Description: Roland and Brett have a battle on a cruise ship, although really Roland just wanted to use it as an excuse to raid it for shrimp and booze. Brett, however, is a touch more focused, and it shows! ( Winner: Brett )
With so much else happening lately, Brett's kind of neglected one of his other obligations: NDP. With the season reaching its end, he's fallen off his former workhorse pace rather suddenly, and now finds himself not so comfortable in the ranks. Between that, and needing to show off some of the fruits of his eariler training, it seems like excuse enough to pick up a match as soon as possible.
And so here he is, on a cruise liner sailing somewhere just off the Carribbean, night fallen and the cruisegoers surrounding the deck for an unannounced official fight. And him...well, Brett's still fretting over his usual routine. The name of his opponent is familiar enough, but time has a way of making one forget about certain things. Best to focus on what he remembers: "Gloves...check....skates....check....pads...check..." After all, this could turn out to be a pretty crucial fight: gotta make sure EVERYTHING is in order before he starts.
Roland knows he won't manage to win this season. But he can still attempt to humiliate Daniel in some fashion, and to do that requires success. Well, enough success to challenge him once. Brett is someone he doesn't know; he appeared on the scene while Roland was up to mysterious things in America, after all. Roland himself is presently stuffing his face with the free shrimp cocktails, and flirting with the organizer trying to point him at Brett. "Damnit, I didn't want to fight, I was lying to get on the cruise! OW!" Someone kicks him. "Who did that?! Jeez." A few moments looking at Brett makes him exhale. "Great. You aren't even a chick." He still has a martini glass in one hand. Brett could probably not feel less taken seriously. "Can you fight? I mean, you can just forfeit. I'm, like, pretty strong."
Brett frowns as he raises his head at his complaining opponent. The name sounded familiar...but perhaps he was mistaken. Or maybe it's been long enough that neither remembers who the other is. "What's that even supposed to mean?" he mutters when Roland complains about the hockey kid not even being a girl. That irritates Brett, but not enough to raise his voice. He's busy making sure his fight prep is all finished. A rather sour look is tossed at the idea of surrendering before the fight. His answer?
A sharp crack of his stick across the deck as he lowers into a face-off stance. The narrowed look on Brett's face as he puts his gameface on? It has 'Not a chance' written all over it.
The sharp sound catches Roland's attention. A hockey stick...? Huh. That makes his brow furrow, also. But not many fights registers on his radar, except for ones where Ayame shows her panties. Although in that case, he's got digital pictures, too. "Sigh. Fine. Let's do this, then." He sips some from his martini glass, but makes no move to actually put it down. "I can't judge your way of fighting, after all. I'll do whatever it takes to win, also." Grinning brightly towards Brett, he takes a loose... well, it's not a stance, but he seems ready.
COMBATSYS: Roland has started a fight here.
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Roland 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Brett has joined the fight here.
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Roland 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Brett
Oh geez, he's not even taking the fight seriously, is he? That just makes Brett narrow his eyes even more, when he realizes he's being looked down upon like that by someone not even putting effort into the fight. Scowling, the hockey kid grips his stick tighter, waiting for the NDP officials to give the signal to them. Once it comes, the cruise goers let out a cheer of anticipation...
And Brett drives his skates into the deck in a way that'll sure to cost him some repair money for the etches as he sprints forward at Roland. Well...not AT him, but in the general direction, veering off to the side before pivoting back. He seems to be building speed for another pass, one that sees him extend his stick out and try to hook around Roland's neck to catch and drag him down to the floor with that momentum.
COMBATSYS: Brett successfully hits Roland with King's End.
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Roland 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Brett
The signal is given as Roland is attempting to lift his glass. He actually looks aghast, turning towards the referee who said to go. "Hey, I wasn't--" Brett doesn't much care, however. The peculiar veer seems to take him slightly off balance. Skipping sideways, it's obvious his attempt to not spill his martini adversely affects his motion. He leans back, almost enough to avoid the hooking snag. Almost, but not quite. He then heavily slams on the ground with his upper back. His glass spirals away, painting the floor with delicious liquor. His hat covering his face, for a moment Brett might think that was that. Some retard who conned his way inside, with no intent to fight, and in fact no ability to. But angry eyes glare beneath the brim when lifted. "Now it's personal."
