Description: The 'Lee's Beachtime Bonanza' tournament kicks off with a bang as Rick and Eagle meet up on Imperial Beach to have a gentlemanly fight. Eagle is dressed to impress, but can he handle the wild Southpaw or is Rick truely losing his punch mojo like the Doctor's warned? (Winner: Eagle)
Once upon a time a man was told not to punch things ever again if he cared about his health. The man took such a comment to heart he followed up that conversation by punching some strange woman that looked like a blind Kate Moss and then headbutted her to make her flee out the window. The result was going to another hospital to get patched up after the fight and was once again told he should never punch again. He really took it to heart this time....pffhahaha yeah right. He was out maybe a day before he found out about some tournament involving beaches and he was possibly one of the first people to make the proper contacts to get himself entered.
It was a quick stop home to give the wife another farewell kiss along with a promise not to kidnap Rust and bring him along before Rick was off traveling again. The destination this time around would be Imperial Beach where he was told he would meet his opponent. He made sure to arrive plenty early to enjoy himself before the fight as well. He even went a whole two days without punching something!
The time to fight is quickly creeping up and the Native American looks prepared. His hair is all braided and pulled into a ponytail, his shirt is off and the warpaint is on his chest, back and face. He is only wearing his usual white jeans and fingerless gloves at the moment and the paint is already starting to look like it is running from the heat. Maybe he should have waited a bit to apply it. The best he can do is stand under a large umbrella as he taps his foot and listens to his casette walkman. Yes, he is still trapped in simpler times. "Tuuuuurn up the RAAAADIO! I want the music. Give me some mooooore! o/`"
Of course, the Imperial Beach was befitting for his opponent.
"Oh, yes, well the suspenders are what I think really tie it together." Was the answer from the blonde-haired, well-groomed man with the mustache as he speaks into the microphone. Looking into the camera, the sharp-dressed man, groomed in a white button-down shirt, suspenders, black slacks, and a bit red ascot, clutches a batas in each hand. "They may not look like much, but at 200 American apiece? Let me tell you love, it's like I am not even wearing them. As for the last bit of clothing, well." The man gives a quick wink to the camera.
"I'll save that one as a surprise."
Walking away from the interview, Eagle spins his batas around with his hands, striding across the sands in his loafers. Approaching the umbrella, he scowls at his opponent. "What a lot of rubbish." He mutters derisively. Standing next to Rick, he puts his knuckles on his hips, tapping his foot for a moment.... before rolling his eyes, snapping his batas together over Rick's head.
"Would you stop that blasted racket and pay attention?"
There is no good reason Rick would even think the well dressed man would be his opponent. Rick saw him earlier and just thought he was the announcer. They love dressing up like that. That is why he is just grooving along to the music playing over the walkman until Eagle finally has enough and the crack of the sticks hitting together does finally garner the attention of the Native American. "Eh?" he asks and he hits the stop button. "Autograph is not racket." he says and he shakes his head while removing the walkman so it won't get damaged.
After setting it aside he sizes up Eagle and he looks half amused and half confused as he rubs at his chin. "You realize we are at a beach? I mean you look more ready for the Price is Right, Mr. Carey." It was meant as a joke, but he fails to realize that Eagle isn't much of a joker. The outfit should be proof enough that he is more on the serious side. He gives a shrug. "Ahh well. As long as you are here to fight."
He stretches lazily and his back pops a few times before he settles back down flat footed and he adjusts the fingerless gloves he is wearing. "Well glad you are here either way. This paint is a pain to reapply and it was taking a serious hit from all the waiting." He steps back and he hops from foot to foot and he then extends a fist outwards as if expecting to Eagle actually to give him a proper fist bump. "Name's Rick Strowd if you didn't know. Are you ready to rock?" he asks and gives a rather cheeky grin. The way he is hopping about he looks to have energy. That or the hot sand is too much for his bare feet.
