Description: The second part of the Shadaloo vs Wrestlefriends fight log. Contains entire Zangief vs Juri fight and ending. (WINNER AND KING OF FIGHTERS: Shadaloo)
In the distance of this dreary battlefield that marks the final battle of King of Fighters... and so much more, a man clad in shadow smiles. Smirks, even, an arrogant chortle at the proceedings.
If, for most of all, the mountain of a man that steps up from largely nowhere in the sullen proceedings. They have no huge live audience. Cameras appear to be missing. The truth of what goes on here could very well be kept between them.
This means nothing to him. In his massive boy, nestled underneath massive pectorals and a great amount of chest hair, a heart beats with pride. At the beginning, they were seen as unlikely contenders in the wake of so many bigger names surrounding the King of Fighters tournament.
Now, the final battle is upon them.
"THE POWER OF WRESTLING IS SUPREME!" Cries a boastful, throaty voice heavily accented by a native Russian as red boots leave imprints in the swirling dust underneath him. A lumbering, hulking man, there is no anger for El Fuerte's fall against Juri.
El Fuerte, the soul of the Wrestlefriends, has helped carry all of them thus far to unspeakable heights. To be the King of Fighters... to prove the strength and honor of their revered style, it now falls upon the shoulders of the one who brought them all together.
"I, THE RED CYCOLE," he so declares, a red cloak flapping about to a sudden breeze, "LET NO MAN, WOMAN, BEAST, OR MOUNTAIN STAND IN WAY!" With a powerful outward sweep of his left arm, the red cloak flies free and, comically, swirls about the entire battlefield.
Maybe a certain someone in the background has found idle amusement in this bluster.
The mohawked muscle man, truly one of the pinnacles of physical might, hunches forward with arms wide open as he stands a ways away from the unbound psychotic beast that is Juri, but don't let Zangief's bluster fool anyone.
He knows for sure that this final fight puts it all at stake. He has fought so many people, big and small, to know better than to ever discount the Korean psion or anyone else of her ilk that have come here, a loud snort exhaling a cloud of dust that has since found itself parked inside.
"Stand," he speaks in a somewhat more hushed tone before he picks up volume again, "and LET YOU FEEL THE MIGHT OF RUSSIA'S PRIDE... THE PRIDE OF THE GREATEST WRESTLERS!"
He sticks one single finger up to the sky before settling down, a man of an entirely different mission than Juri - but no less dangerous, despite the vast differences in their scopes and motivations.
And so, Zangief has entered the ring.
COMBATSYS: Zangief has joined the fight here on the right meter side.
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Juri 1/-------/=======|-------\-------\0 Zangief
COMBATSYS: Zangief focuses on his next action.
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Juri 1/-------/=======|-------\-------\0 Zangief
Juri takes a moment to express gratitude to the small, sharpened bit of rock that loosed her from her bonds. The tiny thing did such a great service to her, after all. Now one may wonder about the nature of Juri's gratitude: What does it look like? Has anyone ever seen it? Well as it turns out, yes. Lots of people have seen it. And it looks like her scowling before kicking the tiny shard of discarded rock into the nearby ocean!
'THE POWER OF WRESTLING IS SUPREME' a manly voice roars, splitting the silence of the desolate island cleanly in two.
The Taekwondoka smirks, turning her head to face the crimson clad figure descending from overhead. There is a glimmer of something in her eye. Is she impressed by the man's interest? Inspired? No not at all. That glimmer, the brief twinkle, contains all of the sadistic glee that Juri contains within her. "Big man." She says, mostly to herself. "I like big men." Her pale lips pull back into a sneer, right before she rubs it with the back of her gloved hand. It might look like she's wiping away some drool.
The diminuitive Korean saunters toward the massive Russian man. Her seductive, deadly grace belied in the carefully controlled movements of her body. She looks like a serpent ready to strike, but instead she speaks in that menacing purr of hers. "Well, well, well. It looks like it's just you and me. I hope you don't mind if I take things a bit quickly. Your friend over there has gotten me all warmed up..." Her right hand trails its fingers down from her lips, between her breast and over the smooth musculature of her stomach before being allowed to drop by her side, "... and I'm ready to kill."