Hands brace upon the ground, before he twists, launching himself straight at Brett with heels together, knees at his chest. "ROLAND..." And then he begins spiraling upwards, trying to drive both steel boots into Brett's chin!! "ROCKET~~~"
COMBATSYS: Brett blocks Roland's Roland Rocket.
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Roland 0/-------/------=|==-----\-------\0 Brett
There's no concern in Brett's face for the martini. He's here for a fight, and if that's gonna happen, he's gonna fight. At least that yank down woke the shabbily dressed man up enough to get serious. And the diving kick is a serious thing, only Brett's stick intercepting it to dampen the blow. It jars the hockey kid back, but he's still up on those wheels. Which is a good thing...maybe not for Roland, but...
Regardless, with that distance, there's one viable option for him to go for: reel back, take aim at his opponent...and suddenly slapshot the air. The result is an arc of blue energy cresting its way straight toward Roland across the deck.
COMBATSYS: Brett successfully hits Roland with Shark Crest.
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Roland 0/-------/----===|===----\-------\0 Brett
An attempt was made to whirl his arm with green energy and then intercept it, but Brett's much quicker then expected. It slams into his chest instead, sending him backwards in a brief skid. Grunting in pain, he then dismisses his chi. "Nngh. You hit like a girl." This might especially hurt because he doesn't seem to be entirely joking. Two stout hits have barely winded him! Moving forward, he suddenly tips to the side, as if off balance. But his lifted leg whirls out suddenly, trying to plant his heel in Ichiro's face!!
COMBATSYS: Brett blocks Roland's Heavy Kick.
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Roland 0/-------/----===|====---\-------\0 Brett
Brett doesn't seem much for taunting himself, but with that stony look, it doesn't seem like taunting him has much effect either. At least, about as much effect as his own blows against Roland seemed to have. He starts on the move yet again, rolling and gaining speed. The sudden hooking kick to his face finds a gloved hand, the force slamming the back of his own hand into Brett's face, but despite that, he's able to keep upright. Good balance, this kid.
And that speed is invaluable, as with another pivot, he goes straight forward, trying to make a beeline toward the shabby man...before pitching over in a hard flip, one leg extended out as he tries to drop the heel of his skates straight into the crown of his foe's skull!
COMBATSYS: Roland dodges Brett's Falling Star EX.
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Roland 0/-------/----===|====---\-------\0 Brett
Well, one never knows. Roland might say ten things that have no effect, but he only needs an eleventh for it to all be worthwhile. Although he's impressed the feinted kick was swiftly caught, having thought the skates would be more of a hindrance. And then there's a sudden snap. The skates slam into the ground, just barely missing. Roland lost his hat, thumping with too much weight nearby. Before a yanked wire sends it into his grip, carefully put back on. Green energy slowly coalesces over Roland, before he launches forward. Both hands cross, before in a heartbeat he'd be past Brett... as an X-shaped eruption of energy would hopefully burn into them and knock him down! "I'm deceptive, not a liar!! Shoulda surrendered when I offered!!"
COMBATSYS: Brett endures Roland's Three Card Monte.
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Roland 0/-------/--=====|=======\-------\1 Brett
Well, crap. That's the issue with committing to an attack fully. If it misses, you're pretty much sailing into open air. That speed comes to bite Brett in the ass, as he flies past Roland, forced into a hard hockey stop. Turning around, he finds himself faced with...well, a nasty looking thing. Coming fast enough that he can't bring up a guard, he just ends up...taking it. The energy burns and sears Brett for sure, the strike nearly buckling him right then and there.
But that's 'nearly'. And with Brett still up on his skates, he's still a danger. Especially with that stick chambered back. Gritting his teeth, and furrowing his brow, he straightens back up as much as possible before plowing straight at Roland again, trying to smash the heel of his stick straight into his collarbone with a powerful overhand strike.
COMBATSYS: Roland blocks Brett's Crushing Strike.
