Description: This is it - the final standing occupation force of what might be the entire war, unless the Shadaloo-controlled China finds it in them to lash out one last time with the entire world's ire upon them. They were thousands strong, as they held against rebels. News came from the other fronts that everyone else has fallen. The leader of the division, its name soon to be forgotten to history, attempts to give a rousing speech to his men for the final stand - but the final stand to keep an occupying force in any given nation outside of China is a thing of horror when they have to stand against the legendary Ikari Warriors, in an offensive pushed by Whip, Leona Heidern, and Faolan Sheehan. This... is the story of the final stand, within war-torn Iraq.
SOMEWHERE IN IRAQ, WHERE IKARI OPERATIVES HAVE CODENAMED "SOUTH DERKISTAN" FOR SECURITY'S SAKE, NOT LONG AGO...
"Gentlemen." Speaks a tall, gruff General. "I regret to inform you of what you have already heard. I will not lie. Every other occupation and invasion force, as of this week... has fallen."
There is silence among the ranks, as the General paces back and forth between a raised platform. His sadness and fears are the same as theirs.
"We are the last. Though we are thousands. We are strong. We are some of the very best Lord Vega has to offer... we are the last, of his dreams and hopes."
He raises his chin up to an arid sunset that promises no warmth in its setting, little light in the fate of what is to come as he paces back and forth. "That we would unify the world under one banner. To put an end to the days of the baseless worship culture that has surrounded a complacent humanity... this is why you came to fight. This is why you - all of you - are truly heroes."
"Heroes, that in the face of adversity, shall unite and stand strong!" He raises a fist.
IN THE PRESENT...
The entire division goes into chaos after it happens. The division commander is dead! They are under attack - they, as the final men standing, find themselves falling apart at the seams. The various squad leaders all shout their orders of what they think should happen, as everyone moves to intercept whoever - or whatever - has infiltrated their camp. They have fought bravely against rebellion forces before, but now, all evidence points to a very small unit having moved past their perimeter.
In the face of adversity, they scatter and hide, cradling their weapons and running to protective vehicles that may not offer much protection at all against those forces of nature that have put their efforts together to overcome them at almost every turn.
The fighters.
COMBATSYS: The Final Stand has started a fight here on the top side.
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The Final Stand 0|-------|-------
War is a horrible thing; but it's a necessary evil for a race that refuses to lie down. Humanity is defined by their ambition, and perseverance, the desires of man knowing no bounds in its endless quest for greater glory. In time, the limits of the earth may not even be enough - but for now, the progress of evolution has gifted the planet's most dominant genus with the means for renewed battle. Whether there's a genetic difference between 'fighter' and mere human is a debate kept to the laboratories, though one long ago answered by the research of those such as NESTS - they who have learned to adapt and change. And to build.
There's nothing particularly assuming about Whip, at first glance. An athletic brunette in military khakis, she's a little tall if not alarmingly so, graceful without being an eye-turner like some... and not gifted with the overpowering aura that many of her particular breed boast. But within her breast beats a heart engineered to do so with perfect rhythm, in her veins flows blood engineered to keep her warm and ready, always.
She's more than human. She's a weapon. Though some would argue this is pure semantics.
This night began several days ago, when the key players began to gather, whether through fight or by some grander design the pieces were in place and the board prepared. As many games do, as almost all games of war, it began in truth with a single piercing shot. In spite of the assassin's stealth and subtlety, the barrel of her Blackhawk revolver was neither muted nor disguised about her person, drawn under the revealing glint of moonlight in the same smooth, perfect motion that led the division commander to his ruin.
Now, blood soaks across the tip of her boot as she rolls him over, the revolver still smoking at her side.
The first shot becomes many, a blaze of assault rifle fire scathing the dirt to Whip's flank. Her eyes narrow, and her arms raise, both hands bracing the gun once more. Through the many, breaks a single, echoing round. Where the initial bullet was aimed to penetrate skull, render lifeless that which it sought, this one flies true for a broader target... already lifeless, the cold, cheap and painted iron of an abandoned oil drum.
In this war of horrors and heroes, the girl once named Seirah is neither. She's a craftsman. The weapon is her tool, and the means by which she spreads fire and death amongst those already panicked and scared, amongst those who've had enough; but she knows and accepts the truth, as it was drilled into her almost from birth. Men and women are not equal, not all life is precious. Sometimes, sacrifices have to be made.
Sometimes, one is far greater than many.
COMBATSYS: Whip has joined the fight here.
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The Final Stand 0|-------|-------
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Whip 0/-------/-------|
"Just like clockwork." Faolan murmurs to himself as he looks at his wrist as if checking a watch despite there being nothing there. While Whip decided to play sneaky sneaky and throw the group into disarray it was the job of the Irishman to have the small unit of Ikari he had traveled to Iraq with to start raining down lead, grenades and all sorts of other fun stuff to further distract the enemy. Once it seems Whip is successful that is when they all spring into action. With a loud cheer the mercenaries pop up around the bewildered enemy and unleash hell.
