Description: Dudley finds that every participant in the Dragon tourney is as polite and formidable* as his first round opponents. (*Note only one of these things may be true.) Nonetheless, the boxer goes on to put up an alarmingly impressive show as he clashes with renegade bioweapon K'. (Winner: K')
Since Dudley's last fight, things in Sunshine City have not... improved all that much. The Gentleman Boxer had done his best to stay focused, though. It is not as though he is a police officer or a social worker. Zaki's continued descent into madness is... troublesome to him, there's no doubt about that. A friend of the family, he had *tried* to talk her into a more rational course of action, but... in the end, she is still young. And from what he could gather, the world is quite prepared to damn her, without hearing her side of the story. He does not believe for one moment that she would come to America to cause trouble; she has come for a genuine reason, and the fact that the police have not responded robustly to the terrible fate which has apparently fallen two of her girls...
Well that is enough to make his blood boil. In the most Gentlemanly of ways.
So it is that Dudley strides into the center of the Dragon Arena, and shrugs off his jacket. Discarding that over one shoulder, the characteristic boxing gloves are not bright blue today - they are black, polished to an incredible shine. And clasped in one of them is a bright white rose, which he pauses to sniff.
"I dedicate this fight." He intones, voice carrying loud enough to silence the crowd, and let all who are here hear it, "To the Ladies' Team of Seijyun High, and to the noble Himezaki family."
"Who I am PROUD, to call my friends."
The rose is discarded then, flung into the crowd, and he moves to take up his appointed position. He'd taken the time to study this K' fellow before he had turned up. He rather doubts that the angry young man is going to make this as enjoyable a fight as he had relished in the first round. Nevertheless, Dudley will demonstrate all the civility and grace that he is famous for; and if he has his way, demonstrate that civility, tact and respect - those cornerstones of the proper Gentleman - still very much have their place in the modern day.
"To the who in the what now?"
Whilst uproar reigns in the audience at Dudley's bold opening line, at least one head is being quite literally scratched - by the incredibly skilled and well-informed Ikari Warrior, Whip. After a successful first round of her own, she's taken all of about five minutes to pay any attention to anything outside of a) the health suite of the hotel she's been staying at, in Inner Sunshine, b) the SIMPLY ADORABLE if brutally violent courtship between her brother and his own first-round matchup in the tournament. Current affairs may be something one would expect an elite soldier to keep up with, but it's not like she's the only mercenary who doesn't.
Fortunately someone beside her gives her a nudge and leans over to explain, not having the least idea who the clearly ditzy girl in flared jeans, fuck-me boots and a cute blue halter top is; Whip may be athletic and a little tall, but she hardly carries herself with the unmissable air of some tournament-level fighters. She prefers it that way for a variety of reasons. Being able to act like a dumbass and have random men buy her drinks in public places is just a small side benefit among many.
"Ohhhhh," she enthuses, pausing to take a sip of a jovial-looking Pina Colada as the hopeful fellow fills her in, "That crazy girl with the mask? Pff, who cares about /her/. She didn't even have the stones to enter this tournament, did she? All mouth, no trousers. HEY K'!" Suddenly she's shouting, throwing her cocktail in the air to attract her brother's attention over the roaring, sign-waving crowd. Yeah, it's a long shot. "YOU SHOULD TOTALLY DEDICATE THIS FIGHT TO YOUR GIRLFRIEND!" She has quite the pair of lungs. "SHE'S WAY PRETTIER ANYWAY!"
Some warriors were cut from a refined, sporting cloth, aware of diplomatic trends and proper use of a salad fork, as well as well-spoken and keen on engaging both friend and foe with utmost respect. Others? Others don't really give a fuck. K' showed up in black, too; just a little less formal and symbolic of different things, in his case. Motorcycle boots, loose black denim, and a button-up shirt that's more open than not complete the midnight ensemble, the dark hues offsetting the deep tan of his skin, and standing in stark contrast to the firebrand's shock white hair.
