Description: Subtitle: High stakes at the Trainyard! Panty bandit vs Homeless Grrl (not a typo)! It's the semi-finals of the highly illegal Metro City underground tournament reported bankrolled by the Duke. Roland meets up with an old acquaintance, Layla, and the two have a score to settle after his last victory over her during the Kuma League. Things quickly go down hill for Layla fast... but the ending is quite unexpected. (Rated M for mild suggestive content, flashes of bare body parts, and gore. But what do you expect, it's Roland?) <Winner: Layla - By Technicality>
Metro City, Trainyards -
It's damn near midnight and silvery beams of moonlight are shining down on an old, abandoned, railway through the cloud cover. It's a cold night, the kind of night where if it rained you might be wishing you had a coat. Thankfully, it isn't - not that it matters... this old, abandoned, railway and all of its long broken-down and rusty trains, and the station they belong to, have seen far too many already. This place could probably use a good cleaning, but not even rain could wash away the filth that tends to inhabit this place...
Here in the train-yard, gathered near the station's gated entrance, are a mass of very obvious ne'er do wells. Punks, gangbangers wearing torn and tattered leathers and drugheads and homeless are all gathered together here tonight. The dregs of Metro society have seen fit to gather round the oil drum fires and do their own thing. Like they usually do. The cops don't tend to come around here much, and for good reason... most citizens who weren't crooks knew just to stay away....
...Which makes this the perfect place for a discreet little game, a tournament as illegal as they come with a big prize...
...And one of the contenders, a brazilian female with long, braided, brown and red hair wearing torn denims herself is one of the contenders of said tournament. Having survived her first /two/ fights, lord knows why she had to fight two, she's here today to defend her place in the Duke's game. Nursing a bottle of Jack, leaning against the chain-link fence near the entrance to the trainyard amidst a gaggle of rowdy mooks, she quietly waits for tonight's next amusement to show.
And if only she knew who it was.
On the plus side, irregular nocturnal schedules are shared by someone else in this tournament besides the spectators in Metro City. At first glance, the lean figure striding amongst them doesn't look out of place. Leather trenchcoat old and warn, poorly weather treated and modified in some manner. His hat is the most distinctive feature, a stiff-brimmed and well loved item. A clove cigarette is puffed idly in a lip as he carefully strides along one of the narrow rails. A dark grey shirt and tanned slacks finish his ensemble, outside a studded belt with large buckle and modified cowboy boots, with a normal sole to better accomodate kicking rather than riding horses.
A black plastic bag dangles from his thumb, something heavy swinging to and fro from the bottom. He was given a description of Layla, and her distinctive weapon gave her away; however, she has no idea that the cowboy's missing an arm, making it likely more difficult to get an inkling of her opponent. But the shadowed figure striding past the burning canes quickly comes into focus. His face is more gaunt then prior, and he's lost some muscle mass after being hospitalized, but Roland just plain isn't that easy to forget, de-limbed or otherwise.
"This kind of tournament's no place for a lady." he coos out, tone thoroughly teasing. Crouching down, he sets down his plastic bag. A bottle of Macallan single malt Scotch is plucked out, label eyeballed carefully. "This is only the eight year bottle... but let it sit on a shelf another 16, and it's supposed to be the best damn Scotch on the market." It's flung in Layla's direction. Not too inaccurately. Hopefully she catches it, he's not made of shoplifted 35 dollar bottles of liquor. "Still avoiding skirts, huh...? You'll always be second candle to Ayame at that rate."
A gloved hand instinctively snaps out to catch that thrown bottle of Scotch around the neck shortly after a scraping of gravel reaches the brown-skinned girls ears. Her dark brown eyes are drawn upward, glimpsing a glint of moonlight off the bottle, just before her hand snaps out and her fingers coalesce into a fist around the glass neck. And for a moment, she just stares quietly at the self-styled cowboy... right along with the grungy looking men flanking her sides. ... Then,
"Tch. Man it ain't been a few months already, and you done found me. You a stalker or somethin'...?"