With that word she becomes a blur of motion, streaking across the battlefield and aiming to deliver a kick directed at the man's hairy chest! It's just a simple kick, from a woman half his size and a third of his weight easy. But behind it is an incredible, ungodly amount of force. Enough to crumple someone's ribcage like it was made of styrofoam. Enough, indeed, to hurt even a man as strong as Zangief!
COMBATSYS: Juri successfully hits Zangief with Thrust Kick.
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Juri 1/------=/=======|=------\-------\0 Zangief
Where Juri's voice is the menacing purr of a wild, dangerous cat, Zangief's words are punctuated with the throaty growls of a bear as she speaks her own mind about her eagerness to end it quickly. A quick, decisive finish to the King of Fighters...
This will do.
"Da," he growls out, "then try!" His challenge is given when he flexes his massive arms, hunched over with a growl as though to psyche himself up - perhaps even to intimidate. A gesture that is, in the big picture, entirely lost and not at all helpful for stopping a powerful, forceful, direct kick to the ribs that fully demonstrates the capability of someone of such smaller size than he.
His heels skid across the desolate landscape for a good seven feet, a low grunt of pain at this first little personal taste of Juri's incredible power. It is largely pride - something Zangief has no small shortage of - that he does not stop to nurse where her foot strikes solidly. It is no time for weakness, when the embodiment of his very dreams lay bare.
Its last obstacle, /her/, a growl on his face as he throws his hands up wide, feet already carrying him back the distance he has been shoved.
"THAT DOES NOT STOP THE RED CYCLONE!" He boasts as he tromps forward, arms wide as he intends to get back within arm's reach of Juri to bring his hands down atop her to try and force her down to a low kneel, pick her up from the sides, leap into the skies, and slam her back onto the barren land, head-first, with such strength that the island itself may shudder.
COMBATSYS: Juri blocks Zangief's Flying Powerbomb.
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Juri 1/------=/=======|==-----\-------\0 Zangief
A mountain cat versus a bear, perhaps an apt comparison when you consider the differences between their relative sizes. You see, Juri's strike does indeed find its way home to Zangief's chest. And satisfyingly he is sent backwards, skidding on his heels. But he does not fall. He does not crumple. And as Juri lowers her foot from the kick she just delivered, her smile grows. An eagerness can be seen in her eyes now.
She licks her lips, "Oh man, I'm going to have fun breaking you!"
Of course, that incredible mountain of muscle does not wait for her to deliver her next attack. It comes to her, its massive hands coming down atop of her to force her to kneel! Her own hands come up, diminuitive as they are, and catches his strike. But it's not enough, and even though she was successful in catching the blow she is still forced to her knees.
Anger and frustration is clear on Juri's face as she is lifted up in the man's arms, taking off skyward together! But she is not as dazed as he might have wished, and her body is very tiny, very flexible compared to his. She writhes from his grasp just seconds before impact, and is sent flipping away from his body! Hands and feet are driven into the ground, digging shallow trenches and shooting up trails of dust in her wake as she cancels the momentum Zangief intended to drive her into the ground with.
And she smiles, once again, "Well, maybe not that. But I'm sure I can think of a few other things to stop a Red Cyclone with. Would you like me to show them to you?"
Juri's left eye begins to glow. A dim glow, a subtle glow. Inside her left field of vision, readouts and information spread out before her. She can see it all. The flow of chi within Zangief's body, his relative agility, strength, and dexterity. She can see flaws, openings, strengths and more. Her smile is of many teeth, "Oh so many things."
COMBATSYS: Juri focuses on her next action.
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Juri 1/-======/=======|==-----\-------\0 Zangief
In some ways, Zangief appears to take the landing harder than Juri herself does, knees buckling under the force in which he would have swung her into the earth. With Juri's technical skill, another good push or twist on Juri's part could have fully turned the maneuver right against the wrestling behemoth.
Perhaps, on some level, Zangief becomes aware of this as he rises from his crouch lnading to Juri's confident, easy-going smile as she muses about the ways she could stop a Red Cyclone. She is met with a furrowed brow and bared teeth (which, to be honest, Zangief will generally respond to /anything/ with a furrowed brow and bared teeth, because he is Zangief).