"Look we're not here to hear about your favorite schoolgirls, the ones you know REAL REAL well." K' turns his acerbic ire on Dudley, instead, mocking the boxer as he climbs into the ring, "You're /years/ past that, man, have some shred of fucking class." Yea, the Beast of Flame generally has at least /some/ idea where to start jabbing buttons, when presented with a new person; it's a gift. K' doesn't seem the least bit concerned with the factual content of his baiting, just leaning absently in one corner of the ring and toying with an unfixed button on his shirt, eyes downward; bored. Did we mention he's a good actor?
"Whenever you're finished uselessly moaning about the horrors of a war you're not caught up in, I'll be glad to show you how much you suck at this, too." K' is helpful. He half looks up with the dour murmur, lifting one crimson leather gloved hand to push the black-and-red shades he wears this time back over his flaring amber eyes.
"Sir Dumbley Puffington IV, Esquire, ponce on over here and let's get this shit over with." The moaning crowd, full of stupid Whips. Dramatic 'sportsmen' to deal with in his quest to get his violence on. Unpredictable benefactors and purposes and who knows WHAT kinds of Earth-devouring bullshit going on just out of sight. Tournaments fucking suck. It's got to be Dudley's fault, right?
COMBATSYS: K' has started a fight here.
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K' 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: K' takes no action.
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K' 0/-------/-------|
Freeman says, "K' is a horse's ass."
If there is one thing that Dudley has learned to deal with in his career, it is the uncouth and unpleasant souls which inhabit the fighting circuits. Certainly, five years ago, Dudley might have been made irate by K' and his obnoxious attitude. He might even have harshly judged the young woman screaming from the stands. But times change, and Dudley has learned that there are those who hide behind a mask of rudeness, and shelter a noble soul within.
There are also complete, if one will pardon the french, horse's arses, whom would not know the meaning of the word 'class' if it punched them firmly on the jaw. To weather the slings and arrows of outrageous incivility is the lot in life of the true Gentleman. He shall bear this burden with as little complaint as he has borne all the rest.
"If you are quite finished? ... Good."
He looks to the referee, who, obligingly, rings the bell. It does not do to interrupt a man mid-speech, after all. Even if the speech in question is an anger-filled rant.
And quite suddenly, Dudley is rearing one of those mighty fists of his back. The momentum which flings him forward is impressive, sliding across the intervening distance as fast as he can, and bringing his fist around in a swift, probing jab. He'd studied the young man's fights, yes, he has ascertained some basics... but until you're actually in the ring, it is always incredibly difficult to judge what the skill level of your opponent actually is.
COMBATSYS: Dudley has joined the fight here.
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K' 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Dudley
COMBATSYS: K' blocks Dudley's Medium Punch.
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K' 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Dudley
There's a vague smirk as Dudley just pushes sternly onward, somewhere between pleased and amused at the outcome, K' just meets the British boxer head on. He's out of his relaxed, nonchalant slouch in a flash of aggressive motion, lunging into the range of the attack and slamming his own arm around. Forearm drives gloved fist aside with a meaty smack, the stinging impact doing little to slow K' as he steps in and seeks to abruptly return the favor, /leaping/ into Dudley with a flying knee aligned for the boxer's ribcage.
"We're just getting started, Sir Ponceington!" the Beast of Flame all but roars, eagerly engaging his adversary despite all his disdain for the event itself, and its myriad trappings. As he lands, a heavy motorcycle boot seeks to crack squarely into Dudley's shin, just below the knee, in a mighty sweep. It might not be enough to take his highly skilled opponent down, but most men's legs would snap right there. "Don't let it all out too fast now." K' breaks all his toys, it's very sad.
COMBATSYS: Dudley blocks K''s Medium Kick.
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K' 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Dudley
Rushing, is not something that Dudley has ever been accused of before. K' crashes into his guard, the boxer moving smoothly back and bringing both fists down to meet the oncoming boot. Oh, this young man definitely has some skill - he had felt that even through both fists and gloves. But if he thinks that he can bait Dudley out with silly nicknames, he's got another thing coming. Truth be told, it is almost amusing. K' is barely more than a child himself, and he's certainly acting the part, to Dudley's mind. Powerful or no, he's a long way to go before he is a man. Let alone, a Gentleman.
"I daresay our audience were not lured here by your sparkling wit." He says, starting to bob and weave as he sets into his swaying rhythm, judging K' with an expert's eye. That defense had been impressive, after all. He'd need to work hard to go through it, he could tell already.