She lets that question hang in the air as she gives the thrown bottle a little upwards toss, before catching it around the body this time and fingering the label. "You must be pretty well off, if you can afford this shit...", she scrutinizes the bottle for a moment, before holding it out at him expectantly. She doesn't even seem to remotely consider him having shoplifted it, perhaps indicating some remaining naivete or perhaps disbelief it was in his character. He probably wasn't much better off than her, in reality, but she was damn near rock-bottom lately. She'd had to sack a few places today, infact... "What're you doin' out here...?"
Then it dawns on her, what he said about tournaments.
"...Or are you the guy I am supposed to mess up tonight? If so, I suppose I don't mind reliving old memories."
From somewhere further back in the trainyard, high up in the air, a muted clapping sound comes followed by a rather rough, masculine, voice... "Hehehe, hey down there... you don't look like Mad Gear... guess you're our guest for tonight, eh? You better hope you are... if not, you might be getting hurt soon..." These last few words come as almost a growl, the enormous, six foot seven wall of muscle wearing forest camo pants and a bright green ammo harness strokes his full beard almost thoughtfully. Through the goggles of his aviator cap, he's scrutinizing the cowboy... the way a trained killer would... whilst sitting on a word-down train.
"Eh, Freddie, if anybody's gonna hurt him let it be me..." the brazilian pushes herself off the fence with a booted foot lazily, "...We got old scores to settle." Taking a rough, unsophisticated, brawling stance... she drags her snakeskin-booted feet through the gravel audibly and balls her hands tightly into gloved fists. She then points her dirty, studded knuckles in Roland's direction... "Isn't that right, cowboy...?"
Suddenly, the crowd of gathered mooks roar with excitement!
COMBATSYS: Layla has started a fight here.
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Layla 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Roland has joined the fight here.
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Roland 0/-------/-======|-------\-------\0 Layla
Roland had made some success in Neo League; but all that profit went towards gambling and an indulgent lifestyle, not anything logical like a place to live. Or proper clothing. Or consistent meals. He's always been a conman at heart, and money is a rare resource you use to enjoy life; day to day things you make do on, after all, and even getting an influx of tens of thousands of dollars never changed that aspect of his spirit.
"Yep. We're supposed to dance tonight, apparently. Doesn't bother me any, to be honest... I like you better then most, which is probably the top of my list." Rolling his good shoulder to limber up, he settles himself roughly opposite in the makeshift area of the ring. Part of a train and a criss-cross of tracks adds to the less then level environment. Eyes shift up to the announcer of sorts, cracking his neck to the side. "Just have my money ready. I don't plan to lose." A kiss is blown to Layla after, smacking with confidence.
"Loser buys drinks. That'll make the stakes real. Up a pot, advancement in the tournament, /and/ booze..." He beckons at her then, tilting his hat down rakishly. "But I've bothered learning what that insane fool's been teaching... hopefully you leveled up also, or you won't even be able to keep up with me...!"
A smirk wound its way into her features a bit at all of the confidence he displayed, or perhaps arrogance, right off the bat. Same old, same old. "Yeah well, don't go thinking just 'cuz you were decent enough to visit me at the hospital way back when that I am gonna cut you any slack. If you ain't careful, this time I'll be putting you in a body cast..."
Her fists tighten and relax, tighten and relax, slowly as she waits quietly for him to limber up. Despite that threat, she doesn't seem too inclined to start wailing on him yet. "Tch, yeah... get real. You think a gang head or a crime lord's gonna trust me with his money?" Those earthen eyes shift to that giant of an old military man straddling a train, Freddie, and tilts her head in his direction with a look of indifference, "That's his job." Then she turns those eyes back on the cowboy opposite her and smirks again, "I'm just here to give you a real hard time." Ordinarily she'd be a bit more full of swagger herself, but she knew how capable this guy was already - cripple or no.
"Freddie himself leaps from the train shortly afterward, landing with an audible thud, before standing tall and cracking his gloved knuckles. "Get on with it, both of you! Before the boys get bored, you won't like it when the boys are bored...!" More shouting and hollering soon follows, even banging on oil drums, as the massive ex-soldier and Mad Gear mook compliments their tendency to cause chaos.