"Do not /show/ the Red Cyclone!" Zangief snarls as he does what so many other truly foolish people have done against Juri, someone who holds such a wonderful gift in that Feng Shui Engine to really read people inside out. To know where to break them, to know how to break them, to absolutely dominate as a living weapon...
Where to Zangief, his muscles and years of training against the worthiest training partners nature has had to offer in Russia and beyond, a pivot as he turns his side to her, a hand glowing in green energy as he swings the open, chi-bathed hand downward towards Juri's lithe, smaller body. Perhaps the demonstration of how she broke out of her previous grab should clue him into the nature of just how well she may overcome a simplistic, if brutal, strike.
But yet, a cyclone never hesitates in its violent course across the countryside, and the Banishing Flat goes for the strike.
"STOP IT IF YOU CAN!"
COMBATSYS: Zangief successfully hits Juri with Banishing Flat.
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Juri 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|==-----\-------\0 Zangief
If anything, the anger that Zangief shows Juri does little more than amuse her. Give her reason to lick her lips once more. Give her reason to chuckle softly at his expense. She is not afraid of the man, or all the hairy chested rage he can bellow out at her. She apparently feels that she is prepared for him, whatever he might be able to dish out, and that his words are merely the frightened barks of a toothless dog.
But Zangief managed to prove her wrong. His attack is simplistic, but its effect stunning. He brings down his open fist wreathed in green chi energy and impacts upon Juri with all the force of the Siberian Winter! She is sent crashing face first to the ground at his feet...
Then with a grim sneer she pushes herself, she flips back, landing in a low crouch. "Almost ready..." She leaps toward the Red Cyclone now, tattered clothing flapping freely in the breeze generated by her rapid movements. She brings her foot up behind her back, her foot igniting in a thin film of psycho power before she brings it around to deliver a painful looking kick toward Zangief's chest and head!
Only it comes a bit short. Odd, perhaps, until one notices that the psycho power generates an arc: A slash cut from the air, formed of that tempestuous psycho power and striking with the full force of one of Juri's own kicks! Only the impact is felt in the mind as well as the body.
COMBATSYS: Juri successfully hits Zangief with EX Fuhajin.
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Juri 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|======-\-------\0 Zangief
Such strength, in fact, Zangief may even think for that fleeting moment that he did not hit anything at all - such is his strength, that few people are able to stand up and resist as he twists back to a much more battle-ready position to see Juri slither on back up to her lithe, agile feet and swinging.
That the kicks seem to come up short is misread entirely, thinking it weakness. An opening! The cyclone shall not relent this moment, and Juri may get a glimpse of satisfaction in reading that face. The face of a mere beast going in for the opportunistic kill against their prey -
And the look when he realizes a split-second too late that he has all but hurled himself into a launched blast of fell energy, the tightness in his hands so great that his knuckles threaten to crack open and bleed (likely an entertaining sight to her analyses), a wheeze as it splashes about his upper body and - given the nature of her power - well beyond.
The power is such that she even gets the man down to his knees, a poignant pause as he seems ready to flop over from that sudden shock, one hand clutching his head tightly while the other props him up.
"Hnnn... is that how?" He asks in a much more subdued, quieter voice, as if thinking... this is how she intends to bring him down?
To bring him down with a measely little splash of purple that, in the big picture, was hardly any of the above descriptors?!
Though this has put some distance between them, Zangief's incredible wingspan and height are both extraordinarily potent tools in his arsenal, tools he makes use of as he shoots a let out towards Juri's shins as he pulls himself up from the dust and decay of this isolated place, far from where many would have wished to display the glory of their power and ability.
This attempted strike is quickly followed up as he reaches out for her waistline again to try and yank her closer, to twist her up in both hands and powerbomb her in a sudden lash-out. She is prepared, she is, in her words, almost ready.
Zangief, in comparison, is always 'on,' something he tries to express through sudden guttural yells against this final adversary towards the ultimate victory, wordless in speech but especially fluent in the flexing of those great, big muscles of his.
COMBATSYS: Juri interrupts Combo Throw from Zangief with Kaisen Dankairaku.
