Neo League 0064 - NL#0075: Makoto vs Cracker Jack

Description: In an isolated Japanese dojo, Makoto marks her return to Neo League with a heart pounding duel against NL point leader Cracker Jack. Superior size faces technical mastery! (Winner: DKO)

It had been a strage day.

After several months of recooperation and hard training following the bizarre series of events that had spiraled out of control at Gedo High, Makoto had found herself falling into the rut of complacency. Her days passed largely without incident melting together into a blurry haze of school and practice where time seemed to become something nebulous and indistinct. She couldn't think of anything in particular that made any one of them in particular stand out save for the small indignities she suffered as a matter natural course from attending the roughest school in the city. A small scuffle here, a petty theft there. These were the only things that broke up the drab routine and strangely she found herself looking forward to such disturbances after a fashion.

That had changed, however, when she had finally managed to track down the girl who had defeated her. It had been in a tournament setting, something she often looked forward to but just as often ended up regretting as her opponents were either so incompetant as to be a waste of time or so incredibly beyond her level that the conclusion was forgone. Hitomi, however, had been a real challenge pushing her skills to their limits in a way that wasn't born out of desperation. Skill against skill, she had been defeated, though the battle was close and she believed that part of the fault lie with her overconfidence.

Surprisngly, Hitomi had agreed to join her school marking the occassion of the first official student to join Rindo-kan dojo since her father had passed away. There had, ofcourse, been plenty of others interested but Makoto wasn't satisfied with the casual riff-raff who just wanted something to do to pass the time or to show off to their friends. She was dedicated to her craft and expected that same level of devotion from those who would receive the benefit of her family's secret arts. Hitomi was just such an individual.

Her spirit renewed by this unexpected windfall, Makoto had immediately shaken off her funk and rushed to rejoin the Neo League. She had a new student to train, new challenges to face, and punching dummies can only get one so far. The first bit of strangeness had come when she had arrived at the small local office which served as the headquarters for the world-wide tournament organization. Several people had recognized her almost immediately and had rushed to attend to her needs, almost like she was some kind of celebrity. It was disconcerting to say the least. People skills have never been high on her list of priorities. She managed to survive the ordeal without losing her temper though it was a close thing, her face just beginning to turn red from a mix of embrassment and discomfort as she pushed her way back outside.

The second unexpected event was the phone call she received not an hour later - she had a match that very afternoon! Makoto blinked at the small rectangle of plastic as if trying to decide whether to believe the voice on the other side but in the end she agreed to meet at the designated locale because it happened to be fairly close to where she lived. A quick meal and a short bike ride later found her outside the ancient dojo just as the sun was beginning to dip below the towering crags of the mountain.

That had been about half an hour ago. Not sure exactly what she should do while waiting for her opponent, Makoto had chosen to be bold and entered the U-shaped building to wait inside. She wandered up the lazy winding path to cross the stone bridge over the small running stream careful to avoid disturbing the smooth raked patterns in the garden of sand that filled the empty space between the two halves of the building. As no one else had been found inside, she simply found a nice spot to sit where the two halves of the U connected and waited.

Which brought about the third strangeness of the day for her. Despite her years of martial discipline, Makoto had never been the kind of person comfortable with silence. Meditation had always been a struggle for her, the supposed peace of mind gained from quiet contemplation an elusive phantom that never came within reach. And yet, with nothing better to do, the girl sat on her knees and closed her eyes allowing the subtle sound of the flowing brook to absorb her attention. Her breathing slowed as she took in long deep breaths through her nose, her chest rising and falling in a steady rythm beneath the loose folds of her off-white karate gi.

'Relax', she thought. 'Just take it slow and... relax.'

Her brows furrowed as she concentrated on that single thought but her body, as always, failed to understand the concept. Even at a full rest, the karateka looked like a coiled spring, her muscles taut and ready with both hands balled into fists where they rested on her thighs. She attempted to breath more steadily focusing on the gentle motion of her body as she inhaled but her thoughts were quickly dragged to other things - like why the hell her opponent wasn't here yet. It had been atleast half an hour now! Don't people have any respect for puncutality these days?