Faolan himself only has weapon on him. That would be his trusty bata by his side as he makes his presence known. He jumps from his hiding spot and right into the sights of many of enemy with just a giant smile on his face. "Charge!" he shouts and he is soon running headlong towards the enemy forces.
Will they have time to regroup before he meets them? Will they then turn him to swiss cheese!? This isn't his first rodeo and he shows no fear as he leaps up high and then comes downwards with a large swing of his bata to try and hit as many people as he can.
COMBATSYS: Faolan has joined the fight here.
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The Final Stand 0|-------|-------
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Faolan 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Whip
There has been no contact from the Ikari Warrior known as Leona Heidern. None at all. Whip's repeated calls to 'Grumpy Badger' over the radio were not responded to. Not even a single *click* to acknowledge. But that doesn't mean she hasn't been monitoring. But then, the rumble of a Jeep's engine, flaring and buzzing, off in the distance. It's tan, of course, and being driven by one of the Ikari.
... where is Leona? She is kneeling on the hood, her blue hair the first visual signature as she waits, utterly still. The driver has his instructions. Wait... wait... wait... -now-.
The Jeep somehow manages a smuggler's reverse, and Leona leaps from the hood of the car. Her left hand flashes out--her right hand flashes out. Both fling handfuls of miniature explosives out to assault the enemy formation as she soars through the air.
"This is Leona. Engaging the enemy." Leona. /Not/ Grumpy Badger.
COMBATSYS: Leona has joined the fight here in the center.
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The Final Stand 0|-------|-------
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Faolan 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Whip
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Leona 0|-------|------=
COMBATSYS: Whip successfully hits The Final Stand with Super Blackhawk.
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The Final Stand 0|-------|-------
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Faolan 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Whip
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Leona 0|-------|------=
COMBATSYS: The Final Stand dodges Faolan's Power Strike.
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The Final Stand 0|-------|-------
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Faolan 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Whip
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Leona 0|-------|------=
COMBATSYS: Leona successfully hits The Final Stand with Earring Bakudan.
- Power hit! -
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The Final Stand 0|-------|------=
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Faolan 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Whip
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Leona 0|-------|-----==
THE PAST...
"Humanity is content to render themselves irrelevant before the whims of two or more people in a tiny, tiny circle," the General sneers, "but not you! You, and all of your countrymen... and our friends... we all chose to matter! We chose to take a stand. We chose to bring a true peace, a true clarity, to a world that would prefer itself to be muddled in uncertainty! A world that cowers before false gods!"
THE PRESENT...
Even to the sight of just one single form with the smoking gun that killed their commander, those up front are already in a shooting retreat. Though she is slighter in form than any single soldier here, she is seen instantly as something grander, something terrifying as she pulls the trigger again to an old oil drum that explodes spectacularly. Some are immediately covered in some flammable substance, to a horrible end - to say nothing of what'll happen as they come in contact with other volatile items across the dusk-covered territory.
Their firing retreat is so hasty that Faolan actually narrowly misses a window to catch them with his otherwise mighty charge - but he almost certainly manages to swat aside a bunch of bullets largely by circumstance and sheer gumption, for all they attempt to shoot back at as they try to retreat into their armored vehicles, their jeeps, their trucks. That somehow, a man carrying a bata alone is inherently a far superior soldier - a superior weapon - than maybe one or more of the squads at once in their clean getaway.
Not quite! Leona cuts off those Faolan barely misses as several vehicles are blown sky high. Those who boarded looking for a quick escape are instead given a ticket back their graves, tiny earring explosives having enough punch to set off catastrophic damage across the large fortified area they made for themselves when they looked to create a permanent foothold upon Iraq.
The curtain of lead that follows from frightened and unfocused soldiers on their retreat is varied. The entire gamut of Shadaloo's and China's personal firearms available to them are represented, from old well-used surplus weapons to select grade top-of-the-line personnel rifles, and yet, they all know deep down it will not be enough to do anything beyond buy them some more time on this mortal coil, however slight.
COMBATSYS: Whip endures The Final Stand's Lead Rain.
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The Final Stand 0|-------|----===
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Faolan 0/-------/-------|====---\-------\0 Whip
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Leona 0|-------|-----==
Terror, desperation, the screams of the lonely dying...
Everybody's alone when they die. But in life, Whip stopped being alone a long time ago; and this is why she hasn't worried for a single second, why she never really does. Death itself holds no great fear for her, and if ever it did then the circumstance of her existence now would render it so much dust upon the wind. It would give her no more hesitance than the bullets cascading through the air, landing with staccato thumps upon her khaki-clad form, ripping through cloth and flesh to stop at battle-hardened muscle. She barely flinches.
