Description: That's what the log title wants you to think. Hell, that's what Howard Rust and a plucky band of Kyokugen warriors want to make everyone think as they attempt to capture the hearts and minds of prospective students in Sunshine City... just in time for the free-spirited Rick Strowd to come have a little more fun with his friend than Howard intends, but... wait, who's this that wants to challenge Kyokugen...? (Introducing... Tekken's Feng Wei!)
It's time! The first demonstration here in Sunshine City. None of the actual senior dojo members are here - a bit of an issue that really couldn't be worked around. A little incident in attempting to find a cheaper hotel to stay is seeing two of the traveling martial artists still laid up, but the Kyokugen entourage here is twelve men strong.
"You're sure of this, right," asks one of the other green belts alongside Howard Rust (/himself/ a green belt even if his ability often seems to exceed it).
"Yeah," says the older man as he takes off the trademark worn work gloves, the scarred right palm easy enough to see, "we gotta."
"Not with the pipe, right, we... we don't teach pipe stuff, the master's not going to li--"
"I know." Howard puts a hand on the guy's shoulder, shaking his head as he kicks off a boot, "and... and yeah, it'd be great if, y'know, Marco were here, but..."
"Well there's already a crowd out there," says a nervous white belt, "what if we screw up--"
"Yuri wasn't a, a black belt." It's true - Howard was eventually brought into the fold via visiting one of her own back in Southtown. "So, we just... go out there, show 'em what it's about," he continues as he kicks his work boots off, "and--"
"We get it." Says a very lanky yellow belt who nonetheless seems worried, as they all move out ahead to the laid out bit of mat in front of the Sunshine High parking lot.
Howard puts his toolbelt down on the ground, patting Ol' Rusty a few times as if to say 'it'll be okay' (assuming inanimate objects actually do have feelings, they don't) as that silver bangle Quon sent him falls out of one pocket. He winces... he shouldn't leave it out here in the open.
Should he wear it? He thinks about this as he eyes it. It'd... be a tight fit on his wrist. Men his age don't... wear... jewelry like tha-- oh what the hell am I thinking, the older man grunts, if he remembers the note right, Antoine gave it to Quon for safekeeping... this is clearly an important relic of their martial art or something. It'd be disrespectful to treat it just /as/ jewelry.
He fits it onto his right wrist with some effort as one of the other green belts decide to speak up and lead off with the usual introductions of Kyokugen Karate - an art all about exceeding limits through pushing yourself physically, mentally, and spiritually. The proper bows are given as they all start with the rote demonstrations of their basic punches and kicks.
Howard shakes out his right arm one last time to the pop of one of his elbows, flexing his fist as he realizes how tight a fit this thing /is/ as he steps onto the mat to what is - by all accounts - a nice day, on a nice afternoon.
He gets a dirty glance by the guy currently leading the demonstration as they all settle up. It's time for Kyokugen Might to capture the hearts of Sunshine City, one city block at a time! Truly, a glorious day awaits to help bring it to a new audience troubled by so many confusing events and declarations... right?
For the most part Rust has somehow managed to miss a certain someone who has been in Sunshine City for the better part of a few weeks. Aside from a short departure that involved several sheep and an angry little girl attacking him, Rick Strowd has been lurking about Sunshine City competing in the tournament itself as well as causing some trouble for the gangs that stalk around the outer parts of town. The latter has become increasingly harder for him just because the gangs seem to be getting more organized.
Go figure he somehow catches wind that a friend of his was about to put on a demonstration. Kyokugen Karate, the Native American would have never expected Rust to get interested in that martial art, but then again he has heard Takuma can be a persuasive man at times. Just how good is Rust at it now? Rick will certainly find out. What are friends for other than to help out? By help out this probably means make things worse for Rust tan it already is.
He isn't even giving the group time to properly introduce themselves or get started. Rick is quick to barrel through the crowd as his shirt goes flying off in the mess. He is in full warpaint mode too as he comes bursting out of the front of the crowd and he lands in the area that was meant for the demonstration. "I made it in time! Don't worry, Rust! Rick Strowd is here to help once again." he says while giving a rather smarmy grin as he adjusts the fingerless gloves he wears. "Wait.....why haven't you all started?"
Amidst the crowd gathering for the demonstration, a lone figure in a rather...stylish red suit back be found, white shirt and gold medallion hanging underneath. Which wouldn't be TOO odd, if not for the conspicuous red coat surrounding him. After all, considering the heat wave across the entire country, such heavy clothing would be oppressive even during the evening.
That conspicuous figure wasn't exactly trying to lose himself in the crowd, but with as many people massed here...and with a rather boistrous white-haired Native American emerging from the crowd to greet the Kyokugen contingent, there wasn't much reason to give him too much attention. But those nearby would hear a rather accented voice mentioning one term occasionally, out of whatever could be made out. "Kyokugen?"
Muscles tensed underneath that coat, enough that one could still see it appreciably despite the layers of clothing. Something about that name seemed to raise this man's blood pressure...
"H-Hey! What're you doing--" For being initiates in one of the most physically demanding martial arts in the world, Rick's sudden excitable insertion to the mat sees a number of them scattering away as opposed to, say, jumping him. It's just that manner that Rick there affects - shock and awe.
This is especially true for one particular individual who - in humorous apparent obliviousness - is already readying a stance, left hand raised up in open hand, right fist balled up about as tight as he really can with it, when that familiar voice calling his name seems to elicit a wince and a furrowed brow.
"Rick," Howard speaks in hushed tones, "'m on the clock here." Don't look at him, don't look at him, he thinks, if I don't look at him he won't drag me off to some weird corner of South America to try and eat whatever sort of things he ends up getting in fistfights against.
The others, notably less composed (if you could even call Howard's mental state 'composed'), decide there is only one logical course of action.
"Ah, we already have a volunteer," speaks a particularly shrewd yellow belt, "allow one of the more famous students of our art, Howard Rust, to demonstrate."
Howard seems ready to think about shooing Rick off, but, that kid there has a point - they /are/ here to demonstrate. Probably as good a reason as any to have a (mostly) friendly scrap on the clock, as he turns to face Rick with the clearing of his throat.
"Right, well," Howard lowers his stance, "if you're... good for it." This being Rick and all...
The crowd near that certain man in that red coat seem to part away from him, as though they know they are standing in the way of someone... strong. Someone they shouldn't be standing in front of.
Might be a good thing that he isn't jumped by the other members there to put their skills on display. Rust knows how to deal with Rick. Or deal with him as well as most people can. He knows all too well what may happen if someone proves to put up a good fight against the boxer. They might just have a one way ticket to the next 'adventure' that the Native American decides to go on. Then again they are at least safe for now. There is already something on his mind that involves Rust. A place of relaxation that he needs to show his elder friend. He should like that!