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Juri 0/-------/---====|=======\====---\1 Zangief
"That's just a taste." The woman's menacing purr states simply, "I didn't expect something like that to break you. No. Not a man like you." There is a shiver of delight in her voice as she watches the man kneel down before her. "Did it feel good?" She asks, her town somehow both mocking and sincere. It's as if she knows it could not possible feel good, but at the same time she wanted to know if he enjoyed it. If he's enjoying her breaking him as much as she enjoys him breaking her.
He needs to make no verbal response, his coming attack is better than any words he could offer. He reaches out and grabs her shin, pulls her to his massive body! To lift her up and slam her down onto the ground! His incredible strength is behind his attack, and she is flung around like a ragdoll. Certainly she can't avoid this!
But she doesn't even try. Instead she catches herself but moments before slamming against the ground, her arms straining and buckling under the effort of keeping her body from impacting on the ground below. Once again her arms have saved her, demonstrating that even to a Taekwondoka they are important tools that cannot... should not be neglected. The eventual impact of the back of her neck against the desolate ground of the island is as gentle as if Zangief was laying her down to sleep. And it gives her the leverage she needs to wrestle her legs free of his grasp.
"Kill."
The newly free legs begin to spin like a helicopter's blade, bright purple energy alighting along their length. The two bodies ascend together within the a twisting vortex of psycho power, heading ever skyward! At the apex of the attack, Zangief's form can be seen rising still upwards from the inertia of the attack. So too is Juri, wreathed now in psycho power like some sort of angel of fury. Her lips move to form words as she lifts her leg upwards:
"Kill!"
The leg descends, an arc of psycho powered energy following it and propelling Zangief's body toward the ground with bone cracking force! He may be able to see out of the corner of her eye as Juri follows after him. A waterfall of black hair now flows freely in the wind, freed from their binds by the force of Juri's kick and the damage done earlier throughout the battle. She lands on all fours, hands and feet digging shallow trenches once more through the dry and lifeless soil. She cancels her moment, stands, and spins to deliver one last mighty kick to Zangief's descending back.
"KILL!"
There is a moment of silence now. Juri holds the massive man's body aloft, impossibly, improbably. There is a pleased smile on her face, a sensuous purr in her voice as she leans up to stroke his bearded chin. Her left eye still aglow with the Feng Shui Engine's light. She speaks softly, "Well? Did you enjoy your show?" With that she spins once more, delivering Zangief safely back into the ground. Head and neck first. With enough force to destroy both.
==
There is nobody around here to watch the unfolding violence, beyond a /presence/ and the groaning of the wounded and barely conscious, if even at all. The strikes of lightning punctuate Juri's multitude of kicks, the wind kicking up again. Higher and higher, at one point it seems the two are but mere dots to that swirling energy vortex above them. It serves as the spotlight backdrop to the violet energies emitted from Juri's rising assault, a large, seemingly lifeless husk of meet stunned in the onslaught as he faces up to the swirling heavens.
He comes back to clarity, the sight of that massive build-up of energy above fading away like spots in his vision, tongue lolling out as he eyes the powerful Taekwandoka whom strokes his beard. His mind has not caught up with the sensations of pain that are slowly seeping into him, an incomprehensible and nearly silent prolonged groan his response to her question about the show.
The final kick thrusts him into the ground deeply enough that it's not just spider cracks and rubble. /Something/ shudders outward, like a shockwave. It may even be ticklish to Juri's ankles if she, er, actually is ticklish in any fashion, but there's no denying that there is /some/ underlying power here. Something, that such power has helped loosen.
Zangief is briefly invisible to the loosened dust and dirt cloud where he is, supposedly, felled. The sound and barely visible movement of a fist suddenly pounding the sickly, dead earth as the rest of his silhouette comes up.
Blood visibly drips from his nose and chin - and a number of recent scars re-open, his breath heavy and hoarse as the Red Cyclone dares out of sheer bloody-mindedness to stand up.
"We are strong!" He concedes. Perhaps it is, in some ways, a stalemate - if not staring up a wall that, in spite of his imposing height, he may not be able to climb. He finds it in him to get in a weak little laugh as he steps free of his crater. "That is why we fight here!"
There is precious few around. No one to impress directly. No children in the stands cheering for him, no cameras all upon him, nothing but this vast, eerie landscape in which the two determine the ultimate outcome of the tournament.