"Don't sass me, love!" % R
Eagle taps his foot impatiently, tucking his batas in the crooks of his sides, crossing his arms. As Rick rises up, he doesn't stop spitting poison. "And when it's a racket, I'll call it that! Autograph is the fast food drippings-soaked napkin of glam rock. California handles metal like the the French handle war; full of bluster, but a pale imitation to her royal military."
Oh no he didn't.
Striding across the sands, the judge and the cameramen step it up, surrounding the pair. As Rick introduces himself, the man lightly responds, whirling his batas at his finger tips."Names Eagle! I'm a bouncer by trade, lover by sport." The bata-wielder gives a cocky wink, before stepping back a bit.
"Don't know if I am working or playing right now, though!"
Adjusting his suspenders, he looks at the crowd around the pair of them.... and repositions in a semi-circle, 10 feet away. "Just a second, we need to let the camera people get in place. We don't want the people at home to miss the show, right love?" The brit pauses a moment, catching his batas as he narrows his eyes at Rick. "You do look familiar though... You wouldn't happen to know a soldier friend of mine? Alex? Bah, nevermind." He shrugs, as he shakes his batas towards himself.
"Come on love, before I get old!"
COMBATSYS: Eagle has started a fight here.
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Eagle 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Eagle rests a hand on his hip while twirling an escrima, beckoning for the opponent to make a move.
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Eagle 0/-------/-------|
Dressed like a tool while on the beach. Doesn't like good music. Keeps calling Rick love. There is something fishy about this guy. "Hey, question. Scissor Sisters?" he eyes Eagle dubiously and actually doesn't look too flustered by the trash talk. "I mean not that I care or anything. It is your choice and all." What the hell is he talking about?
His babbling is interrupted when he is asked the question about Alex and he raises a brow. "I don't...think so?" He has heard of some big dude named Alex that fights, but can't really put a face with the name. "I travel a lot and meet tons of people. Don't remember any soldier types."
The exchanged banter is enough time to allow the camera people to get into position and Rick even started to let his guard down for a moment until Eagle snaps him back into fight mode by motioning for the southpaw to come at him. "Eh? Oh! Yeah, lets do this!" Wait, the guy didn't even give him a fist bump. How can this be a proper fight without one of those? Must be a British thing. Rick clenches his fists and he moves in, his movements quick and fluid as he starts off coming in with a quick right jab as a distraction so he can try and land a powerful straight to the sternum with his left. "Hup!"
COMBATSYS: Rick has joined the fight here.
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Eagle 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Rick
COMBATSYS: Eagle dodges Rick's Medium Punch.
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Eagle 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Rick
"They're alright."
That's the response as Rick comes roaring in. The Escrima sticks cease their spinning as Eagle suddenly swamps in. The brit brings in only one of the sticks out, deftly parrying the boxer's arm. But the second stick comes roaring in.. and snaps against the first stick, unleashing a loud clack as the momentum is stopped cold. Eagle takes the momentum to whirl around Rick, moving right to his flank behind him....
And brings his sticks back over his head for another clack.
"I can't lie and say I wasn't a fan of their first album, but after what they did to Floyd, ugh." Eagle continues, whipping his sticks around in a fierce windmill fashion. "Are you sure I don't know you? Maybe you know Victor; you got any friends named Victor in law enforcement, love? Wait, no, you look like you'd be in construction. Does David ring any bells!" Eagle breaks the windmill with another clack of the sticks.
And then he begins to spin.
Stepping into Rick's flank, he pivots, whirling around swiftly like a gear in a clock. Sticks around, he gives one smash, and then a second, attempting to clothesline Rick with the buffet of both sticks. The weapons whistle as they snap through the air; for all of Eagle's flash and flameboyence, he was clearly not all talk. If Rick didn't get his guard up soon;
Then he would be smashed in by someone who hates Autograph.
COMBATSYS: Rick blocks Eagle's Fierce Strike.
