Description: In the wake of Roland's horrible attack, the modern cowboy recovers in a Metro City Hospital. While the treatment is effective, it costs an arm and a leg. Roland, fortunately, only needs to pay one of those. When news reaches Daniel, however, he hurries overseas to visit his rival... and another mysterious guest arrives....
Roland Brown has not been well.
In this day and age of brutal fights and assaults, it can be easy to underestimate what you hear at first. That someone tried to kill him might seem like he only needs to rest in bed a few days, shaking his fist. But it would only take a few moments at the Metro City Memorial Hospital to understand that whoever tried to end Roland's life did a very good job of it. He is barred from visitors, and a mob of doctors has been attending him throughout the night. He's had three emergency surgeries in twice as many hours. Once, he flatlined for almost a minute, a shrill and terrible sound in the otherwise quiet atmosphere of the hospital.
Currently, he's under heavy observation, but is allowed visitors. He's in a large bed, hooked up to a shocking variety of machines, both giving information and also helping to support critical bodily functions. His skin is very pale, eyes swollen and bruised. Gauze, bandages and suturing is upon much of his exposed flesh. He has a breathing tube and a feeding tube, soft suction the loudest thing in the hospital room. His right arm is completely gone, all the way to the shoulder, a large mass of bloodied bandages.
He twitches suddenly. The diagnostic machinery begins to rev up. Perhaps he's going to die again, for the last time. Instead, his eyes flutter open, initially glazed but slowly beginning to focus on the surroundings. "...nnngh?"
All of the Todoh Dojo was not well.
Daniel Jack was training at the Todoh-Ryuu Dojo, preparing for the finals, when he got the news. A plane ticket cost a lot of money in the last minute. He hasn't even gotten a hotel room yet. Everything had to stop when the news came. It was at great cost, and in the end, the lack of training might cost Daniel the NDP.
But this was all for a friend.
The detective sits by the chair, dressed in the bright orange Zoot Suit he was signature for. In his lap, he was clutching a large gift basket. Most gift baskets were of flowers. But this was for Roland, not for one of Daniel's many villainous lovers. It was stacked with small bottles of hard liquor, with pornographic magazines rolled and stuck in. Daniel even managed to stuff in some dirty postcards. The detective glares fiercely at his rival. His words were of terse annoyance, as if whatever Roland did, it took a LOT of time out of Daniel's plans.
"God Dammit, Woody."
"Ugh, my head. How much did I drink...?" Roland seems completely out of it at the onset. He rubs his face with a hand, only to stop upon finding the various plastic protubrances. Then he looks at the heart monitor clipped to a finger, and the IV attached. Slowly, a sort of dull realization flows over him. An attempt to lean up fails with a sharp cry of pain. "Agh... what-- the hell happened?" he asks, more surprised then anything else. "Littles?" Daniel is given a sort of bleary out of focus stare. There was no injury to Roland's head, however. Whatever took place, the attacker made pains that there was no physical reason to fall unconscious during it.
"You lost an arm."
Daniel Jack's tone was intense, directed right with every word. Lifting up the basket, the detective rises. Walking towards the stand beside the bed, the detective places right in line of sight to Roland. Turning back towards Roland, his arms were crossed. His eyes focused. And then, with the same terse tones, he continues to speak.
"Pirate's Cove bar. You got attacked. I'm going to put a lot of assholes in traction. What the hell happened, who the hell did this to you."
"And where can I find the bastard."
"Come again?"
Roland is luckily being treated with kindness and allowed to properly come to terms with things. He tries to lift up his right arm to look at it, which doesn't really work all that well. He then gropes over there, finding the stump and giving it a few painful pats. "Well. Damn." That seems to be the extent of his horror, however. There's little sign that he's not aware of the reality of that. A cough goes through him, causing a couple alarms to go off before he gets it under control. "Ugh. I need more morphine."
Looking over to Daniel, Roland tries to get things in better order. "Ayame called me... said... someone was going to come kill me. Sounded a bit crazy... out of the blue like that... Guess she wasn't kidding." A slight smirk of amusement blossoms, then fades away with another grimace. "Had... red hair... I think... red chi...? There was a lot of red, man. But he only got me since I was so drunk. I'd have had him otherwise." Solemn nod.
Awful.
Daniel Jack watches his rival. This was sickening. He had gripes abotu Roland. He knew something like this would happen to the man. But when it finally came down... Daniel's only thought was to avenge him. Todoh-Ryuu Kobojutsu was a family. And Roland was like a brother to him. When he watches his old rival grope for his arm, and the alarms go off...
He focuses hard to restrain the tears.
"Ayame called you?" The detective begins, as he grabs a bottle of Vodka from the gift basket. . "I ran into Ayame the other day. She thrashed me in a Neo Development Fight. She didn't show any hint concern about you then, but..." The detective pauses. "... She mentioned something about a killer too. A real killer." Daniel unscrews the top of the bottle. "I don't got morphine. But this should work well."