He lumbers towards Juri, a step at a time. Slowed, but not stopped. Injured, but not yet beaten.
"Show is not over!" Zangief's amusement turns to growls as he psyches himself up the only way he knows how - through anger, growling, and, most importantly - aggressive bodily contact, heedless of race, creed, build, gender, or even personhood. He's the kind of guy who would probably piledrive an entire house if given the ability and chance just because it's /there/ for him.
"The pride of Russia," an expected remark as he races forward, looking to grab Juri around shoulder level. There's nothing further to say. The gesture is familiar to anyone who is a fan of the fighting circuit, to try and turn her upside down and grasp her tightly in his clutches, leap up once more with a corkscrew to help build up momentum before finally coming down - if he catches her.
It is his trademark throw, in all ways - yet, completely understated in response to Juri's disassembly of him in that series of strikes. Is this his last gasp, or is there something... further, he has to say, beyond this simple statement of violence?
COMBATSYS: Juri blocks Zangief's Screw Piledriver.
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Juri 0/-------/--=====|=======\====---\1 Zangief
It is after the attack, after the unleashing of all her pain, her horror, her sheer violent bloodyminded strength that Juri can feel the world shuddering around her. That presence, now... something, somewhere. It tickles the part of her brain that gives her the ability to deliver such powerful psychic attacks. But she doesn't comprehend anything.
With her raven black hair now flowing freely over her back and shoulders one might be able to consider Juri a genuine, perhaps even classical beauty. At least, until you look into her eyes. Those eyes look back at Zangief now, still filled with the sadistic glee that no amount of world destroying foreboding could disrupt. She giggles softly. A wholly unpleasant sound coming from her, and one that soon breaks into a full cackle that shakes the woman's small frame like hideous convulsions! She cackles toward the sky in open defiance of the vortex. Of whatever presence may be behind it! She is clearly a woman gone mad! A woman standing on the precipice of disaster, but she doesn't. Fucking. CARE.
And when she is finished she lowers her face again to regard Zangief coolly. Her lips quirked into a smirk as she listens to the giant of a man speak his words. "We /are/ strong." She comments, casually. And offering high praise from someone like herself. "We are warriors, fighters, killers." Her lips split into that tooh-filled smile once more, "Well... perhaps only one of us." As big as he is, and strong, Zangief simply does not 'feel' like a true killer. Not someone who kills for the sheer joy of watching another one breathe their last.
'The Pride of Russia', and he comes for her. Racing as fast as those well-muscled legs can take him! Juri just stands there passively as he approaches though. Staring down the charge with all the emotion of a wall of ice. His arm reaches for her, and she blocks with her forearm. He wrenches her arm badly before she manages to get it free, taking advantage of one of her spiked bracelets to give an incentive to him letting go!
Then the two are standing before each other. Both bloodied and exhausted. Juri is still smiling though, and still laughing as that baleful glow comes back to her left eye. She brings her hand up before it, "Now let me show The Red Cyclone... the Purple Tempest."
Swirling around her body, lines of purple energy begin to gather. Moving faster and faster, swirling, kicking up dust and producing a literally vortex of dust and debris stirred by growing lines of psycho power. They start as thick as cables, then grow to be larger than tree trunks. In the middle Juri clenches both hands, her entire body sweating from the strain of channeling so much of her own psycho power through the Feng Shui Engine! The Engine itself whines, straining under the effort ... and then.
*SNAP*
With a snap of her fingers, all that power is released in a massive explosion, intending to scour as much as the island as she can in a cloud of pure psycho energy! The dome expands outwards further and further... and then evaporates leaving nothing but dust and whoever might be able to weather that onslaught.
Whoever might that be?
COMBATSYS: Zangief fails to interrupt Fuharenjin from Juri with Ultimate Atomic Buster.
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Juri 0/-------/------=|====---\-------\0 Zangief
COMBATSYS: Zangief can no longer fight.
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Juri 0/-------/------=|
The grab is, ultimately, rebuked with force, as though the pride of Russia were to be so... so suddenly deflected by one so smaller than he? Some would say this a national embarrassment, a truly frail final gasp of a man who may have realized, on some level, that he is defeated.