He grins some as he looks to Rust. "When has that ever stopped me?" he asks even though Rust damn well knows the answer there. If Rick wants to be somewhere he will find a proper way to insert himself. In this case it seems like he just volunteered to help with the demonstration. The downside is this doesn't exactly have the same flavor of two Kyokugen fighters battling it out. Rick punches things and punches them some more. He is good at it so he has never really bothered to learn much else.
"The wife says hi by the way. She said she will make those cookies again next time you visit." And by visit he means next time Rust wakes up at Rick's house with a head injury he isn't sure how he got. It never seems to change.
The crowd parting for him doesn't seem to worry the mystery man in red, muscles flexing still in his red coat. He seemed impassive...unmoving...at least that's what his posture says, face rather hidden in the shadows of his coat. It's only when a shorter man, with slicked back hair and a grey suit, whispering rapid fire to the hidden man that his posture changes, leaning in for the whisper, than turning to converse with him.
Rather suddenly, as Rust steps up to begin the demonstration, the man in the grey suit hurries up to the front of the crowd. "Excuse me...but would you consider yourself the most skilled representative of Kyokugen here today?" the man says toward Rust, Hong Kong accent to his English. The man in red soon followed, hastily pushing what seemed to be his translator to the side as he stepped forward. The hood of his coat was pulled back, revealing an imposing man with a Chinese braid and angular, chiseled features. The coat is thrown off summarily, revealing the red suit beneath before rapid fire Chinese is exchanged between him and translator.
"H-H-He wants Kyokugen's best student. Or else."
It would make for a fine demonstration, truth be told. Boxing is a very widespread fighting art, and Rick a... well, Howard's not sure how Rick would compare to the likes of the legends like the disgraced champion Mike Bison, or modern day big names like... Steve Fox, who probably is around Rick's weight class.
Let's face it, a part of Howard here would probably enjoy pounding Rick over that time they decided to go looking for a fast food joint that one evening. Hell, the older man's already bowing his head in brief and preparing to get to something of an aggressive stance when that man in the gray suit interrupts him.
"Me?" Asks Howard as he turns away from Rick. He would argue one of the other two green belts here actually has stronger fundamentals in straight-up Kyokugen compared to his own take, if not possessed of Rust's own battle-tested strength, but the immediate threatening tone of what the translator has to convey in English speaks volumes in terms of 'or else.'
The one Howard /thinks/ is the more fundamentally sound Kyokugen fighter among them sure isn't stepping forward.
"Y-Yeah, that'd be me," the older man clears his throat as he looks up to the slightly taller man. It's not a lack of confidence in his tone of voice, it's something stuck in it as he turns away from Rick.
"Sorry, Rick, it's... it's gonna have to wait," so the forty-something man says as he tenses up in brief before falling to a more traditional Kyokugen stance, his eyes briefly on that silver bangle adorned to his own right hand. Might as well carry Quon's hopes and dreams in spirit through this tonight - and Antoine's, wherever the young man's traveled to better himself these days.
"'m ready when you are," he says with a confidence that doesn't reflect the tired, somewhat quiet tone of voice.
Rick looks ready to rumble as well, but then there has to go and be an interruption. One that makes him rather annoyed as he turns about and watches the exchange between Rust and the translator. "Can't the guy even read belt colors? I guess if he can't even learn to talk for himself that is no surprise." Oh that Rick. Always the most wonderfulf of talkers when he gets annoyed. He was here to have fun and it seems someone here is wanting to ruin that. He also just doesn't realize he might be getting Rust into more trouble.
"Maybe he knows a simple transation." he says and he raises a gloved hand and proceeds to extend the mostly classy of gestures towards the two that look to interrupt his happy fun time with his best friend in the world. He keeps the bird on display as children have their eyes covered and Rick just smirks somewhat. "I was here first, jackass. Wait your turn." He at least stops showing the finger after that is said. Of course now said kids are having eyes and ears covered in case Rick decides to be Mr. Rudepants even more.
He just smiles and he reaches out to put a hand on Rust's shoulder and he pats it a few times. "See? You just got to handle the rude people a correct way. You let yourself be too nice." He tells the elder fighter while perhaps not realizing just how bad things might be getting here in a few moments.
The man in red glances over to the older man as he approaches. A string of aggressive sounding Chinese escapes his lips, hastily translated through his apparent associate in the grey suit. "H-he has heard many things about the power of Kyokugen Karate, and he said he is...eagerly awaiting to test himself against such a vaunted style. You would be wise...to not disappoint him." A lump is swallowed in the translator's throat, and the blood drains from his face when Rick insists that he had dibs.
The translator is about to say something before he's halted by a wide hand coming from the much taller man. "You do not concern me. I want to test what claims to be the strongest Karate style," he says, in much more heavily accented English. He's obviously not as studied in the language, but his stance, both fists outstretched, one in front of the other, says it all. "Do not get in my way," he glowers toward Rick, before his eyes focus intensely on Rust. Apparently, the legend of Kyokugen is on poor Rusty's shoulders tonight.
This guy Rust's looking at isn't Jay Random Pickpocket like he and the others have had to deal with (and worse!) through their stay in sunshine. No, just looking at those eyes, he can tell... he's looking at the real deal. He can't call himself anything less than /a/ deal after Vega, but sometimes... you just know when you're looking at just as big a deal - maybe even moreso.
Enough that the older man recoils as Rick lays on the boldness (and, really, the truth of the matter) that Rick was first, rude gestures going into friendly shoulder holds and dubious advice. "Rick, look. Rick," his concentration is broken as he takes a step to the side, "just... look, I'll punch him a, a good one for you, all right? Lemme--"
"Oh, a coward. Got it." he says when he hears the boring reason as to why the guy must fight Rust. The Native American idly wiggles a pinky about in his ear as he seems unimpressed at all by this whole thing. Any sort of person that interrupts a showdown to try and prove how awesome they are already is already a bit uninteresting to begin with. He pulls his finger out of his ear finally and looks to rust. "Nah, I got an idea." he says in reply to Rust. It is something that probably should worry Rust more than anything. Whenever Rick has a good idea it is usually a very bad idea.
"So he wants to fight the strongest karate guy huh? Well simple solution. Sorry Rust!" What is he sorry for? It might be the fact he suddenly turns about and aims to sucker punch the poor old man right in the face. "Oh, oops! It looks like the demonstration already started. Better grab one of the others!" There is probably a reason why Rick couldn't keep a normal job and he has become a random puncher that travels the world doing deeds.....not good or bad deeds. It hasn't been decided what category his deeds really fall under.