Cracker Jack's Neo League obligations, or what he perceived them to be, had grown wane since he had dominated the top so long, busy making tens of thousands of American dollars at a time on Shadaloo missions. And, of course, drilling recruits, like his new pupil Jezebel Faiblesse. Along with occasionally flying back to his rancho in Vegas to work on his car or make sure the cleaning lady was doing her job. But, when he noticed other competitors creeping up towards him on the point roster, he decided it was time to float the possibility of another fight to Neo League. Through his agent, of course, a chain smoking sports management major from UCLA.

Cracker Jack had studied her Shadaloo intelligence file the day before the fight. Head of her own dojo, inherited young. Trained from birth in a peculiar form of karate that specialized in blunt, powerful force. From video footage analyzed by Shadaloo's resident fight experts, she was technically a master, even if she lacked some of the technical mastery she could have learned from her teacher before his demise. The advice they gave him? Don't get her angry. It works in her favor. But let her wait. Gedo High student, loss of parent, pressure to continue a small family style. Likely emotional troubles. At least, that's what Shadaloo's resident psychological warfare expert said, before he scurried off to plan more operations on various foreign governments. Cracker Jack was immediately uncomfortable about the man; the shrink knew him too well, and Jack knew that several of his more brutal missions had this man's fingerprints on them. They paid extra, but the Italian bulldozer felt queasy at the thought of the reptilian planning that went into ordering the violence of those assignments. Jack needed a full flask of liquor to sleep that night, and his sleep was fitful, seeing visions of fighting in World War 2 on the beaches of Normandy as an American soldier, as the grandfather he never met had done. But it was night time, there was no color, and his gun didn't work.

Cracker Jack, after having his standard southwestern breakfast in his hotel room, cooked rather formally by a chef more used to the eastern fare here in Japan, drove out to the isolated dojo in a rented SUV, a Shadaloo medic in the passenger seat. After reaching the site of the dojo, he waited twenty minutes listening to music and drinking Gatorade while the medic played Sudoku on his phone, letting Makoto sweat. And then, it was time to deploy.

Cracker Jack's soft loafer steps announced his presence as he silently swaggered into the dojo behind Makoto, the medic's boot scuffs following behind him. Jack had his baseball bat, and the medic, dressed in black fatigues without markings, carried a basic medical kit for fight trauma. Jack stood in place, tapping his bat in his empty left palm, as the medic moved off to the side and took a seat on the ground, crosslegged, watching through a pair of prescription sunglasses.

"I'm here."

COMBATSYS: Cracker Jack has started a fight here.

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Cracker Jack     0/-------/-------|

Makoto heard the arrival of the man long before he wandered into view though the gentle rumbling of the car's engine was muffled well enough by her own inept attempts to focus on something relaxing that she wasn't aware of his intentional delay in arriving. That probably would have been enough to set her off on the spot. As it was, however, her face was already wrinkled into an unpleasant scowl by the meditation when she opened her eyes to take in his appearance for the first time. After she had done so she only scowled harder.

Her gaze was immediately drawn to the fact that neither of the newcomers had taken their shoes off before entering the dojo. The medic's sloppy bootsteps had left several scuff marks on the freshly waxed floor. That earned him a glare that could have set his pants on fire but she managed to keep her anger contained for the moment. The towering form of her competitor got his own angry stare in turn as the girl sat there in annoyed silence for several seconds, as if waiting for them to recognize their mistake and correct it. Her own feet were bare, heavy callouses padding her soles with faint discoloration, but still well trimmed and cared for.

These two men were foreigners, ones who either didn't know or didn't care about proper martial traditions. Both possibilities annoyed her in their own way but atleast ignorance could be forgiven to a degree. One way to find out. After a few seconds of glaring, she growled in a very unlady-like voice, "Your shoes."

Cracker Jack looks down at his feet, before looking up at Makoto. His neutral expression turns into a slim line, then a grimace of annoyance. His right hand, clad in a fingerless glove, slowly tightens around the handle of his bat, a faint squeak of leather on wood audible as his knuckles turn white. Strike one, not enough grease in the breakfast. Strike two, being asked to take his shoes off. Fucking Japanese. Cracker Jack looks to the left, considering this request quietly, with an arrogant upward tilt of his jaw, before he looks back. He offers her a fake smile, showing his teeth. "Fine."