"Fine." Layla scoffs, slightly annoyed, but not even bothering to look at him. "You wanna see how much I've 'leveled up'...?", she asks, before darting toward her opponent and drawing back for a hard right. "Here it COMES!!!"
COMBATSYS: Roland parries Layla's Strong Punch!
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Roland 0/-------/=======|-------\-------\0 Layla
"Don't worry. Body cast won't be my worst hospital stay even if you managed." Roland states matter of factly, flowing into... well, he's ready. It couldn't properly be called a stance all the same, although it makes it difficult to tell his center of balance or what direction he might be. Still, missing an arm has to be a significant handicap, right? "You don't need them to trust you with the money for long, doll. Just long enough to get it in your hands and disappear...!" Of course, a rather straightforward punch towards the face isn't what Roland would call 'leveling up'. He weaves to the side flawlessly, twisting up his good hand as green energy crackles to life. Before he tries to sink fingers into the neck of Layla's shirt, and /wrench/ her down into the ground, with a bit too much thought put into the whole aesthetic clothing damage front. If she faceplants into the wooden beams between the railroad, a knee will drop into her back, just as an explosive blast of emerald energy rushes up from beneath her!!
COMBATSYS: Roland successfully hits Layla with Spanish 21 EX.
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Roland 1/-----==/=======|======-\-------\0 Layla
Layla says, "Hot damn that hurt."
As her fist skirts the cowboy's face, Layla 'tch's and immediately attempts to withdraw from his territory a bit. It was not an unexpected dodge, she already knew how capable he was after that fight in the Kuma League so many months ago. However unorthodox or unsophosticated his style or stance may be, it was still better than her 'hobojutsu'.
Her eyes soon go wide, however, as she feels a strong tugging against the neck of her shirt beneath her denim jacket. Shit! She'd been caught!
Next thing she knows, she's eating wooden railroad beams and being kneed swiftly in her backside. But that isn't even the start of it, for no sooner does her brain process the pain she had just received and there's an explosion of searing chi that makes any pain she was currently feeling seem comparitively small!
Despite this, she makes nary a sound... instead gritting her teeth and bearing the searing pain shooting through her nervous system and wracking her brain. The moment that explosion lets up, she rolls out from under him forcefully - which is easy to do given the neck of her shirt was now gone - and climbs too her feet with a hint of anger or maybe bloodlust in her features. Her favorite Harley Davidson jacket had been pretty much reduced to charred shreds of fabric at his feet, parts of the back half of her red undershirt and its left shoulder had also been completely blown off. From that opening in her shirt - which a somewhat muscular, bare, brown shoulder now sticks out of - it'd be easy to tell she probably doesn't wear bras given the lack of shoulder strap. It might have been blown off, but given her financial situation this is dubious. "Rrrrrgh..." Both fists ball tightly as the pain lingers, driving her deeper into a oncoming rage fit. He did that on purpose, and she absolutely knows it. It wasn't but a few months prior she'd worn a disgusted look when he told her about his 'web business'. Anyone who could run a site featurin g women's panties wouldn't hesitate to try and strip a woman. She just naively hadn't been expecting it... which made the anger worse. "You're gonna pay for that!"
Unsnapping that weighted chain from her belt, she immediately bum rushes him as hard as her leg can carry, swinging that whip for his good arm and attempting to jerk him off balance with it. Should she succeed in this, she will then attempt to pound him with a flurry of kicks and punches all over his body and end with a kick aimed for his midsection aided by body torsion! "RRRRRGGGAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!"
COMBATSYS: Roland blocks Layla's Frantic Combination.
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Roland 1/-----==/=======|======-\-------\0 Layla
Oh, Roland has no shame. It's literally not there. It would be akin to describing color to a blind person, who cannot even begin to percieve a world operating within such alien concepts. Still, getting angry and trying to suckerpunch him in the face is probably the absolute worst method of fighting the aggravating brawler, given his fighting style is centered not only in inciting such, but taking advantage of it. After all, Ayame's also one of his friends, and he's done far worse to her. And the horrors inflicted on Daniel are best left unwhispered.
