Description: In which two friends catch up and go over how their lives have changed since the judgment of humanity was put on hold by a powerful being so few people understand the gravity of. When it goes to the inevitable sparring session, the two are more than ready to show how they've grown as people that is, somehow, best expressed through whatever fighting techniques they have mastered.
It's evening time at the Kyokugen Dojo. There are a few later night classes on some days of the week for some of the more advanced students - classes that may very well be undertaken by a certain middle-aged man as soon as he finishes up work on the latest saga of worktime difficulties.
Hammering in the last few nails with his own palm, Howard wipes sweat off his brow, perspiration going well out of its way to inexplicably avoid touching the, er, thing on top of his head that is absolutely, positively not hair by any realistic stretch of the definition.
"Cripes," Howard mumbles as he takes a step back from his latest bit of handiwork - repairing that hole in the wall of the Sakazaki household that until now had to be hidden with a rather conspicuous amount of dressers and other furniture that really did not belong outdoors, which are now gathered in a rather suspicious pile off to the side.
Dusting his gloved hands off, Howard gets to stretching out his limbs to try and limber up and such. He's had an exhausting day, and yet, he's been gently encouraged to participate in tonight's classes. This means the night air, naturally, is violated by sounds of complaining joints that don't really want to be flexed too much more for the day.
Sucks to be them.
It really does.
Zach decided, in the interests of friendship and potential justice, pay a visit to teammate and rival Howard Rust. He knows that Rust practices at the Kyokugen Dojo, but is always nervous in visiting the place. Never know when that crazy old man will jump out of a bush and start trouble over something he is (easily) confused about.
But Rust is worth the risk. Zach walks up to the front gate, and raps loudly on the door. He waits politely after knocking, but hopefully he won't be kept waiting for too long.
If Zach tried looking for him at Rust's old place or asked around at Pacific High, he's most likely been told that he's not there any more (that he moved out and/or, in very kind terms, no longer works there).
The Kyokugen Dojo may very well be the last easy lead in which to look for him in person, nowadays.
The gate opens up slowly to a familiar enough silhouette at least. The stout frame, the length of pipe on his left hip, and the horrible combover that stands as his--
--that's not a combover. What the hell is that purple thing on his head?
"Hey," mumbles a familiar voice whose eyes aren't really paying much attention to who it is in front of him, "if you're here for tonight's stuff, then... uh."
Now they are. He doesn't know any other fully grown men that are as short as this guy.
"Zach?" Asks Howard, right hand leaning up against the doorframe. "That you?" He clears his throat with the pat of his left hand against his chest, a gesture which almost assuredly identifies this man as being Howard despite that... thing on his head.
Zach stares for a moment that gives birth to another moment before speaking again. (The hell? Did he steal that hair from my shower drain or something?) "Y-yeah. It's me," Zach finally replies. He reshoulders that oblong bundle Rust knows to be a very nice wakazashi. Zach glances around with a trace of concern before looking back to the (much) larger man.
"You been doing okay? I swung by Pacific, but that Marshall asshole told me you were canned. Fairly crowed about it, in fact." Zach extends his right hand to shake.
Zach's thoughts might be the single first time that anyone has even considered that this thing on Howard's head is even remotely close to anything that could be confused for hair.
"Y-Yeah," Howard says, though his tone is not too sullen. "Well, I was on... y'know, last strike when there was... all that goin' on." He doesn't feel the need to elaborate on the circumstances surrounding the world and Zach's persuasion about it, as it is.
He is sadly unaware of the potential audience of new log readers who would have no idea as to what it is that's being implied, and new readers are thus to go unenriched without digging into the archives.
"It's been... uh, been pretty rough, but, but I'm gettin' by." Sort of. The older man exhales loudly as his posture slumps a bit. "I mean... I, uh, I teach here now, as in," he gestures with his left hand vaguely outwards, "this dojo. Teachin' the white belts... y'know, basic stuff. In, ah... in theory, I'm a full-time fighter now."
In theory? He starts scratching the side of his head. "Not, uh... not doin' too hot on earnings. Got a, got a pending lawsuit with Nickelback, some guys who went 'n organized the... the show, had a fight where a couple things went... ah, they went a li'l crazy." A wince follows.