Cracker Jack steps out of his shoes, wearing black socks beneath them that smell of white talcum, before he slides his socks off awkwardly. He bends forward and scoops his socks up with a flourish of his left hand, before stuffing them in one of the shoes and kicking them aside. His feet are not well taken care of, with heavy callouses and thick, yellowed nails. He ponders making a particularly lewd joke that occurs to him about wearing cowboy boots during the act of love, but visibly stifles it with a swallow and a polite smile. He lifts his arm slowly up to his hat and tucks it downward, keeping the joke for his own amusement, and slides into position to fight. This will take a little sting out of his soccer kick, if he needs to use that sort of maneuver, but he wants her as happy as possible.

And that is clearly going to be a challenge.

Makoto does not return the smile. If anything, her scowl seems to deepen a little at the blatant disrespect in the manner by which he complies. It's clear the man has no regard for the traditions of the country in which he is a guest. She tried to remind herself that not all foreigners were as rude as this man but the words were a little hollow when confronted with yet another arrogant Westerner.

Her gaze shifts back to the man in black fatigues, jaw working as she pondered whether or not to press the issue that this order was directed at both of them. In the end, she lets it go. The faster she gets this over with the faster these mongrels will stop stinking the place up with their barbarism. She would have to apologize to the owner of the dojo for the scuffs on the floor later. Right now, she needed to get in head in the fight.

Taking another deep breath and letting it out slowly, the small girl pushed to her feet. Her hands busied themselves with adjusting her uniform pulling the gi down a little and tightening the belt to ensure that its loose folds did not interfere with her movements. She did this without looking down, her eyes remaining fixed on the man infront of her with a disturbing level of intensity. There was no fear in her eyes, no hesistation at the thought of confronting someone a foot taller than herself armed with nothing but her fists. Infact, she had not even bothered to acknowledge the presence of the bat the entire time. 'A little bit of polished wood, hah, is that all you've got?', her attitude seemed to say.

Once satisfied with the state of her wardrobe, Makoto marches towards the center of the room to stand before her opponent in standard tournament fashion. She doesn't bow, however. He hasn't earned that respect and she half expects he'd kick her in the face if she was foolish enough to try. This isn't a formal bout, atleast not in the sense that she's used to. It's an organized brawl, a bit of legal bloodsport. Some people might find that kind of thing distasteful but to her it was the perfect sort of environment to test herself.

Falling into a martial stance, she held one hand before her defensively while the other curled into a fist beside her head ready to strike. "Whenever you're ready."

COMBATSYS: Makoto has joined the fight here.

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Cracker Jack     0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0           Makoto

Cracker Jack's eyes are hidden behind his mane of hair, and of course his classy (?) pork pie hat, but they narrow considerably at Makoto as he watches her. He doesn't know what's going on in her head - he never does, he's not a people person - but he doesn't like what he imagines. He slowly shifts his left foot forward, extending his open left hand as he strikes an improvised pose. He hasn't been formally trained in any form of fighting, therefore all his stances are completely practical. The advantage is unpredictability and function, the disadvantage is a lack of technical mastery and the absence of time honored technique. He slowly breathes, watching her, as an odd silence overtakes the dojo. And then, he strikes.

Cracker Jack's right foot flies forward as he goes dashing at Makoto, running across the waxed dojo floor with his bare feet. There's an incoherent roar, nothing fancy or taunting like some fighters, who Jack has always imagined as being posers that learned the custom from martial arts films. He's more of an action movie fan. He lunges forward at her as he nears her, attempting to clothesline his left arm around her shoulders in a grab and swing around behind her as he tangles her up. And if that works, it's up to his trusty baseball bat to slam into the side of her knee from the side, swinging around with a quick, golf-like swing. And then, a quick release, and a backpedal.

COMBATSYS: Makoto blocks Cracker Jack's Cracker Blitz.

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Cracker Jack     0/-------/-------|=====--\-------\0           Makoto

As with most fights, this one started in a burst of explosive moment, a peal of thunder from amidst the depths of a stormy sky. As soon as the massive man begins to rush her Makoto shifts to adapt to his move, years of rigourous training and constant discipline shielding her against the natural reaction of the human mind to lash out in fear at such aggression.