Daniel is not a doctor.
You should not take your medical advice from Daniel.
Roland slowly exhales a weird breath. He blinks for awhile longer, but otherwise doesn't seem to be in poor spirits. The bottle of vodka is taken, although he is so weak that it thumps to the bed after only a moment's struggle. "A killer, you say? Weird... was someone trying to murder her? I can see that. Not sure why they'd decide to come after me, though..." After a few moments of struggling with the bottle, a nurse comes in. A shocked gasp. "SIR! What are you doing?!" She leverages this at Daniel, taking the bottle from a resisting Roland with the ease of candy from a baby. The gift basket would be swiped. She pulls out a magazine, makes a horrid noise deep in her throat, states "I never...!!" then takes it out with her. Roland actually laughs afterwards, although it just makes him cough more. "Fuck. I needed my right arm. That's cold beans right there." A glare to Daniel follows. "I'll still kick your ass, Littles. You'll need a bigger handicap then this to take me down..."
Someone with a familiar voice - though it's a bit muffled to make out - can be heard down the hall. Someone screeching about matters of the second... something. It's nearly impossible to make out anything coherent about whatever it is that's going on just a ways outside.
Could it be...?
As the nurse scoops up Daniel's gift, the detective just GLARES. Those were gifts for a friend. Still, rather than risk a fight, he lets it get taken out.... for now. Glaring daggers into the back of the nurse, Daniel Jack turns back to Roland, reaching for his waist. Drawing out a hip flask, he unscrews the top. Bringing it towards Roland, he doesn't even hand it over. He just lets it come to Roland's mouth, and lets him have a nip.
"Freakin' dames."
Seething at the news, the detective's mind is a boiling storm of anger. "Yeah, Roland. I bet you could kick my ass. But what the hell are you going to do without an arm?" The detective finally flashes a smile. The smile fades quickly when he hears a scream. Turning around, he pulls the flash away from Roland's mouth, letting it run freely on the victim's chest. His ears were focused. His mind like a knife.
Was the killer returning to finish the job?
A swallow of the flask follows. Then he begins to react horribly, and the machines wail a few alarms. After some time, it all settles down, but Roland looks measurably closer to death then before the medicinal liquid was offered. Cough, cough. He's now stinking with liquor from where Daniel spilled the flask, but he seems to not care. The sound of someone coming... he doesn't care about that either. Perhaps he's going to finally die here.
A trembling hand reaches out, and then he moves to grip Daniel by the wrist. Stronger then would have been expected. "...I don't regret losing the arm..." He sounds pained, trying to force the words out quickly. "No... I spent my life... doing what I wanted. Wasted time... I was talented, and that made me conceited. Look at you...!! You got... as strong as me... while I was off doing nothing..."
Bleary eyes look at the door, waiting for the grim reaper to appear with finality. "I always thought... it would work out. If things really, truly went down... with my balls against the wall!! But as I went down... choking on my own blood..." He grasps his eyes, the pain no longer related to Roland's physical damage. "My regret was being so weak...!!"
The door to Roland's hospital room is thrown open with absolutely no measure of care or gentleness. It speaks of urgency, given the alarms and other signals for the dutiful hospital staff to address. Yet, paradoxically, a figure stands shadowed in the doorway. Could this be the metaphorical grim reaper, whose form is briefly shadowed by the very door they toss aside before it bumps back and threatens to obscure him again?
Tossing it open a second time and stepping through, there is the scent of blood. It's not fresh. Splotches of dried blood are visible on the form of the supposed Angel of Death himself, with long flowing hair, strong arms in which to guide the newly departed, and long trousers for... well, who knows why Death would need long trousers.
"So I can't bring severed bear arms into hospitals now," muses the most familiar voice. It can only be one man. It isn't the man they fear.
It also may not, exactly, be the man they /want/ even with that single mercy granted upon the wretched one-armed form of Roland Brown and his orange-clad rival towards the mastery and perfection of Todoh-Ryuu Kobujutsu.
His arms are crossed, his face inexplicably stoic even with the straight delivery of what is no doubt the latest in a long line of complete non-sequiturs that make sense only to the man himself as those eyes of his sweep the room to those two men sharing a tender moment of friendship, regret, jealousy, and outright fear.
"I'll show 'em you can!" So proclaims the one and only Ryuhaku Todoh, the faint shine of tears going down his cheeks.
The Reaper is Here.
Daniel Jack stands between Roland and the stranger, finally pulling away the hip flask. The poisonous drink might be making Roland worse. But what doesn't kill you would make you stronger. Or possibly cripple you for life, as Roland showed. Screwing the top back on, the detective focuses, studying the blood stains, the stance. An angel of death? The killer? And then, it becomes very clear who it is.
Master Todoh.