"Been tryin' to, uh, to get a good lawyer but... last guy I called, Dr. Fenderbiles... y'know, famous lawyer and doctor guy, won't take it up."
Zach shoves a hand back through his hair, exhaling in disbelief. "Man," he says sympathetically, "You can't catch a break, can you?" Zach sighs. "Was it property damage during a fight? Because I've got a guy pretty much on retainer for that kind of thing. Though I haven't given him much business of late." True accounts on both statements; the lack of property damage during Zach Glen's fights cannot have gone unnoticed by people who track that kind of thing.
"But you're teaching students how to fight, huh," Zach says as he mulls that information over. Now that he thinks about it, that seems to be the next best thing to the perfect thing for Rust to do, as it mixes both his desire to mentor students and his desire to be a fighter. "I hope that works out for you," he says honestly. "I think it'd be a good fit for you."
Who are we kidding? In the great big scheme of things, this /is/ Howard's dream job. There is no denying that it's certainly a harsher place for him than Pacific High was. Some of the greatest fighters are rich, highly successful off their prowess and tournament winnings - but they are few in number. So many fighters, even those who are truly amazing, can end up struggling to make ends meet.
If China's stance on organized fighting spreads any further outward around the world...
"Yeah, a... a bit of that." Howard nods. He also leaves out the bit that he's technically not being paid directly at all for this gig, either. Free advanced instruction and all the soba noodles he can eat is the beginning and ending of his work benefits. A far cry from the stable sixty thousand US dollars a year he was getting at Pacific High... and also access to such great coffee for free.
A perk he probably indulged a little too much in.
"I'm makin' it work." Barely. "Guess I... ah, y'know, ought to look into... that, some kinda agent or some such." He's never met with any that the big names in Kyokugen might have, if they even have any to begin with. Either way, being a full-time fighter isn't a total walk in the park - at least not for /him/. It does seem so many are charmed with wealthy backgrounds and amazing insurance plans.
Zach pulls his wallet out, and hands Rust a card, "Here's the number for mine, if you want," he says by way of explanation. Zach frowns for a moment. "Have you..." Zach says uncertainly after a moment, "Heard from Antoine or Quon since that thing on the island?" Zach glances around, before shoving his hands in his pockets.
"I mean, what with the stuff Quon was mixed up in... a guy gets kind of concerned," he says. He leaves out the fact that he has been in touch with Ken Masters, who /has/ been in touch with Quon for the moment.
Howard takes the card with a mumbled thanks as he sticks it into some unseen pocket - seriously there's a lot of little places in front he can put it, why back out of sight?
"Antoine... yeah, we... we caught up for a bit, had one last fight for the road... pretty sure that, that he's just off, uh, traveling the world." That is Antoine's path - unbound by anything other than his desire to improve as a fighter and travel the world. They'll surely meet again at some point.
"Quon... hadn't... seen him yet, not, not personally, but... but I know he's still 'round." He's not too sure of Quon's personal life situation beyond what it was. Shadaloo's did something fierce, all right, and given everything going on... the older man just rubs his face. The living arrangements that're being worked out have yet to come together.
"And... well, before you ask, Yuri, well, she's... herself." When isn't she? "She's done better with, with her schoolwork, last I checked."
Zach scowls, not at all worried about Yuri. In fact, from the look on his face, one might think Zach had an issue with the youngest Sakazaki... which would be accurate. "Good for her," Zach says flatly. He puzzles over what Rust says about Quon and Antoine.
It's good that Antoine is bouncing back from his ordeal. "I hope those two are okay," he finally says. He knows better than to hope for safety in this crazy world.
One would imagine Rust over there might be upset about how her involvement ended up making things, but that whole Africa trip was just one bad thing after another for almost everyone involved.
"One sec, lemme... lemme close this up," the man with the... um, not-hair steps outside, closing up the door, "kept it up much longer, the master'd be thinkin' that, that we got a door-to-door salesman again."