Her small stature works to her advantage in this situation as the difference in height makes it a simple matter to duck under the quick but obvious lunge for her throat. Makoto evades the grab and steps past her opponent wheeling around to face him in a smooth practiced motion. Her knee snaps up and the bat clatters against the front of her shin with a solid impact that she doesn't even seem to feel. Having allowed him to make the first move, the karateka narrows her eyes and immediately goes on the offensive.

A surge of fighting spirit almost explodes out of Makoto as she lets loose a sharp and piercing kiai, invisible power fluttering her loose uniform as if caught in a billowing headwind. Thus empowered, she lunges forward with incredible speed driving her small fists towards his throat in an attempt to throttle the man. There is incredible power behind her grip, her size a terrible deception to mask the truth of the monster lurking within.

COMBATSYS: Cracker Jack blocks Makoto's Karakusa.

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Cracker Jack     0/-------/-----==|======-\-------\0           Makoto

Cracker Jack is satisfied with the opening jab to her knee, judging standard fare for the first movement of a fight. After all, they're both at peak focus and physical endurance. As his bat is deflected by the knee, he smoothly moves into a sidelong position with his left shoulder facing her, shielding his front from any reprisals. He can be seen smirking, even as the surge of chi driven air explodes from the martial artist he's facing. As she bellows an attack signal that echoes throughout their surroundings, he leans backwards, making his upper body harder to hit. He's very much aware that karate favors upper body strikes. And as the hands lunge for this throat, he proves himself correct. She finds purchase on his neck, Jack's teeth gritting as he chokes out a grunt, before he swings his left arm up from below, breaking the hold prematurely.

"My turn."

Jack's left hand whips out for Makoto's face, attempting to grip her by the forehead and her hairline with his extended arm. If he finds any sort of success, his arm then pumps downwards, in attempting to use his brute strength to jack Makoto into a bent forward position so his knee can rocket upwards into her stomach and torso with a jump off the ground, using his leverage on her upper body as part of his upward momentum. A boost up, a push down with his weight behind it.

COMBATSYS: Makoto fails to interrupt Power Hunter from Cracker Jack with Fukiage EX.

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Cracker Jack     0/-------/----===|=======\-------\1           Makoto

The lunge was blocked and Makoto found herself a little off balance as her aggression gained little purchase. Cracker Jack's height made the grab for his throat difficult and she ended up over-extending herself in her efforts to seize an early initative. If she's learned anything from her fights thus far it's the importance of setting the pace. She was a fighter of brute strength and raw technique but that power came at a price and she would tire easily if forced to take up a defensive tactic.

Unfortunately, as sometimes happened, she wasn't quite able to turn the tables on her opponent this time. Seeing his counter-lunge she ducked again and drew her fist back preparing to drive it straight up into the towering foreigner's jaw. More than one person had been laid out cold by that single deadly strike alone and she let out another fierce yell hoping to make him hesistate.

It was not to be. The bruiser's large paw snared her around the top of her head and her attempt to duck only ended up aiding his attempt to force her down. Too late, she saw what he intended. His knee slammed upwards into her stomach and she doubled over, the wind knocked from her as she sailed into the air only to crash back down again with his second push.

Makoto hits the ground hard but even in this terrible situation her training remains at full steam and she tucks her knees up, rolling backwards with the impact to keep her spine from getting crushed as she diverts the energy in a different direction. It hurt like hell though and a small pained grunt squeezed out past her gritted teeth as the shock left her momentarily stunned.

Cracker Jack stands over Makoto after forcing her to the ground amidst the savage blow, aware he has an advantage that he would be a fool to waste. He strolls after her languidly, like a puma, as she rolls backwards, his bat held in his loose right hand. With a bit of a swagger, he takes a quick two-step to kick her in the stomach at the right point in the roll, before he lifts the bat up and then swings it down in a hammer blow at one of Makoto's hands. "Sorry, honey, it looks like cowboys beat Indians." He laughs at this, quite arrogant as he stares down at her, misjudging his success and her apparent power level. He's usually a methodical fighter, but she's quite small, and he's a little skeptical at her apparent power report from the Shadaloo tactical experts.

