Description: Igniz, interested in Magaki, seeks out Rust -- whom he knows faced the strange invader. However, in the process of analysis, the unique properties of the elderly fighter lead him to get... distracted.
Some time after ensuring the YFCC will have clean air for the refugees stuck there...
Something finally came through on the cellphone. A text from Robert. Something about Marco's bear going missing. One Howard Rust, already sore in his legs from an earlier encounter with the bizarre but dangerous Magaki, and fuzzy in his lungs from the lingering ash in the air, is hesitant to have to go back outside and drive around anywhere that isn't straight to some shelter or another.
With great reluctance matched only by greater dutifulness to friends and co-workers, he sets off again eventually, wishing he thought ahead of time to have brought more than one gas mask in the previously unforeseeable instance of someone jumping on his truck hood and knocking it clean off. Instead, well... he's just going to have to tough it out.
It's not exactly easy for anyone out and about in Southtown or the neighboring geographical areas with a volcanic eruption to begin with.
After fruitlessly searching for the bear in the woods nearest to the Kyokugen Dojo, Howard drives off to the larger forests that seem to border Southtown and the rest of neighboring Japan, figuring if Marco's bear was going to run somewhere, well...
His search brings him to that forest clearing that has seen far more than its unassuming appearance may let on. How many people have met here, over the years? How much blood had been spilled in this field, in Southtown's history? How much has the peace been disrupted by a fairly steady stream of coughs as the sky turns black from smoke and ash?
Equipped with a middling flashlight whose batteries he probably should have thought to change while he was at the YFCC and the vague protest of his knees, one Howard Rust journeys into the clearing, one hand over his mouth in a futile attempt to keep the grime away from himself.
"...Friggin' owe me," he mutters the second half of a sentence, orphaned by a cough.
The first indication something is wrong is a strange, warm feeling in the air. It grows increasingly strong, thrumming in one's bones, oddly pleasant and almost soothing. Most people would probably equate such with an imminent alien abduction; yet this is chi, most certainly. Although of a sort thoroughly rare, to say the very least.
A sudden burst of pressure billows out. Dust and debris blows violently away, leaving the air relatively clean and pristine in contrast. A moment later, the rustle of detris as someone comes to land behind.
Immediately there's a sense of great weight, a bright shine of cerulean-silver light that flares like a beacon. Although there's no malice to it, Rust is liable to turn and face a smiling figure, attractive features clad within a high-class suit. It is likely hard to forget the face of such a dangerous man, head of a cartel that has caused amongst the worst atrocities this world has ever seen.
"Howard Rust." comes a voice surprisingly deep. Palms are raised upwards, arms to the side in a show of peace. Branches and grass pulse away in regular beats, each buffeting the fighter firmly. Feet don't quite touch the ground, hovering a scant inch above. At least there's no longer a need for a mask... small blessings, after all.
"Did you know... you are one of the most interesting men alive in this world?" His head tilts to the side, curious. The face of NESTS most would probably imagine to be like Vega, but there's a purity to his chi that seems to grant a strange charisma to Igniz...
The thrumming in one's bones is something that's hard to dismiss for the aging American man, a frown - even a wince - as he brings his free hand to rub at one of his knee--
A grunt of surprise sounds as... something, happens, to clear the space around him. The hand that was nursing one of his legs goes quickly to his scalp, as though priorities for his well being have suddenly been met with an urgent adjustment. Something flying overhead? He sure didn't hear any... jets, helicopters, motors, flatulent bears...
From the corner of his eye, that light - that had better have been a flatulent bear...!!
When his name is called, the light emitted from the flashlight points upwards towards Igniz's face, casting the well-chiseled, shapely, impeccably handsome face in a lightning not unlike that of a cheap shoestring budget horror film, or some kid's campfire ghost story.
It achieves the same exaggerated effect on the guy holding the flashlight himself as he takes a step back, recognizing the face almost on instinct, somewhere deep down in the bowels of his memories of a good five or so years ago...
A quick pained frown on his face probably tells all, more on the physical side of his reaction. A bit of weakness in one of his legs. It's very unlikely he could run away, if it came to it - not that he had great odds before, given how stiff his joints can get on him.
"That's... that's more... I keep getting... caught up in shit," his words straddle a strange line between dismissal, tension, and jest. Maybe it is more denial of what it is he's looking at, as the light points away from Igniz's face, the fingers of his right hand twitching - he seems clearly conflicted. Does he dare move to draw Ol' Rusty, is he going to rely on dumb luck that someone else might show up for no good reason, or...
"Calm down. I am not here to fight you." Igniz states, lifting his hands. "I come in peace." This really adds to the whole 'alien' feel of things. Indeed, there's something quite soothing about his permuting aura, seeming to suffuse the surroundings in a heavy, unseen air. Plants and rocks begin to lightly glow, and even the pain abates some as energizing aura conduits through him.
"I have always been an advocate for evolution. Yet you are one of the most interesting aberrations. Every species, I thought, had an inborn potential. A limiter, of what they could become with effort and training. Life is not fair in that way. The young girl, Makoto Rindou, trains until her knuckles bleed every day. And yet Kyo Kusanagi, the irreverent heir, surpasses her wildest dreams with a brush of talent..."
Igniz makes no move to approach, simply dropping his arms as framed silver hair swirls around his similar-colored suit. "But you. An old man of little talent... you broke past it. Are you aware of just how strong your will and body have become? Adversity. Willpower. Not only the desire to survive, but the potential to realize it. It is a recent conclusion, but a fruitful one. And you are the forefront of a natural example. Ah~ It would be beautiful to dissect you..."