Let's not go into detail about what that would've entailed, as the older man's shoulder crackles after closing up the door and rolling his shoulder to get the kink out. "What 'bout you? I mean... 's been a while."
"Well," Zach says, "I got that thing handled with the police. I'll be... working with them for a while, until things are settled." Zach turns to stare at that not-hair on Rust's head for a moment. (Seriously, what the hell?) "Got the place mostly rebuilt, which is nice. Had to stop working at the Youth Center, though, which sucks."
Zach thinks for another moment. "Oh! Found a boxing gym in Southtown, been getting lessons there. That's working out pretty well. Had a few good fights in that Neo Development League that Ken Masters started up."
The idea that Zach will be working with the police is a little unsettling... if only because now he's going to expect Zach and/or some other guys to come badgering him the next time Takuma goes out and leaves a grand mess in his wake. Even so, that whole business at the warehouse in itself is nearly a conversation killer in itself.
Seems both of them have had to deal with a change in employment since those world-shattering events, which... is probably far better off than a lot of people who got involved in that mess.
"Yeah?" The older guy says as he steps down towards the concrete lot, out into the chilly evening air. "Had to, had to miss that first season... just had too much goin' on, but... but I'm hoping, y'know, the payout's the same for the next." Granted, he has yet to really see the full contract as to what all that extra money would mean in terms of the rights to use likenesses and such aggressively. "If, uh, if I'm not considered... y'know, out of that league."
It is a realistic concern, given his age, that he may be considered too experienced or powerful for what's considered a league for those just starting to come into their own, for developing talent.
"You should give it a look-see," Zach says, always willing to encourage Rust to chase this wild dream of his. "I mean, they let me in, after all. And there's some decent talent on the roster. Think I heard Sakura Kasugano's had a match in it."
Zach shrugs, "If nothing else, you'll know one way or the other."
"Well, one way or another, gonna find out," so Howard says as he scratches his side, followed by stretching out to the side to work out a cramping muscle in his side. "Just... y'know, just hopin' they don't make me, uh, do my bloodwork again." Bloodwork, the eternal inconvenience. "Gotta... gotta hire an acupuncture guy when I get that done, 'cause... uh, you could guess."
Anyone could.
"Could guess what?" Zach asks curiously.
To demonstrate, Howard pokes a finger against his arm, and just shakes his head. "'cause when, uh, when most people try they can't... they can't get 'em in." This is coming from a guy who, on national television, stopped a live chainsaw just by grabbing it firmly by the blade. "'s really spendy to, to get someone who can."
Zach's eyes go a bit wide at that. "Talk about thick-skinned," Zach says. "I can't say as I've ever had that problem." You /look/ at Zach funny, and you might break something on him.
Sometimes fighting superpowers are a problem! "I'm not, uh, not squeamish, 's not like I, I tense up when I see 'em, they just... most just don't get 'em in there." Howard shakes his head. "And, uh, let's... let's not start 'bout dental, 'cause... shit, forgot I see one next month."
Resigned to the difficulties of everyday life, the older man can really only just mentally shrug from there. "Uh, actually, while we're here, Zach," he turns to face him, "I got, I got some training stuff in a bit, but... I know, 's late, we're probably both ready to just, y'know, pack it up 'n go home, but, if you're up for a li'l quick spar or somethin'... 's been a while."
Zach grins widely. He's been curious to see what's come of Rust's training, both of himself and others. "That," Zach says, "Sounds like it could be interesting." Zach lets his grip loosen, allowing that sword to slide down his back to rest on the ground before he leans it up against the gate.
He turns, sliding into a ready stance, with both hands lightly clenched into fists just below his jaw line. "Anytime you're ready," he says. He's always afraid to ask Rust for these things; he doesn't want to seem like a bully given how the last two fights went.
"I know, I know what you're thinkin'," does he really? Does that dark purple mess on his head give Howard Rust the power to read minds? "But, but I gotta warn you, Zach," the ex-shop teacher says as he stretches out one of his legs to work out another bit of stiffness in one of his knees (and that knee has plenty to say about it, given the loud pop), "I got myself a couple new... couple new tricks."