What she does, is move, stowing the mighty revolver about her person as she dashes through the deadly hail, teeth clenched in what begins as an expression of determined grit then sweeps to a devil-may-care grin as she picks up the pace to a sprint. A hand flys to her hip as the other pumps back and forth in rhythm with her pounding boots, unhooking the whip from her side. It was her only friend, once, her only comfort.
Now she has others to depend on.
"Glad you could make it," she says through her wild fervour, making no effort to hide the excitement. Her gaze flashes through the thunderstruck gloom to make brief contact with Leona's, and then she's rushing past, unchambering Voodoo with a lightning crack of her own making, the tensile blue line flashing through the air to strike resounding blows against the fleeing horde. Though focused, she doesn't stop smiling, each twist of her form and extension of her honed wrist carried with enthusiasm. Injuring and killing isn't what pleases her, though, it's something far simpler. Something war cannot dim - she's no hero, but it's the reason she fights.
"I was beginning to think you'd never call me again!"
Friendship. Life is ever bitter, but ever sweet. It's important.
"You know, it was Jones that started it with the whole 'Baby Eagle' thing... and I thought Muchiko was bad..."
COMBATSYS: The Final Stand successfully hit Faolan with Lead Rain.
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The Final Stand 0|-------|-======
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Faolan 0/-------/----===|====---\-------\0 Whip
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Leona 0|-------|-----==
There is a light tch from the Irishman as his swing doesn't quite do the damage it intended. It did did protect him from many a bullets, but the heavy volley that comes inwards doesn't exactly make it easy to get out of the way. This is the whole part of risk and reward. He exposed himself by getting right into the thick of things and he is rewarded by bullets. Several of them hitting him as he does his best to keep one from hitting anything vital. If anything the assholes tore up a perfectly good set of pants and a tanktop with the bullet shower unleashed. It forces Faolan to hunker down and stops his forward movement for a moment at least.
"Hey fellahs. I don't mind ya shooting me up but there is one thing you shouldn't do." he grumbles as he gets back to his feet. Both hands grip his bata tightly as he takes a deep breath and tries to focus on siphoning his energy into his wooden friend. Blackish energy crackles and snakes around his arms and the bata as he waggles his brows at the fleeing enemies. "You don't shoot a lady! You better hope you can run faster!" he calls out to them as he seems more intent on keeping his focus on them and not letting Whip and Leona distract him. They do that enough when not in a fight.
COMBATSYS: Faolan gathers his will.
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The Final Stand 0|-------|-======
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Faolan 0/-------/=======|====---\-------\0 Whip
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Leona 0|-------|-----==
COMBATSYS: Leona blocks The Final Stand's Lead Rain.
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The Final Stand 0|-------|=======
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Faolan 0/-------/=======|====---\-------\0 Whip
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Leona 0|-------|----===
Taking fire is standard operating procedure for a soldier. Leona is used to it. In mid-air, she is not much able to affect a manuever, at least not the way she's going now--but she twists, spinning in midair--and a few of those bullets graze her arms and one across her stomach. Not enough to do more than sting... but they bleed all the same. It's only after she's passed the curtain of lead that she changes her direction and speed dramatically--she twists, and hurls herself to the ground, landing in yet another crouch.
That doesn't last long--as she drives herself forward, aimed for the thickest group of soldiers. Her charge is quick, low, and when she closes in on the men... she flattens her gloved hands, and her fingertips flare with blue-white energy. When she swings her hands, she creates hissing arcs of energy, meant to literally cut these men, and the sound they make is akin to the sound of the sharpest katana cutting through meat.
"I will answer you if you call me by name," she notes, to Whip, in what passes for 'conversational tone' for her--not quite robotically-flat but close.
COMBATSYS: Whip successfully hits The Final Stand with Medium Strike.
-* CRITICAL HIT! *-
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The Final Stand 1|-------|=======
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Faolan 0/-------/=======|====---\-------\0 Whip
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Leona 0|-------|-----==
COMBATSYS: The Final Stand blocks Leona's Grand Sabre.
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The Final Stand 1|------=|=======
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Faolan 0/-------/=======|====---\-------\0 Whip
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Leona 0|-------|----===
FROM BEFORE THIS ALL HAPPENED, IT CONTINUES...
"We did not run in fear, we did not act in fear!" The General continues. "We respected Vega's true ambition. His aims. We were willing to give our lives. Our lives are his. His life, is ours. We control our destiny, and furthermore the world's own destiny, not out of fear, but out of resolve!"
RIGHT NOW...