For long moments Igniz is looking off into the distance with a dreamy expression, before returning back to Rust. "But the reason I come. You recently fought the individual coordinating this new tournament, am I correct? He is an interesting specimen. You have fought the likes of Vega more than once. Stood against the dark of this world. Jiro Kasagi is a useless insect, and I would be so reviled to look upon him that I would erase him, disregarding the fact he is too ignorant to understand what I will ask..."
Eyes shine lightly. "What do you think of this Magaki? Your instinct. Your experience. I respect you, as a King would respect the hardest working of peasants. If you satisfy me, Rust Howard, I will grant you due compensation. ...NESTS has been investigating the peculiarities going through the world right now. They are no coincidence. It is my intention to determine whether the timing of this conflict is one, as well..."
Is it possible for one to truly be calm in the presence of a self-styled God, who moves in such intriguing ways, holding such great power? Just about everything about Howard screams 'tense.' It also creaks 'tense.' It also mumbles 'tense.'
A string of nonsensical consonants are muttered under his breath as he seems to find some sort of comfort in his footing where it stands - where the supernatural calm and the ordinary stresses seem to meet half-way on the overall matter.
Throughout Igniz's lecture as to just how this man before him invites such interest, Howard is largely rooted to the spot, eyes still focused upon him. The unease can't quite be dispelled. Given the history between the two of them - albeit far briefer than perhaps a number of other people Igniz has deigned to associate with - it's not likely there will be a perfect calm in discussion between them.
The lowering of his right hand away from something that suggests the beginnings of aggression might be as close as it gets.
He shakes his head slightly at mention of dissecting, thinking to take another step back. Maybe he's thinking of walking away while he might have a ghost of a chance. One of his knees pop slightly in what should be agreement, but the very act of popping brings another brief, passing ache. That knee will never make up its mind.
"Y-Yeah," he clears his throat, repeating himself a second time under the thought his response might've been lost to the remaining dust that has invaded his lungs, "yeah." All this stated in such a way he runs the risk of interrupting him before he can ask his full question as the awe-inspiring master of NESTS moves to ask him something in more detail that warrants more than a 'y-yeah... yeah.'
It is there that there is, suddenly, some sort of understanding with the slight opening of this mouth. A thought he thinks better of voicing aloud - the circumstances that have probably led to this moment, other than that of Marco's damn bear going on a damn walk, in the middle of a damn crisis, out in the damn dirty ash-strewn air.
The man presses his lips together, arms slack, other than flicking at the switch of the flashlight a few times to turn it off. If the meaning of this is exactly what he thinks it is... there's no reason to lie to him, or to hold anything back.
Well, he could hold back choice words about five years ago, but other than that...
"That's... that's the name of that guy, then." Howard confirms - he's hoping he means the third guy who jumped on the hood of his truck that drive, and not the first two. The one who was so insistent about some tournament, qualifying... he lowers his head briefly from the shine of Igniz's eyes, right hand going up to his forehead.
"Dangerous... that's... that's a, as good a single word I could give. I, I felt his punch," kind of after the fact when he cognized he was being punched, "the way he, he grabbed me... flung me into, ah, the ground... caught me on my knees," voice indicative of regret? That might explain why he seems so... weak there, currently. "The way he moved, it's... when you, you move your arm like this," he waves his right arm up and down, one of his shoulders popping, "it's, it's like... he's doing... that, but then, not," he waves his right arm at a much, much narrower range of movement, "almost like he's... he's skipping, that part. N-Not... going faster, I mean... really. Skipping that."
Facing back up to Igniz - an act that takes no shortrage of courage for him to do, given how vividly he remembers that man's visage in times of great stress and duress, even with the peaceful aura, he nods his head once again. "Y'know, I... I've also seen people do stuff with... chi, and," he whirls his hand around, "how it all, all just... clashes," he gestures with his hand against the flashlight, "but then this guy, look - you, you probably got more, uh, descriptive names for, for what I'm saying, but... but all I can say is, I'd never..."
He points the flashlight upward, against a tree, turning it back on. "Never... seen a guy just... see that light? There. Like he... crumpled the light, in the air. Without... touching it. Willing it. Like it all got, got caught in his grasp... just... didn't just throw it back, like," like what Igniz himself might have done with others' chi or psi attacks. A man of this experience wouldn't describe a rote, ordinary (well, comparatively ordinary) energy redirection technique in this such romanticized detail.
"Twisted it," he gestures with his free hand, "clean... none of, none of his own chi touched it... and it just, turned around. Like that. I'd... I'd never seen anything like it. It's..."
Keeping in mind Igniz's thoughts about Jiro, maybe it's not a good idea, he thinks, to let on that this was originally Jiro's observation, while Rust himself was at the time more occupied with thoughts of driving Magaki off so they could hurry to the YFCC and make sure it'd have clean air.
"That, and, and the strength he got, I'd," Jiro would say, he tastefully leaves out, "I'd say... he wasn't human," he says as he turns off the flashlight, "and yet, he... he made it clear he, uh, well, wanted us for... something. Claimed 'bout the, the 'people of this world' needing us," which is probably true, "wanted us to, to come to... some place which... time... forgot...?"
He winces... and then shrugs, as much an indicator as if to say 'your guess is as good as mine.'
"Yes. Magaki is not someone new, in particular, but had been very quiet. They raised no alarm bells of any sort to me. But the idea that they might be an accomplished combatant is another matter entirely." Igniz offers, seeming to be fully distracted from the idea of stealing Rust away in order to tear from his flesh the secrets of how a man well past his prime ascended to becoming one of the more powerful individuals alive in the entire world. For now, anyway. Hopefully it will stick.