He coughs once. Is that an exaggeration? The new trick is certainly not related to coughing, as he pats his chest again. "'scuse me. I got a couple new tricks," he repeats as he brings his right hand atop the makeshift hilt of Ol' Rusty, as always defined by whichever end happens to be sticking out on top this time.
A chilly wind blows, because it is a cold evening and probably has no real narrative significance. The dark purple mess on his head does not gleam under the moonlight. The moon's rays want nothing to do with that thing.
COMBATSYS: Zach has started a fight here.
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Zach 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Rust has joined the fight here.
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Zach 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Rust
Zach tucks into a quick left-to-right-to-left bob, the grin wide on his face. He's excited about this fight, flexing his hands open, then closed as a golden glow envelopes the fists. The lightshow looks like nothing less than a pair of metal gauntlets.
Preparations complete, Zach steps in quickly, closing the distance with Rust before throwing a flickering jab at Rust's face before trying to leap clear of the larger man's grabbing range!
COMBATSYS: Rust blocks Zach's Jab Punch.
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Zach 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Rust
He can read Zach's enthusiasm just fine. Pretty lively bobbing, the bright, warm (well, one might assume it's warm because it is kind of cold out here) glow. There's that certain bit of anticipation in the older of the two's bared teeth.
If only Ol' Rusty could read Zach's enthusiasm, Howard's enthusiasm, or - being an inanimate object - actually contain any sort of desire or agenda that could be interpreted as something close to enthusiasm! It proves a touch stubborn to draw out.
Howard is never really a paragon of great reflexes or blinding speed, but the bright lights that make up Zach's jabbing fist is met with his left elbow. The slight push the larger man feels is a none-too-subtle reminder that Zach - despite his size - damn well exudes more force than almost anybody he's ever fought.
Granted, it seems more the smaller someone is, the more punch they tend to bring. It's just... one of those things, really.
Zach does, however, fundamentally underestimate one thing about his friend and rival in the heat of the moment in his backwards movement to get out of grab range, as Ol' Rusty is drawn with a surprisingly clumsy stroke that doesn't accurately portray the amount of training and accumulated skill the man has obtained in the interim.
Taking the pipe in both hands, he reaches out for some article of clothing on Zach's person to hook the other end into in a carefully made swing, trying to hoist Zach in some direction he doesn't even put much thought into.
That's because no matter where he flings him, there's a flat bed of concrete waiting.
Getting out of arm's reach is one thing. Getting out of /pipe's/ reach is another.
COMBATSYS: Zach dodges Rust's Wrecking Ball Swing.
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Zach 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Rust
Zach twists at the waist while swaying away from the incoming pipe. He hops back a couple of steps, keeping up that same upper-body weaving motion while watching Rust critically. Sunlight envelopes Zach's frame as the younger man grins.
"C'mon, Rust," Zach cajoles, throwing out a couple of feinting jabs to try and provoke the larger man into action!
COMBATSYS: Zach gathers his will.
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Zach 0/-------/---====|-------\-------\0 Rust
Oh, he's coming, there's no doubt about that. Nobody will ever call Howard fleet of feet - his knee sure doesn't want him to be, one of which is twinging like crazy - but there is a whole lot of 'c'' and a bit of 'mon' going on as he decides to step into the feinting jabs that peek out from the bright golden aura of Zach's soul given power.
A light that might seem almost wrong for a rusted, beaten-up length of pipe to sully with its accumulated rust and grime. Tightening the grip in his right hand as much as he really can, the hilt of Ol' Rusty (still defined as 'whatever end he's holding it from now') being thrust towards around shoulder level at a slight decline, as though willing to try and chance a single blow against a flurry of punches if that's what Zach's got in mind.
COMBATSYS: Zach blocks Rust's Crushing Strike.
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Zach 0/-------/=======|-------\-------\0 Rust
Zach brings up his left arm, catching the pipe on that psychic guantlet with a bit of a wince. Even when you are ready for it, Rust hits with a terrific amount of physical force! "Nice," Zach says as he shoves the pipe away from his body.
"Don't stop!" Zach encourages as leans in to lash out with a thunderous right straight that preludes into a bright burst of golden light regardless of whether or not it actually connects!