COMBATSYS: Rick has started a fight here.
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Rick 0/-------/------=|
COMBATSYS: Rust has joined the fight here.
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Rust 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Rick
COMBATSYS: Rust equips Magna Band.
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Rust [E] 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Rick
The suited Kenpo artist keeps himself focused on Rust, almost completely locking Rick out as much as he can. The provocations seem to simply spur him to deny Rick's existence even further. His desire is already clear: he wants to test himself against Kyokugen. And nothing can interrupt this personal test of his. At least...that's the assumpion.
The sudden attempted slugging wasn't an expected one, though. And that action has two reactions. Firstly, the translator, obviously not here for fighting, hastily backs off, his representative obviously not needing his services for the time being. And for the man in the red suit, the one with Serpent-like features? He shoots forward, a long step toward the interloper in the fight. Muscles tense up like iron as he advances, turns, and tries to slam his shoulder and elbow straight into the meaty boxer's chest. "HWOOOAAHHH!!"
If this man wants to join this fight, then Feng Wei will make sure he regrets it fully.
COMBATSYS: Feng has joined the fight here in the center.
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Rust [E] 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Rick
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Feng 0|-------|-------
COMBATSYS: Rick successfully hits Rust with Jab Punch.
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Rust [E] 0/-------/------=|=------\-------\0 Rick
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Feng 0|-------|-------
"No, no, no, you, you don't have an idea," Rust shakes his head in disapproval. Rick ideas tend to lead down the path of being hilarious to watch on television or read on the internet for viewers at home, not so much for the target of his undying friendship and enthusiasm (whom generally seems to accumulate such eccentric personalities around himself).
Rick's rationalizing goes through unchecked, and culminates in a punch in the face. To someone like Howard, it's more a really annoying finger poke jabbed into his side, the effect slightly exaggerated given his head turns a bit to Rick's shot to the brief spray of spittle.
"Rick," Howard growls his name out as he reaches out with his left hand to shove him aw-- this thought (and sentence) is immediately suspended to the bellowing of a spurned warrior whom bowls just past Howard to slam themselves into Rick, the Kyokugen representative of the moment having to withdraw his arm and even tilt back his upper body to avoid being bowled over. The rush of displaced air from the forward momentum of the mighty strike nearly lifts that dark purple... thing... on his head just from being in its proximity.
That's but a mere taste of what strength that man surely has, a briefly stunned Rust concedes as he drops back to a more ready stance, legs spread apart and low as he struggles to get his head back in the game and think... okay, c'mon, didn't run into this many problems coming here to have it all fall apart now!
The other Kyokugen fighters have wisely decided to step away from the mat.
COMBATSYS: Rust focuses on his next action.
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Rust [E] 0/-------/------=|=------\-------\0 Rick
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Feng 0|-------|-------
COMBATSYS: Rick fails to interrupt Iron Mountain from Feng with Blazing Sunburst.
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Rust [E] 0/-------/------=|====---\-------\0 Rick
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Feng 0|-------|-----==
Rick knows the punishment Rust can take which is why he isn't too worried about socking him in the face like he did. Besides he barely put any force into the blow so he knew the old man would be okay. He also was almost fully expecting to get the panties of Feng into a nice wad. Those guys never do like having their pride insulted. It is like the rich men who drive fast cars. It is the one thing that makes them feel big. It also isn't the first time Rick will have pissed off someone that probably is alot stronger of a fighter. It sure as hell won't be the last as well.
"There, now we got a proper fight!" he tells Rust as he turns about to attempt to meet the incoming Feng head on. He brings back his left fist and looks to punch straight at the man while taking the blow to the chest. It hits him alot harder and with more impact than expected. Enough to send Rick off his feet and cause him to land in an awkward tumble before he regains his footing. "I'm good!" he says as he straightens back up and he bounces about foot to foot. "Oh so now you are good enough to join us. Welcome to the fight, fancypants."
The full-body strike sends the annoying boxer back for sure, Feng assuring himself this will teach RIck the folly of interjecting where he was not wanted. A bare glance is given toward Rick as he gets up, pointedly ignoring him again even as the boxer starts back on his feet. Instead, he turns his full attention back toward the balding Kyokugen representative.
Seeing him in a ready stance, Feng takes it as tacit acceptance of his challenge. The reaction this time is perhaps less pointed than his attack on Rick...but no less wordlessly boasting of his own skill. Hands come up out of is stance, his lead leg lifted, before he falls into a complete split in Rust's direction, leg silding out low and thrusting a low sharp kick to disrupt the older man's stance. "Hiiiiiyup!"
COMBATSYS: Feng successfully hits Rust with Light Kick.
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Rust [E] 0/-------/---====|====---\-------\0 Rick
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Feng 0|-------|----===
Rust, over there, knows all he's going to need to know about how much that smarts as Rick gets hurled away a ways. The way Rick fearlessly addresses and regards someone of such strength, well... that's how he knows that's Rick. The way Rick bounces back up saying that he's still good... actually doesn't say all that much about how it all smarts.
So, net effect, Howard learns pretty much nothing useful other than earning an overwhelming sense of dread at a time where he especially needs to be strong and in control. People are watching. Prospective students need to be attracted - the ugly truth of the business side attached to the Kyokugen Dojo. Takuma Sakazaki is a martial arts genius and trailblazer, but the same can't be said for the business management of the dojo and the ability to retain students.
It really does fall squarely into the older man's shoulders as the tall man turns back to him, to an individual that by all appearances is ready. He nods once - no need for apologies on Rick's part. He came for the strongest Kyokugen warrior here... that's him, then. Act it, be it.
Feng's sudden raised foot going into a very low strike, lower than he himself can really react to as he puts weight against his forward foot to push against it and hold his stance, but it is not a kick he stands against. It is like he's standing against a river's deadly current, forcing him to an awkward and pained kneel with only a grunt and clenched teeth to really express the concession that such a kick has already brought him to a kneel.
He doesn't choose to rise up even as pain shoots through his knee and thigh. Ol' Rusty is not in his hand - a concession of having to demonstrate more orthodox Kyokugen actually being offered to be taught - but much time, blood, and sweat has been put into honing his body for this. Drawing back his right hand - scarred deeply from a persistent injury from the Southtown Invasion - in the simplicity of his next strike he decides to hold the pride of the dojo, the dreams of a fallen friend, and the trust of another he has not seen as four inlaid jewels on the odd silver trinket wrapped around his wrist take on a shine briefly.
His right palm raised, he thrusts it forward from this awkward kneeling position with all the strength he can muster, a sharp kiai as a flicker of dull energy (it's kind of hard to tell what color it is - it's so washed out) envelopes the palm. It's a textbook Ko'ou Ken motion, through and through.