"Do you intend to knock me over with hot air?"
A gentle jab, amusement ringing evident in his tone. He's taking K' quite seriously, but his bluster? His snark? No. Dudley just finds that adorable. It is going to take rather more than that to faze him.
COMBATSYS: Dudley focuses on his next action.
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K' 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Dudley
The forceful boots batted aside in turn, K' lets out his breath as he lands, and Dudley weaves away, letting out a singular "Heh." Amber eyes flare as he tracks his adversary, the renegade prototype snapping to standing in an abrupt, smooth flash, /eyeing/ the boxer from behind concealing shades. There's a glimmer therein, orangish lights flickering in his eyes as he returns the surveillance. "Actually..." K' muses, as if given pause, provided a new idea by Dudley's rhetorical question. "That sounds like a really good idea."
Air is consumed, then superheated in a flash, a thick tendril of flame conjured, seemingly, by a single flick of K''s fingertips. The leather of his right glove all but disintegrates, instantly incinerated by the sheer heat, which passes controlled, unburning, along the rest of the Beast of Flame's limb. A second flashfire starts at his left foot, charring the arena black in the first instants. A third springs up around his right, coursing orbits of molten flame casting the hues of an autumn sunset even in the well-lit arena as they seem to consume the rogue bioweapon's entire lower body. "Let's do /that/."
COMBATSYS: K' charges his next attack!
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K' 0/-------/-----==|=------\-------\0 Dudley
There are many fighters who would be intimidated by K' and his brilliant flames. The heat of it is palpable, and there have been very few times in Dudley's life where, this early into a fight, he has begun to break a sweat. However, if he is afraid, the Gentleman Boxer does not show it. Instead, he is mostly glad that the ridiculous name-calling has ceased!
And he does not allow the impending buildup of energy to keep him holding back. Instead, he nods his head - a brief acknowledgement of his gratitude that the younger fighter is going to get serious about the fight, rather than continue his tirade of objectionable nonsense (at least, for now).
And then he steps forwards. Ducking backwards, he seems to move to the left for a second, before his entire body twists to the right, and his gloved fist snaps out, aiming to crash into K's midsection as those licking flames spiral upwards. He does not test his luck, however, and the blow is soon recovered in favor of his guard; he's in no hurry to test his luck.
COMBATSYS: Dudley successfully hits K' with Short Swing Blow.
- Power hit! -
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K' 0/-------/---====|===----\-------\0 Dudley
Similarly, there are many fighters in the world intimidated by Dudley's mighty fists and technique. K'? Not one of those. It's possible that overconfidence costs the bioweapon, out of the gate... but that might be selling short the sheer swift solidness of the strikes the Britain launches. Like his people's invasion of the island in days of yore, Dudley crashes into the errant Irishman(?) with alarming strength, despite the bioweapon's attempts to co-opt the boxer's forceful momentum. Instead, breath is ripped from his resilient frame for just long enough for K' to be dropped backwards, and to one knee.
The prototype's eyes never leave his opponent, the flames only intensify, roiling outwards and leaving small, quickly dying flashfires on the retardant stage as the Beast of Flame all but /appears/ like a new sun in the sky, high above the ring. Long before the firebrand himself descends, there comes the meteoric death of the heavens themselves, celestial bodies falling to earth in tremendous gouts of holy flame. It's centered on Dudley, this overzealous volley of sheer flame, as if K' is certain he's failed to get his point across, and taken to screaming it into the boxer's ear. Utilizing a megaphone, that is mounted to another megaphone.
Air sizzles, oxygen robbed notably from even the nearby rows for the moments of conflagration, orange-white bolts of flesh-liquifying flame raining down in triplicate to erupt around Dudley, shimmering and shifting, roiling into waves like liquid fire; like being at ground zero of the detonation of a fuel air bomb.
COMBATSYS: K' successfully hits Dudley with Empowered Air Trigger EX.
! VENGEANCE !
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K' 0/-------/-======|=======\-------\1 Dudley
Dudley brings his guard up, and attempts to face the inferno rising about him with the same stoicism that he had shown to the flung insults. Unfortunately, it turns out that scorching flame is far more difficult to ignore than impetuous words. The burning flames rip about him, and by the time they are dying down, he has certainly been made to feel it. Oh yes, that had... stung.