"Pay...? Alright. I can afford ten bucks at Goodwill." The whip swishes around his arm, brought up guardingly, although she doesn't manage to teeter him with the hard yank. Managing to deflect the onslaught of attacks, the final kick sending him skidding away with a grunt, whip disentangling. "Ngh. You've not lost that crazed strength any... Here." A crumpled wad of dollar bills is pulled out, and flung in a distracting handful in Layla's direction. A moment later, three steel playing cards shining with green energy also lash towards her, ergo these are more liable to stick into her painfully... before once more erupting into green hellfire. He's keeping a distance now, although that might be within the realm of the whip user...!
COMBATSYS: Layla slows Dead Man's Hand from Roland with Small Thrown Object.
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Roland 1/---====/=======|=======\-------\1 Layla
"Grrrrrrrr..." Layla skids to a stop, kicking up dust, after the skillful yet annoying pervert manages to handily block pretty much every one of her hits including the last. However much of a small victory it was for her to be able to send him skidding back with the force of her kick, it wasn't enough! Bones had yet to be broken yet, and that is never a good thing this far into the fight for her. "You haven't felt my strength yet! I'll break that last good arm!"
Jerking her whip back with a snap of her wrist and collecting it with an awaiting free hand, she almost starts to sneer as that money is thrown flippantly in her direction. Whatever he intended for that to be, it comes off as insulting. "You're really tryin' ta-..." she starts to say 'get hurt tonight, huh?', but instead catches sight of a flash of emerald green energy. "Shit, no!" She then leaps back, drawing back a foot, and attempts to kick a broken scrap of metal in the way of that familiar attack. This was the attack that finished her last time!
Some of the playing cards are, indeed, stopped but at least one still manages to nail her and the explosion that ensues sends her sailing backward across the yard! Another roar of excitement ensues from that gathered crowd, one of the men standing around even attempting to strike Roland on the back in a 'friendly' manner. That old giant wearing forest camos and an aviator's cap, Freddie, however seems content to quietly lean against an unlit oildrum and light up a cigarette in complete silence.
"Nnngh..." Once again, the street thug finds herself picking her own body up off the ground. Twice down already and not a single clean hit. So far, this was worse than last time. "Damn it...!" she curses, slamming a gloved fist into the dusty soil before clambering to her feet and staring at him with bleary vision. "...This ain't going well."
"C'mon... I'm just putting on a bit of a show for the guys. You're a good looking lady. Nothing to be ashamed about." Roland makes a kissy-face before adjusting his hat, uncaring of any additional damage that his cards might have inflicted to Layla or her hapless wardrobe. Of course, there's not any sense of being particularly lascivious about the whole thing. No lustful expression or dirty expressions, the same thoroughly punchable expression he wears in any mundane situation. Pulling out another card, his thumb flicks down the edge, causing it to shine green. He then darts forward, bobbing left and right before beginning to slash heavily at Layla's midsection, although a last snap of the card aims to sever her belt in two places. Yet this is merely a feint, as his true assault comes after -- a brutal rising elbow towards her face, as a swooping leg attempts to hook behind her ankles and then hurl her bodily towards the ground yet again! Maybe he likes seeing people stand up a lot.
COMBATSYS: Layla blocks Roland's Sleight of Hand.
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Roland 1/--=====/=======|=======\=------\1 Layla
Her caramel-skinned face flushes with blood a bit at his words, and she's so stupefied by the remark she just stumbles over her own, "Y-yeah... whatever!". She felt a mix of embarassment, red hot anger, and perhaps something else. She knew his flirting was probably just soulless, twisted, fun, but that didn't make it any less foreign. Few men ever DARED to make a pass at her, and for good reason.
Her wardrobe, the top half of which might legitimately fall off if damaged anymore than it is, looked positively awful right now burnt and shredded as it was. After that last blast, her jeans had even acquired some tears in the thighs and along the legs. Also, the left arm had been thoroughly blown off. Now both of her unfemininely strong arms were bare. And it's these sturdy-looking arms she brings to bear as he swings that energy-infused card wildly at her midsection. He manages to add a scant few tears to her remaining shirt, but most of the attack is absorbed by those tough arms. The cutting edge of those cards /does/ lacerate her flesh a bit in several places, drawin blood, but the cuts are skin deep. She was just too tough for that to cut clean through the first go.