Nearby, the medic drops his jaw and shakes his head rapidly, waving his black gloved hands. Cracker Jack ignores him.

COMBATSYS: Makoto blocks Cracker Jack's Aggressive Strike.

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Cracker Jack     0/-------/----===|=======\-------\1           Makoto

Despite that telling blow, Makoto was hardly out of the fight. Even as she grunted from the impact of being tossed down she was already in the process of recovering, her senses seeking out the location of her attacker. The kick met her arms instead of her gut, the pair of them forming a shield that caught his dirty foot as the thug attempted to literally kick her while she's down.

It wasn't a dishonorable move to try such a thing. If someone allowed themselves to be thrown down then you capitalize on that. As such, Makoto had nothing to say about his methods as she rose to meet him once again. The bat whooshed past the girl into the space that she had just occupied, the karateka skillfully sidestepping the follow-up and launching a strike of her own.

Makoto's fist drew back for a moment as she recovered her balance but the moment that she was able to lunge at him again it snapped out in a powerful thrust at his gut almost as if it had been shot from a cannon. There wasn't anything fancy or tricky in her combat style - just raw power and technique which she drove at him as if her arm were a piston.

COMBATSYS: Cracker Jack fails to deflect Fierce Punch from Makoto with Batting Hero.
- Power fail! -

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Cracker Jack     0/-------/-======|=======\=------\1           Makoto

Cracker Jack growls as his bat impacts into the floor with a sharp crack, before his gaze darts up to follow her. As she draws her fist back, his left hand glides to his bat, gripping it with both hands. And then, a duel takes place. "HAAAAAAA!" he shouts as he swings his bat at her with both hands, swinging it at her armpit as the punch flies at him.

There's a brief moment when Cracker Jack feels the weight of the swing flow through his arms, from his feet and shoulders, before the fist connects to his jaw. His head shifts backwards despite his form's solid muscle as his jaw slides sideways, spit flying out of his mouth.

The bat drops from his quaking fingers, tapping to the ground with the sound of American wood on Japanese wood. He pauses as he feels the shock of the punch pass through his system, his world turning white for a brief split second, before he returns to the land of the aware.
Cracker Jack slowly staggers to the side, off balance, before he leans sidelong with the inertia of the blow and simply falls over, shocked and dazed. He stares up at the ceiling, twitching.

There is a brief moment where time stood still for Makoto. That singular instant where her fist connected with its target, sharp knuckles and hardened muscle slamming into soft flesh and rigid bone. There was an explosion of force between the two objects as physics kicked in, momentum and power transferring through her arm to blast into her target with an audible crunch. It is for moments like these that Makoto exists.

Just as quickly the instant was over and the large man was falling. The karateka dropped back into a neutral stance with a practiced motion, her feet solidly upon the ground and her balance carefully adjusted to prepare her for any trickery he might manage to muster but as soon as Cracker Jack hit the floor she was moving to strike again. Just as he had given no quarter when their roles were reversed, Makoto showed no mercy in delivering her follow up strike.

Makoto leapt upon her foe quickly, attempting to pin him down with her weight by stamping a foot heavily upon his back. Her fist quickly followed driving downwards with the same burst of crushing power that she had delivered to him only moments ago, this time in a strike aimed at the joint between his spine and pelvis. It was a nasty strike that took advantage of the ancient knowledge of pressure points learned centuries ago by the first martial artists and one that he wouldn't be likely to shrug off no matter how big he was.

COMBATSYS: Cracker Jack endures Makoto's Tacchuu.
-@- Dazing Hit! -@-

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Cracker Jack     1/------=/=======|=======\==-----\1           Makoto

"MOTHERFUCKER!" comes a high pitched scream from Cracker Jack as he's punched directly in his tailbone with an incredibly powerful downward punch, his entire body jerking and flopping about like a fish on land. Complete with the gasping for air and the wiggling side to side. His eyes are bulging, indicating he's absolutely apopleptic with pain.

