As her tainted power erupts with all the fury of a dying sun, it seeks to take with it a being that could threaten everything, that could be far worse than Brihan...
If only he knew.
COMBATSYS: Brihan successfully hits Abel with Supernova.
- Power hit! -
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Brihan 0/-------/-------|=====--\-------\0 Abel
The laugh and the sadistic glee. It is all too familiar. Weird images flash through his head. A glowing eye and something about spiders. It makes him lose focus as he tries to instead keep his concentration on Brihan and not distractions such as that. The fact she still has enough in her tank to even move and talk makes him realize this fight isn't anywhere near over. Then again it seems it will be over sooner than he thinks. As she launches forward there is little he can do. At first his foot starts to move, but then he holds his ground and looks to just brace for impact. He is just too worn out to put up much of a defense as he almost blacks out right on impact.
His head snaps backa nd he goes staggering backwards several steps. "Not....done...." he says, though his voice is quiet and the rage that was shown has long passed. He is barely concious as he takes what energy he has left and he steps forward then launches himself skyward. He twists about and he aims to slam a heel right onto the top of Brihan's skull. The landing of his is not a pretty one. He just lands in a heep and he may have been out before he even hit the ground the way he was looking.
COMBATSYS: Abel can no longer fight.
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Brihan 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Brihan blocks Abel's Wheel Kick EX.
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Brihan 0/-------/------=|
But not today.
With the resounding crack of bone on bone, Brihan's delirium faintly lifts, and she lands upon her feet with limbs snapping into their accustomed places - legs firmly grounded, arms raised with hands wavering to either side of her face as they slide to a halt. Her eyes are still brewing over with orange taint, shot through with blood and energy both as she struggles to maintain some modicum of focus upon Abel. Though 'struggle' is perhaps not right; buoyed up as she is by some terrible force, it's more that she fights to maintain a control that's entirely her own. As their eyes meet for the last time, Abel may became aware of the truth - that this woman, for all her violence, is /holding back/.
A brazen hiss leaves her lips in tandem with the oncoming roar of wind around the Frenchman's desperation kick. Forearms spring together, dark-toned skin almost knitting together as Brihan prepares an ample defence, heavy heel crunching against bones all too used to such punishment. His would-be informant is sent careering back, however, trainers squealing a protest as they grind into the floor to prevent her from simply being bowled over by transferred momentum.
"/Done/." The word is delivered with firm, and smug confidence as Brihan straightens up with a faint sigh - the first sign of fatigue she has allowed herself to show. Glancing down balefully at the fallen man, she rolls her shoulders, and takes her sweet time in swaggering forward to loom over his body. One hand extends downward, fingers opening and closing a few times before she grunts noncommitally, glances away. All that rage has poured off of her, the stewing energies settling within until the only signs of their conflict - aside from Abel himself - is a considerable amount of property damage.
A lull returns to the docks, before Brihan lifts a foot and plants it against the man before her. Bleary-eyed and weary, but still possessing her strength, she begins to roll him toward the water, unceremoniously finishing the job with a few sloppy kicks, adding a few bruises to the beaten package as she allows it - him - to fall into the bitter cold of the ocean.
"Survive this," she slurs thickly as she turns to leave, rolling her neck and spitting a mouthful of blood onto the damaged stone, "And maybe next time we'll meet, I'll throw you a bone. Wildebeest. Big, dumb, and unaware of how mighty you truly are... you're worthless to us..."
COMBATSYS: Brihan takes no action.
[ \\\\\ <
Brihan 0/-------/------=|
COMBATSYS: Brihan keeps on fighting!
[ \\\\\ <
Brihan 0/-------/------=|
COMBATSYS: Brihan has ended the fight here.
Log created on 13:15:07 03/09/2011 by Brihan, and last modified on 22:26:01 03/15/2011.