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Eagle 0/-------/-------|===----\-------\0 Rick
If the man was all talk and nothing else Rick would admittedly be disappointed in all of this. The trash talk and the posturing are good at all, but in the end it is good when someone can back things up. It is less satisfying when all it takes is a quick right cross or the like to take down a trash talking punk on the streets. "Fair enough. Just curious." He doesn't press the matter. The fight has started now and he is more focused on Eagle's movements rather than what he has to say.
A good thing given that Eagle is just as quick on the attack as he is at getting out of the way from Rick's initial attack. He manages to shift his stance and bring up a forearm to take the brunt of the blows and he lets out a grunt in doing so. "Eh, pretty strong. Not bad at all." he comments as he gives that arm a shake to try and get the numbness out of it.
Eagle has a reach advantage with the sticks, but it doesn't seem like it intimidates Rick too much. He is keeping close and letting his footwork try and serve as a distraction in hopes of creating an opening. He darts inwards once more as he looks to actually plant his left elbow into the chest of Eagle then a quick snap of the arm to let the hand try to plant right into Eagle's mush.
It's a good thing Rick isn't getting dazzled, too.
As Eagle hammers away upon the limbs of the boxer, he just keeps talking. "How about a biker? Do you hang around biker bars? I've done a few bouncing gigs there; that and those American Cowboy bars. Maybe you've done some work there, love?" He asks bluntly, as he whips around Rick, constantly moving.
But the elbow comes.
The elbow does, in fact, break through the man's guard. Hitting him firmly in the chest, Eagle lets out grunt. "Oh damnation and spite!" He mutters as he crosses the sticks over Rick's arm. As the upper comes, the Brit stops the followthrough cold. A sneer of disgust comes over the Escrima fighter's face, as he pushes back, his mutterings boiling out loud.
"Blasted boxers."
The man rumbles angrily as he dives back in, sticks whirling. "I can't think of anything more undignified than boxing. If I wanted to learn the art of pounding people professionally with my fists, I'd hang around the alleyways of West London, that's what!" The man seethes as he clacks his sticks straight towards Rick's exposed check. No extra clicking this time.
Just a flat buffet with them.
COMBATSYS: Eagle blocks Rick's Chopping Right.
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Eagle 0/-------/------=|===----\-------\0 Rick
COMBATSYS: Eagle successfully hits Rick with Medium Strike.
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Eagle 0/-------/------=|======-\-------\0 Rick
Slowly it seems Rick might be figuring out how to get in and land a strike against Eagle. This time he managed to move fast enough to keep the Brit from moving quickly. "Didn't your people invent the sport? Queensbury rules and all that?" he asks before he finds himself trying to hop back and avoid the strike. He ends up being a bit too slow himself and a the sticks slam against his chest and smear the warpaint he has on. Rick staggers back and manages to keep himself upright, but it does create a bit of distance between the two fighters.
"Also isn't there that Dudley guy? He seems like a good arguement to your statement." The man is dapper enough to drink tea with his GLOVES ON. "Tch, anyways...." he trails off and tries to get his mind on the fight again. He will have to be a bit more careful because damned if that hit didn't hurt. His chest is already rather red and welted from where he was struck.
Maybe he needs to rely on speed more than power in this case. Eagle seems to be a rather quick one himself and it might be more of a smart move to just wear him down with quick strikes instead of attempting to overpowering the Brit. The Native American ducks in and sways about, feinting left then right before he finally looks to pop Eagle in the jaw with a quick right in hopes that he catches Eagle by surprise.
COMBATSYS: Eagle dodges Rick's Light Punch.
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Eagle 0/-------/------=|======-\-------\0 Rick
"Your people invented Jefferson Starship but you don't see me hanging that around your blasted neck!"
Eagle can't help but sound irate over the whole matter. Pounding his sticks upon the chest of the boxer, he withdraws quickly, giving a swift crack of the sticks over his head. "And please, Dudley? Blasted, haughty oaf, with the brains of a leg of mutton! He has class, but no real style!" As the speedy bob and weave comes, however, the Brit seems utterly exasperated.