Smouldering gently, Dudley is still waiting for his opportune moment, however. He's experienced enough to know the difference between luck and judgment, and his firm blow upon K' had definitely been more the former than the latter. Now, though, he seeks to recapture that moment. There's little subtly and finesse in this next shot - a simple, clear lunging blow.
Dudley's fist leads the way as he comes in, and he ducks down low with it, aiming to build momentum such that when K' does succumb to gravity again, it is in the same moment that Dudley's fist is coming for his jaw. K' may speak in louder volumes, but Dudley rarely raises his voice; he simply reiterates his point in the same calm, dignified fashion.
COMBATSYS: K' blocks Dudley's Ducking Straight.
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K' 0/-------/=======|=======\=------\1 Dudley
There are few angry words for Dudley, now, it's true. He didn't take the bait, he's not falling apart at the seems, frothing at the mouth to get at K', making it all the more fun to try to put his teeth down his throat. No, the boxer simply perserveres with impressive determination. K' can respect that, after a fashion; he may not like the priorities of the sportfighter circuit, but if all this cunning pugilist wants is a hell of a fight, well. Extinguishers sound at the borders of the ring, stopping those outlying areas from spreading despite the existing precautions.
One side of the arena's ropes is all but gone, vaporized in the middle and melted on the remaining ends. All appearances suggest it must be an exhausting outpouring of raw, divinely mandated fury. At least, until K' descends, dropping as forcefully from the sky as a fourth comet might, the Beast of Flame crashes to the arena in a rumbling impact, redoubled by Dudley's rocketing fist. It impacts K''s forearm, just above the elbow, a braced arm clenched to catch it; perfectly level the instant the white-haired rogue touches ground.
That tousled mane becomes windblown by sheer velocity as K' rights to his full height, and /slams/ that left fist in squarely aligned with Dudley's nose, his body twisting sharply to convey weight and brutality into the deceptively skilled gesture. Then he'd /whip/ around the other way, and reave a descending elbow into the boxer's forehead.
COMBATSYS: Dudley interrupts Medium Punch from K' with Cross Counter.
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K' 1/-------/=======|=======\=------\1 Dudley
One hell of a fight.
Dudley would put it differently, of course. He'd never stoop to such a crass characterization of what it is he wants out of this. But it is, in its vulgar way, accurate enough. To fight, to pit his skills against those of others, and to demonstrate his talent. For Dudley, fighting has never been anything other than a sport; he does not seek out danger, or to right wrongs. Certainly, if some blackguard should stumble into his path, he would thrash the ruffian soundly! But that is not WHY he fights.
He fights for moments like this, instead.
The block is an impressive testament to the technical skills of his opponent, but as he comes in for the punch, Dudley straightens. It is the first punch that K' has thrown this fight, and it is an opportunity that he cannot afford to miss.
"CROSS!"
There's a glint in his eye, and, lightning fast, Dudley pivots around. Catching the bioweapon in the air, his fist ploughs into the younger man, and forcefully breaks his assault upon his fist. He pauses only to crack his knuckles, and give his opponent a chance to recover himself, of course. Helpfully choosing this moment to add.
"Good show."
The boxer's preparedness catches K' unprepared once again, that honed counter intuitively defeating his own brutal style in a heartbeat of an exchange, knocking the bioweapon back a lurching step, the impact of that blow rattling through his frame. The prototype barely manages to keep his booted feet mostly on the ground, skidding away from Dudley with the sheer force of it. It's momentum that's turned right back against the British gentleman, however.
Good show? Why, K' is just getting started! With a predatory gleam in his rich amber eyes, the firebrand launches himself from crouch to assault in the blink of an eye, again feinting in to challenge Dudley at his own game, though this one has its heritage in Eastern pugilism, rather than West.
Weaving to the left, it's K''s right fist that seeks to slip a chink in the boxer's guard, erupting at near full velocity in an instant, and seeking to hammer brutally into the very center of Dudley's solar plexus with a quick triphammer blow of alarming force, to the dismay of all his ribs... and his lungs.
COMBATSYS: Dudley just-defends K''s One Inch!