Whip's crack of her whip is like the crack of thunder from the anger of a God, a snapping sensation tearing away at armoring, uniform, and a bit of flesh across a frightening area as numerous soldiers pass out on the spot from the sensation of pain. Voodoo, the blue viper that it is, has its prey cornered - some even pass out just out of plain fear.
Faolan's display of seemingly supernatural power - though it is almost mundane to witness on television, is noticeably more frightening in person, especially when established as an opposite enemy in this godforsaken cause of conquest - sees all of them running as fast they can to what they hope is the very next depot of vehicles. Vehicles that speed away without being fully closed or otherwise properly secured, though Leona's Grand Sabre is thankfully blocked by one of the more intact armored trucks, exploding at a relatively safe enough distance to not have another chain reaction similar to when her earring bombs came into play.
Even with the benefit of sheets of metal and armor on a fast set of wheels, there is panic and disarray as one such soldier under the command of a squad leader wrestles with them for the driver's wheel.
"We're running them over!" Cries one soldier as he climbs over his own superior.
"You fool!" The squad leader in question curses him. "We can't act out of fea--"
His own underling kicks him so hard that the door flies open and the squad leader falls out, to be run over by similarly panicking transport drivers. There is very little real contact going on between them - some are just as likely to crash into one another as they are to attempt to - foolishly - run over or into any of the given Ikari Warriors - sometimes even their own.
COMBATSYS: Whip parries The Final Stand's Run Your Ass Over!
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The Final Stand 1|------=|=======
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Faolan 0/-------/=======|=====--\-------\0 Whip
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Leona 0|-------|----===
A warrior must trust their weapon. A killer moreso.
As Vega's men give their lives to him, as he in his way entrusts his own to them, so it is with Whip and her Voodoo. Each is an extension of the other, every bloodletting lash and bone-slicing snare empowered by the girl's spirited arm, and lending to her not just the advantage of a wounded enemy; of one frightened and overwhelmed, but also momentum and power. Every reaction has its equal and opposite. To fight well is to never stop reacting, always utilizing that same energy, becoming a creature of perpetual motion.
Leona's forward rush sets the wings of a butterfly to flapping, the unfortunate truck preventing the fullness of her power starting an explosive chain reaction. Whip is twisting away from her own limb-snapping strike, coiling her namesake around her body then bringing her other hand to brace it as the men's cries reach her ears. Even in the teamly banter her tactical intensity remains, and she's ready for the onslaught...
Which makes it puzzling that she doesn't move until the truck is upon her. Her eyes do not widen at the approach, watching it with steely cool until the very second it impacts her, prepared flesh making a dull smack against the vehicle's grill. It sends a shudder through the bodywork, but Whip has already rebounded, slinging herself over the bonnet until she hovers, head down and one arm held out for balance, over the chaotically flapping door of the lead truck. Her lips purse as the other hand strikes, quick, snakelike.
"You /don't/--" she begins as she completes her somersault, dropping to an aerial crouch, both hands suddenly behind her head as her teeth grit, grip tight upon Voodoo's hilt. Behind and beneath, the two sides of a blue coil, Voodoo's tendril extended to double back on itself. Hooked around that door. It's a titan's effort, but in this world of panicked soldiers she is exactly that. "--run a lady over, /either/!"
Her momentum enables it, but viciously enunciated words embody her with the power to see it through. With a mighty haul she lands upon the ground, a small impact crater launching dust to either side as above the vehicle flies end-over-end, the Ikari assassin striving to send it plowing through the others. She releases a breath following the effort, her weapon recoiled with a deft tug as she rises slowly, brushing hair from her face with the free hand. Quick eyes dart to Leona and Faolan at either edge. Suddenly, self-conscious, she chuckles.
"Just saying..."
COMBATSYS: The Final Stand successfully hit Faolan with Run Your Ass Over.
-* CRITICAL HIT! *-
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The Final Stand 1|---====|=======
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Faolan 1/=======/=======|=====--\-------\0 Whip
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Leona 0|-------|----===
No, you don't run a lady over either. Running over a guy is more than fine. In fact Faolan proves that point because he looks ready to try to butt heads with the incoming vehicle. He rears back and just as he is about to step forward he is met with the truck and well it goes right the hell over over him in a rather impressive fashion. The fact he isn't turned into an Irish pancake from the weight of the giant vehicle's wheels driving over him is proof as to why he is an Ikari. The guy is just a punishment magnet and usually can keep going.
That is proven by the fact he is actually getting up a few moments afterwards. His outfit further torn up and his skin reddened from the friction as well as blood coming out of the several scrapes where skin has been pulled open. "OKAY! THAT IS IT! NO MORE MISTER NICE IRISH!" he growls and pretty much the man goes buck wild on whatever enemies he can get ahold of.