But the description causes a small frown, and for the first time, interest. That interest... makes the pressure felt infinitely higher. As if an idle gaze from a magnifying glass was now focusing the entire sun, the full weight of the aspiring God's perception is focused keen as any laser on Rust. Each word heard, weighed, dissected.
"I see." Igniz coos out. "So he was a master of manipulating chi, you claim?"" A hand lifts, and then a small ball of energy begins to coalesce beneath it. Swirls of ambient energy seem plucked, as if particle by particle, before compressing together. Without actually bothering to touch it, he spreads his fingers and then clenches. The shape changes, drawing about like a piece of putty, yet without being anywhere near Igniz himself.
"What you describe sounds like absolute chi attunement. Mastery to such an extent he can wrench your own control away, and then do with it what he would. How very interesting...! Such a gem was hiding in this world? There's some odd entities lurking beneath the eye of this world. I know of names... Goenitz. Akuma. Oro. My late father referred to them as aberrations, creatures that stand outside the path of evolution. But I saw something else..."
His eyes suddenly glow white. Igniz' aura erupts outwards, and the entire area glows bright as daylight. Trees roar and bend away, the divine fury within him at full throttle. His suit vaporizes instantly, and inky black cloth unfurls to whirl. The wind is sufficient a fighter of even Rust's calibre would need to fully brace himself, or risk being knocked clean over.
"I call it TRANSCENDANCE. Godhood. Like the power of Orochi... or whispers of Athena... To stand above the endless cycle of life, conflict, and death, which all common man must succumb...!!"
And then with a sudden flash it is over. Ash is nowhere to be seen, not even in the starlit sky. Slow, crackling shimmers of chi ripple over Igniz, now ascendant a good meter in the air. "I have one last question for you, Rust Howard. Do you think you have an idea of this man's power? His potential? Surely you must., even if he were to hide it. You have looked upon those near that of a God before. You look at one now. ...He must have slipped somewhere. Been complacent, of the sensitivity of those born weak to those born strong. If I was to attack you..."
A hand lifts, and light begins to shine once more.
"Do you think, perhaps, you could compare me to him...?"
'Accomplished' might be putting it a touch lightly, Howard thinks to correct - but no, he's already fully aware of how fragile this largely civil discussion is. Igniz's counterpoints are met with (mostly) respectful (complete) silence - it probably shouldn't surprise the likes of Howard that Igniz has, or had, his finger on the pulse of many people of interest. That this Magaki guy managed to hide his ability for so long, even from him...
It cements that idea as to why the two are speaking together as they are now that much further.
He nods slowly to confirm that, yeah, he's about as master of manipulating chi as he could dare say, even as Igniz puts on but a trifle of his own power. Rust inwardly debates as to whether it's a good idea to point out that's chi under Igniz's own power - if he could do that with someone else's, then...
Before he can go through with words he might have regretted saying, half-listening to the names Igniz drops as he rightfully considers his next words, he demonstrates.
"Gkkghgl!" Howard's flashlight flies right out of his hand. His right clenches the top of his scalp, his left fist clenches tightly. A gesture Igniz could probably identify as the tell for one of those cultivated skills the man before him has mastered to a degree in which even those with far more control of the movements and functions of their body otherwise - that bracing gesture.
His heels dig against the ground as the sheer force of the expulsion of Igniz's own mastery that has to this point known only a few potential equals nearly hurls him over. His eyes shut tight. His lips flap comically.
When it all ends, even he has to blink a couple of times to try and get the spots out of his vision. He looks upon the now raised Igniz blearily, shaking his head a few times. His entire body cracks and creaks loudly as he flexes his joints, shifts the weight of his body to reassert his ability to stand... all details easily missed to any outside observer, in the splendor of a man such as Igniz.
The popped question is heard loud and clear even as he internally swears over the blinding light. "H-Honestly, I, I get the idea if he... if he were really out to kill us then, I... I wouldn't be here." If the way he was picked up and slammed unceremoniously into the asphalt not all that long before were any indication... if he might have been holding back then, what would've happened to him had he been flung then...?
He sucks in the mercifully clean air once, considering the weight of Igniz's offer. He... remembers, how far he was flung every time Igniz struck him. How his right hand became so grievously injured when he tried to grab that whip. That was... five years ago. He, himself, is a much stronger man in comparison to those last five years, by admission of Igniz himself.
Hell, after that display that cleared the clearing, he's... still standing. His left hand's fingers twitch again, and he dares to finally look Igniz straight in the eye, even through the blinding light.
If he doesn't give an answer... he can only imagine who Igniz is going to go to for comparison - Jiro Kasagi. Where is he now? Probably still with those holed up in the YFCC. He can only imagine the holes left by any number of entrances or exits by anyone involved, undoing all the work he did to ensure the air inside would stay clean for as long as it'd need to...
Drawing on what gumption he has for the circumstance, raising his right hand once until lowering it as a reminder as to what's about to transpire, he at least speaks best he can over the ambient noise of Igniz's display of power.
"Only... only one way to find out," and that is the closest his reserve of courage can allow him to say 'yes,' left fist starting to clench.
This isn't five years ago.
"Excellent. If I am to understand correctly, Magaki withheld his might and used but a trifle of his power. I shall do the same." Igniz comments, as if such was only the natural thing to do. Arms cross before his chest, the halo of energy continuing to crackle around him.
"I stated that this would result in compensation, Howard Rust. Contributions to my endeavours are always met with an appropriate tithe. I am nothing at all like Vega... to become a monster in pursuit of power... nothing could be less beautiful."