The detective swiftly bows in honor to his sensei. "Master Todoh! It is a miracle you are here! I did not-" He begins, before he spies his sensei. Severed bear arms? Perhaps it was a mistranslation of bear claws. Sugary sweets might be- you know what.
No. Daniel doesn't even believe that.
Todoh killed a bear, and disarmed it. Hell, the killing part was not even certain. He may have just found an old man and his bear companion, lulled the old man into a sense of security, and pulled the bear's arms off. Naturally, this might mean trouble. But such thoughts fall in wane as he looks upon the eyes of his sensei. The manly tears. The choked back emotions finally surge up. Sweeping an arm before his eyes, Daniel can no longer control himself.
And the manly tears begins to stream down his cheeks as well.
"Nngh... Todoh?" Roland is having some trouble focusing on the old man. He's a touch delusional, what with being given liquor in a terminal state and otherwise being conscious when most people have no right to be. He doesn't seem relieved for some reason that he hasn't come to murder him. It must have something to do with his heavy discomfort, of course. "Are you here... to mock me for forsaking Todoh-ryuu...?" He doesn't sound genuine, but can't see why the man would come visit a fallen disciple!
In all fairness, nobody is ever really sure as to why the man standing before the two of them is... ever really anywhere. Given that half the time the man is even ever around for their training or anything remotely resembling mentorship ends up being him going on a verbal tirade over the latest slight to his person or some bizarre petty scheme he ineptly attempts to round up people to execute for him, mockery is not entirely out of the question.
"Eh?" Ryuhaku's face straightens out at this weighted query, as though confused as to the nature of this question. "When did you forsake anything?! My students forsake nothing! Because... they're my students and they're incapable of this!" He tenses a fist for emphasis, despite having a whole lot of little examples over the years - or maybe his line of thought is beginning to jump ramps onto tracks that trains were never meant to scuttle about. (...Trains can scuttle?)
"I heard you lost an arm, and you know, I was telling that loathsome, jealous, petty, not at all successful Takuma Sakazaki my students could beat any one of theirs with an arm tied behind their back!!" So he puffs out his chest. "But then he said 'what if they had both' and I was in a bind!!"
He slumps forward, tone growing suddenly more sullen. "So I came to America to force them to deal with arms tied behind backs while I taped bear arms or something to them! Some sort of second rule or something in the laws, and--"
The master(?) seems to have managed to miraculously lose himself mid-conversation (a rare event) or at least have grown extremely bored of the subject matter at hand, as he takes a few steps toward Roland in his bed, past the bowing Daniel, as he leans forward and stares him down. Especially that stump. Everyone's going to be staring at that stump, and the inscrutable gaze of Ryuhaku Todoh will not be the last.
"Hm."
In Roland's defense, Daniel's pocket liquor was pretty raunchy stuff.
Wiping away the manly tears, Daniel Jack turns back to his rival. "No, Roland. Master Todoh is right. You had returned to the family of Todoh-Ryuu Kobojutsu. You are a part of us forever. It is family, Roland.
"It is family."
Crossing his arms, he shares the same unwavering gaze of his master, standing behind him. "He was attacked by a murderer, Master Todoh. Red hair, and red chi. If it was a Kyokugen attacker, it would have had a different motif, and besides, Roland had the training of Todoh-Ryuu at his side. If it was Kyokugen, he would have been driven away, tail between his legs. Then finding the attacker would be only following the trail of yellow fear urine that he left. No, this is another, much more dangerous man, Master Todoh."
"And one who has struck out against Todoh-Ryuu."
"No."
Roland states this matter of factly. A hard demand. His eyes look haunted, slowly clenching his fist. "No. Let it go." He looks imploringly at Daniel. This is not a worry about himself, that much is clearly evident. "I was hurt because I was weak. That is that. The heart of Todoh was not with me in my hour of need."
With that, Roland slowly pushes himself up to a sit. This seems to take all the effort he can manage. Alarms go off, wires shift and coil. He actually manages to get to his knees, panting deeply. He turns a weird greyish white. His good hand plants on the side... before he moves to bow towards Daniel and Todoh.
"I know what I need now... I will never be a hard worker. I will never devote myself to fighting. Todoh... sensei... is the only master possible for me. He can teach me... to master my chi. And master my moves... one needs only... to look upon Kasane Ate... to know. I will create moves... that need no weapons. Moves... that can never fail..."
Shuddering, he then makes a simple demand. "Personally teach me... Todoh...!!"
Then he slumps over. All the machines flatline. He must have-- oh, wait, no. Doctors are rushing in and herding Todoh and Daniel out, trying to settle him back on the bed and resuscitate him.
His passion was so great...
It KILLED HIM.
(Five minutes later he's stable again, though.)
Log created on 15:31:34 05/28/2012 by Daniel, and last modified on 18:19:33 05/28/2012.