Then, there is her invitation. The Purple Tempest.
"To bite off such majestic name? Is cute." It is, perhaps, mocking, as if disbelieving as he faces down that roadblock that threatens - no, is about - to undo all the work and sacrifice they have made in coming this far.
"Not just pride of Russia," he works back up as the great purple lines of energy gather... intensify. Even being in its proximity, his head weighs heavy. He is at his ultimate limit. To let down El Fuerte, to let down Tizoc, to let down Rainbow Mika...
As the vortex of dust and debris batter against him, Zangief utters a growl that will be heard for miles on end, shouting above the vortex and the storms around them. Juri's fingers snap as a pure cloud of psycho energy rushes out. His arms reach out and, against all common sense and - indeed, common understanding of the governing laws of physics concerning the latent energies fighters possesses...
Grabs away at the blast.
Stone, wood, dirt, and dust blast all out across the landscape behind Juri.
In front, inexplicably, Zangief has somehow /grabbed/ enough of this awful, fearful mass that it manages to stay manifested in his hold.
"THE PRIDE OF WRESTLING!" He shouts, tumbling backwards, absolutely engulfed in this powerful energy. His mind goes entirely numb, working on instinct. He doesn't have Juri in his grasp. Enveloped in this energy, he works with the momentum in that first backwards dive - which may very well be, beyond all reason, him /suplexing/ out the psionic power that has yet to disperse - even threaten - to completely overpower him.
Coming to a rise, he thrusts tis arms down, as if to strike down what of this awful power he could, before leaping high up into the air as far as he can will his legs.
"This," he mutters aloud as he's carried himself up higher and higher, grasping at thin air - yet feeling as though there is a physical prescence where there /isn't/ any, turning a completely invisible opponent upside down, "is what Zangief thinks..."
"Of this..."
He starts coming down, spinning and spinning while the mass of psionic energy still afflicting him and a mind not trained - or some would say - all too capable of surviving, let alone /resisting/ this powerful energy...
"PURPLE TEMPEST!" He makes one last shout before he appears to, by all intents and purposes, suplex this great portion of excessive burst of psionic energy that Juri has unleashed, a great large column of purple energy dispersing up high and outwards with an explosion that, in itself, comes just shy of rivaling her own dispersal of power.
Those conscious or observing over on the side of Shadaloo would call this a pointless, even suicidal gesture that mystifies and maybe even amuses.
To Zangief, it is a matter of pride for his craft. IF he was to fall to such power, it would be because he suplexed it. Suplex it, he did, his battered and unconscious body flying a great distance away from the site of the battle to leave its clear victor to reap in the title she has won.
Juri Han and her fellow ne'er-do-wells have become the King of Fighters.
==
It's cute.
You could call Juri that. 'Cute'. It's in the same way you might consider a badger 'cute' when it's not busy trying to tear your face off. The expanding mass of energy, violet in color, could probably considered beautiful in the distance. Closer to the epicenter though it is revealed to be a torrent of pure psychic agony. Even standing at the outermost edges would cause brave, hairy chested men to weep like babes and run for shelter.
But Zangief is not just any brave, hairy chested man. He's the bravest, hairiest chest having idiot that Juri has run into in a long time. Wrapped in the center of the explosion the Shadaloo Spider gets to watch as the large Russian wrestler reaches out to grab ... nothing. No, he grabs something. The very power of her attack is somehow, against all common sense or logic, turned into something physical. Using the last scrapings of his power, his chi, in order to be able to do the one thing he knows to do. The only thing he knows to do:
Supplex the biggest, meanest, most dangerous thing he can find.
When the dust finally clears, Juri stands quietly. Her lips are drawn into a tight line and her eyes open wide in a clear demonstration of surprise or even shock. Slowly the lids of her eyes draw close again and she smirks, her voice that cool menacing purr again, "Well. I did say I enjoyed fighting men like that. Always full of surprises." Slowly one hand reaches up so that she may rub her fingers delicately over the surface of her neck. No scar remains, no scar would given her ability to recover from wounds that would kill anybody else, but she can still feel the jagged tear in her mind. There is a pleased sigh at the memory.