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Roland 0/-------/-======|=------\-------\0 Brett
Twisting around, Roland brings up his forearms, catching the assault cleanly. The floor of the ship cracks slightly, his feet sinking enough in to create dents. He slackens heavily, but absorbs the blow fully. "Son of a..." He then attempts to push it away, before charging headlong at Brett. Aiming to impact with a shoulder, before pivoting heavily and trying to slug him across the face!! By the books brawling at this point, but in THAT avenue he's got the experience of a master!
COMBATSYS: Brett interrupts Power Strike from Roland with Hurricane Check.
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Roland 1/------=/=======|===----\-------\0 Brett
Never back down, never give ground. That seems to be Brett's modus operandi. Even when his heavy dollar strike is blocked, he doesn't give ground. His stick is pushed back, sure, but when Roland tries to shoulder-ram the hockey kid? Well, he shows why that's a bad idea. After all, he's a heavy hitter in hockey. Those cats are bred for hard checking, and that's exactly what the grifter meets. Stick is raised high, as Brett drives in headlong, trying to smash him across the face with both weapon and elbow. The force is enough to turn the kid completely around 360 before he does it AGAIN, finishing with a second driving hard check straight to the chest. "GHHHHHHHHNNNNNN!!"
Okay. Credit where it's do, Brett has a lot of experience in being shoulder checked. He's hit clean in the face, spinning away only to be hit in the back resolutely and crashing upon hands and knees. To his credit he gets up to his feet almost immediately, quickly whirling around and rubbing blood from his nose. He spits it to the side. "Hmph. You ain't won yet, kid. But my hat's off to you..." He plucks off said hat, before suddenly whirling it out, sending it spiraling towards Brett!!
COMBATSYS: Brett blocks Roland's Blackjack.
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Roland 1/-----==/=======|====---\-------\0 Brett
The hat is...well, the hat certainly hits harder than he would have expected. But Brett is a pretty stout guy, arms crossed and body clenched so the hat strikes mostly padded protection. It's no small hit still, but he's pretty well protected either way. "NNhh...." But that doesn't mean Brett is faltering yet, oh no. Even if he's backed up, he can still bring it. Charging in yet again, he seems ready to drive in hard and high again...before he drops low, one leg extended while he rolls on the other skate to try and drive a kick straight into Roland's shin.
COMBATSYS: Roland fails to interrupt Light Kick from Brett with All In.
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Roland 0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0 Brett
It's time. Roland has set things up to his satisfaction, and now he sees an opening. One hand clenches, and a sleek metal blade pops out. Charging it with his emerald chi, he slips close and then begins to sweep out. But Brett hits just before, and manages to use the superior reach to push away that crackling weapon without making impact. A sudden explosion of green energy takes place thereafter, luckily nowhere near Brett! Stumbling back, he's obviously panting now, eyes narrowed. "Son of a..." But there's no sign of him giving up yet, not in the slightest!
When Brett has enough sense to look back on this fight, he'll wonder how he ever managed to avoid that. Some kind of providence, perhaps...but either way, that rolling kick manages to save him from the built-up strike Roland was saving, turning just in time to see that green explosion.
He doesn't seem to react to the sight, at least expression wise. But perhaps he sees the opening to finish it, charging in hard and hot, and trying to level a hard strike with the toe of his stick, swinging it out and trying to bury it straight into one of Roland's kidneys.
COMBATSYS: Roland dodges Brett's Medium Strike.
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Roland 0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0 Brett
A lunge backwards succeeds in getting a bit of distance, Roland still far from giving up on things. He then immediately bolts forward, trying to capitalize on the recovery that such acrobatics in skates is likely to cause. Trying to slam down a sharp kick towards his knee, and then sweep out with a forearm, the intent being to floor Brett evasively. No more tricks for now... he's too tired to manage them properly!
COMBATSYS: Brett blocks Roland's Combo Attack.
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Roland 0/-------/-----==|=====--\-------\0 Brett
Years of moving on skates and fighting on skates seems to have given Brett some experience in keeping steady despite attacks at vital areas. Even with certain techniques penalized, you have to know how to take a hook or a slash without permanent injury. So maybe it's no surprise that he's able to back the leg aimed with this kick away, and still block the forearm blow with his own arm while still on one skate, and not pitch over.