COMBATSYS: Zach successfully hits Rust with Dynamite Punch.
-* CRITICAL HIT! *-
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Zach 1/------=/=======|======-\-------\0 Rust
That's not the last of it, in the mind of the one aggressing - wordlessly, he intends to make good on Zach's very well-intentioned request not to stop. It's a pretty clear plan in his head, formed on the spot. Lead in strong, follow up immediately--
The beginnings of that thunderous right straight (thunderous is actually underselling it) don't seem to do much to disrupt this line of thinking as the punch lands around Rust's upper chest, near his left shoulder. It's when that bright burst of golden light (bright is underselling it, burst remains a fine descriptor) along with the raise of a foot off the ground as a step towards some follow-up that the whole thing gets disrupted, one eye shut tight and jaw wide to the latest of Rust's wide array of very strange cries of pain.
"Gttghltwrt!" This is the official stand-in for the word 'ouch,' as 'ouch' has called in sick as Howard's body twists and spins on one foot before collapsing onto the chilly concrete, wheezing once at the combination of both the overpowering blow and the rough landing upon the lot that he has been slammed upon countless times in demonstrations and lessons by now.
This one is somehow a bit more painful on his end, though he tries to make the best of it by swinging Ol' Rusty out low, trying to tag Zach by the tip at around the shins that might give him a little room to pull himself back up.
COMBATSYS: Rust successfully hits Zach with Foundation Layer.
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Zach 1/---====/=======|=======\-------\0 Rust
The pipe slams into Zach's leg, causing the psion to hop away with a yelp of pain. He hobbles a bit, testing it to see if it will support his weight. He lets out a muttering stream of curses, because even if the leg if not broken, getting a pipe to the shins /hurts/.
Zach decides the leg will hold, setting it down as he watches Rust's next move. Hardly the wild charge one might expect from Zach as the boxer gains his bearings.
COMBATSYS: Zach gains composure.
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Zach 1/----===/=======|=======\-------\0 Rust
"Blghn." Mutters Rust cryptically after the swing and that brief feeling of a stop that comes when he actually makes contact with the pipe. The way Zach staggers back gives him the clearance space he needs in order to pull himself up, even as his left shoulder complains and even feels a bit numb in its pain. Now, Zach's never been a soft puncher, but what happened a moment ago remains a solid reminder that, next time, he needs to keep both feet planted until he's sure Zach's already overextended a blow.
To be fair, between the new tricks both of them have picked up, this fight's surely going to have a veritable number of firsts among the two of them.
"Goin' on the run, or," Howard doesn't finish that sentence as he starts moving inward. Zach might've found the space to catch his breath, but Howard there looks just as ready to take it out, pointing Ol' Rusty forward once as if to gauge the amount of distance he'd need to cover before taking a small leap forward off the cold, cold concrete.
His leaping height has not improved much, if at all. The same low height, the same very slight bit of floatiness that doesn't let him come down too fast, as he swings Ol' Rusty at a slightly downward angle in a backhand swing towards Zach.
COMBATSYS: Zach fails to interrupt Medium Strike from Rust with Gazelle Punch.
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Zach 1/---====/=======|=======\-------\1 Rust
Zach lunges forward as Rust starts his jump, his fists by his head as he takes a large step /towards/ Howard Rust. He plants hard on his leading left foot before leaping towards Rust with a springing left uppercut that sails by the pipe and hits... nothing but air.
The pipe, however, smashes into Zach's body. The psion crumples under the weight of the strike, causing him to take a knee. Zach's eyes, however, stay on Rust. Eyes on target, as it were...
The uppercutting motion actually sees the larger man start to lean his head back, as though unsure as to whether or not he's jumping into something really bad he's going to regret. Not that being punched by Zach, ever, constitutes something close to a good memory to begin with. He appears particularly relieved when that uppercut comes up a bit short, and that swing manages to go through in full.
His own landing is a bit rough, the grip on Ol' Rusty momentarily questionable as it slips a bit further down his hand.
It doesn't seem Zach's taken the blow too well (he never takes any blow particularly well, to his knowledge), but the bigger man knows that Zach's tougher than that.