The older man's eyes widen ever so slightly as he snaps it forward, a slight twitch in his shoulder. Something... startling?
The demonstration is sort of devolving here, but if anything Rust may perhaps come out looking good in the end by putting up a good show against this crazed fighter that seems intent on interrupting the happy fun time Rick and Rust were about to have. While Rick may say he is okay, he is finding it a bit harder to breath after that last hit. he is just good at playing off that he wasn't too bothered for the time being. Though if he takes too many more hits like that there will be no hiding his discomfort. "You show him, what for, Rust!"
Rick isn't exactly going to stand there either. Feng wanted to strike at him, well then the boxer is more than ready to return the favor. The only reason why there is a moment's hesitation he sees Rust do something that was rather unexpected. Something Rick has never actually see the old man do before which makes him quirk a brow. "Oh hey! That was awesome! Do it again!" Yes, he is a big kid sometimes.
Of course his pleas might not be listened to right now. Rust is kind of busy at the moment so all Rick can think of doing is to help out his good old buddy as he dashes inwards. The southpaw draws back with his left fist once more and he goes for a straight jab looking to plant that fist right into Feng's mush. "Or do it again in a moment! I got some beef with Nancy here as well!"
COMBATSYS: Feng blocks Rust's Magna Strike.
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Rust [E] 0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0 Rick
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Feng 0|-------|---====
COMBATSYS: Feng interrupts Medium Punch from Rick with Scorpion Sting.
- Power hit! -
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Rust [E] 0/-------/-----==|=======\-------\1 Rick
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Feng 0|-------|--=====
Rising up from that split kick that sends Rust tumbling to a knee, Feng brings himself back up to stance. He's well aware that he has another that wants to deal with him, but he didn't come here to test against boxing. He came here to test the merits of Kyokugen. And while he hasn't fought against it before, he has heard plaudits of its various techniques.
So when Rust thrusts his hands forward in a motion that is unmistakably that of the Ko-ohken, he doesn't attempt to blast through it, as he might be want to. He wants to see its power. Arms rise, allowing the energized thrust of that hand to slam into his guard. While he feels the sting of energy searing over his forearms, the man doesn't seem to budge. He seems just as solid as a mountain as he absorbs the punch. "<Was that it?>" he asks, not bothering to give them the benefit of English anymore. Not until Rust shows something more.
And the Native American?...well, try as he might want to dismiss the man wholesale, he just seems to want to butt his head in more and more. "<Whelp!>" she sneers, the haughty arrogance surrounding him as he sweeps his arms in front of him, catching the punch and deflecting it ever so slightly before his body contorts. His rear leg lifts up, and as the punch is deflected to strike into his shoulder instead, the leg whips back, then overhead, arching around like a scorpion's tail to meet Rick in the face with an unorthodox kick. "TOHHH!!"
Was that it, Feng asks in his native tongue? Certainly, the eye widening is not Rust's alone. Rick sure hasn't seen him actually manifest an appreciable amount of chi through his hands. Nobody else here has. Rust sure hasn't! He might be as surprised as anyone.
That's not really why he's widening his eyes.
The imbued palm strike slams against Feng's rock-solid guard. Something loudly snaps, and viewers might believe for a moment that it was Feng's arm being overpowered, broken under the force of the blow.
"Ah, if you're paying attention to Mr. Rust," addresses a Kyokugen student to the crowd, "that is the Ko'ou Ken--"
This message might be missed by the sudden pained exclamation that the more astute are noticing - the way the older man's wrist bends inward far, far more sharply than the human hand ought to as it nearly slides past Feng's arm, momentum robbed from the timely guard. His entire arm is straight for moments, another loud, sickening pop of his shoulder before it goes limp, the opposite shoulder clutched by his left hand as the so-called Hero of Nepal stays knelt while the mysterious challenger deals with the boisterous boxer.
"...And I think he just broke his hand doing it," adds the narrating student as the crowd gasps at the thought that someone would take /themselves/ out in a single punch.
Sucking in air through his teeth, the older man tries to make a show of some strength, of still being in things as he pulls himself to his feet. Kyokugen fighters in training often end up fighting with a shattered bone or two (ribs, usually), but this...
"L-Look back here," he mumbles to Feng as he chances thrusting out a straight kick as if it were to hide his injury and position of complete weakness, pretty much as futile as his attempts to hide his impending baldness (shh, don't tell him we know).
Instead of giving a fist to the face it seems Rick gets himself a nice little foot to the face. An exchange that he doesn't come out on the better end of at all. He staggers back and his noise is bloodied from the blow and his vision also a bit blurred from the impact of the blow. "S...okay. He hits like a girl." He doesn't say what girl obviously. He could just be meaning Chun-Li or the like at this point. He stumbles and keeps his footing for the most part, only going to a knee for a moment before bouncing back up, arms waving some as he tries to get his equilibrium back.
He brings an arm up to wipe at the blood, and he fingers at the noise a bit to see if it is broken. When he seems satisfied that it isn't he finally tries to refocus on the task at hand. "Hey, buddy! Still can't keep me down!" he calls out as if to just annoy Feng some more. Of course now long is it before the taunting just doesn't do what it is intended. His attempts at helping out Rust might not go far unless he can actually show Feng he can be a threat.
Taking a deep breath the Native American squints as he narrows the various Fengs he sees into one single one. Well a single blurry one that has to be Feng. He doesn't see any hideous purple on it so it can't be Rust. "Hnnnnnggggraaah!" he shouts as he launches himself forward into a mad dash. He ducks low before he launces himself upwards while his left fist bursts forth with blue energy that streaks behind the uppercut he tries to deliver to Feng.
COMBATSYS: Feng blocks Rust's Light Kick.
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Rust [E] 0/-------/-----==|=======\-------\1 Rick
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Feng 0|-------|-======
COMBATSYS: Rick successfully hits Feng with Shooting Star EX.
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Rust [E] 0/-------/-----==|=======\==-----\1 Rick
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Feng 1|-------|=======
The sudden trauma that Rust's arm suffers isn't lost on the mysterious, brutal kenpo fighter. His narrow eyes watch Rust collapse and clutch at his shoulder. "<You claim and try to use power you cannot control? Is this Kyokugen?>" he asks again in his native Mandarin, scoffing down at Rust. The kick he attempts toward Feng with his injury is absorbed with the bracer on his left arm, rolled aside for now....
But whatever he would have followed up with is stalled when he finds a mass of tanned, white-haired muscle charging toward him with a blazing punch, the blue auraed uppercut sending Feng's chin rattling, the fighter reeling from the surprise blow. He saw the rush coming, but that charge of energy definitely was not expected at all, managing to force him back a couple of steps.