It would probably be fatal to try to draw even a remote comparison, but in terms of personality and the feel of his aura, it's true that Igniz is nowhere near Vega. While his crushing psycho power makes one feel a quaking ant about to be stepped on... Igniz is truly more of a sheer, overflowing essence, that instead makes one feel as if they might overfill and burst like a balloon. It is free of emotion, untainted by the Satsu no Hadou or the dark taint of Psionic energy. He is one of the few who reached his heights without chasing the shadow of the unspeakable, energy which might very well be fueling the incredible opponents standing opposite the world in what might be the final days.
"Show me your evolution." Arms extend, and four tentacles slowly lift, mostly hidden within his voluminous outfit. Sharp tips whirr, forebodingly. "And I shall grant you the favor of a God..."
COMBATSYS: Igniz has started a fight here as a boss!
IGNIZ
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COMBATSYS: Igniz hovers in place, smiling softly in a whirl of black cloth.
IGNIZ
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COMBATSYS: Rust has joined the fight here.
IGNIZ
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Rust 0/-------/-------|
'Nothing at all like Vega' would be something the man would hotly debate in more dire circumstances - not that, as things stand the way they are, there are many circumstances that could truly be considered more dire. What if Igniz's whimsy and regards for this man before him, as such, deteriorate and he decides to go through with the idea of dissecting him?
There is also the matter of his legs. Much of his growth, a lot of his Kyokugen training in fact, increased his strength tenfold both through rigorous physical training and broadening his technique. Igniz asks for evolution... at a time where such is not prime for display.
There's no turning back now. This being Howard Rust, he always goes about his day with some degree of injury - be it persistent from earlier years of careless overexertion, or in the wake of strenuous daily training. He takes in a deep breath. Best he can manage, his legs being as they are... he's just going to have to make due with a stroke of very bad luck.
Standing tall, Howard draws Ol' Rusty from the torn toolbelt pocket it calls home, wordlessly pointing it towards Igniz once to draw distance, before pulling low and back. A familiar stance, to any study of him. His feet aren't moving about as much as they should, as of recent times.
He nods once - probably to himself more than to Igniz. Even when he was weaker, just a scared, aging man out of his depth (not that he isn't even now), he found it in himself to reach forth and attempt to strike a being far out of his league.
His approach is not remarkable, even worthy of mockery to Igniz's desire to see his full evolution as he comes in... but this is where he starts making due with what he has on his person.
IT's difficult for him to leap off the cuff. Thrusting Ol' Rusty into the ground for support, he lifts himself up with help of his right arm, swinging one of his legs outward in a wide angle before kicking forth straight with the other, which somehow gives him a slight touch of backwards momentum - landing about as smoothly as he can given the circumstances if allowed to, an audible grunt just from flexing the legs as aggressively as he dares to even now.
COMBATSYS: Igniz blocks Rust's Girder Sway.
IGNIZ
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Rust 0/-------/-------|
There is absolutely no semblance of a combat stance within Igniz. He just remains hovering there, arms slightly to the side, showing no particular alertness or keen battle instinct. Such doesn't mean he appears less than dangerous; no, it is like a coiled viper prepared to strike. And seems to underline more than anything -- he is not copying maneuvers. He is not stealing the techniques of another like Rugal, mastering ancient styles, or anything of the sort.
This is sheer, unadulterated raw talent, to the point it becomes something like facing a master of Shougi or Go. Replacing decades of practice with an integrated combat suit, there is a sense of near disinterest that appears to have little to do with any actual fighting gulf between himself and Howard Rust.
The brutal kick swings down, but the point of one tentacle shifts and interposes. It flares out a sudden, shimmering shield; Rust strikes it dead-center, and in a crackle he would be forced back, likely with a singed pants leg. Igniz himself was knocked back a scant inch -- at least proof that he's not completely unable to be fazed in the face of an upfront attack.
"You are injured." Igniz allows. "Yet you still face me. Commendable. Natural instincts and survival should be telling you to flee. For what reason do you face me? To protect others? To satiate your pride? To test yourself? Out of fear? Perhaps a bit of them all...?"
He bursts forward suddenly, one hand extending, motion almost kind. It seems to be in slow motion, but he thrust right when Rust was in the most vulnerable stage of recovery. "I am truly not a man to fear. My science is but a mere reflection of Mother Earth. Cruel and uncaring. Sadistic and genocidal. Only the strong are allowed to survive. And you..."
If he grasps, he would shift. A strange feeling of inertia being dominated, and a great flare of bright cerulean chi, would send Rust spiraling up into the air like a puppet tossed by an unruly child.
"I deem 'strong'. Against all data, logic, and reason... and despite what I always believed to be a crucial piece lacking -- confidence."
COMBATSYS: Igniz successfully hits Rust with Power Throw.
IGNIZ
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Rust 0/-------/-======|
Igniz calls the obvious between them clean about the injury. If it wasn't now, the look on the man's face as the shield shines forth to shoo off his leg should probably speak volumes. To want to directly strike against that shield is, in itself, a threat as that burnt pant leg and uncomfortably warm sensation in his foot would speak of.
At least, it would if it could be heard above the sound of Howard's vaguely surprised grunt as he's hurled up in such a quick spiral that it serves to completely disconnect him from his sense of how high he is in the air, how fast he's coming down....
Not helped by the fact that he accidentally leans in the direction he would be spun, giving it that added torque. His landing is clumsy and painful. Igniz gives him a grace in that his raw displays of power moments before clears the clearing of any loose twigs and other sharp objects. All there is between Howard and his landing is cold, hard, dry dirt that he impacts, body tumbling a short distance away. He kicks a leg out (with accompanying scowl) to right himself up about as fast as he can manage. A recovery that belies the weaknesses he suffers from his injuries and stiff limbs, but still.. not terribly indicative of how far he has come.