At least he can rely on Leona and Whip to handle the situation with more thought. They can be the tactical ones this time. Faolan instead looks to be the raging bull in a china shop as his bata starts flailing about to hit whatever he can get at. "No! DON'T RUN!" he calls out as his free hand looks to grasp and toss aside whatever other soldiers he can't nail with his bata. "IT IS HAPPY FUN TIME!"
COMBATSYS: Leona interrupts Run Your Ass Over from The Final Stand with Moon Slasher.
- Power hit! -
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The Final Stand 2|<<<<<<<|<<<<<<<
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Faolan 0/-------/----===|=====--\-------\0 Whip
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Leona 0|-------|--=====
Leona is dispassionate, as Whip deftly handles the oncoming truck, and Faolan... not so much. But Ikari are tough bastards, and the men especially. She's not surprised to see Faolan pop back up, angry as hell and spitting fire, in a metaphorical sense. But, really, she has her own transport to deal with--headed right for her, the driver laying on the horn, even as he's fully intent on running this slip of a girl-soldier over.
But Leona has other plans. Her eyes flash--and she crouches... and then pushes upwards, just before the truck reaches her. Her hands still glowing with that eerie, electric-blue power, leaving behind crescents of energy as she chops -through- the engine block, through the driver--and the edge of the arc cuts into the fuel tank. A stray spark and... the transport goes up with a gigantic *BOOM*.
Some of the soldiers might think that they got Leona--until she walks out of the explosion, her gait almost casual, a few more wounds evident on her arms--and a cut just below her right eye, a thin seam of blood. Her gaze shifts around the battlefield--searching for more targets.
COMBATSYS: Whip successfully hits The Final Stand with Zed EX.
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The Final Stand 2|<<<<<<<|<<<<<<<
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Faolan 0/-------/----===|======-\-------\0 Whip
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Leona 0|-------|--=====
COMBATSYS: Faolan successfully hits The Final Stand with Carry the Coffin.
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The Final Stand 2|<<<<<<<|<<<<<<<
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Faolan 0/-------/----===|======-\-------\0 Whip
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Leona 0|-------|--=====
FROM A FLEETING MOMENT WHERE THEIR HOPE EXISTED...
"They will come for us." The General assures, grimly. "They will be relentless. They may be many, they may be few. But we must not forget, that together... we have held the line. This line shall not be crossed. They will not break us. They will not make us mere spectators to their vanity! We are not their playthings! We are what they dread when they dare step upon soil we have rightfully claimed!"
THE TIME WHERE ALL HOPE IS LOST...
Those poor soldiers still on foot look upon in utter horror, as though forced to the sidelines, just to watch those empowered by fate, training, or some combination thereof in viewing the very killer of their General making sport of acrobatically working her way around the truck, and then steering - STEERING! - the truck all the way into pretty much anything in its way as the panicked driver fails to actually turn the wheel away from his own comrades. It even flattens a number of tanks along the way - no mean feat for a transport this size.
Faolan disappears (very briefly) under the wheels of the machine, as numerous people scramble out of tanks and other dangerous locales as the redirected truck plows through. They merely avoid being in the frying pan, but fall straight into the fire of an angry Irishman whose own blows are almost as explosive as what rips through an ammunitions depot soon after, individual bodies turning into legitimate artillery weapons under the strength of Faolan's bata.
Leona deals with the entire chaos with a single, decisive explosive incision by her own hands that explodes one of these trucks just a ways past her - as the truck eventually collides with that first panicked truck and causes - what else? - explosions.
To Leona's eyes, however, there are very few targets. All that's left are those scared who cluster together - a tactic they've been dissuading when dealing with fighters - if only for comfort and warmth with those they called friends. They're ready to bid one another goodbye, tears in their eyes, against a threat they cannot hope to defeat.
Perhaps this is their reward, for following Vega. For following the doctrine of flattening anything and everything in their way - military or civilian - that they be matched up with bigger bullies than themselves. Vega has abandoned them here, many are convinced, to die. That these defenses with withdrawn forces were merely punishments for those who failed him in his noble quest to unite the world under his banner.
The number of soldiers left is precariously small, so many thousands destroyed in such short order thanks to them, but those that are left make their charge - firing their weapons, any weapons on hand - to what little good it will do them. They are dead. This campaign is dead.
If they are to die, they want to make sure they can take /one/ of them with them.
COMBATSYS: The Final Stand has reached second wind!
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The Final Stand 1|-------|=======
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Faolan 0/-------/----===|======-\-------\0 Whip
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Leona 0|-------|--=====
COMBATSYS: Whip fails to slow Overwhelming Assault from The Final Stand with Boomerang Shot.
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The Final Stand 1|-------|=======
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Faolan 0/-------/----===|=======\===----\1 Whip
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Leona 0|-------|--=====
Relentless. They are. That's why they're so damn good.