"<So you are not unskilled either,>" he says, scowling, then repeating it in English so Rick would definitely understand him this time. With his interest even more piqued, Feng holds back...this time, he drops into what Rust might recognize as a horse stance, hands outstretched with middle and index finger outstretched, and thumb hooked. Drawing his hands back, he brings them in to his chest, then slightly outward with elbows bent, then out again fully outstretched. It would definitely feel like he's building toward SOMETHING here.....
COMBATSYS: Feng charges his next attack!
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Rust [E] 0/-------/-----==|=======\==-----\1 Rick
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Feng 1|-----==|=======
Power he can't control?! It's not that uncommon to have an injury spring from an attack that just ends up being bent the wrong way. Howard's sprained a wrist every so often or even given himself a bruise elbowing Marco's wrecking ball (and then getting a matching one for the back of his head), but this... this is a particularly extreme example.
"It is not uncommon to suffer injury in the middle of a fight," the narrating student nearby states with all honesty, "but the strength of Kyokugen Karate is pushing past your physical limits to achieve even greater heights!"
This is a really grisly thing for some spectators, and a number of them immediately decide to back away and just get on with their day.
Rick means well, when he actually means anything at all, which Howard understands but the adrenaline starts to get to his head between the searing pain of his dominant arm being taken out of commission in - by far - the most inconvenient time for him to do so. Yet, he's not here to attract students and fans for /Rick/. It is this line of thinking where he hastily tries to interpose himself between Rick and the Chinese fighter as if to say, 'eyes on me, let me demonstrate.'
Takuma and the rest have helped him round himself out a lot more as a fighter, adding more to himself than just strong strokes with his pipe as he thrusts a leg out down towards Feng's foot. The strikes go rapid, enveloping the leg itself in that same flickering, washed-out chi as each kick strikes the mat hard and loudly enough that some nearby might think there's actual roadwork going on nearby.
"You can see here," the narrating student says, "a more specialized form of the Zan'retsuken with one's feet - made famous by our own Robert Garcia, and..."
Now /he's/ actually worried about the potential outcome, given how ready the Chinese challenger is looking to strike!
Finally he finds his fist hit home. Rick was starting to feel a bit unsure about himself in this fight, but all he ever needs is just one blow and he can turn the tide. The Native American is a bit smaller than most other boxers and a bit faster, but he can hit just as hard as the others. It is a deceptive strength he contains that allows him to catch opponents off guard who might choose to underestimate them. Of course the down side Feng will probably not think Rick is just some hot headed fool that can't really throw a punch. Now he is just a hot headed fool that an do some damage when his wild swings connect.
He bounces about on his feet as he finds his vision at least recovering enough that things aren't looking so blobbed and blurry. He can distinctly see Feng and his actions right now. He knows the man is up to something. He just isn't sure what. That something isn't probably a good thing at all, though. That is why he sees that Rust has a pretty good idea on what to do about. Just go right after the man hard and fast!
He just grins and he keeps his distance this time. Is he scared? No, it doesn't seem that is the case. He rolls his shoulder and pulls his fist back as if looking ready to deliver another straight punch. There is far too much distance to cover between him and Feng is the problem. Even if he flings himself forward it looks like he would come up short. He takes another deep breath and he brings that powerful left hand forward, the air seeming to just growing thick around it as he lets out another loud shout, the blow creating a powerful, concussive blast mixed with his energy aimed to knock Feng right on his ass.
COMBATSYS: Rick dazes Feng with Gaia Breath!
- Power hit! -
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////// ]
Rust [E] 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Rick
[ |||||||||||||| ]
Feng 1|-======|=======
COMBATSYS: Feng interrupts Jackhammer Kick from Rust with Empowered God Fist.
- Power hit! -
! VENGEANCE !
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////// ]
Rust [E] 0/-------/-======|=------\-------\0 Rick
[ ||||||||||| ]
Feng 1|=======|=======
Continuing through that odd ritual, Feng watches as Rust, despite his arm, interjects, trying to ensure all focus is on him. It works, insomuch that the Kenpo fighter's eyes lock straight onto the man. And while he's prepared to commend him for standing up straight for what might have been akin to an execution, he was NOT prepared for what was to come just a little behind the balding man.
The punch from out of arm's range is confusing...but the massive concussive blast that slams into Feng is more than enough explanation for that. Even with feet firmly planted, the massive force buffets the Kenpo fighter, the straight obvious on his face. Despite that, his feet remain firmly planted, as if not wanting to budge from his chosen spot...and while it demonstrates strength and will, it also probably makes the force of Rick's attack that much worse, like the difference between a rigid post and a flexible tree that can sway in harsh winds.
Once that's passed though...Feng has to deal with Rust diving in with his own series of flying kicks. A twitch to his facial features, Feng speaks once more. "<I shall not be bowed by weaklings!!>" he shouts in his native tongue again, meeting Rust's attack head on, foot shifting until they're nearly side by side as he slams out a fierce punch....but that's not the end of it. With a shift of that same foot forward, his hand splays out into a palm, pistoning forward with a second, fiercer strike that would blow Rust back even further than the first strike alone would have.
The God Fist.
The fierce punch... no, fierce is not doing that first punch alone justice, the series of kicks coming to a sudden, sharp halt as the older man staggers to keep himself from falling over. The wheeze that echoes through the school's parking lot is enough to bring quiet to those murmuring spectators to a demonstration going increasingly wrong.
The second blow, in such short order, makes finding a second, greater descriptor than the one that should be surpassing 'fierce' to begin with makes it all the more visceral as ribs shatter. The man before Feng looks more like a piece of debris in the wind as he is cleanly lifted off his feet, bowling over three students as he hits the chain-link fe--
No, it takes /down/ the entire section of chain-link fence as it all wraps itself around the supposed strongest Kyokugen artist there, a gut-wrenching sound of rattling metal as he comes to a stop a fair ways into the schoolyard proper.
It's even more horrifying for all involved to see him pull himself up in the parting dust cloud, heavy breathing as he staggers and trips over himself just trying to walk back. The dust obscures his features somewhat, but the busted lip and trickle of blood coming out the side of Rust's mouth is pretty clear. To say nothing of unfocused eyes, the wheezing, the whole 'still being partially tangled in chain-link fence' thing...
The Kyokugen student addressing the crowd is at a loss as to how to spin this. "See, we always push to the very limits, even when we... probably... shouldn't... still be standing up... um... someone should call an ambulance to be safe."