And then, he jerks his back into an arch, his hands clutching at the air as he roars in rage, before he forces himself to his feet, an incredible grimace of absolute agony on his face as he's forced to use his hips to bend forward in the process of standing. Pain shooting up and down his entire lower body, he charges at Makoto with frothing wrath. "YOU FUCKING BITCH!" he screams as he swings with both hands, fists swinging left and right with no thought of his personal protection as he goes full out psychotic with power, the insane rage inside him fueling the constant assault of hooks and haymakers, leaving his face wide open with his hat precariously balancing on his head throughout his ordeal of chiropractic iliad and adrenaline induced madness.

COMBATSYS: Cracker Jack knocks away Makoto with Lazy Buffalo.

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Cracker Jack     0/-------/------=|=======\=======\1           Makoto

Well, no one has ever reacted quite like that before. Makoto's eyes widen in surprise as the large man jerked upwards upon being struck with a great deal more strength than she was anticipating. The move managed to catch her off-guard and she stumbles backwards, off balance. Wild rage and pain give the man the surge he needed to take advantage of this and before she could mount any sort of defense Cracker Jack was plowing into her with a torrent of hammer blows.

The small girl jerked left and right as she was pummeled with reckless abandon, her voice belting out a stacco beat of agonized grunts as she was abused by his strikes. The final swing catches her square in the chest and Makoto went flying backwards in a dramatic fashion to land in a crumpled heap upon the polished floor. Small drops of blood trail after her to stain the wood in a spatter of dark red and when she pushed upright a few moments later a small rivulet of crimson was running down the front of her face from one nostril.

"What's the matter," she asks in stilted English, wiping the sticky mess away on the back of her sleeve. "Can't deal with being beaten up by a girl?" Her voice was mocking and fierce, clearly questioning his worth as a man and a fighter. "You think screaming and getting angry is impressive? You haven't seen ANGRY yet!"

Pulling her arms in against her side, Makoto dropped into a classic horse stance and grit her teeth drawing upon her inner focus. The invisible breeze of spiritual energy began to swirl about her once again but this time there was something new to go along with the surge of fighting spirit, something more primal in nature. Within a few moments whatever inner reserve the girl had called upon reaches its peak and she lets out a furious yell. Before the thug's very eyes, Makoto's skin shifted from its light sun-kissed tan to a bright shade of red as if she had become the avatar for some ancient spirit of fury.

Glaring hot daggers at Cracker Jack, the girl lunged at him. Whatever he might have been expecting from this sudden berserker fury it was anything but wild and reckless. Makoto shoots across the room in a blinding burst of speed her technique even more focused and deadly than before. Her fist slammed forward with the momentum of her blitz, a hammer of righteous fury which intended to break him upon its steel-hard surface.

COMBATSYS: Cracker Jack deflects Medium Punch from Makoto with Batting Hero.

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Cracker Jack     0/-------/-----==|>>>>>>>\>>>>>>>\2           Makoto

After the final blow, Cracker Jack curls forward, and shifts his pelvis backwards, slamming his fists into the sides of his crotch as a temporary way to realign his lower lumbar. "Fuck!" he shouts, before he stretches his legs. Yeah, he's going to have to get an adjustment after this. He'll get it from a doctor in Japan that knows martial arts injuries, he decides, not one of the Shadaloo doctors that would probably be much rougher. As Makoto is sent flying backwards, he turns and calmly walks towards his bat on the floor, watching her with a frown. "I can handle being beaten up by a girl. Can you handle being beaten up by a white boy?" Then, his mouth parts in a slick grin.

As she turns red, he's not particularly shocked, but he knows the next few seconds are damned important. He slips his toe under the handle of his bat as he reaches it, then kicks it upwards. The wooden instrument of impromptu pugilation spins in the air before he catches it in the middle, then swinging his arm to the side so the bat slides outwards. He catches it by the grip, before pulling it back in as Makoto charges. He slowly nods like a fratboy watching a freshman sorority girl do a kegstand, watching her lunge at him. And then as she shoots across the room, he swings his bat out, directly at her forearm.


The bat slams into her with all the power and fury of Alex Rodriguez hitting a John Rocker pitch right after Rocker publicly insulted Hispanics during a racist press interview with a shocked west coast sporting journalist.