The elbow, too, is absorbed by her arms and when the sweep comes... she does fall, but surprisingly... she rolls with it and launches herself back up off the ground at him immediately. "I'm gonna get you.... EVENTUALLY! And when I do..." she drops off, as she nears him again, launching two speedy kicks intent on putting him on the defensive. Still gripping that chain in her right, she then attempts to roll on her feet into his territory and wrap that chain around his neck if she can. If she succeeds, she'll then pull it tight and attempt to strangle him infront of god and everybody with every ounce of her almost inhuman strength! "Rrrrrgh!!!"
COMBATSYS: Layla successfully hits Roland with Blackout.
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Roland 1/--=====/=======|=------\-------\0 Layla
The first kick swiftly catches Roland in the ribs. He doubles over, blood spattering through clenched teeth. Damn... he thought he had her yet again, and she thoroughly capitalized on his opening in the aftermath. Wearing a newly cracked rib, he's too out of breath to try and stagger away properly, and the chain wraps about his throat. Twisting away, he's then lifted up to his tiptoes, grasping at it uselessly as many "Gack!" and "Grkrk!" noises leave him. The crowd probably loves it, and for a couple seconds it seems that it might be the end of the fight if her hold isn't relinquished. But Roland's not so easily defeated! There's still one maneuver he can do from here... Loosening suddenly, he redoubles the grip on the chain. "Rrlrlrland..." And then he twists, launching both booted feet straight up, twisting as best he can. Showing an inhuman flexibility, as he tries to /slam/ into Layla's chin, or at the very least force her to let go. "RCKCKCKET!"
COMBATSYS: Roland successfully hits Layla with Roland Rocket.
- Power hit! -
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Roland 1/--=====/=======|==-----\-------\0 Layla
The crowd of ne'er do wells' hollering and shouting increases in volume as Layla finally puts the squeeze on Roland, and what a brutal squeeze it is! She's gorwling like a feral animal through gritted teeth and strangling him relentlessly with all of her strength! Oil drum banging ensues, even the dull thud of banging against the trains comes, and 'Freddie' exhales a cloud of choking grey smoke slowly as he watches the spectacle with that same analytical eye he had trained on Roland before. "Hmm... ~"
But, for all of her rage-fueled strength, she just can't keep a cowboy down! That twisting boot strike comes, and it nails her clean in the face... nearly breaking her nose and causing her to loosen the grip of thast chain and stumble backward! "Pfftmph....!" She spits consonants, as blood oozes from a nostril. "God damn, how did you do THAT??"
Well, that didn't matter too much now. She had to keep up her offense. And keep up her offense she does, darting right back toward him again and throwing a whirling roundhouse kick with a snakeskin boot aimed directly at his midsection!
COMBATSYS: Roland blocks Layla's Gut Buster.
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Roland 1/--=====/=======|==-----\-------\0 Layla
Landing nimbly in a crouch, rubbing at the new bruise running around his neck, Roland can't help but wonder how many people have wanted to just throttle the life out of him like that. Quite a few, but Layla's the first to manage. More unpleasant then he feared. His forearm raises once more, twisting back to face Layla and catching her ankle with a forearm. There's a heavy *THUMP*, but he manages to stop it just shy of impacting him in the body. Before pushing up, trying to get her off-balance. "Enough hitting me... time to end this in a flash!!" Beginning to lightly shine with green enegy, Roland then pulls out three playing cards, focusing intently for a moment. Before launching forward, moving in a blur of bolstered reflexes. An onslaught of lacerating, burning slashes is levied at Layla's stomach and thighs, before zooming into an elbow towards her midsection... and then twisting to fling all three cards point-blank into her abdomen, while snarling and making to hurl the other fighter away just as they explode!!
COMBATSYS: Roland successfully hits Layla with Jackpot!.