Mind, it's still leaving him in an awkward position to attack, only a quick thrust of the butt of his stick toward Roland's chest managed from this odd position. But who knows, even this little might do a lot.
COMBATSYS: Brett successfully hits Roland with Weapon Jab.
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Roland 0/-------/---====|======-\-------\0 Brett
The stick impacts Roland dead center, but he only lets out a deep, aggravated grunt. He lands awkwardly, but quickly twists around. Only to hop forward, and drive his knee towards Brett's crotch. Trying to pelt him home, aiming at the side just in case he has a cup. He knows how to bypass adequate protection! "Son of a... just go down!! You weren't supposed to be so tenacious!!"
COMBATSYS: Brett blocks Roland's Light Kick.
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Roland 0/-------/---====|======-\-------\0 Brett
The jab gives Brett enough room to finally get settled back on both feet again, even if it's a minor strike. But thankfully, it seems like he's got the upper hand. Roland's anger doesn't seem to get through to him, that same stony gameface from the beginning of the fight meeting him as a hand catches the knee and pushes it aside. The glove cushions the most, and what gets through drives into padded hand AND padded thigh rather than into his...'vitals'.
Sensing blood, Breett keeps the pressure on, a gutteral sound coming as he drops down, sweeping his stick around 360 around ankle level before rising, slashing his stick up in a spiraling ascent back up, not wanting to give Roland any avenue of escape this time.
COMBATSYS: Brett successfully hits Roland with Ice Thrasher EX.
- Power hit! -
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Roland 0/-------/=======|=------\-------\0 Brett
That unexpected boost of speed was more then Roland expected. What happens next takes place in a split second. Although the lunge away fails, he still reaches a hand into his jacket, and yanks out five fanned-out playing cards. Steel razor ones, as a matter of fact. In a flash of chi, he hurls them towards Brett's torso, as he then slams on his back, blackness flooding his vision for a few seconds. Assuming he struck, there'd be a quick, concentrated series of explosion thereafter. "Ugh... my martini..." he laments, seeming to consider that more important then not winning!!
COMBATSYS: Roland can no longer fight.
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Brett 0/-------/------=|
COMBATSYS: Brett blocks Roland's Dead Man's Hand.
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Brett 0/-------/---====|
The finished Ice Thrasher brings Brett back upright, but he doesn't have any reason to celebrate yet, not when Roland is able to chuck those powered cards so quickly at him as he falls. Eyes widen, and hands come up, covering himself up as much as possible. Two cards dig into those padded gloves, one into his stick, and the others lower into his forearms, drawing blood. The resulting explosion blows him back nearly over the fight barricade and into the ship railing....but aside from pulped gloves spilling the padding over the deck, a charred stick, and burned, bleeding forearms, Brett still seems to be up and about.
At least until after the NDP officials call the match, and declare him the winner. As soon as that announcement comes, that stony look on his face falters, followed by the rest of Brett's body. "GUhnnn...owww...." he groans, wincing as he nearly falls onto his ass. He definitely will be sore tomorrow. "Hey...hey, you ok?" he asks ROland concernedly as he looks on from the other side of the deck. He'd offer a hand...if he wasn't having trouble getting back to a standing position himself.
COMBATSYS: Brett takes no action.
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Brett 0/-------/---====|
COMBATSYS: Brett has ended the fight here.
Roland is unable to get back up with any speed, cementing the match as it's called in Brett's favor. Roland simply pulls out a clove cigarette, placing it between his lips and lighting it with a green-sparked fingersnap and heavy puff. When told he can't smoke in this area of the ship, it's spat out grumpily. "Well, this is one hell of a day." he grumbles, pulling his hat over his face. He's rustier then he thought... but is it enough of a wakeup call? Probably not. Probably... not.
...well, he seems to be awake enough to try and smoke and be surly. I guess that means Brett doesn't have to be to worried about his opponent now. STill, he finds himself giving a worried look either way as he finally pulls himself back up to his feet. He hears the claps from the spectators, a small smile and a nod to them as he's ushered off for post-fight treatment. At least this is a step in a positive direction for the hockey kid.
Log created on 21:29:01 05/27/2012 by Roland, and last modified on 10:03:18 05/28/2012.