The wood met bone and for once it is Makoto that broke. The downward smash catches her arm at full extention and there is a sharp and ominous crack. The girl's eyes bulged wide in sudden and ferocious pain and she stumbled backwards several feet clutching the wounded limb to her chest.

Makoto's eyes squeeze shut as she fights to keep control over the already precarious nature of her battle trance. The unleashing of her inner fury was not something that could be done casually and her adrenaline was already racing wildly through her body. The addition of an injury of this magnitude threatened to tip it over the edge. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself and pushed through it. There was simply nothing else to do. She was still standing so she could still fight and her arm wasn't that bad; probably just a small fracture. She'd deal with it later.

Her skin still burning red as a coal, the karateka turned her glare back to the thug and snarled at him, baring her teeth. She didn't have enough calm left in her to form a coherent sentence but there was atleast one trick left that she could pull and it was something he likely didn't expect from a person who's arm he'd just smashed.

She rushed him. Concentrating on her rage and honing it into a fine-edge weapon, Makoto lunged for what would likely be the final time. Her body practically blurred as she shot forward with fist extended aiming to drive it into his groin with the speed and force of a miniature hurricane.

COMBATSYS: Cracker Jack blocks Makoto's Seichuusen Godanzuki.

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Cracker Jack     0/-------/---====|>>>>---\-------\0           Makoto

Cracker Jack exhales a slow hiss as he feels the reverb through his bat and into his hand, clenching his teeth in a rictus grin of self-satisfaction. He watches her closely as she stumbles backwards, his stance open, right hand ready with the bat, left hand ready to grab, his legs spread apart and his shoulders hunched forward. Then, she snarls, and Jack knows there's another assault.

Jack sees the low charge as Makoto blurs towards him, and drops downwards and shifts to the right in a crouch, the fist at his ground met with his shoulder. He emits a solid grunt of pain as his right arm flexes and shakes in response to the blow, a thick welt announcing a future bruise beneath his suit. He grips the bat in his right hand to kill the pain, before he shifts to shoot his left arm directly at Makoto's midsection from the crouch, aiming just below her center of gravity with an upward thrust.

COMBATSYS: Makoto interrupts Dashing Straight from Cracker Jack with Hayate.

[                             \  <
Cracker Jack     0/-------/=======|

COMBATSYS: Makoto can no longer fight.

[                             \  <
Cracker Jack     0/-------/=======|

Cracker Jack's retalitory punch landed home with ease for Makoto made no attempt to dodge or intercept the blow. However, there is no force behind the strike when it connects with her stomach as the large man finds himself being driven backwards by another lightning fast strike from his small opponent.

Makoto exhales a long and furious battle cry as she thrust forward with a burst of speed and sheer determination, along with all of her weight, pushes both of them across the room, the girl driving him before her like a plow until the far wall finally stops them. The girl allowed her arm to crumple upon meeting solid resistance and she turned sideways, slamming her shoulder into Cracker Jack and using him for a backstop as her final wordless insult.

Despite her bold assault, however, the strain of maintaining her battle rage became too much, the jolt of impact that surged through her wounded arm the final nail in the coffin. Makoto let out a gasp of exertion and staggered backwards falling to her knees as sweat poured down her face. The red quickly bled away from her skin as if it had been an optical illusion leaving only a light flush to her cheeks from the effort of continuing the fight.

Cracker Jack feels himself getting driven back across the arena by Makoto, skidding sideways from his crouch as his fine leisure suit slacks drive him across the waxed floor. He emits a grunt that turns into a groan as he's slammed into the wall in a curled position, before the final shoulder jacks him upwards against the wooden dojo wall. As she staggers off him and to her knees, he looks right at her, mumbling loud enough to hear, "You think you're cute...But you're really...A baked potato..." He swings his right arm drunkenly and incredibly slowly at her as he pushes off the wall, before he falls onto his face beside her, completely out of energy. His medic stands up and walks to his side with the first aid kit, pulling out a vial of smelling salts.

And the medic is still wearing those boots on the clean dojo floor.

COMBATSYS: Cracker Jack takes no action.

COMBATSYS: Cracker Jack can no longer fight.

Log created on 16:24:40 02/06/2016 by Cracker Jack, and last modified on 08:56:46 02/08/2016.