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Roland 0/-------/-----==|=======\-------\1 Layla
Another feral growl rises from Layla's throat as her booted foot is stopped cold by a strong arm. Just as few people could readily throttle him, so too could comparitively few men or women come away from a solid kick from Layla without atleast a fractured limb. "You're really startin' ta piss me off cowboy...!" Actually, that was a total mistatement. He'd pissed her off quite a few times, now and in the past. It didn't change much between them, really.
She attempts to jerk her leg out of his grip, soon after, but fails to do so in time. In fact, her struggle only seems to aid him in throwing her off kilter! No sooner does she begin to wobble from that, and he's charging her with those dangerous energy-infused playing cards like a nimble cat looking to sink its teeth into its prey's neck and finish it. And sink something he does, but it isn't teeth! More lacerations open up everywhere and more of her clothing sheds, one cut in particular shredding her shirt in such a way that the swell of caramel-colored flesh can be seen from beneath it, and finally the elbow impacts her followed shortly by cards and yet another explosion of chi. It sends her sprawling, skidding through the dirt, before finally coming to a stop with a pained groan.
By now, she looked liked she'd been hit by a train and then run over by a lawnmower. Her clothes were so shredded it did almost nothing to hide the curves of brown flesh beneath. Bruised and bleeding, she should probably give up right now. A sane person would, after all...
But Layla is not a sane person.
Pushing herself up AGAIN, albeit weakly, she mutters "...gonna kill you for that..." and clambers to her feet in one last show of defiance. She's lost that whip, somewhere, but she's still gonna try and bring him down. Perhaps only through sheer force of will, she immediately charges him again with possibly the last of her energy and throws a shoulder check toward him follow by a hard right aimed at his face. If either of these succeeds, she'll then throw one last whirling kick toward his midsection and then possibly fall down for the last time...
COMBATSYS: Layla has reached second wind!
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Roland 0/-------/-----==|-------\-------\0 Layla
COMBATSYS: Layla successfully hits Roland with Reckless Charge.
- Power hit! -
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Roland 0/-------/-----==|-------\-------\0 Layla
Being strangled has proven to be more effective then Roland would like to admit. With his legs somewhat numb from the damnable chainthrottling, he devoted all of his power to bringing Layla to heel. Panting heavily, leaning forward with a forearm resting on a thigh, he silently begs for Layla to just stay down. It'd be a clean win he could brag about, after all. But when she lunges forward, a hand tries to halt her. "H-Hey, just... stay down, like you'll hit me with something like th--" And then she slams into him with a shoulder check. Wincing, if it stopped there he probably would have been fine. The blow to his face turns him completely around, a 360 degree stagger that sets him up for the roundhouse to send him flying like some limp, broken doll. He *slams* into the side of a train, denting the metal exterior before dropping down. No attempt to catch himself is made; it's like a corpse just kind of thumps down. Only after a few moments does he twitch, blind hand groping madly before finding the edge of an oil can. He still only manages to get back to a kneel, however... Layla can no longer claim he's less hurt then she is. Maybe she went a little overboard. She even knocked the /sass/ out of the poor guy. The announcer isn't even quite sure if it's already over or not! "Ow." he finally manages, spitting blood to the side. Taking the lid from the oilcan, revealing the enticing smell of a roast turkey within, he suddenly whirls, and sends the spinning disc hurtling in Layla's direction with a loud growl of effort. "Just... stay DOWN!!"
COMBATSYS: Layla endures Roland's Large Thrown Object.
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Roland 0/-------/-----==|==-----\-------\0 Layla
Layla feels her boot make solid contact with all of her furious power behind it, and it's an attack that does almost way more damage than even she had expected it to. When his body hits the train side with a hollow, resonant, *THOOOOOOnnnggg...* sound, and makes a dent... there's a twinge of guilt in her scarred features seeing him collapse to the ground like a corpse. But it isn't enough to stop her from advancing on him again, given how much he's annoyed her tonight. "I told you..." she breathes, stumbling toward him, "...I told you... if you didn't take this fight seriously, I'd be put you in the hospital this time!" Seriously though, at this rate, they're both probably going to wind up in the hospital!