COMBATSYS: Rust takes no action.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > //////////////// ]
Rust [E] 0/-------/-======|=------\-------\0 Rick
[ ||||||||||| ]
Feng 1|=======|=======
Now the confidence is brewing in Rick. He has started to hit his groove and the only thing that does stop his plans for following up that strike is when Feng actually manages to shake off the effects of the powerful blow that Rick delivered and had his wits about him to actually handle Rust's own strike in a rather devastating manner that made the strikes Rick took rather tame in comparison. There is a visible wince, but at least the Native American knows Rust is made to take alot of punishment. It might be even the 'adventures' that Rick takes him along that has helped in the man growing tougher over the years, but he knows it will take more than that to keep the old man down.....he hopes.
So the big guy is still standing. "Tch, I guess you are a bit tougher than I thought." There is another gross understatement made by Rick today, but he also doesn't seem ready to back down at all. Instead he seems all the more ready to clash with the powerful fighter again. This is the thrill of the fight right here. Where Rust is more worried about perhaps getting an ambulance, Rick is just thinking of his next move. There are no worries if he gets a bit more battered. He has found himself an opponent that is worth giving it his all for. Too bad he has several sticks up his ass.
With a bit of a whoop the Native American closes in on Feng once more. He uses his fancy footwork to keep the man guessing as he feints a few quick jabs before going for a nasty right hook. He may be a southpaw, but that doesn't mean any fighter should scoff at any right hand he throws.
COMBATSYS: Feng interrupts Hook Punch from Rick with Leaping Lion.
*KNOCKED AWAY*
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////// ]
Rust [E] 0/-------/-======|=======\-------\1 Rick
[ |||||||||| ]
Feng 0|-------|-======
Rechambering back into his stance after blowing Rust back with his God Fist technique, Feng watches as he files through several people and through a chain-link fence, tearing it off from its posts and wrapping around the Kyokugen fighter. Not a surprise: This is the very technique he used to kill his master after all. Perhaps not as potent when its used to drive someone into and THROUGH a tree, but...
Well, that's not the surprise. The surprise is when Rust manages to pull himself back up from the wreckage caused by the technique. "<Resilient....>" Feng notes, before finally bothering to revert back to English. "But I'm disappointed. If you are the best this place has to offer, then I must find the original Dojo."
And as for Rick....well, when he shoots in with those winding punches, the hook seems to send Feng reeling....or so it'd seem. He took a step back, sure, but Strowd wouldn't feel the same reverberation of a flush hit down his arms. And he'd see why as the kenpo fighter would soar into the air, turning once before a hammering kick snapped out toward the boxer's neck and shoulder. Flashy, unorthodox...but it gets the job done, doesn't it?
Rust is a man of a lot of concerns. Let's save us three paragraphs of minute trivia and say 'everything' but go over the more immediately relevant ones in detail: messing up his right hand potentially even more than it already has been, humiliating Kyokugen with a horrible show of force against this... mysterious person, Rick, how much money they may very well have wasted in an attempt to draw in more students...
He's not looking forward to going back to Southtown. He knows how Takuma gets when he's angry. (He has, uh, felt how Takuma gets when he's angry. In triplicate.) He has no awareness of the blood-stained history of the God Fist - that he should be down, perhaps dead, after being struck by the truest strength of this surprising challenger.
When it comes down to it, it is perhaps safest to say that Howard Rust is not a man who will be remembered today as an innovator in fighting technique or crushing might. Instead, recent memory will talk about how ridiculous he looks partially tangled in chain-link fence.
A chain-link fence he tears off with his left hand and then proceeds to trip over it as he walks over it.
"Excuse me," says one spectator - an aging heavy-set woman - to the guy trying to narrate while Rust staggers back over.
"Yes?" Asks the student, who suddenly looks hopeful.
"Do you know where he trains?" She asks earnestly.
"Oh, Howard there? He trains with us in Southtown, Japan at the Kyokugen Dojo--"
"No! No!" She shakes her head. "I mean that dashing man in the white hair!"
Still, the damage is done - not only to the egoes of the Kyokugen fighters involved, but perhaps giving an attentive Feng Wei an idea as to where he can go in order to find the original dojo!
Back to more Rust-specific matters, he grunts something unintelligble as he drops his legs to a more ready stance even as his right arm hangs more or less uselessly, left hand outstretched as he sizes up Feng Wei and Rick Strowd alike.
"I, I didn't come this far just to... just to get... shoved away," he sneers, wondering who he really, really wants to hit more, "c'mon."
Notably, no one has bothered to call for an ambulance yet.
COMBATSYS: Rust focuses on his next action.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////// ]
Rust [E] 0/-------/-======|=======\-------\1 Rick
[ |||||||||| ]
Feng 0|-------|-======
The thought of a man like Rick actually training someone would bring frightening images to anyone that actually knows the pugilist well. It is probably a good thing he could not hear such questions right now about where he trains and such. There would be many a strange story about how he became a boxer that some young minds that are impressionable should not be exposed to. No, Rick does not hear anything about the questioning because he is busy feeling his shoulder go numb and his windpipe almost being crushed entirely from the kick just delivered to him that sends him off his feet and almost right into a group of onlookers where he lands in a heap.
There isn't so much sizing up Rick at the moment for Rust so maybe his target is a bit apparent at the moment. "Hnnng, not....done." comes a rather ragged sounding Rick as he starts to move. People part as he gets to his feet and stumbles back through them to get into the fighting area. "I.....think I am almost starting to like this old fart." he says with a faint smirk. Of course by far not as much as Rust. Even if the old man hopes it would be the case. Feng just doesn't look like the free spirit type. He would not appreciate the things Rick does like Rust would.
He slams his two fists together and he wavers a bit. He is a noodle legs at the moment, but it doesn't stop him to break into a mad dash. It is similar to the last time he rushed at Feng. Perhaps a bit more slowed because of the fact his legs aren't fully working for him, but the motion is much the same when his left fist ignites and he looks for an uppercut, but unlike last time he seems to twist about and his right comes upwards for a follow up as well as the Native American gives out a warcry.
COMBATSYS: Feng blocks Rick's EX Shooting Star.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > /////// ]
Rust [E] 0/-------/-======|-------\-------\0 Rick
[ ||||||| ]
Feng 0|-------|=======
Indeed, attentive enough as he kips up back to his feet, Feng doesn't miss the mention of 'Southtown'. So that's where the original dojo is, hrm? He had heard about the potential strength of many centers in Southtown, but he wasn't aware that the Dojo itself to Kyokugen laid within the city limits. Something he's going to have to look into once he's done here.
Of course, with Rust's worth evaluated, his ego might be slightly more fractured when Feng's attention turns more to Rick, having tried to dismiss the boxer out of hand completely this fight, only to be taken by surprised fully. Still, he can tell the damage done to him...and he's not about to back down now and show mercy.