...If... not by much more than that.
Clearing his throat as though he has something to say (he doesn't), Howard moves in to try and take advantage of Zach's already kneeling posture to attempt to maneuver behind him, shoving his left arm down on the top of Zach's back to shove him down a bit more forcefully before attempting to deliver a multitude of butt strikes to Zach's upper back, a clear attempt to take a good amount of further wind out of the psion's sails.
He just might be getting a little too into it.
COMBATSYS: Rust successfully hits Zach with Hammering.
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Zach 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|=======\===----\1 Rust
Zach hurls himself forward, the kneeling position being conducive to a forward dive and roll. Instead, it turns into something of a thrashing. Rust might feel ribs giving under the brutal assault. Zach finally gets himself forward enough to get thrown clear by one of Rust's swings. Zach regains his feet, somewhat unsteady on his feet.
Zach regards Rust coolly. This fight is not going at all well for him. Perhaps he underestimated the older man just a bit. That thought brings a bit of a smile to his face. "Let me show you what I learned at the gym," Zach says as he brings his right fist in close to his chest, twisting at the wrist until the top of the fist is almost facing Rust.
Golden Soul Power spins around the right arm as Zach steps in with his left. As he takes that step, he twists at the waist, driving the right arm and shoulder towards Rust. As the boxer throws his punch, he twists the shoulder inside, adding rotation to the strike. The Soul Power whirls around the punch, adding still more rotation as well as sheer force to the strike that screams towards the center of Rust's chest!
COMBATSYS: Rust blocks Zach's Heartbreak Shot.
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Zach 1/-------/=======|=======\=====--\1 Rust
It's kind of hard to determine where's a fair place to stop with the blows - too few is holding back, too much is just brutality. Zach's deft forward roll at the end puts a fine point at what counts as 'just right,' and it's enough that the final blow sees the older of the two go to a lower kneel after overcompensating that last blow.
He almost thinks, stupidly, to ask Zach what it is he learned at the gym. He should know better than that, given the display of corkscrewing soul power gathering in Zach's right arm. That's when he realizes what he's doing is very stupid.
The stupid thing is still kneeling this low when Zach's coming in fast and harder than hard, getting up to a stand almost too late. His right leg twists back as he lowers his stance, his left forearm primed to take the bone-shattering blow moments before it actually lands.
For all intents and purposes, it is completely indistinguishable from a clean hit, a pained grunt as a visible bruise is left behind the killer punch that sends Howard skidding back a good five, no, ten, no, fifteen... somewhere around twenty feet, heels grinding into the concrete that sprays tiny pebbles and dust all around behind him.
His very feet leave behind burn marks that suggest a car made a sharp turn where he stands. He flexes his fingers on his left hand as though to make sure that blow didn't just take his arm out.
"Well," Howard mumbles out, "guess I... gotta give one in turn," he says as he grits his teeth and closes his eyes briefly in some sort of focus. A sort of thing he didn't really 'get' until some time after his part in the events on that mysterious island.
There's not much to look at when it comes to Howard Rust, aside from... that thing on his head. But, no, there's suddenly a light.
A light down low, from the tip of one of Howard's feet. Surely one of his shoes didn't just catch fire from the friction?
That's not fire.
His eyes open up, teeth widely grinning as if to say... he's finally got your number, Zach.
What starts as a spark, a flickering spark of some... color? White? No, maybe... a really washed out blue? Extremely pale and dull green?
"You're not the, the only one who can throw the big ones, now!" What the hell is he talking about?
With one night-shattering yell, he thrusts the drawn-back leg forward in what appears as a low kick at this distance, a hearty kiai an exceedingly poor fit for what seems a simple kick with just a little flicker of--
Then it happens.
The washed-out, flickering energy coalesces into something kind of like a glowing chakram of swirling energy. A swirling chakram of energy that teeters and totters as it barely clings to existence as it leaves the relative safety of the foot that spawns it.