"Not that you could see what style is!"
The sticks whirr around, meeting the weaving with a windmill defense. As the right comes, he looks ready. Much like the punch before, he only brings one stick to block, letting the other rattle upon it with a crack. Bouncing it off, he brings it up for another crack upon the stick. The third crack, however, is aimed squarely for the top of Rick's skull. Should he catch the boxer with the swift buffet, he will exploit the opportunity for a stun with a sweep of his other stick, straight for the mans knees. He will hook him at the joints, and trip him squares, hurling him straight for the sand.
And with a good kick in the tush for good measure.
COMBATSYS: Eagle successfully hits Rick with Head Cracker.
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Eagle 0/-------/---====|=======\==-----\1 Rick
Rick is starting to wonder what sort of magical land that Eagle lives in because it certainly isn't the same one Rick knows. The Native American has even been to England and can't remember running into too many types like this if even any at all. He was kinda plastered a good chunk of that journey so he can't be relied on to remember EVERYTHING. "Hey, are we back on music? If you wanna go that route I have one band that you can have back for good. Dragonforce."
He is just playing into Eagle's clutches at this point. He is concentrating more on the words and less on the sticks that the Brit is wielding. He will have to learn soon before it is too late because he just finds himself getting hit right on the head with enough force it dazes him momentarily and leaves him a victim of being tossed to the ground and then kicked away. He gets a nice face full of sand that he wipes away while slowly getting up to his knees at first. "Hnng...." The blow to the head busted him open and some blood trickles down over his face while he finds it hard to regain his focus. He is a bit shakey getting up. "Style is overrated..." he mumbles with a bit of a slurr. It looks like he got knocked silly, but not enough to keep him down.
That is when he clenches a fist and he staggers forward a step. The motion makes it look like he is giving a good old left straight, but he must have really been knocked silly because Eagle is much too far for it to hit. It is about mid motion though when his hand ignites in a firey orange coloration of energy that explodes outwards and looks to blast Eagle right the hell away.
COMBATSYS: Eagle reflects Gaia Breath from Rick with St. Andrew Green.
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Eagle 0/-------/--=====|=------\-------\0 Rick
It was just like football.
Sending Rick through the sand and into the imaginary goal, Eagle twirls his sticks between his fingers, keeping back as he lets Rick get back on his feet. His England, well, was his England. "I'll trade you Madonna for Dragonforce any day, love, and take your time! I'm in no hurry here." He sighs, glancing across the ways to the boxer. Of course, as Rick mumbles, the spinning stops, the brit gripping the sticks tight.
"Style is -NOT- overrated, you pig!"
The man is already advancing on the rising Rick, a fresh new outrage having overtaken him. There was no spinning this time, as he pumps his arms with every step. As Rick begins to wind back a punch so far away, Eagle swings back his arms in a quick stretch, staring down the line. He could see it coming a mile away. "But I'm not all about music; I got other hobbies."
"Take golf, for example."
Continuing his advance, Eagle brings his hands together, putting the sticks parallel to each other. "You know, I think white jeans are just tacky on you, love." The man begins as the blast of energy is hurled out. Turning to the side a bit, he brings both sticks back in a wind-up, in what seems like a mock-up a golf swing, of all things. "So how about we do myself a favor, and see what's underneath; what really counts!" As the blast comes, Eagle shifts his footwork, slamming the sticks harshly against the chi blast, knocking it not just back to Rick... but right for his pants.
"Foooore!"
COMBATSYS: Eagle successfully hits Rick with Reflected Gaia Breath.
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Eagle 0/-------/--=====|======-\-------\0 Rick
%"Golf is Scottish. Stop stealing." That is about about Rick gets out before he finds his own blast of energy sent back his way. It happens so quickly there isn't even a hint or twitch of movement looking as if he expected that to happen and an attempt to stop or get out of the way could be made. The blast hits him head out in the chest and then there is an explosion that sends sand flying in all directions and Rick flying back in another direction.