Mercy is disrespect. If someone holds back for you, what does that say? No...no holding back. Even when he finds the damage building up thanks to Rick's surprisingly techniques, the uppercuts barreling the kenpo artist back even as he tries to deflect them with each bracered arm, Feng isn't about to stop. He will leave his impression, even if he won't finish either of them. The fact that he hates losing is...perhaps a small factor in there too.
Another kiai comes from the aggressive would-be dojo buster, hands reaching out for Rick's head and neck. The intent? Twist the boxer's body down one way, then snap his head around the other way and send him spinning back down to the ground.
COMBATSYS: Rick fails to interrupt Divine Palms from Feng with Punisher.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Rust [E] 0/-------/-======|
[ |||||| ]
Feng 1|-------|=======
COMBATSYS: Rick can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Rust [E] 0/-------/-======|
[ |||||| ]
Feng 1|-------|=======
Even in the state that he is in those blows seem to have quite a bit of power under them. His legs may betray him, but his fists seem to hold tried and true. Feng finds himself lucky in being able to keep his own quickness and manage to stop the blows from fully connecting and then finding a way to quickly try to go into an attack of his own. Rick doesn't seem to want to have any of that in this case. That fist of his comes about as if looking to not even care about the fact he is being grasped by Feng.
He should have cared a bit more. The hot blooded fighter finds his punch hitting nothing before his body gets twisted in a rather sickening way. "Grkrrrkk!" He is pretty sure something snapped there. He just isn't sure what it was. Where he found it hard to move on his legs a few moments ago is pretty much impossible. He sort of slumps and he keeps fists raised for a few moments. "S'all yours, Rusticles." he says and the rather punch drunk fighter slumps forward and ends up face down on the ground. If anything at least now Rust can really show off the Kyokugen might properly without the boxer perhaps stealing all of the poor guys spotlight.
Rick's fall is met with gasps and immediate concern. After all, look at what he did to that other guy! If they didn't know better they'd have thought they were coming to watch Rick Strowd exhibit his strength, not these karate guys.
One student - a white belt - thinks to walk up to Rust to lead him off. He is met with a gentle (read: schoolyard bully-level) shove off of him, even as his right arm dangles. It was mine to begin with, he grumbles incomprehensibly under his breath as Rick hands it to him - something that was technically in his hands to begin with!
He's seen what fighters of his level could really and honestly do in Asia. There was a reason why he was willing to take this man's challenge over Rick's, given the immediate threatening 'or else.' Rick, he can at least count on to keep the danger and misery to... well... Rust himself. This man, though, this man who ignores him and keeps his back even as he sends Rick down for the count...
"Turn around," Rust grumbles aloud as he comes within arm's length of a man who has already demonstrated such incredible might to give /both/ of them a hell of a beating. This isn't a polite suggestion. It's a demand, as his feet drag across the mat up until he raises his left, good hand above Feng's head.
"And here," another student tries to address the crowd, "he's going to... um, you guys are paying attention, right, you didn't come here to watch that guy..."
They /do/ seem more concerned with Rick, but perhaps they'll turn around and see the current show for what it is when Howard attempts to bring his hand down upon Feng's head and plant it straight down against the ground, drawing back one of his feet in readiness for... something?
COMBATSYS: Rust successfully hits Feng with Brick Stacker.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Rust [E] 0/-------/-======|
[ ||| ]
Feng 1|-----==|=======
The snapping throw takes care of one foe, perhaps the one that Feng was more impressed by today of the two...but even then, he didn't show any relenting, tossing the boxer aside with all force and leaving him out of the game for now...and that means....
Turning back to the Kyokugen representative, Feng scowled. He wasn't about to show it, but he definitely was...less than fresh. Damned Indian. "Do you think you can finish me in that state?" Feng asks in English, bringing up his stance once more....or at least trying to.
Perhaps it was the techniqueless nature of it all. Perhaps it was simply too much damage...whatever excuse you decide to choose, Feng finds himself planted face first into the ground, slammed there with surprising intention. "GUaahghh!" The collision with the ground certainly rattled skull and teeth. And for a time, it looks like the faceplant might have been enough to put Feng down...
But after a few long seconds of hesitance, Feng rises again. Unable to hide the damage anymore, he scowls hard at Rust...and wordlessly, his body shifts. Right arm sweeps in front of him, and right hand hooks down, bent at the wrist with fingers splayed. His lead, left hand sweeps forward, fingers hooked like claws, as it's brought before him. And then...with a thrust, his palm shoots forward, trying to collide straight into Rust's abdomen. It may not look like much...but one would have to only know the names the technique has been known by to worry:
The Dian Mai. The Dim Mak. Or otherwise known in the God Fist style as the 'Death Palm'. And while its mythical properties have been inflated...the force would be as disruptive enough to make one feel their insides turn of their own accord.
COMBATSYS: Rust endures Feng's Death Palm.
[ \\\\\\ <
Rust [E] 1/--=====/=======|
[ |||| ]
Feng 0|-------|----===
Howard seems to be hurting just as much as the man he slams into the mat. Bending his midsection at all invites screaming, intense pain. That two-strike combination in itself sent him off, and even now he's feeling the lingering consequences of suffering the technique of a truly blood-stained history he remains blissfully unaware of. (The history. Not the pain! The pain is real. He is very aware.)
Feng, pulling himself up, has something of an advantage. Both are hurt and battered, but Rust /by far/ looks worse off. He has difficulty standing completely tall and straight, and were this something like a Neo League match, officials would call it here out of concern for the health and safety of the fighters!
The Death Palm is thrust forward, and makes contact with the older man's chest. It seems, oddly... lacking in impact? This is true only on the outside. On the inside, everything about the ex-shop teacher seizes up, his head already tilted slightly downward.
He catches a glint of that thing he got on his right hand - unaware of how much it is to blame for his particular predicament! - and can really only think of /who/ it represents as opposed to what (such as, say, impeding circulation to his right hand). Quon, Antoine... to a lesser extent, their late master...
It gives him the strength to give the strength to his leg (...so it gives his leg the strength?), that flickering energy of a washed-out color as he scrapes his foot against the mat. The energy doesn't follow his foot - it teeters and totters in a vague disc-like shape down against Feng's leg, of which he has but a mere split second to react as Howard loses his balance. The overpowering strength of the Death Palm shoves him over.
A student just behind Rust chooses a very bad time to be standing there and ends up breaking his fall onto the mat, but can anyone really say that this man should be able to stand and fight after /that/? (And the thing before it?!)
COMBATSYS: Rust successfully hits Feng with Detour.