Her advancement comes to a grinding halt, however, as she sees him clamber to his feet and reach for that heavy oilcan lid. An almost laughter comes from a bunch of boys nearest her, probably figuring this would be it for this chick. "Shit...", she mutters, earthen eyes narrowing as she steels herself to try and resist it or redirect it somehow. It's the only thing she can do really at the moment.
..And resist it is exactly what she ends up doing, just those arms hardened by dozens of battles close to her frame and just taking the hit dead-on. It's a hit that probably would have killed a lesser person, or totally fucked them up, but for the woman who has been hit by men with the strength of an ox before... it just fractures her arms, and sends her skidding again. When it drops to the ground, loudly, with a clang she's in TREMENDOUS pain but she is still standing!
Afterward, she just lets those seriously damaged arms dangle and charges him again for one last assault with all of the energy she has left. Given that her arms are now completely messed and she couldn't hold her whip, fuck if she can find it besides, she decides to try to use one of her staple moves anyway and improvise with her legs. As she approaces him from the front, she kicks off of the dusty ground and hurls herself into the air in such a way as to give her body a bit of a spin. From there, she whirls in the air and swings a single, HARD, drop kick downward hoping to plant her boot somewhere firmly above his shoulders!
COMBATSYS: Layla successfully hits Roland with Spiral Slam.
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Roland 0/-------/-----==|===----\-------\0 Layla
"Fuck off..." Roland states, panting heavily. "I kicked your taut little ass until you were coughing up blood... the fuck makes you think that wasn't serious?!" Although admittedly it's hard to tell the cowboy's state of mind given his perfect poker face, the results do imply something. Sadly, he wasn't acting about being badly wounded. There's not much he can do about her descending kick other then complain loudly, which is precisely what he does. The blow cracks into his shoulders, driving him down to hand and knee, with a horrible sound like something important broke somewhere inside him. "...!!" But fingers clench, and emerald energy erupts out wildly this time, rather then the normally careful and methodical amount he normally showcases. "HRRRAAUGH!!" Kicking forward, a playing card in hand, he lashes out in three quick, violent strikes at Layla's midsection, before attempting to sink it into her stomach and explosively hurl her away... just as he teeters forward and kerthumps on the train tracks, under a listlessly filling pool of blood. Well, this is probably a good deal more violent then the spectators thought going in. The nudity level's about normal, though.
COMBATSYS: Roland can no longer fight.
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Layla 0/-------/----===|
COMBATSYS: Roland successfully hits Layla with Three Card Monte.
[ <
Layla 0/-------/-======|
Layla says, "Shush you. I wanted it this way."
There's a sickening crack as Layla's heel sinks into his shoulders area, her face twisting into as frown as she feels his body give way more than she'd really intended for it to. Had she hit him any harder, perhaps she would have killed him or at least seriously threatened his life. Despite having beaten many people to a pulp in her lifetime, she has only ever killed one man. She didn't want any part of that again.
Her boots hit the dusty soil again practically at the same time he collapses to one knee. She doesn't so much land as stumble, however, almost threatening to fall on top of him. Too bad for him that she didn't... or perhaps, too bad for her. Because her leaning directly over him gives him a perfect, easy to hit, target! There's an emerald eruption of energy from his hand, and following that those familiar steel playing cards sink into her fleshy stomach viciously before sending her flying backward in a spray of blood and violent green chi. She flies half-way across the tranyard, smashing into a pair of oildrums near Freddie, and then the darkness consumes her as her blood too begins to stain the ground.
Freddie watches the entire thing with the cold, impassive, stare of a trained killer... removing his lit cigarette from his mouth and exhaling again. Completely and utterly callous.
"Alright boys... let's clean up the bodies huh...", he says amidst a background rowdy cheering. "Fuckin' disappointing fight here."
COMBATSYS: Layla takes no action.
COMBATSYS: Layla can no longer fight.
Log created on 21:47:22 05/16/2013 by Layla, and last modified on 04:53:31 05/18/2013.