Wordlessly, he points Ol' Rusty again as he draws ever closer at the pace he's able to muster. There was a lot Igniz said - a lot there may be expectation for him to answer, but the pipe-wielding Kyokugen fighter can't quite keep pace. He nods once... no, twice, eyes widening slightly before normalizing. Confidence - that crucial piece lacking.
He remembers how the pipe he wielded stood to melt after contact with that great energy that Igniz himself wields. That... played into the eventual heat-of-the-moment choice that did a number to his right hand. Could it be hesitation to move up and strike once again?
Feeling that the only way he could really speak /is/ to keep at it, as it were, he moves in again, teeth clenched as he forces the pain in his legs and now upper back aside best he's able, thrusting the pipe forward into Igniz's form indiscriminately - it's not a single thrust. It's multiple, as though as if to say... that wall of light's not going to stop me this time.
That, or perhaps it is sheer desperation, but there is sincerity in every two-handed lunge to crash that pipe through.
COMBATSYS: Rust successfully hits Igniz with Crushing Pipe.
- Power hit! -
IGNIZ
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Rust 0/-------/-======|
"Confidence and willpower... a person can have one but not the other. Isn't that interesting?" Igniz observes, spreading his arms open wide. "Was it not a pit of despair, a lifetime of regret, which spurred you into action? And even now... I bet you could not look me in the eyes, and say, 'I am strong.' Perhaps... because combative prowess had never been your true intention. An interesting hypothesis..."
The first blow is intercepted once more by a single hovering tendril. The shield warbles heavily, but does nothing. "Tenacity." Igniz comments. "Yes. Like a bull. Driving again and again against..." The fourth impact causes the manifested shield to short. Igniz' eyes widen. He had been so lackadaisical in his actual preparations that Rust actually shorting out the system had not even registered in his mind.
He finally looks at the data readouts. What...? There's no way he was striking that hard with that pipe...!! And then he attempts to shift his forearm up -- before the pipe strikes home clean.
Igniz' body is sent flying backwards two meters before he stops in an explosive crack of displaced energy. Tilted away, there is a strange, cerulean shimmer going over his body. It crackles regularly, although there doesn't seem to be any physical damage. A forcefield of some sort, perhaps? But it's clear...
Rust's attack, or perhaps his sheer will, reached him.
"...Hah. Hahahaha!!" Igniz whirls up his black cloak once more, and begins to hum as his suit begins to gather energy once more. "Yes. That. Precisely THAT...!!"
Grasping the side of his cape, the Ascendant of NESTS then whirls, infusing the garment with a vorpal edge of blasting chi before swinging it with incredible force at Rust's body, the ground cleaving like razor-sharp scissors through a crisp piece of construction paper. When the motion ends, a vertical arc of energy vanishes into the sky...
Then the slow, lazy rasp of a tree, trunk severed clean, as it crashes over to the ground in an almost lethargic motion.
COMBATSYS: Rust blocks Igniz's Strong Punch.
IGNIZ
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Rust 1/-------/=======|
Instinctually, as Igniz is drawn back, Howard too brings Ol' Rusty back and (foolishly) brings his left hand against the striking end as if to reaffirm he's managed to punch it through without melting the thing. If it were, perhaps it would be... reddened? He doesn't quite catch himself on this bit of logic in time beyond the relief that he's not burning his hand. As much relief as there can be, given the laughter that echoes through the clearing.
The pipe is drawn up again to the sight of drawn energy, at which point he is at the defensive before he can push what advantage he has. In fact, Igniz largely catches him trying to do just that as he takes a step or two forward after him when the cape is thrust outwards.
Instinctually, Howard's left hand tenses into a balled-up fist as he all but elbows against the imbued garment. A low hiss escapes between his teeth as something sharp passes through--
No, it brushes off of him, daring to alter the course of its movement. Thin red lines form around his forearm and bicep where it slices as the tree crashes down as a reminder of just how close that whole thing might have been to severing his arm into three distinct pieces.
His joints noisily pop as he flexes his left arm downward, a clear sign as to what he just did to avoid that particular fate, even if it puts his offensive back on the disadvantage... exhaling loudly, he fights with himself to move with much speed at all in the wake of his own save.
It gets bad enough that he swings Ol' Rusty outward not in an attempt to strike Igniz - that one comes up too short to even nick him - but more an attempt to pull his body forward, using that momentum to coax himself forth while he has something that may actually be considered momentum.
Pointing Ol' Rusty down into the ground as he draws uncomfortably near, he twists himself to the side to reach out and strike with one of his legs, against one of Igniz's feet - about as far as he might be able to hope to reach with those kicks, depending on how high Igniz chooses to float with his power - but it's not just a single kick.
It's not even just a kick. Subtle, hard to see from the angle it's coming at, a flickering, washed-out energy covers his leg from roughly the knee down as he dares to strike with it, again and again, each impact against ground or otherwise noisy unto itself. It is possibly even deafening, with how quick the kicks are in succession, lips pressed together tight.
Between both the stiffness and the injuries his legs have already suffered, he fights both circumstances uphill. Igniz is right - maybe he can't quite look him in the eyes and say, 'I am strong.'
The fact he pushes through both hindrances at the same time, though...!
COMBATSYS: Igniz just-defends Rust's Jackhammer Kick!
IGNIZ
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Rust 0/-------/-======|
This time, Igniz' eyes are fully upon Rust. The data he had from those years ago... is completely useless. Amazing. All the moreso, given he can tell the physical burden that is straining Rust. Despite it all, he is undoubtedly battling a significantly more capable foe. Like sand added grain by grain, Rust might have never noticed. But the Lord of NESTS misses no such thing.