Even in defeat, the Ikari do not surrender, their expertise honed to turn any result to their advantage. Whip's philosophy in battle has never been any different, a perfect match for the mercenary group - as they were for her. Even though she entered their ranks as an enemy three years ago, they were made for each other. As she stands in the twisting, unsettling coils of dirt and blood hanging like thick mist in the air, the youthful assassin's wary eye runs across friend and foe alike in a snapshot of quiet reflection. They're no different. The Ikari are human, as fighters are, as are the few dying men of Vega's gestalt horde.
Her mouth pulls to a taut line, an inhaled breath swelling her chest beneath stained khaki. Her hand twitches at her side, Voodoo settling at her feet like a demon unbound. Men scream as they advance, warriors open fire who are the match for the Ikari, in their own way; perhaps not where it counts in the eyes of fate, but where it counts for her. This wasn't personal - not for her, or Leona, or Faolan. But for them it was.
"I'm sorry," she breathes, even as she moves with rapid motions, dropping her shoulder against the hellstorm of fire and bullets, striking out with her namesake to gain traction upon the still-spinning wheels of an overturned truck. But this time, her arm is not steady enough, not strong enough; it's not the apology that does it, but the tenacity and resolve that brooked it. Whip's confident inbreath becomings a rushing hiss of pain as a dozen tungsten tips wind along her shoulderblade, tearing deep to splinter bone.
She cannot endure this final strike; she's spun from her feet, crashing to the dirt.
Blood explodes from her mouth as it opens, but she shouts anyway, for what /she/ believes in.
"Faolan! Leona!"
COMBATSYS: Faolan fails to interrupt Overwhelming Assault from The Final Stand with One for the Road.
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The Final Stand 1|-------|=======
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Whip 1/----===/=======|
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Leona 0|-------|--=====
COMBATSYS: Faolan can no longer fight.
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The Final Stand 1|-------|=======
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Whip 1/----===/=======|
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Leona 0|-------|--=====
Going into that firey rage might be a bad thing for Faolan. Sure he is taking down several other fighters right now in the process, but he is also wasting alot of energy in doing so when a more calm and collected set of strikes would do the trick. With Leona around perhaps he figures he can cut loose more. That girl is as cool as the other side of the pillow usually so it allows for some Faolan Fury if she is present. That and Whip can usually keep herself calm as well. That just means more time for the men to play!
The surge forward in a desperate attempt to try and fend off the Ikari does catch the raging Faolan off guard. He just starts to see bullets fly again and he just goes to run right at them. When will they learn their lesson!? That bata he wields crackles with energy and it would not be a pleasant ending for the soldiers it would touch before they would get tossed away. He instead finds the hail of lead too hard to fight through. Shots tear through his already battered body and he is slowed more and more with each hit he takes before finally the large man staggers about and a well placed shot sends him spinning before he takes a sand nap.
COMBATSYS: Leona blocks The Final Stand's Overwhelming Assault.
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The Final Stand 1|-------|=======
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Whip 1/----===/=======|
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Leona 0|-------|=======
The hail of lead, thrown downrange, overwhelms Faolan. It injures Whip. And Leona? She stands against it, protecting the vital points, practically ignoring the impacts even as they cause her to stagger backwards. Straightening herself, she looks... displeased. It's different from her usual expression--a sharpness to the eyes, something in the set of her jaw. Faolan... isn't dead yet. But if they leave him here...
... no. She's not leaving anyone behind. With a low sound, once again Leona finds herself running forward, closing on the knot of soldiers--and then she leaps into the air, tucking in tight, then attempting to dropkick right into the center of the formation. If she hits there, well, then she'll rebound, land, and lay waste with hands and feet, striking not to wound but to kill. She's comfortable with that. With the processes and outcomes of war. These men... threw in on the wrong side. They will be destroyed for it.
COMBATSYS: Leona successfully hits The Final Stand with Combo Attack.
COMBATSYS: The Final Stand refuses to stay down!
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The Final Stand 1|------=|=======
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Whip 1/----===/=======|
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Leona 0|-------|=======
THEY STILL REMEMBER HIS WORDS...
"If they come in alone, we stand together!" The General raises his voice. "We are strong in our numbers! We are the majority! We are the world. Not them! They will learn this truth should they dare come to us, as we stand bravely, side by side, knowing we are in the comfort of friends, of brothers against their harsh lies and egocentric, empty gestures to try and force us to bow down!"
BUT DO THEY MEAN ANYTHING NOW...?
Those that still stand all rally, pushing forward with shouting and tears in their eyes. They think they got one of them, shouting things in their various native tongues. They shout for the names of those they fear already lost, as they give all they have to give pause to Whip. They give all they have to put Faolan down - they pray he is dead, and not faking it to lower their guard or otherwise insulting the memory of their fellows by proving tough enough to survive. It is Leona, who breaks their stride as she leaps into them.