Most of the warpaint on his face and chest was burned off from the blast and smoke is coming off his body. The white jeans are charred and tattered in spots as he just lays there looking skyward. He remains there for a few moments trying to collect his thoughts on top of trying to make his body move as he shifts here and there and almost gets sat up before slumping back down.
He raises a hand and gives a bit of a thumbs up. "M'good...." he mumbles before the arm drops back into the sand and he remains grounded long enough that the official overseeing things calls the match and points to Eagle to signal he has won. "Can I get my earphones?" he sort of snaps his fingers at the request and the girl he handed him to trots over in all her bikini glory and hands them off. At least he has his tunes.
COMBATSYS: Rick takes no action.
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Eagle 0/-------/--=====|======-\-------\0 Rick
"And there is no country of Scotland, those are just Englishmen in dresses !"
"Not that there is anything wrong with that, am I right?" Eagle lets the fallout of the reflected projectile speak for itself, shielding his eyes with a stick. He pumps a fist as it blows open Rick's pants, giving a playful wink straight for the camera. "Ah, hole in one, that's good eh!" As Rick lays there, Eagle scoffs a bit. "Oh lord, I hope that didn't blow your brains clear out! Come on love, give us a sign!" The thumbs up comes.... but the stand doesn't. The judge calls it for Eagle...
And Eagle Wins.
"So that's it then!" He sighs passively, tucking his sticks into the belt of his pants. As the lady runs out to help Rick out, he just rolls his eyes at the bikini'd bimbo. "Aw, is that's all? I was hoping to take a peek at your swimsuit, love?" Eagle gives him a wink, as he walks over to the boxer, hands on his hips. "Don't tell me you went commando."
And extends a hand to help him up.
"Right you are, lets get you off the ground then. I owe you at least that for the proper thrashing." The tone of voice is softer now, a great deal kinder, more sincere. After all, once you got past the showboating, he was a bit proper. Or maybe, only outwardly. A twinkle comes in his eye, as a rakish grin overtakes his face. "Tell you what; how about I make it up to you; I am sure there's a pub around here. I'll take you out to one, my treat."
"How about I buy you a few drinks?"
Rick is still there on the ground with the walkman resting on his chest. If Eagle was hoping the man was commando he might be disappointed in the fact there seems to be swim trunks on under the tattered pants he still wears. It isn't like Rick is an Ikari afterall. "Ehn, been a long month is all." All this doctor talk must have gotten to him. That has to be it. He really isn't losing his punch magic, is he?
He finally reaches up and accepts the offered hand and he cradles the walkman with his other arm as he slowly gets up. The device gets clipped onto a pocket and headphones are brought up to rest around his neck. "But I gotta give it to ya. Yer tough enough to get away with being dressed like that." He grins while bringing and arm up to wipe at the blood and sand still on the face. The blast he took at least seemed to cauterize the would on his head.
"A few drinks?" Eagle may not realize just what he is getting himself into. It is less that Rick can handle a good amount of booze, but Eagle might make a friend of the Native American and to many that often can become a bad thing. "Hey, why not? I think I saw this place the other day that looked pretty good. I bet they got some bitchin' stuff." Hey, his thoughts of winning this thing and seeing a few cute girls in their bikinis might have been dashed, but he is getting some booze out of the deal.
If Eagle was making a friend, he might be expecting benefits too.
Looking over the swimtrunks, Eagle is appeased, though how is left unsaid. "Well, when you've thumped as many drunks like I have, you are bound to have something to show for it." As Rick is easily lured by the promise of free drinks, Eagle throws a friendly hand over his shoulder. To keep him upright. As friends do, of course. "You lead the way, and don't worry about the price; you can just help yourself." Eagle gives a wink to the camera people, as the pair begins to head off.
"Of course, don't mind if I toss a few with you, myself!"
Log created on 21:54:22 06/09/2013 by Rick, and last modified on 12:35:23 06/10/2013.