This time, all four of his tentacle points converge together. Rust's lumbersome advance meets an abrupt wall of dark, shimmering energy. Every ounce of his ferverous assault slams against it, kicking up a wall of dirt and debris, energy cracking off in a spray of spark-like energy.
And when it dissipates and Rust is spent, Igniz looms behind, completely unbudged. The tentacles shift away, although another crackle and shimmer like television static goes over his beautiful skin. Apparently, the blow to his face disrupted whatever secondary defensive systems he has in place.
"Well? You must have an idea by now. Of where I might stand against this Magaki. Am I weaker...? Stronger...? Roughly the same..."
A chi-imbued tentacle suddenly cracks out, a swift blow aimed towards Rust's face. Only for another to swish out, and another, before all four are moving in a flurry. There is little strength to them, but the sheer number and speed attempts to barrel through Rust's defenses, and attempt to wear him down, like the countless strikes of a blacksmith hammer pounding a lump of iron flat.
And then he stops, hovering up into the air slowly. "I believe I have gathered enough information myself. Behold... I shall show you the true power I have tapped within. Proof... of my mantle of divinity..."
The ground begins to shake then, and Igniz starts to glow with a halo of bright light that is difficult to look directly in. The air boils, then begins to suck inwards, ripping up stones, tearing off branches, all of which atomize into blackness before quite reaching Igniz.
"The power of absolute creation, and absolute destruction... are you ready?"
COMBATSYS: Igniz successfully hits Rust with Medium Punch.
IGNIZ
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Rust 1/------=/=======|
His attacking foot has to draw back - sooner than he'd like, even as he tries to push aside the unsettlingly hued energy that stands to meet those strikes. He meekly shakes out that leg as he staggers back once to catch himself when the pipe's use as a crutch is compromised by the dirt underneath it starting to give way to the weight pressed into it. It's not a strong showing to match whatever determination drives him.
Whatever drives him, in any case.
Making a face as he steadies his stance, Igniz asks him a question - a question that, at this point, demands a clear answer that is not through interpretive pipe dance. An answer that he seems ready to giv--
"Gkgkdglghsl!" Such is Howard's immediate answer as he is struck against the face. Stabbed? Bludgeoned? The numbness that comes with every blow leaves it to be tentatively considered 'touched,' even as he brings up his left forearm with that body tensing trick he has already aptly demonstrated a handful of times between them. Igniz's analysis of his known offensive and defensive capabilities gives him the clear edge. For the multitude of tentacle strikes, only one - perhaps two, they're going rather fast - could be considered anywhere near warded off. Attrition wins, in the end, and Howard staggers away, clutching his face with his already bloodied left arm as he murmurs something else incomprehensible.
Behold, he says... he breaks a gap between two of his fingers for an eye to peek out and be met with the blinding, terrible light at which point he cringes. To say nothing of the singing feeling on his skin like he felt when he was running around through the ash-filled streets, the horrible tugging feeling that seems to compel him to stagger forward... blades of grass tickle his face, bruised and bloodied from each tentacle attack.
The finer nuances of what is destroyed in Igniz's wake is lost on his own personal dramas as he wipes his face once, daring himself again to look upon what's going on. When Magaki pulled that trick on Jiro's own power... he threw himself into it. He stood tall enough, despite his legs, to lunge through the man with his best. That Igniz would go with something whose power is palpable - his own, not just one's own turned against themselves! - might... throw off the scale they're looking for measurement from.
Not that he thinks to protest, to his folly - or maybe to his awe, considering what he is looking at. Not since he dared to stand against the most vulgar incarnation of flame itself had he seen something like this...
Now's not the time to be nostalgic, as he raises Ol' Rusty upward in a forward point, despite his body's protests. Joints creak. His legs shudder. Taking in a deep breath, he closes his eyes... but doesn't quite avert them.
"If... if this has gotta be the... the point of, of," of reference, Howard, of reference. The power of absolute creation, and absolute destruction, Igniz says - he has no reason to believe otherwise, just as... he has... no reason to stand there and take it...
...How much in his life has he stood there and too-- he breathes in again. He's not going to reflect on everything that led up to this point, he decides - he's somehow managed to come out the other end of things he shouldn't have, as the burning feeling of his exposed skin against the wake of this gathered power is quick to remind him.
"Ready as... as I'm... gonna get," he coughs once. "'Scuse me."
"Ready as I'm gonna get," he says about as clearly and concisely as he can to the ambient ruckus of such power being gathered, steadying his legs, rolling his right shoulder... opening his eyes-- closing them again. Then opening his eyes, one more time. Then looking off to the side, as if wondering if someone is magically going to come kick Igniz in the face...
Then looking back forward, teeth clenching. To attempt that moment of relaxation before that final trial when virtually no part of him wants to do anything other than get the hell out of dodge...!
COMBATSYS: Rust gains composure.
IGNIZ
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Rust 1/-------/=======|
"You have not compared me to Magaki yet... no matter. Right now... I'm somewhat more interested in you."
Those words might be deathly ominous. But there's a strange expression on Igniz' face, as he suddenly brings his hands together. Muscles tense visibly, and suddenly there's a strange, warbling CRACK in the air. Stone is burst upwards, the ground splits and heaves mightily, trees are partially uprooted... but then, all of it freezes. Rust himself might find himself hefted partially airborne, only to find gravity has decided to take a smoke break for the moment.
Ah. That peculiar expression... effort. All of that titanic chi roars up, gathered within Igniz' right hand. And then he suddenly snaps it forward, aimed right upon Rust. Beneath him, a great and intricate rune appears upon the ground. Before in a swirl, what appears to be a metallic sphere of energy, perfectly round, swirls up to entomb him.