Juri sits down now in the middle of the abandoned island. No doubt the helicopter will descend shortly to pick her back up. Perhaps not after the brief altercation she and that boxer gloved asshole got into. She smirks as she realizes that, perhaps, this makes her the champion of the King of Fighters tournament. Well, she and her team. Like she could care about any of that.
Planting her hands on the ground behind her, she looks up at the vortex filled sky. No she doesn't want parades or award ceremonies or trophies or ribbons or anything like that. She just wants more opponents. Stronger opponents. More entertaining opponents. Her raven black hair blows gently in the breeze as it whispers across the desolate island. Her pale lips quirk into a smile as she realizes she actually hopes the world is ending. Just so that she can be the one take its destruction from the hands of the person holding it. This world, so full of her pain and misery and that has allowed so much suffering. It should be her right to break it apart.
Hers, and no one else's.
COMBATSYS: Juri has ended the fight here.
A Shadaloo helicopter braves the horrible weather conditions with the immediate news of their King of Fighters victory - the little game is over. Their strength proven to the world, it would soon be time to carry out whatever further schemes they had to establish global dominance.
"What kinda piece of shit finals was that?!" Barks infamous Shadaloo lieutenant, Mike Bison, as he looks out the open side door as they draw towards the center. "Don't see nothin' but... trees... some kinda lake... that a volcano or some shit? Rocks? What's with the sky, friggin' fireworks? There ain't no crowds or camera, huh?! Bet your scrawny asses they don't got no money prize!"
The biggest cardinal sin of them all. Why does Lord Vega and his merry band of men even care?
"ADORATION OF THE MASSES! JAGGA!" Adon gleefully pumps his fist behind Mike. "THE TRUE GOD OF MUAY THAI HAS SURELY WON US THIS VICTORY!"
"Shut your fat mouth 'fore I make those lips fatter!" Bison waves a glove in his face. "You ain't done shit!"
"So cries a mere pretender to the throne of such a WEAK little sport! Boxing! More like YAWNING! JAGGA! You have no pride! That is why you never entered this ring!" Adon lifts his knee threateningly, as the two enter a stare-off that might prompt an impromptu fight to the death while having one hand each hanging into the inside of the helicopter. Perhaps Juri down there may find some amusement in watching a fight about to happen between mere pawns.
The wind suddenly goes deathly still. A chill goes down any spine still there - something big, something fearsome on the most basic, instinctual level of any human being present.
"Please, children." Comes an even-toned voice, somehow able to be heard from the ground even in its relative quiet. A shadowy figure descends upon the top of the helicopter blades... and smoothly stands atop them.
The helicopter blades stop spinning. Sparks fly from the transport, violently rocking as the engine blows from this particularly bold choice of stoppage.
"WHAT THE HELL?!" M.Bison bellows.
"JAGGAAAAA?!" Adon's jaw drops.
The transport promptly crashes down onto the ground ever close-by to Juri, to threaten to consume her in the dust cloud as a tall male figure, clad in some sort of robe steps forward.
"Ah, these must be the most esteemed King of Fighters. Hm, hm. Funny, isn't it?"
An injured but not quite down M.Bison and Adon start to rise up.
"What you laughin' at, white boy?" M.Bison runs his mouth at one he does not realize the true depths of.
"The... the true Emperor, n-no, the God of Muay Thai.. d-does... does not--" Adon stammers, resolve shaken.
"Excuse me." The man snaps his fingers, gale force winds surrounding the helicopter and the two infamous Shadaloo associates, the dust clearing away to better reveal his features - tall, clad in blue, blonde...
And making immediate sport of two perfectly competent, even feared, individuals as they and the transport are summarily blown northward.
"I REGRET EVERYTHIIIIING," M.Bison screams as he clinches onto Adon for an exceptionally poor attempt at grounding himself.
"JAGGAAAAAAAAAA---" Adon, ever the coward at heart, also hugs M.Bison close as the two - and their damaged, ruined helicopter - are ejected.
"Now... we can get to our proper introductions, hm?" Asks the man as he bows politely towards Juri. "I am Goenitz, most humble servant of Orochi..."
TO BE CONTINUED...
Log created on 13:05:45 07/30/2011 by Juri, and last modified on 03:06:06 08/07/2011.