[ \\\\\\ <
Rust [E] 0/-------/--=====|
[ ]
Feng 0|-------|-======
The technique, Death Palm or however you want to call it, hits its mark and does its job. Feng made sure of that, every ounce of muscle in his body focusing his power into that one key spot for his palm strike. Drawing back once its understated job is done, the Kenpo artist is left to marvel at his work and its effects on Rust....
For all of a second. Unaware of the washed out disc of energy that the balding Kyokugen fighter created, Feng suddenly finds his leg blown out from underneath his body, sending him into a rather rapid collapse. "HUAAHH!!" The impact with the ground is an unkind one, like a surprise sweep of the legs by the Cobra Kai or something. That's....definitely something new. Who knew that Kyokugen held such secrets!
It's something Feng will have to keep in mind when he journey's to Southtown...but for now? He's just trying to get back up on one knee, grimacing in pain as he tries to stand back up. It doesn't look like he's going to be fighting again anymore today.
COMBATSYS: Feng takes no action.
[ \\\\\\ <
Rust [E] 0/-------/--=====|
COMBATSYS: Feng can no longer fight.
[ \\\\\\ <
Rust [E] 0/-------/--=====|
Rust looks about as spent as he really can be as he lays sprawled all over one of his fellow Kyoku--
No, that kid's not taking it either as he unceremoniously shoves Rust back up to his feet as if to say 'go fall on someone else!' The feeling of incredible, uncomfortable warmth as his body feels ready to spasm or just shut down outright... that was not a blow any sane man should be willingly taking, let alone /still standing up/.
For a given value of... standing up.
This is, however, the man who survived the bloody conflicts of Asia. Those who had doubts about the legitimacy of this feat are certainly not voicing them as he stands bent over, sucking in air and wheezing and by all accounts really should just not let his legs demand he stand. His knees are quietly staging their rebellion against his constant abuse by locking up. The aching of tired, battered muscles and shattered bones altogether is an unpleasant thing.
"By the way," another student speaks up, "um, I only saw it from the corner of my eye but that little flash of chi you saw down there, that's the low-height Ryuugekiken, also made famous by Robert--"
The crowd won't have it. After the mysterious challenger's final fall, they all start moving towards the mat. Cheering? Concern? Asking for autographs and how to sign up, maybe? This gesture gives Howard at least one tiny ray of hope after a rough day, raising his head and - with his left arm - trying to raise up his right, as if the bangle he put on his hand were Quon's eyes, as if to say 'hey, see, look, I did it.'
That the crowd decides to try and start helping Rick up and, possibly, carry him off as though /he/ were the triumphant one puts a fine point on who they feel the real star of the demonstration was. The broken arm goes limp again as the older man stares blearily into the distance. Really?
The yellow belt student who used to practice Judo, in a rare bit of intended friendliness, pats the man on his right shoulder. The man immediately recoils in pain.
This was just one of those days.
And so Feng has fallen and Rust is left standing. He isn't faring so well physically at the moment, but the strength to still be able to stand is always a good thing. Afterall he isn't laying on the ground like Rick over th.....where did Rick go? No one really saw him get up and he looked damn out of it and pretty broken up. Where the hell could he have gone? The loud honking followed by the crowd screaming in surprise and parting to let a beat up El Camino to come screeching over towards the mats comes to a stop with Rick right behind the wheel.
Rust might not even have any real time to react. He is sore, but he is also maybe confused by the fact where the hell Rick got that car. He is pretty sure it isn't the Native American's ride. In fact Rust is pretty sure none of the rides Rick ends up in are truely his. "I can't believe I almost forgot! We got a flight to catch!" Wait, we? Rust leaps out of the driver's seat and he rushes over to grab Rust and in a surprising feat of strength he kinda hefts Rust up and tosses him into the back of the El Camino where there are several bags of ice laid out. A nice way to ease up the soreness while going at high speeds through the city? What could possibly go wrong.
"Don't worry, guys! I will bring him back in once piece!" Rick calls out to the other Kyokugen practitioners before jumping back into the El Camino and turning up the radio loud as he screeches off singing along. "AND HERE I GO AGAIN ON MY OOOOOOWN o/~"
...thank heaven for small favors and big spectacles.
Rick's little stun, redirecting the crowd's attention and sending them scurrying away, gives the mysterious challenger all the time in the world to slink off under the shadows, so to speak. Scowling at his defeat in the end, Feng is summarily met by his associate/translator in an alley not far from the demonstration. "<Mr. Wei. I think we should be going now...who knows who might be..."
The suggestion meets a sudden grab of the poor sap's face with one broad palm, though thankfully not clenched. "<Tell the triad that I'll be heading to Southtown.>" A simple response, a commanding one...and why not? It's hard to reign in an asset like Feng Wei, no matter how hard organizations might try. And right now?...he wants to see true Kyokugen for himself. That and to be left alone to stew in his defeat before he returns with a vengence.
Rick and his surprise kidnappings, always when you least expect it - even beating him senseless can't seem to avoid this as he is ushered towards Rick's car - well, more like dragged a short ways. He's not really in a place to protest other than mumbling things like 'no, no, stop, put me dow--'
Tossed into the back, the seats are surprisingly plush, but it is the mildest comfort for wounds that really should be addressed in the ER. What about the other demonstrations, he's thinking, I have more to do, c'mon, pass up on the trip this time, these pleading thoughts end up remaining only thoughts. The only thing that escapes his lips are pathetic groans and grunts.
The other gathered Kyokugen students are familiar with this situation. They can't hope to catch up with the car when it runs, but one of them - a white belt, of course - has a better idea.
"H-Hey!" He calls out as he picks up Howard's toolbelt and Ol' Rusty. "Catch!"
The flung pipe in its cozy ripped toolbelt pocket flies through the air like a graceful piece of battered, rusted refuse turned trusty weapon, the toolbelt itself whirling about like the wings of a happy free-flying bird as it soars through the low skies, to taste the realm of the ground-bound as though in pity of their limited ability to get around.
Howard is able to raise his head slightly in the back seat as the flying pipe just makes it through the open window, as though best friends were uniting at a moment of great need.
It also clocks him in the head hard enough to break one of the bags of ice into a small shower of jagged pieces of ice as he loses consciousness. It is as though Ol' Rusty had some grievances to air for its master letting it sit there patiently while he went to work. (But it doesn't, because it is an unfeeling inanimate object incapable of ambition or awareness.)
And so, the latest chapter in Rick's crazy Rustnapping escapades continues... and hey, this time we might get it on camera!
Log created on 20:11:24 07/07/2012 by Rust, and last modified on 21:10:44 07/08/2012.