Within, there is nothing. Infinite nothing, in all directions. It feels like floating in space, but with nary a star. There is no air. There is almost no pressure. Simply existing within it is likely more than a little uncomfortable.
Outside, all of the shattered scenery has begin to orbit the orb that Igniz has created. "Behold... creation...!!"
There's a great, swirling gout of cerulean chi, and a snarl of effort. It impacts the sphere, before being absorbed. Suddenly, a beautiful and great galaxy appears on the exterior, rippling and sparkling...
And within, a flash of heat. Where there was naught, now there is an eerily beautiful infinite of space. Nebula, stars, colors, sweeping in every direction. Distance appearing so impossibly grand, that it cannot be fathomed by a mortal mind.
"...And... destruction..."
Igniz clenches his fist.
Suddenly, the orb cracks inwards. Hunks of trees, broken stone, whirls of earth, all are violently sucked into the black hole. Within, Rust would sense the universe collapsing... everything rushing towards him in a singularity, brightening up more and more, until the world would be only light...
And then there is a gargantuan explosion. Meters high, flashing around before a great BANG echoes for miles in all directions. Trees are scorched black, disintegrated, and a great crater is carved into the ground beneath the assault, a good dozen feet deep.
Igniz' four tentacles remain up, shielding him from the aftermath. Slowly they descend, the God panting heavily before drooping his arms. Was it an illusion...? Some technological marvel, trapping Rust in a coffin before detonating it? Certainly it's not possible for someone to create a pocket universe, purely for the purpose of /imploding/ it on someone...!
COMBATSYS: Rust Toughs Out Igniz's Disintegrational Universe!
IGNIZ
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Rust 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|
There is no way to ever truly steel oneself for what comes next. It is beyond mortal comprehension. Even with what Hoawrd may consider as ample precaution as he's going to have, this goes above and beyond a Triple Haohshokoken. This goes far, far beyond, in scale, what Magaki had nearly inflicted upon Jiro - as he suspected and described, Magaki hadn't so much as touched Jiro's power with his own. He simply turned it around, effortlessly. That was not showing what he was capable of under his own strength.
He has exactly one saving grace - he took in a deep breath. Freed of having to stand tall at all, this sudden dump into... emptiness is marginally less unpleasant. The void is cold. The scalding warmth of Igniz's power, missing. The effect should be akin to what happens when one superheats and cools something in rapid succession. It should become brittle.
Howard wants to gasp. He holds his breath, eyes shut tight as he expends some of that air swinging Ol' Rusty in the void. Nothing. Nowhere. It doesn't make sense! What the hell is this?! What did I even--
All he has as a guide is Igniz's gentle narration. Creation. A flash of heat to the stunning sight within, lost with his eyes being shut. Rust squirms as he tumbles about in this void--
He thrusts with Ol' Rusty in some misguided attempt to right himself... or is it? He feels some kind of momentum. Some kind of movement. He thrusts again. There is little actual beholding on his part - it is entirely a struggle to just get out the other end. Maybe if he screams that yes, he could kick Magaki's ass he'd be let out - no, Igniz has to be here somewhere, this doesn't make sense, where am I going, what am I doing?
The scalding temperature wants him to scream. He doesn't. He pushes his lungs to their absolute limit to keep what air he has going in.
Destruction... as is narrated.
He keeps his forward movement that he can feel. Friction. He keeps thrusting Ol' Rusty forward with what strength he can maintain, as his body's strength starts to sap from the tremendous stress and pain of flash-freezing to burning. He wants to keep moving. That's the only thing he really can do.
He builds up velocity as the pressure builds up higher and higher, as though space itself were collapsing around himself. This final, horrible, conclusive act should be his end. It should be anyone's end. No human being was meant to go through this.
The fact that it is all ending, collapsing on itself...
That's actually his boon.
With the velocity built up from striking forward into whatever... space he's in, the collapsing void does the one thing that can possibly save him now from expiring by either oxygen deprivation, or incredible heat, or intense pressure.
It provides an ending. A tangible, physical ending. A barrier. Something that is meant to be pushed through and destroyed as the culmination of Igniz's own mastery of chi, of his own being. This, plus the momentum built up...
At the moment it should crush him, Howard and his pipe crash through the sphere just as it all folds into the big crunch, back into a reality that is no more welcome than where he was, all that terrifying energy following out after the gap he made for himself.
The ground does not treat living bodies going against it at the speed they are, the aging fighter barely conscious - if he even is conscious at all, hell, if he's even still alive! - sliding violently towards Igniz's form with an outstretched pipe almost entirely by coincidence. He could have broken out in any direction of that sphere if he was going to find some dumb, previously inconceivable way to let himself out of it to begin with, and yet... and yet...
The G forces alone of his expulsion might do the trick to put him out of his misery... or the impact against Igniz's formidable, bleeding-edge technologically enhanced defenses... or any combination thereof. This whole thing would be entirely fascinating outside of the immediate threat Rust presents to, if not Igniz's well being, probably every tree or structure for the next half mile or so if his momentum isn't halted.
Regardless, Ol' Rusty leads the charge, with its wielder in tow.
COMBATSYS: Rust successfully hits Igniz with Condemned.
IGNIZ
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Rust 0/-------/---<<<<|
Igniz' eyes glance upwards, to find a sight that no amount of his suit's calculations and predictions could have hoped to see coming. Once more he has surprise, although this is genuine. He has exhausted his reserves from unleashing such a cataclysmic assault, and manages to intercept only one tentacle. The barrier explodes beneath the wrench, which sings a high-pitched warbling song like a tone fork that struck just so.
And once more, it slams against Igniz' face.