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K' 1/-------/=======|=======\=------\1 Dudley
Dudley didn't precisely mean that the show was over, but more that he'd been impressed by the exchange! After all, there are very few people who can maintain such a defensive focus as to block after unleashing such an incredible storm of power, and yet, here he is. Now Dudley finds himself facing down K' in close quarters again. Truth be told, he prefers this. It is far preferable to having to close the distance himself.
Both gloved hands meet the punch, reading the intent with utmost skill. The Gentleman Boxer may favor Western pugilism himself, but he's well versed in the art of the punch, and as K' tries to break his ribs, he responds by guiding the blow around and to the side of his body.
And that done, he returns to the fray himself. K' is a monstrous testament to the force of the flames; the damage to the arena already shows that. Dudley favors a more controlled energy. Swirling about his fist, he leads with his right, and aims to pepper K' with a dozen, swift jabs laced with the energy in just a matter of seconds. On their own, no one would be all that much of a threat, but taken together? They could wear a man down.
And again, his voice calls out, another of his more iconic moves; "MACHINEGUN BLOW!"
COMBATSYS: K' endures Dudley's Machinegun Blow.
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K' 1/-----==/=======|=======\==-----\1 Dudley
Not the least bit over, as it turns out. Dudley's impressive defenses and eager, if ever tactical rhythm have brought him far already in this tournament, and against K'... well, the Beast of Flame suddenly finds himself pressed by the British aristocrat. While 'Sir Dumbley' may be doing an impressive job of demonstrating to K' that his lifestyle and dapper demeanor doesn't imply a lack of ability, the firebrand is hardly going to just sit there and take it. So he, well, takes it(?!?).
The blows seem to spark fires with each pass, orange flame erupting off and along K''s back, pouring from his right hand as it's coiled back, just out of the boxer's reach. It's like a blacksmith shaping steel, those repeated pummeling blows; the prototype just absolutely will not stop, ever, simply battered and reformed, momentarily slowed before he comes again, and again. He seemingly tries to maintain proximity, but when Dudley's fury is enough to blast him free, all that fire surges to K''s legs, greets him as he lands.
K' leaps into the air, twists about, and kickspikes a tremendous, roaring lick of that holy napalm right down the line at Dudley, spinning out of the impact and into the returned fire in one violent instant, oblivious to the pain inflicted on his augmented frame. K' has only one word for the boxer in this moment, "/Burn/!"
COMBATSYS: Dudley blocks K''s Second Shoot.
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K' 1/-----==/=======|=======\===----\1 Dudley
This tournament has certainly proven to Dudley that tournament fighting is still where one can find the most exciting opponents. K' demonstrates remarkable fortitude in simply deciding to take what Dudley gives him, and that is truly admirable. It isn't enough to make him consider taking the shouted order any more seriously than before, though. Instead, he shifts his footing backwards, and both gloves drive into the oncoming energy. The stream of fire splits around him as though he were a rock in its path; this time, he is much more ready for it than he had been the last time he took the brunt of that power. Even so, it still heats his forearms unpleasantly!
This time, however, Dudley is a little more hesitant in his response. He's starting to feel the burn in his limbs. He'd landed a dozen good shots, but K' isn't showing any sign of staying down. He's got a lot more of the Beast of Flame to get through for that. There are a lot of people who would look down on Dudley for being a mere 'sports fighter', in it for the joy of the fight and not any higher purpose. But it does mean that he, more than most, can take a step backwards, consider what he has seen and felt, and honestly look at how he believes this will play out. If he makes a single mistake at this point, K' will finish him.
So he comes in fast, darting to the left, and aiming for a single, simple left-handed strike to K's kidney. It is a move he has practiced countless times, and he relies on it again, now, not to win the fight on its own... but to keep up the pressure on K' whilst he continues to push him. Move to move, second to second, he needs to try and wear the Beast of Flame down... and that, is proving to be a monumental challenge.
COMBATSYS: K' fails to interrupt Light Punch from Dudley with Crow Bite EX.