They scatter fast as she makes short work of those who cannot move fast enough - it is those on the outer edges of the formations that, ultimately, survive her bloodbath combination assaults that so mercilessly and ruthlessly cut them down like blades of grass. As far as the Ikari Warrior unit's eyes can see, there's still plenty of soldiers.
But as their numbers dwindle, none of them feel ever so lonesome, so naked, so vulnerable as now. So frightened for their lives, they do not stop to replace clips. All they can hope for is that the two women are now weak enough to finally go down like that one with the bata - to leap upon them, to stab them with bayonets and knives. The more carnal thoughts and desires that might occasionally run rampart in their minds never once surfaces - they are not fighting other human beings, they are convinced.
They are daring to lay fingers on their very deaths, as the last of the Chinese campaign's occupation forces.
COMBATSYS: The Final Stand successfully hit Whip with Armed Combo.
Grazing Hit
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The Final Stand 1|-----==|=======
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Whip 1/--=====/=======|
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Leona 0|-------|=======
The searing pain in Whip's broken shoulder is nothing before the fall of Faolan, the crashing of his admittedly muscular body somehow reaching her ears with astonishing clarity through the clamour of battle. The dull agony resounding in her breast is matched only by the candid flame of her spirit as she plants her left forearm and pushes herself upright, fighting the discomfort of her complaining body, keeping her gaze and her mind upon the fight as she gets to her feet in time to meet the renewed assault. They won't go down...
Neither will she. Her eyes widen for an instant, then immediately narrow as a bayonet flies past her vision, her injured side sweeping an arm outward as she slides into a dynamic backstep. A second stab takes her gut at an awkward angle, tearing further her tattered khakis, exploding aside with a spray of mud and blood as she continues her spin and steps forward, the outflung hand pressing forward to shove the attacking soldier back by his very face. Her grip is iron, like her resolve. What the General said to his men, he was wrong.
No. They're not alone. They're never alone.
"Leona!" She yells again, this time the blade's edge shining on her words, "Hold the line!" Nobody left behind. These men have their own beliefs, but they set their destiny as they trod their path. There is always a choice - there is always another way, and it's to the loser to accept the consequences; be it death and destruction, loneliness and regret, be it the end of all things. Whip steps away from the maelstrom of battle, evading her enemy even as they seek her in the fire-stricken darkness. A hand slides to the holster at her back. As the war began in savage blood, so shall it end. There can be no mercy here-- they would show none to Faolan.
Gunmetal, so cold it's white-hot in her hand, is raised with a polished gleam beneath the bloody moon. Under the studied eye of a fighter, what follows is a breathtaking ballet of exquisitely sinuous motions, Whip's body moving to subtle perfection as she fires off shot after shot. The Desert Eagle flashes and screams with each snap of her wrist, each gentle bidding of her trigger finger. Each shot flies toward head or heart, as she expends her full clip in mere seconds, blurring to lesser eyes, a dervish deva of destruction...
She's no hero. There's nothing noble in this.
But somebody has to end the war.
COMBATSYS: The Final Stand successfully hit Leona with Armed Combo.
- Power hit! -
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The Final Stand 1|----===|=======
[ \\\\\\\\\\\ <
Whip 1/--=====/=======|
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Leona 1|---====|=======
Their numbers may be dwindling, but there's enough to pretty much just dogpile Leona... and since she doesn't have the raw physical strength of Ralf, or the grappling prowess of Clark... she takes several hits before she flings enough of them off of her to get free. There's only a few left, now. But to avenge Faolan--to protect Whip... Leona will stop at nothing. _This_ is how she expresses her feelings towards her fellow Ikari.
... with explosions. Spinning, she stabs her fingers out at each of the remaining targets--and everyone she hits will have -something-... they won't know what it is, but it sparks and hisses... and when she leaps almost straight up? They'll explode, bombs of pure chi energy, exploding into torso-sized spheres of death.
COMBATSYS: The Final Stand blocks Leona's Rebel Spark.
[ || ]
The Final Stand 1|---====|=======
[ \\\\\\\\\\\ <
Whip 1/--=====/=======|
[ ||||||||||||||| ]
Leona 0|-------|----===
COMBATSYS: Whip successfully hits The Final Stand with Desert Eagle.
[ | ]
The Final Stand 1|--=====|=======
[ \\\\\\\\\\\ <
Whip 1/-======/=======|
[ ||||||||||||||| ]
Leona 0|-------|----===
THE MOMENTS BEFORE...
"Together now!" The General seeks to whip his men to a frenzy. "Hail Shadaloo!"
"HAIL SHADALOO!" They all cry together.
"HAIL LORD VEGA!" He cries out.
"HAIL LORD VEGA!" The troops - thousands of men strong - all say in unison, in this moment they find strength.