This time, something is heard shattering. An invisible barrier of shimmering, mildly refractive light. Black smoke boils out of his suit, a crackle of electricity. Flying backwards, the stunned God strikes the charcoal remnants of a tree, and... actually lands upon the solid earth, digging toes into it to stop.
Crimson spatters the ground.
"...?"
Idly, the back of his hand rubs at his lip. It's split open. Blood. This ant... this desperate ant... managed to sink teeth into him? Igniz is really not sure how to feel. It's a combination of hilarious, insulting, and intriguing beyond measure.
"Ah... yes. I do not much care about Magaki for the time being. I will grant you your boon, Howard Rust... like your namesake, you have broken down in time..."
Suddenly Igniz kicks into the air and glides forward, spiraling twice before coming to a stop before Rust. All four points of his tentacles shift up to point forward. His statement is simple, and dismissive.
"Sleep."
The air suddenly becomes awash with cerulean fire. Plasma blasts out for a dozen meters, roaring out, sending already ruint earth flashing up into the air and turning into more ash, even worse than the virulent snow raining from Mt. Fuji. An annihilatory strike with no restraint... even if Rust survives, it will not be well.
Such was supposed to be a mere question. A simple answer. But seeing the growth of Howard Rust in person, and bearing the scars of his unending efforts...
Dissection, once more, is at the forefront of his mind.
COMBATSYS: Rust Toughs Out Igniz's Chaos Tide!
IGNIZ
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Rust 1/---<<<</<<<<<<<|
Words. He can hear words. His ears ring from the cacophony of chaos that was... whatever just happened. This leads to an even less wonderful revelation to be had, that he is conscious. When the rest of his senses catch up with hi-- pain. Lots of it. It is succinct to simply consider the whole thing as pain, without full comprehension of what just happened. Weightlessness, trying to strike out... something. Whiplash. Words. He knows those are words.
More importantly, pain. Colors show up eventually. Shapes... not quite there. Colors. Pain. Pain is now a color.
His pain-dampened awareness about his present situation swings the pendulum of fortune around back into himself, the indicator that he is still alive being not the twitch of eyelids that try to take in light, color, and shapes... but an attempt to raise his right arm. He raises it in brief, enough as if to say 'hi, I'm holding a pipe.'
...How is he still holding it?
It collapses to the side as a sudden sickness comes up to his throat to see the color of Igniz's luxurious hair. Shame? Pain. Right now it's all pain.
He is incapable of cognizing playing dead - not that it would help him much even if he did - his left leg raising upwards slightly as though maybe communicating the idea of wanting to stand. Heat returns.
Heat similar to whatever it was he just went through. Howard's eyes roll about unfocused. His bloodied mouth opens as if to say something.
Sleep, it is asked. He starts to sit up--
Pain speaks up. He starts to lay down. It hurts. He sits up. It hurts. He mumbles something. It hurts. He may be really mumbling that it hurts. As the heat forms, he tilts suddenly against his left side, onto his knees--
He's getting up. After basically winning a fight against physics itself to a degree that is, without comparison, utterly ridiculous... somehow, he's getting up. What the hell pushes this man forward? Is he typically in such pain that it has become so numbing, when so much of his body should be shattered, nay, melted to paste after that last bit?
Sleep.
He staggers forward once just as the great blast of plasma engulfs him. So much of the ground ruptures upwards into the air - he should follow suit. A man of his caliber must have limits. Luck, effort, and will alike all should only go so far against Igniz's finely-honed powers, meticulously designed and executed for maximum effect.
A burnt glove - his left hand - reaches through the smoky aftermath, followed by the rest of him as he wordlessly, thoughtlessly staggers into Igniz. Ol' Rusty scrapes against the ground, as though there might have been a legitimate counterassault in mind.
It never materializes, as the burnt and battered body of Howard Rust - somehow still alive - collapses forward, hardly doing much more than the possibility of further tarnishing that impressive battlesuit by daring to lay a hand on it as he falls flat on his face.
COMBATSYS: Rust takes no action.
IGNIZ
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COMBATSYS: Rust can no longer fight.
IGNIZ
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When Rust's broken, scorched body thrums through the eruption of energy, Igniz takes a step backwards; and a bloody handprint slaps on the black front of his suit, streaking down it as the broken fighter collapses to the ground. Ah... yes. This tenacity. This will. This complete inability to accept death. Igniz can see it now. How K' works. How Nameless works. The fault in his endless clones, thousands of candles burning out.
It is like these small little bugs are retrying. Second chances. Rolling the dice multiple times, until they manage. And then, they are forced to evolve.
Fascinating.
"You've pleased me, Howard Rust." Tentacles gently swish down, grasping either wrist and pulling the man up. "And for that... I shall grant you the ultimate gift. You have fought many wars at the forefront. This shall be no different."
A sleek silver helicopter roars over the pair, and a few armored NESTS operatives descend. Rust is handed over to one of them, before he pauses to pick up Ol' Rusty himself. "Take him to the regenerative facility. We'll use him for Operation Phoenix."
"...Phoenix? But nobody has ever survived. It is a theoretical..."
A surge of motion. Something heavy thumps upon the ground. A few moments later, the decapitated body of the insolent soldier crashes over, the remaining two struggling to keep hold of Rust. Igniz' tentacle flicks down, splattering blood on the remnants of the ground.
"Be silent. He will survive. I'm sure of it. ...He shall be a grand thorn against Magaki and his toys, in the fight to come. I have watched him long enough to know this well. He needs only... this grand opportunity..."
And with a musical laugh, he ascends into the helicopter with Howard in tow.
COMBATSYS: Igniz has ended the fight here.
Log created on 23:23:13 08/19/2014 by Igniz, and last modified on 02:27:56 08/23/2014.