- Power fail! -
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K' 1/-----==/=======|=======\====---\1 Dudley
Give a guy an inch... Dudley's running a couple miles, and shows no signs of stopping, fatigue notwithstanding. K' grits his teeth as the boxer hammers through that gout of fire, and keeps on coming. It's not dissatisfaction, or even surprise.. no, Dudley's defense is expected, and the Beast of Flame all but throws himself into the charge. It looks like such a little thing, the blow that stops K' flat - but appearances can be deceiving.
A tremendous inferno of fire erupts from K''s hands, courses about him, and sizzles into dissipating nothingness as his breath is stolen by the swift, painful kidney punch. Not so invincible as he may like to put on, the firebrand staggers to the right. It's only enough to put him off his guard for the moment, even with the perfect delivery and ample impact, but in this moment.. that proves to be enough. K' can do nothing but stagger back on the defensive once more, still eyeing Dudley with predatory intensity, cornered and refusing to back down.
The divinely-infused bioweapon has enough in him to fight on, and the renegade prototype clearly intends to do just that, rekindling a spark of holy flame that crackles to life first in his gaze, and then at his fingertips, filling the air once more with spreading searing convection.
There is that second where K' staggers, and... were it a different circumstance, were Dudley fighting him in a mere street bout, or for points in a league, perhaps he would hold himself back. But they are not fighting to learn, and they are not clashing to simply test one another. The Gentleman Boxer has undoubtedly shocked the world so far, just by forcing the Beast of Flame to stop for a second, but if he can force K' to the mat for good, and stay standing himself... then he will seize the next leg of the tournament.
And he will do his part to honor the Himezaki name.
So it is that Dudley does not hold himself back. Fatigued though he is, he seizes on the moment, and brings himself forwards as fast as he can, aiming to follow up on the kidney jab with a second, and then one from the right, working inwards to batter K's torso and shatter open his guard. Dudley's style is all about maintaining the momentum one you have it, and this technique demonstrates that to the finest.
As it culminates, if those jabs have opened K' up enough, in Dudley suddenly switching, and /SMASHING/ into the bioweapon's jaw. His right hook comes around first, then his left, a second right, a second left! "ROOOOLLING!" THIRD right hook, THIRD left hook, FOURTH right, and, K' might just be expecting another blow from the left by this point...
Which would be why, should things escalate to that stunning level, Dudley's body twists neatly, and he aims to finish things once and for all with a devastating rising uppercut, and a cry of, "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUNDER!"
COMBATSYS: K' interrupts Rolling Thunder from Dudley with Heaven Drive.
! VENGEANCE !
*KNOCKED AWAY*
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K' 0/-------/-----==|=======\-------\1 Dudley
Were he a different being, being staggered might mean two shits to K'. He's on his feet, intent on Dudley, because he's determined to fight, to survive. Sure, his body hurts, sure, his body's wellspring of energy is increasingly sapped as bruises accrue. The Beast of Flame doesn't fight to honor a name, or to bring glory to his designation. He doesn't fight to prove a damn thing to the throngs; only to himself, to the people and ideas that have grown to matter to the firebrand.
At the start, Dudley was a mere tool of that system, to be bullied and provoked into being what K' needed him to be; but the British boxer was already something else, something unexpected. Every step of the way, the bioweapon has sought to understand and adapt to it, and each of those steps.. his brutal style has been undone by Dudley's precise footwork and alertness. Now, when that first fist impacts across his jaw, as K' is whipped to the side, nearly spun about, it seems a moment of perfect clarity.
CRACK. Glove sounds against skin and bone a second time, K''s head whipped back the other way; but his shoulders, they do not budge. Flames /roar/ from a clawing right hand, reaving into a knuckle-driven counterblow that sends a shockwave of superheated air out in an omnidirectional wave, drawing a nigh-unanimous gasp from those aforementioned throngs.
It rips up Dudley's chest, right into his own jaw, in that half-instant between second and third strike, cutting him off right around ROOOO... and launching the boxer into the air. K' follows, eagerly, hungrily, flame searing along the angled path of that first uppercut as he rotates an abrupt, violent three-hundred and sixty degrees to hammer Dudley again. Flames explode around his adversary, burning flesh, blackening and ruining cloth, setting the very air it touches aflame all around them in a brilliant, fluctuating plume of combusting bursts complimenting the focused tongues of flame that echo every motion of K''s arms.