It putters forth at a leisurely pace, looking ready to spill itself over into some harmless or irrelevant direction, but nonetheless staying the course as it hovers above the concrete. The illumination around the concrete lot is dim, rapidly flickering with the manifestation that tumbles about in its flight towards Zach.
A small, low-flying chi fireball of unenviable speed, unintimidating form, and laughably pathetic shape flies onwards towards Zach's shins, perhaps to just mildly inconvenience the psion with a new lease in life as one Howard Rust's eyes beam with pride.
"Cool, huh," he says as he draws Ol' Rusty back and seems to be following after it.
Crickets chirp everywhere.
COMBATSYS: Zach reflects Detour EX from Rust with Jab Punch.
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Zach 0/-------/-------|=====--\-------\0 Rust
Zach's eyes narrow when Rust starts to... glow? His eyes go wide as he realizes what Rust is about to try. The surprised look on his face shifts to a wide grin; the ability to send one's chi out into the world is something of a landmark for any fighter. Well, any non-psychic, anyway. Throwing Soul/Psycho Power is almost a prerequisite for anyone claiming to be a psychic.
The end result is... a little underwhelming, really. Plenty of nice, dramatic build up... not the blast of chi Zach was half-expecting. Zach's eyes narrow again as he looks at the incoming projectile. He leans in to get a better look at it as it approaches, and recalls a conversation.
Hotaru once made the contention that one day, he might be able to use his power to repel someone else's energy. Frei suggested something along similar lines, cancelling energy with energy. He knows that chi-reflection using Soul Power is possible; Rose has a reputation for it, so does Athena. Zach's control over his talent has improved considerably since meeting any of them.
Golden energy wraps around his hand as Zach reaches out towards the little fireball that might. Soul Power wraps around the voice of the earth, turning it around and shoving it back towards Howard Rust. "That's... great! But I think it needs a little work." Okay, maybe a lot of work.
COMBATSYS: Zach successfully hits Rust with Reflected Detour EX.
> Determined Hit! <
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Zach 0/-------/-------|=======\-------\0 Rust
Underwhelming is being exceedingly polite about the circumstances. Much like his, er, belief (...ignorance?) in that thing on top of his head being hair, does he treat this otherwise ordinary feat for many established fighters as the start of something big, the start of something great, the thing that shows he can hang in the big leagues.
It is the sort of thing most people should worry about if it's all that stands between a world terror and all that is good on this Earth, and yet, here in the evening hours of the Kyokugen Dojo where most is more or less quiet...
The sputtering and flickering chi projectile gets cradled with streaks of more persistent golden Soul Power as Zach gives it the fighter's equivalent of a loving pat on the head to send it back, as Howard is moving forward with just about as much momentum as his aging, stiffness-riddled knees can really muster.
"'s not gonna do ya any good," Howard says as he unwittingly ends up stepping /into/ the returned thing that splashes and disappears into the aether against his shin with all the strength of basketball gently rolling onto one's leg after a good bounce.
What goes from a respectable, friendly duel between friends devolves immediately into potential slapstick as Howard trips over, thrusting his left hand out to the still-crouching Zach as though Zach could offer some support to keep him from tripping over.
COMBATSYS: Zach blocks Rust's Quick Throw.
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Zach 0/-------/------=|=======\-------\0 Rust
Zach, not expecting Rust to trip, takes the hand to the chest and falls back. He rolls with it, landing flat on his back with a chuckle. He sits up quicky. "You okay, man," Zach says with a bit of a laugh.
He slowly brings himself to his feet. It /feels/ like this thing is over. Zach kind of hopes that it is; for a spar, this one's going to leave some bruises...
...then he thinks that the good ones usually do.
COMBATSYS: Zach drops his guard to recover.
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Zach 0/-------/------=|=======\-------\0 Rust
Howard rolls with the trip too, in the end, taking out much of the impact with a good side roll as one of his knees throb in disapproving pain in - for once - relative silence that earns a ginger rub with his left hand as he happens upon Zach laughing from his sitting position.
"Uh... yeah, I'm, uh, I'm good," says Rust as he pulls himself up to a stand with a deep breath and a flex of one of his legs. "I mean, uh... you saw that, ah... you really saw that."