THE TIME AFTER...
"HAIL SHADALOO!" Those that still can cry, cry as they pile upon Leona. They can take her! That's what they feel. They can! They may be able to live through their own courage - for being men under a terrible tyrant who were willing to commit unspeakable acts, no one would claim them to be anything other than this with their backs to the wall, even as they throw her off. Some of them... some of them realize what's going on moments after they are touched. Others can only look on in horror at the explosions that follow, as Leona sees to their very ends.
"HAIL LORD VEGA!" The few that stand say as they pursue Whip - the assassin of the man they swore to follow th the gates of Hell and beyond, as they stand instead before Death's Door. This was as much for their devotion to Lord Vega as much as their General - a man whom employed cruel methods but was not unkind to his own. A man who saw to it to stand out in the open - foolishly - to rally his troops on the darkest night of the bid for world domination - no, their idea of world peace, as Whip pulls the trigger.
THE PAST CATCHES UP...
A gunshot rings through the dusk-clad compound, as the General's head hits the ground before Whip's boot, soaking it in blood as she rolls him over.
FROM HERE ON OUT...
The head of the one who manages to get closest to her falls the exact same way, blood pooling by the tip of her boot - the very last man who was willing to fight - the last man that either Whip or Leona could see. A dead silence fills the air aside from the roar of flames across what could have become a true stronghold had they been given more time to fortify.
The truth is... few survived. Exactly thirty-nine soldiers, of the thousands that were here tonight, would escape with their lives. Dishonored and shaken, they would not return to their home countries, nor would they return to Vega. No... instead, all of them formed a pact together.
A pact to make sure that the world would know that, regardless of what they felt of their actions, that they would know the truth of what went down, as they fled from Iraq - from everything.
They would come together to publish a book about their time as a part of what was thought to be the mightiest human army in history underneath a time Vega seemed invincible, all the way to what might have truly been considered the final occupation force of the war.
They would not refer to their unit by name. They would simply say, to all involved... that they were a part of the final stand. They would never forget the faces of the three that broke them, the three that destroyed thousands.
Yet, this would pale in comparison to what would transpire in China...
COMBATSYS: The Final Stand takes no action.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\ <
Whip 1/-======/=======|
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Leona 0|-------|----===
COMBATSYS: The Final Stand can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\ <
Whip 1/-======/=======|
[ ||||||||||||||| ]
Leona 0|-------|----===
The last man to fall, does so to her final bullet.
She's a weapon; the gun is a part of her. There's no shameful click from the empty clip, no desperate double-tap upon the trigger - because she knew in the deafening instant of the gun's report that it was over. Her outbreath leaves with a shudder, shoulders relaxing and arms lowering as she aims the emptied barrel toward the dirt. In the motions of war there is little time for emotion, not really. What occurs in the mind and colours the risen voice is a mockery of such; a hollow reflection of the person's desire to cling to their humanity as they commit sin after heartbreaking sin. But that pain isn't felt, until the clouds begin to clear.
An assassin true, there's little that displeases Whip more than lingering on memories. Death is death. It's an ugly, brutal thing whose only beauty can be found in the dim comfort that it's natural-- even at another's hand, for what is man but a creature of nature's stormy will? Even she, the abomination, is human. But there's no shame in pausing to honour a fallen foe, in admitting that they fought well. Without ego, without arrogance, she bows her head as the few remaining troops make their retreat, eyes sliding shut as the wind carries gently across the battlefield. She shuts out the scent of blood and petroleum, shuts out everything...
But only for a moment.
When her gaze is unveiled once more, it finds Leona in the gloom and heat. A smile comes to her lips as naturally as death comes to the fallen, and Whip moves forward in easy strides, sliding her weapon away to become the girl - the friend - for a valued instant. There's no uneasy pause, no asking for permission, as she closes her arms about the older girl for a brief, thankful embrace, one hand settling at the small of the back. That contains everything she needs to say; hello, thank you, I'm glad you're okay. It's enough.
When she pulls away, it's back to business, and as the wounded men of the China-Shadaloo coalition move into the history books, pouring their sad venom forth into the world... she once named Seirah moves into the future. As the Ikari she's always been in her heart, moving away from friendship to become squadmate, to become the aegis. A quick stock is taken of those rebels who remain, ensuring they are tended to with a glance before she moves to the one of their injured remaining still in the dirt. No man left behind. Not if she can help it.
As she hooks an arm over her neck and rises with a grunt, realizing suddenly the effort is lessened...
...she amends herself. Not if /they/ can help it.
As the two young women carry the brave Irishman from the battlefield, they don't do so as heroes.
But they do so as the victors, and as the just. No matter what the world might think.
Log created on 20:14:12 03/07/2012 by Rust, and last modified on 21:38:59 03/08/2012.