A third time, a fourth, he comes around in brutal rocketing uppercuts that drive Dudley higher, ripping new fiery trenches in his flesh with unrelenting knuckle and holy flame. It's a sudden condensed instant of all that gathered volatility, a double axehandle coming as K' all but appears above Dudley, accelerating past the battered man to drop both fists into his ribcage, and hammer him straight back to earth in a tremendous, consuming firework.
Dudley does not remember the last time he was hit as hard as that. The moments between his cut off attack, and when he explodes in impact with the ground, are lost to him. The flames that this young man wields have burned him immensely. It is, agony. And yet, to his faint surprise, he is not done yet. Rising up to his feet, it is an entirely different kind of spirit to that he had shown in the first round. There, the fight had become a test of endurance; to see who could stand firm as blow after blow accrued. Here, though, until just a few seconds ago, Dudley had K' metaphorically on the ropes. It was the will to carry on in the face of overwhelming force; that one singular instant which had cost him so dearly, which propels him back to his feet now.
Again, were this a different fight, perhaps he would not have had the strength to do it. Or perhaps he would not stand back, reconsider his options, and attempt to seize the initiative in a different way. Instead, Britain's finest boxer closes his eyes, and gathers his strength.
It is a different kind of gathering power to that displayed by K', but Dudley's grit and determination is fully on display, as he banishes doubt from his mind. His clothes are on fire, even his moustache is ablaze, but he will not go down without giving it his all. And, putting his faith wholly in his fist, he allows instinct to guide him, as he ducks, and rushes forwards. His fist carries on with him, and, if his faith is not misplaced, will hammer powerfully into K's stomach, with all the force that the Gentleman Boxer can muster.
COMBATSYS: K' blocks Dudley's Ducking Straight EX.
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K' 0/-------/-----==|===----\-------\0 Dudley
If there's one thing K' knows, it's pain. Taking it, dealing it, ending fights and surviving blows that would end most other, saner individuals in his place. Most of what he remembers of his life has been pain, only somewhat lessened in the years since he escaped NESTS. Part of that is the prototype's unerring devotion to seeking out conflict, sometimes creating it where it did not exist, and seldom tolerating its absence in the presence of those the firebrand deems fit to do violence upon.
Some days, this is a potentially large subsection of society, but those who know the Beast of Flame the best know that he's very selective, even idealistic in his choice of targets and baiting hate. They just don't usually say it, particularly the last part, to the rogue bioweapon's /face/. Once more, Dudley's missile of a fist hammers in, once more, K''s resilient arm meets it willingly. He takes the stinging blow, carries the additional bruise right over an existing one with little more than a gritting of bloodied teeth, bared at Dudley.
"That it, you limey bastard?" It lacks the bored derision of earlier in the fight. Dudley's pushed way beyond that. In fact, K' has to pause to spit blood to the side, as he cups a flaring orb of wildly condensed Kusanagi fire, its sun-drenched hues erupting outwards even as its power is tightly contained, dancing to the prototype's very whim. "You're gonna need.. a lot more... than that." The mockery falls flat, and K' seems to know it, perhaps even intend it.
"Let's finish this." The challenge issued, one more crossing of blades... K' doesn't expect the conflict to go undecided far past /that/. A second plume of tightly leashed molten chi burns to brilliant life in his left hand, both sleeves of his shirt suddenly turning half to ash, and floating away on the breeze.
COMBATSYS: K' charges his next attack!
[ \\\\\\ < > ////// ]
K' 0/-------/---====|===----\-------\0 Dudley
Dudley is not surprised that K' manages to block his attack. The bioweapon has proven to have a guard as formidable as his own, in this fight. Every time he thinks he has him, he is proven incorrect. A lesser man would be frustrated; Dudley is actually appreciative. He knows his own strength, and he knows that if he falls today, it is not because he has given any less than his absolute best. There is no shame in defeat, only in knowing that you could have done better.
The insult actually makes him smile. He IS British, but, people rarely actually call him a limey. Perhaps because other facets of his heritage are far more obvious, physically. And so... he laughs. He'd held back at the start, but he doesn't have the /energy/ to stop himself chuckling, throatily, at the lame attempt to break his composure. It hadn't worked before, did K' really believe it would work now?