The tone of voice is not unlike that of an older relative discovering a mundane, everyday piece of technology for the first time and then successfully using its most rudimentary features as though it were one of the greatest accomplishments of the last few years (or possibly decades) of their entire lives.
"I'd... I'd show ya again, but," the man of the dark purple hair (why did he pick dark purple, everyone knows that's not his natural hair color) starts up, "but... but I gotta save some for the, uh, the training tonight."
He flexes out his left arm, wincing at the bruise that Zach's punch has left him. Maybe that's... not the sort of thing one is supposed to be standing up and taking a hit from period, he thinks in hindsight.
COMBATSYS: Rust drops his guard to recover.
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Zach 0/-------/------=|=======\-------\0 Rust
"Yeah, I saw it," Zach says as reaches towards Rust's arm. "Hold still," he says quietly. "Lemme get a look at that." Zach's hands start to glow as he reaches for the hand. "If you have class tonight, you're gonna need to be a little more together than you are now. I don't know much of Kyukugen, but you guys are rough on the students AND the teachers."
COMBATSYS: Zach successfully hits Rust with Lay On Hands.
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Zach 0/-------/------=|=======\-------\0 Rust
The somewhat frightening thing is, it wasn't all that long ago that Howard said to Zach that it was up to him to really decide what his power meant, instead of letting the power decide what he meant - this expression of power is almost lost on him for a time, a small flinch as Zach does a once-over where his older rival took that nasty punch.
It's humbling that he temporary forgets what it all means when Zach's power ends up being used to mend and heal, rather than be a bolster for great power.
The look on Rust's face means to ask 'when did you learn to do this,' but it's lost with just a brief nod and a deep exhale as he wipes some sweat off his brow.
"Y-Yeah, that's... sayin' it all, y'know, mild... thanks." Boy oh boy, he's thinking. "I'm a green belt, and, uh... I'm gonna say, Zach, it gets really... really friggin' intense at that point."
He lowers his head. "Not gonna lie, Zach, I ain't, uh, ain't really lookin' forward to sparring with Marco. Y'know him? Senior instructor, African American guy, uh, pretty showy hair..."
"Something I've been trying to do for a while," Zach says quietly to explain. "Can't say as I met the guy at all." He exhales softly as he pulls himself upright. "Though I bet the guy can deal out a beating.
"Yyyyeah, he sure can." The same can be said of any Kyokugen student. They throw real punches. They throw real punches that hurt. They throw real punches that hurt real bad. For real. There's a very good reason why most people who enroll end up dropping out in relatively short order.
As the healing gesture subsides, Howard makes sure to give the arm one good swing, up and down, to throw out any stiffness or what have you. His fingers wiggle. Yeah, it's good, it's all good.
"Anyway," he puts his hand on Zach's shoulder, "'s a... a good round." A very firm nod. "I'll... I'll catch up with ya some other day." There are a couple things that he should bring up to him, at least, given his living situation... but, given everything that's happened so far, maybe talking about it out in the open here is not a good idea.
Sagat's name alone is still dangerous to utter, as it were.
"So, just... just keep workin' at that, all right?"
"Yeah," Zach says with a firm nod. He doesn't mention working with Ken Masters towards what might end up being similar ends. Zach extends a fist for a knuckle bump. "Don't break 'em too bad, alright? No point in making them run home crying."
"Y'know," Howard speaks up, waving his left hand and pointer finger out as Zach extends a hand for a fist bump, "pretty sure that, uh, that... that ya do that before a fight starts, not after."
To be fair there's also proper bows and the like along the line too. Proper behaviorisms are hard when you've spent much of your time as a straight-up brawler where such formalities and niceties were largely nonexistent.
Nonetheless, the fist bump is met with his left hand.
"It's, it's one thing to know how to throw a punch, but... ya gotta know how to take 'em. How to take 'em, throw a punch, take that next one, uh... ya get it."
COMBATSYS: Zach has left the fight here.
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Rust 0/-------/=======|
COMBATSYS: Rust has ended the fight here.
Log created on 18:22:02 01/22/2012 by Rust, and last modified on 22:15:28 01/23/2012.