His eye glints, just as it did before he unleashed the counter-punch which has built his name, and his legacy, but, he does not budge from his spot. Does not move to strike K' down. Instead, he gestures with one glove.
"By all means." He replies, wiping his other hand across his moustache to extinguish the burning embers. But his primary focus remains K'. Watching. Waiting.
"After you, my good man, after you."
COMBATSYS: Dudley focuses on his next action.
[ \\\\\\ < > ////// ]
K' 0/-------/---====|===----\-------\0 Dudley
"Hmph." K' dismisses the passing of the initiative with an unsurprised, but unimpressed huff and its accompanying grunt. Even so, the prototype half-smirks, for just a moment. It's somewhere between pleased at the fight the Britain is putting up, and amused that the boxer seems to have walked right into his trap. Of course, at this juncture, anything Dudley chose might have yielded that response from K'; the augmented template is certain and easily cocky to the end, maintaining his own intensive focus and doggedly holding the line every step he can.
Dudley kept him off guard, pressed him too hard, but no longer. Now, it's the bioweapon's turn to press his opponent, to trip those preparations before Dudley can resume his assault... to end this before that masterful long game even has a chance to come into play anew. Both plumes of flame are combined by the imbued pyrokinetic, spiralling in a mad conflagration around his right hand as he almost lazily concedes to Dudley's request as if it were a foregone conclusion; a motion he'd already planned to make, with or without invitation.
Molten fury erupts from that rising hand, projected across the space between K' and Dudley in a roaring maelstrom of solar-touched flame, the firestorm circles itself in endless, hungry pursuit as it seeks to transfer that entire devouring energy into and through the boxer, burning the fight from him in waves of volcanic fire. The heat touches one first, but the blast itself is what threatens to melt even the mightiest alloys; fire designed to devour demons.
COMBATSYS: Dudley fails to interrupt Empowered Eins Trigger from K' with Cross Counter.
[ \\\\\ <
K' 0/-------/--=====|
COMBATSYS: Dudley can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\ <
K' 0/-------/--=====|
Truth be told, Dudley had expected just such a response. It isn't as though K''s ability to project flames has been some deeply held secret in the fight so far. Perhaps where he fell down was in his belief that, given his knowledge of this fact, he could adapt his technique to deal with it on the fly.
Stepping forwards into the flames, for a moment, they flare about him. They engulf him, and he draws his fist back. Mostly, when he attempts this motion, it is not when he is on fire. But he did not enter this tournament in order to remain in his comfort zone! And to his credit, he keeps striding forward for as long as he can. "CROSS!" He announces, for the world to hear.
And then his fist swings approximately eight inches from the front of K''s nose.
"Couuun... ter."
And he falls over.
This time, he does not get up.
K''s ability to project flames may be abundantly obvious, but there /are/ more than a few deep, dark secrets in their generation.. and their origin. Not to mention being rather unique among chi projections, the manifest fire passing over into material being far more thoroughly than would be considered 'normal'. It's something that Lynn's lawn paid the price for before.
It's eye-melting heat that's enough to stop Dudley dead in his tracks, tonight. The swirling mass of flames surrounds and constricts like an angry, solar serpent, murning crossed angles into the charging boxer and flowing off behind him, costing another set of ring boundaries and causing several rows of audience members to cover their faces. K' just watches, waits, staring Dudley down evenly and practically daring the limey bastard to make it through.. breathing a small sigh only when the pugilist does not, and falls away no more than a foot from his position.
Another tongue of fire is banished with an absent sweep of the prototype's hand, his own shredded and charred sleeves echoing the motion weakly. "Good enough." K' concedes, mostly without scoffing, "At least you really wanted it." It's hard to tell if that's meant to compliment the fighter, or rub salt in the burning wounds. Assuming Dudley can even hear him, and assume K' even cares one way or the other. "Next time, Poncealot." It took everything he had to turn the tide back against Dudley, and even that relied on the boxer's own strategic style; that doesn't stop K' from giving his worthy adversary a hard time, though. Hell no.
COMBATSYS: K' has ended the fight here.
Log created on 16:36:35 06/25/2012 by K', and last modified on 20:15:14 07/06/2012.